Read Online The Star Garden by Nancy E. Turner - Free Book Online Page B

over the cash and took two cakes. “And would you please send along an extra dollar—two dollars?” Those poor folks needed the money, but still, I had to think that three dollars gone was a day’s wages for a man. A week’s worth for a poor one.
    “Oh, do take another cake for it.”
    “No,” I said. “You sell that, and two extra dollars will buy a few pounds of nails. Mind, this is for the people who lost their houses, not for the parson’s wife to melt her stove.”
    “Yes, ma’am. And thank you,” she said.
    The children crowed with happiness as I carried those two big cakes, still warm and smelling like Christmas Day, into the kitchen. They hollered when I told them they had to wait until after supper to eat them.
    Then I left so I could run some errands of my own. Might as well find Udell’s hinges and get some goods for the ranch before nightfall so we could head home in the morning.
    First I went through Sharp’s Candy Store and got some horehound in case the ague or the quinsy made the rounds of our family again this winter. I got some Foley’s Honey and Tar Cure, too. Nearby was a store I dared not go in. Corbett’s books and toys was as spellbinding a place to me as it was to the smallest babe in the family, for they had books for sale. Everything I owned I’d read at least twice, some several times. I stopped and looked in the window. There was a large volume on a display stand, propped open, bound in heavy leather and illustrated with amazing watercolor paintings.
    The man behind the counter saw me at the door, came right outside and said, “Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Elliot. How lovely to see you.” He took my arm and led me in the door. I must admit, I didn’t resist the tug much at all, but fell into that den of sore temptation like a common drunk toward a saloon.
    “I’m just thinking,” I said. “Looking and thinking.”
    “You know your credit is always good here. No need for cash. You can pay next summer after the cattle sales.”
    I pictured my horde of nephews and nieces languishing in front of those cakes in the kitchen with the same tortured hunger I felt standing in this store where the air was perfumed with the delicious fragrance unique to an unsavored book. “Thinking,” I said, “that it’s a nice day, and I’ve got more shopping to do.”
    The man’s face fell for an instant, but he said, “We have the most complete line of toys and dolls. Santa Claus is coming, after all. There
must
be some apple of your eye deserving of a gift on the tree this year?”
    I sighed. “Many, many children.” I could see beyond the books now, to where charming dollies stared, unblinking, their china heads longing to be loved by some little girl. Beyond them, baseballs and leather gloves and carved wooden bats hung over tin trains and lead soldiers, paint sets and hobby horses. “I’ll be making them shirts and pinafores for Christmas.”
    “What about a nice volume for yourself?
The Family Mark Twain
is popular. Have you seen the
Peerless Reciter Or Popular Program?.
Rich with tableaux and readings for young and old. Briar Rose, Romeo and Juliet—”
    “I’ve got those.” Nearly worn them out, making all the children read.
    He pulled a different book off the shelf and opened it. The back of it made that lovely sound, pages starched and perfect as a man’s new shirt collar, too stiff to lie flat, loosening their grip on each other. “Here we have
The Advance of the British Empire.
Are you interested in Egyptian secrets from the tombs of the pharaohs?”
    I reached for the book, then took my hand away without touching it. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I never really meant to come inside. There’s a man over there wanting to buy that flashlight machine.” I left the store fast as my feet would go down the boarded walk. I’d better do my dreaming in a general store. I had a family to think of.
    Christmas
was
coming. I’d need more whole cloth and ticking. Knowing the cash in my