Read Online The Country of Ice Cream Star by Sandra Newman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Newman
Ads: Link
hour.
Become my habit that I gone to meet him in the hours of dew. I bring ABC and Money, led on leash and halter. Feel they know my trouble, feel their caring hid in beastish tact. We pace the morning damp together, and our silence knit in one. All the morning birds sing with our feeling.
This meadow set behind an unroof house. Been three sleeper hounds dead there, most reason that the field abandon. No child love this place. House got wooden sides, once painten yellow, now be any color. From the house’s understep, a frazzle hose come out, is greener than no grass, look like a snake in corner-eye. The day that Driver name our trouble, I feel something evil here. Is like a ghost remainder from the evil times before.
‘Town been feeding thin these weeks.’ So he begin.
We sit frogleg in the grass beside a low tea-fire. I still be sleepyhead in thought, watching Money graze and twitch her skin against the flies. So I say distracting, ‘Meat gone cautieuse, and all it is.’
‘Meat come back, but scarely be no Sengles fit to hunt.’
‘I been hunting rich.’ I scratch my fly-bit neck and yawn. ‘Had some owes to pay, but now they done. Be fatter now.’
‘Cannot feed only from yourself.’
‘Is Crow ain’t bringing meat to town. Child pigging to himself. What I suspicion–’
Driver’s voice raise up. ‘Nor I ain’t hunt this week.’
My eyes stop on his face. He sad as water then. His blackish skin be grayly, and his looks lost their bellesse.
‘I go ask John of Christ for corn,’ I say rough, ‘if worst become. They Tophets wait for pay, they ain’t particular in this.’
‘Ain’t no John I know myself, who trade you corn for nothing.’
‘Trade for promises.’ I shrug. ‘He easy for a tale. Must only go when their Susannah missing.’
‘Sister, cannot pay with lies forever.’
Then Driver breathe in sudden, and he cough. Cough take him hard, it look like something kicking in his ribs. My nerves go thin. Yo, while he suffer, ABC come nosing round, stick in her mouth. Her tail aloft and glad. I swat my hand in air beside her nose, and she go off low-held.
At last, my Driver quit to cough, stare empty at the fire. And he say low, ‘We be too few.’
I shrug discomfort. ‘When Jonah grown to size, be better seasons.’
‘Nay, child. We be too few.’
‘Sure, our jones be few, but we had skinny years before.’
‘And Crow be sergeant? What this be?’
‘Ain’t no joy,’ I say uncertain. ‘But he strong. Can hunt.’
‘Nay, heed,’ say Driver. ‘If I be gone, you go to El Mayor.’
I hunt his face for meaning, but his patience be like unmark snow. I say, in nervy joke, ‘This be some going that result in babies?’
‘Ice Cream, sister. Go and stay. El Mayor will take our Sengles. Take even useless children for your love.’
‘Stay?’ I huff a disbelieving breath. ‘We all be Lowells now?’
‘You all be fed. Be safe to live.’
‘But ain’t be Sengles. We be some worthless beggars in their mill. Ain’t no hunger worth this loss. Nor Crow allowing this. And he been right, we Sengles. Be ourself.’
Driver shake his head. Bend to the fire again with painful frown.
I glance at that hose, my eye mistake that it been sneaking toward. Shiver and feel, this be a ghosten place my Driver chosen. Is like I visit Driver in his death.
Then Driver say, ‘Your hound be foo, look there.’
He point. I look and see that ABC been took her stick to Money.Set it down before her hoofs, expect the mare to throw. Money stare uninterest, a sprig hung chewing from her mouth. ABC bark up, instruction in her voice. Then she feel us watching. Hound look to us, confuse and panting. Look back at the stick, like she get conscience that she been mistake, but ain’t see what is missing yet.
I laugh bold and sweet. And laughing make our quarrel easy. Driver told me sense for years, and never I give him yes. No reason that this talk be different, laughing make me feel.
