Read Online The Half-a-Moon Inn by Paul Fleischman - Free Book Online

for me, did you?”
    Aaron nodded his head.
    â€œWell, you did the right thing, lad. I could have used your help, and as it was I had to keep myself warm in the wool that I’d bought and live on the food that I was carrying home. But enough of that now—and happy birthday to you, boy!”
    She handed him the boots, and Aaron’s eyes lit up.
    â€œYour birthday, is it?” the ragman asked.
    Aaron nodded his head and unwrapped the rags from his feet, while the ragman walked out to his wagon and brought back a pair of wool stockings that were practically new.
    â€œCan’t have you going about barefoot in your boots, can we?” the ragman asked with a smile.
    â€œCertainly not,” said his mother. “Try ’em on, then, lad.”
    Aaron slipped into the socks, pulled on the boots and stamped his feet into them. He stretched his toes and strode across the room. They felt grand.
    â€œYes, indeed,” said his mother, “they’re more appropriate to a boy who’ll be taking the wagon into Craftsbury by himself soon enough.”
    Aaron’s ears pricked up and he smiled excitedly at the thought.
    â€œBut now tell me, my dove—what became of my coat?”
    Aaron thought for a moment, then reached into Miss Grackle’s apron pocket and pulled out her key ring. He took the candle from the ragman, led the way up to her bedroom and unlocked her closet door, to find his mother’s coat as well as his own, and his burlap sack with the rest of his belongings.
    â€œTook your boots and stockings away in the cold of the winter, and your wool coat as well?” Aaron’s mother asked. “Why, the woman deserved to freeze, I warrant. But who’s that beside her?”
    Aaron took his pen and ink from his sack and wrote out “Lord Tom” on a piece of paper.
    â€œBy the heavens, lad—can it be?”
    Aaron nodded his head, led them downstairs and removed the patch from his eye.
    â€œIt’s true!” gasped his mother. “Why, they’ve been combing Bingham Woods for the man and trembling in their beds, and here you’ve got him sitting by the hearth, frozen stiff as a log. You’ll be famous, my dove—and with a reward just a-waiting for you!”
    Aaron glowed with his good fortune and proudly led the three of them out of the inn.
    â€œAye, madam, I’d be proud to have me such a son meself,” said the ragman. “Just as quiet and polite and well brung up as they come.”
    He climbed up on his wagon and bid them farewell. “Homeward to Williford,” he called out into the night, and he snapped his whip and was off down the road.
    Slowly, Aaron and his mother walked over to their horse. He strapped down his sack, and his mother stuck her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up.
    â€œYou take the reins,” she said, holding them out to Aaron.
    He smiled, climbed up in front of her and looked about. The woods were knee-deep in snow, the night air was still. He listened to a bird chirping in the distance. Then he flicked the reins, leaning back against his mother, and headed the horse for home.

Excerpt from Seedfolks

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Kim

    I stood before our family altar. It was dawn. No one else in the apartment was awake. I stared at my father’s photograph—his thin face stern, lips latched tight, his eyes peering permanently to the right. I was nine years old and still hoped that perhaps his eyes might move. Might notice me.

    The candles and the incense sticks, lit the day before to mark his death anniversary, had burned out. The rice and meat offered him were gone. After the evening feast, past midnight, I’d been wakened by my mother’s crying. My oldest sister had joined in. My own tears had then come as well, but for a different reason.
    I turned from the altar, tiptoed to the kitchen, and quietly drew a spoon from a drawer. I filled my lunch thermos with water and reached into our jar