Read Online These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Ingalls Wilder
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the cattle drifting in the October blizzard that began the Hard Winter; their breath had smothered them, till they would have died if Pa had not broken the ice from their noses.
The cold was piercing through the buffalo robes. It crept through Laura's wool coat and woolen dress, through all her flannel petticoats and the two pairs of her woolen stockings drawn over the folded legs of her warm flannel union suit. In spite of the heat from the lantern, her feet and her legs grew cold. Her clenched jaws ached, and two sharp little aches began at her temples.
Almanzo reached across and pulled the robes higher, tucking them behind her elbows.
“Cold?” he asked.
“No,” Laura answered clearly. It was all she could say without letting her teeth chatter. It was not true, but he knew that she meant she was not so cold that she could not bear it. There was nothing to do but go on, and she knew that he was cold, too.
Again he stopped the horses and got out into the wind, to thaw the ice from their noses. Again the bells rang out 72
merrily. The sound seemed as cruel, now, as the merci-less wind. Though her veil made a darkness, she could see that the sun was shining bright on the white prairie.
Almanzo came back into the cutter.
“All right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I've got to stop every couple of miles. They can't make more,” he explained.
Laura's heart sank. Then they had come only six miles. There were still six miles to go. They went on swiftly against the cutting wind. In spite of all she could do, Laura shook all over. Pressing her knees tight together did not stop their shaking. The lantern beside her feet under the fur robes seemed to give no warmth. The pains bored into her temples, and a knot of pain tightened in her middle.
It seemed a long time before the horses slowed again, and again Almanzo stopped them. The bells rang out, first Prince's, then Lady's. Almanzo was clumsy, getting into the cutter again.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
She was growing more used to the cold. It did not hurt so much. Only the pain in her middle kept tightening, but it was duller. The sound of the wind and the bells and the cutter's runners on the snow all blended into one monotonous sound, rather pleasant. She knew when Almanzo left the cutter to thaw the ice from the horses'
noses again but everything seemed like a dream.
“All right?” he asked. She nodded. It was too much trouble to speak.
“Laura!” he said, taking hold of her shoulder and shaking her a little. The shaking hurt; it made her feel the cold again. “You sleepy?”
“A little,” she answered.
“Don't go to sleep. You hear me?”
“I won't,” she said. She knew what he meant. If you go to sleep in such cold, you freeze to death.
The horses stopped again. Almanzo asked, “Making it all right?”
“Yes.” she said. He went to take the ice from the horses' noses. When he came back he said, “It's not far now.”
She knew he wanted her to answer. She said, “That's good.”
Sleepiness kept coming over her in long, warm waves, though she was holding her eyes wide open. She shook her head and took burning gulps of air, and struggled awake, but another wave of sleepiness came, and another. Often when she was too tired to struggle any longer, Almanzo's voice helped her. She heard him ask,
“All right?”
“Yes,” she said, and for a moment she would be awake; she heard the sleigh bells clearly and felt the wind blowing. Then another wave came.
“Here we are!” she heard him say.
“Yes,” she answered. Then suddenly she knew that they were at the back door of home. The wind was not so strong here; its force was broken by the building on the other side of Second Street. Almanzo lifted the robes and she tried to get out of the cutter, but she was too stiff; she could not stand up.
The door flashed open, and Ma took hold of her, exclaiming, “My goodness! are you frozen?”
“I'm afraid she's
The cold was piercing through the buffalo robes. It crept through Laura's wool coat and woolen dress, through all her flannel petticoats and the two pairs of her woolen stockings drawn over the folded legs of her warm flannel union suit. In spite of the heat from the lantern, her feet and her legs grew cold. Her clenched jaws ached, and two sharp little aches began at her temples.
Almanzo reached across and pulled the robes higher, tucking them behind her elbows.
“Cold?” he asked.
“No,” Laura answered clearly. It was all she could say without letting her teeth chatter. It was not true, but he knew that she meant she was not so cold that she could not bear it. There was nothing to do but go on, and she knew that he was cold, too.
Again he stopped the horses and got out into the wind, to thaw the ice from their noses. Again the bells rang out 72
merrily. The sound seemed as cruel, now, as the merci-less wind. Though her veil made a darkness, she could see that the sun was shining bright on the white prairie.
Almanzo came back into the cutter.
“All right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I've got to stop every couple of miles. They can't make more,” he explained.
Laura's heart sank. Then they had come only six miles. There were still six miles to go. They went on swiftly against the cutting wind. In spite of all she could do, Laura shook all over. Pressing her knees tight together did not stop their shaking. The lantern beside her feet under the fur robes seemed to give no warmth. The pains bored into her temples, and a knot of pain tightened in her middle.
It seemed a long time before the horses slowed again, and again Almanzo stopped them. The bells rang out, first Prince's, then Lady's. Almanzo was clumsy, getting into the cutter again.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
She was growing more used to the cold. It did not hurt so much. Only the pain in her middle kept tightening, but it was duller. The sound of the wind and the bells and the cutter's runners on the snow all blended into one monotonous sound, rather pleasant. She knew when Almanzo left the cutter to thaw the ice from the horses'
noses again but everything seemed like a dream.
“All right?” he asked. She nodded. It was too much trouble to speak.
“Laura!” he said, taking hold of her shoulder and shaking her a little. The shaking hurt; it made her feel the cold again. “You sleepy?”
“A little,” she answered.
“Don't go to sleep. You hear me?”
“I won't,” she said. She knew what he meant. If you go to sleep in such cold, you freeze to death.
The horses stopped again. Almanzo asked, “Making it all right?”
“Yes.” she said. He went to take the ice from the horses' noses. When he came back he said, “It's not far now.”
She knew he wanted her to answer. She said, “That's good.”
Sleepiness kept coming over her in long, warm waves, though she was holding her eyes wide open. She shook her head and took burning gulps of air, and struggled awake, but another wave of sleepiness came, and another. Often when she was too tired to struggle any longer, Almanzo's voice helped her. She heard him ask,
“All right?”
“Yes,” she said, and for a moment she would be awake; she heard the sleigh bells clearly and felt the wind blowing. Then another wave came.
“Here we are!” she heard him say.
“Yes,” she answered. Then suddenly she knew that they were at the back door of home. The wind was not so strong here; its force was broken by the building on the other side of Second Street. Almanzo lifted the robes and she tried to get out of the cutter, but she was too stiff; she could not stand up.
The door flashed open, and Ma took hold of her, exclaiming, “My goodness! are you frozen?”
“I'm afraid she's
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