But when he take
Become my habit that I gone to meet him in the hours of dew. I bring ABC and Money, led on leash and halter. Feel they know my trouble, feel their caring hid in beastish tact. We pace the morning damp together, and our silence knit in one. All the morning birds sing with our feeling.
This meadow set behind an unroof house. Been three sleeper hounds dead there, most reason that the field abandon. No child love this place. House got wooden sides, once painten yellow, now be any color. From the house’s understep, a frazzle hose come out, is greener than no grass, look like a snake in corner-eye. The day that Driver name our trouble, I feel something evil here. Is like a ghost remainder from the evil times before.
‘Town been feeding thin these weeks.’ So he begin.
We sit frogleg in the grass beside a low tea-fire. I still be sleepyhead in thought, watching Money graze and twitch her skin against the flies. So I say distracting, ‘Meat gone cautieuse, and all it is.’
‘Meat come back, but scarely be no Sengles fit to hunt.’
‘I been hunting rich.’ I scratch my fly-bit neck and yawn. ‘Had some owes to pay, but now they done. Be fatter now.’
‘Cannot feed only from yourself.’
‘Is Crow ain’t bringing meat to town. Child pigging to himself. What I suspicion–’
Driver’s voice raise up. ‘Nor I ain’t hunt this week.’
My eyes stop on his face. He sad as water then. His blackish skin be grayly, and his looks lost their bellesse.
‘I go ask John of Christ for corn,’ I say rough, ‘if worst become. They Tophets wait for pay, they ain’t particular in this.’
‘Ain’t no John I know myself, who trade you corn for nothing.’
‘Trade for promises.’ I shrug. ‘He easy for a tale. Must only go when their Susannah missing.’
‘Sister, cannot pay with lies forever.’
Then Driver breathe in sudden, and he cough. Cough take him hard, it look like something kicking in his ribs. My nerves go thin. Yo, while he suffer, ABC come nosing round, stick in her mouth. Her tail aloft and glad. I swat my hand in air beside her nose, and she go off low-held.
At last, my Driver quit to cough, stare empty at the fire. And he say low, ‘We be too few.’
I shrug discomfort. ‘When Jonah grown to size, be better seasons.’
‘Nay, child. We be too few.’
‘Sure, our jones be few, but we had skinny years before.’
‘And Crow be sergeant? What this be?’
‘Ain’t no joy,’ I say uncertain. ‘But he strong. Can hunt.’
‘Nay, heed,’ say Driver. ‘If I be gone, you go to El Mayor.’
I hunt his face for meaning, but his patience be like unmark snow. I say, in nervy joke, ‘This be some going that result in babies?’
‘Ice Cream, sister. Go and stay. El Mayor will take our Sengles. Take even useless children for your love.’
‘Stay?’ I huff a disbelieving breath. ‘We all be Lowells now?’
‘You all be fed. Be safe to live.’
‘But ain’t be Sengles. We be some worthless beggars in their mill. Ain’t no hunger worth this loss. Nor Crow allowing this. And he been right, we Sengles. Be ourself.’
Driver shake his head. Bend to the fire again with painful frown.
I glance at that hose, my eye mistake that it been sneaking toward. Shiver and feel, this be a ghosten place my Driver chosen. Is like I visit Driver in his death.
Then Driver say, ‘Your hound be foo, look there.’
He point. I look and see that ABC been took her stick to Money.Set it down before her hoofs, expect the mare to throw. Money stare uninterest, a sprig hung chewing from her mouth. ABC bark up, instruction in her voice. Then she feel us watching. Hound look to us, confuse and panting. Look back at the stick, like she get conscience that she been mistake, but ain’t see what is missing yet.
I laugh bold and sweet. And laughing make our quarrel easy. Driver told me sense for years, and never I give him yes. No reason that this talk be different, laughing make me feel.
But when he take
Similar Books
