Read Online Spring's Gentle Promise by Janette Oke - Free Book Online
Authors: Janette Oke
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didn’t say anything, though. There didn’t seem to be much point.
“Go ahead,” I told Matilda. “I’ll finish the dishes.”
“Oh, thank you,” she responded, reaching up to give me one of her impulsive little hugs right there before the eyes of Will Sanders. I was both embarrassed and smug. So what do you think of that, Mr. Sanders? I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue and turned back to wipe the table and rinse the dishpan.
Matilda was soon back, bag in hand and her warm coat wrapped securely around her. I didn’t even watch them go, and when Matilda called, “Good night, Josh,” I only mumbled in reply.
I was grumpy all evening. It was almost nine o’clock before I remembered Chester still waiting in the barn, harnessed and ready for travel. Grumbling, I lit the lantern and pulled on my heavy coat.
“Well, fella, sorry about that,” I apologized as I slipped the harness from his back. “I near forgot about you. Guess—guess you an’ me sorta got—stood up.”
I flung the harness with extra intensity to hang it back on its pegs, and it made Chester jump.
I crossed back to him and began to gently rub his neck and his back. The ink that Jon had splashed over him had finally faded away in the sun and rain.
“Sorry, fella,” I soothed. “Guess I’m just a little out of sorts. First, we’ve been needin’ to do without Mary. It isn’t easy for three fellas to batch anymore when we’ve been used to somethin’ else. An’ then this here fella comes along and takes—just takes right over with Matilda—with Mary, too.”
I don’t know why I expected a horse to make any sense out of what I was saying, but I went right on talking to Chester for the next five minutes. By the time I got back to the kitchen, I had settled down enough to think that I might sleep.
“Guess I’ll make it an early night,” I said to Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, and they didn’t seem surprised. They both said good night without really looking up, and I headed on up the stairs to my room.
C HAPTER 8
Troubling Thoughts
B UT I COULDN’T SLEEP this time either. I tossed and turned and roughed up my pillow, but my mind just wouldn’t let my body rest. Pixie got rather impatient with me. She left the warm spot where she always slept curled at my feet and scrambled up beside me. She whined softly, her little body wiggling slightly and her tail thumping. Then she took a lick at my face. I don’t know if she was sympathizing with my misery or telling me to settle down and let her get some sleep, but I did find a bit of comfort in her seeming concern.
I reached out and ran my hand across her silky back. She let me stroke her a few times and then returned to the foot of the bed, turned a few times and lay down. I heard her yawn as she tucked in for the night. I guess she felt she had done all she could.
At last I stopped even pretending. I reached out to my night stand and felt around for the small container that held the matches, struck one and lit my lamp. Matilda had just received a stack of new dailies. I decided to get one from the kitchen and read for a while.
I was surprised when I started down the stairs to see the kitchen light still burning. I wondered if someone was ill. Then I thought of Uncle Charlie. He often got up and sat alone by the warm stove if his arthritis got too painful during the night.
I decided I’d just join him for a while in the kitchen. Maybe make some hot chocolate or something.
But as I neared the bottom of the stairs, I heard voices and realized that Grandpa was up, too. I guess I hadn’t been tossing for as long as I’d thought. It had just seemed like hours and hours.
“You think he’s ‘callin’ ? ” Uncle Charlie was asking.
There was a moment’s silence before Grandpa responded; then I heard a chuckle. “Thet’s the way I figure it, but I’ll be hanged iffen I can figure out, callin’ on who .”
“Matilda?”
“Thet was in my thinkin’—at first—but he paid
“Go ahead,” I told Matilda. “I’ll finish the dishes.”
“Oh, thank you,” she responded, reaching up to give me one of her impulsive little hugs right there before the eyes of Will Sanders. I was both embarrassed and smug. So what do you think of that, Mr. Sanders? I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue and turned back to wipe the table and rinse the dishpan.
Matilda was soon back, bag in hand and her warm coat wrapped securely around her. I didn’t even watch them go, and when Matilda called, “Good night, Josh,” I only mumbled in reply.
I was grumpy all evening. It was almost nine o’clock before I remembered Chester still waiting in the barn, harnessed and ready for travel. Grumbling, I lit the lantern and pulled on my heavy coat.
“Well, fella, sorry about that,” I apologized as I slipped the harness from his back. “I near forgot about you. Guess—guess you an’ me sorta got—stood up.”
I flung the harness with extra intensity to hang it back on its pegs, and it made Chester jump.
I crossed back to him and began to gently rub his neck and his back. The ink that Jon had splashed over him had finally faded away in the sun and rain.
“Sorry, fella,” I soothed. “Guess I’m just a little out of sorts. First, we’ve been needin’ to do without Mary. It isn’t easy for three fellas to batch anymore when we’ve been used to somethin’ else. An’ then this here fella comes along and takes—just takes right over with Matilda—with Mary, too.”
I don’t know why I expected a horse to make any sense out of what I was saying, but I went right on talking to Chester for the next five minutes. By the time I got back to the kitchen, I had settled down enough to think that I might sleep.
“Guess I’ll make it an early night,” I said to Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, and they didn’t seem surprised. They both said good night without really looking up, and I headed on up the stairs to my room.
C HAPTER 8
Troubling Thoughts
B UT I COULDN’T SLEEP this time either. I tossed and turned and roughed up my pillow, but my mind just wouldn’t let my body rest. Pixie got rather impatient with me. She left the warm spot where she always slept curled at my feet and scrambled up beside me. She whined softly, her little body wiggling slightly and her tail thumping. Then she took a lick at my face. I don’t know if she was sympathizing with my misery or telling me to settle down and let her get some sleep, but I did find a bit of comfort in her seeming concern.
I reached out and ran my hand across her silky back. She let me stroke her a few times and then returned to the foot of the bed, turned a few times and lay down. I heard her yawn as she tucked in for the night. I guess she felt she had done all she could.
At last I stopped even pretending. I reached out to my night stand and felt around for the small container that held the matches, struck one and lit my lamp. Matilda had just received a stack of new dailies. I decided to get one from the kitchen and read for a while.
I was surprised when I started down the stairs to see the kitchen light still burning. I wondered if someone was ill. Then I thought of Uncle Charlie. He often got up and sat alone by the warm stove if his arthritis got too painful during the night.
I decided I’d just join him for a while in the kitchen. Maybe make some hot chocolate or something.
But as I neared the bottom of the stairs, I heard voices and realized that Grandpa was up, too. I guess I hadn’t been tossing for as long as I’d thought. It had just seemed like hours and hours.
“You think he’s ‘callin’ ? ” Uncle Charlie was asking.
There was a moment’s silence before Grandpa responded; then I heard a chuckle. “Thet’s the way I figure it, but I’ll be hanged iffen I can figure out, callin’ on who .”
“Matilda?”
“Thet was in my thinkin’—at first—but he paid
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