Read Online When Henry Came Home by Josephine Bhaer - Free Book Online Page B

trim, and Henry closed his eyes to keep out the flecks of hair. The three small rooms behind his office fit them perfectly, Mary and he; Mary had a kitchen, and they had a bedroom. The office served as a sitting room, but mostly no one came in for long; the main street was like a kind of meeting place itself, and when folks were there, they didn't seem to feel the need to sit down and discuss in a homey place like you did out further. Maybe it was that there was so much civilization all around, folks didn't feel the need to act civilized—not like they did when they were ten miles from nowhere and a parlor was about the only place you could imagine you were safe.
                  "Real pretty, what you've done with the front, though," commented the barber, snipping away without much thought to the action. He had been at his trade long enough he didn't need anything but the feel, the touch of a person's hair in his hands. After that, his thoughts just kind of floated away, and his hands did what they were supposed to.
                  "That's Mary's project. She likes things nice."
                  "Women always do."
                  "Yes."
                  He took a comb to Henry's hair. "Care for a shave, too? One bit more."
                  "No thank you." He smiled a little and handed the barber what he was due. "Mary might be put out."
                  "Oh, that's her territory, is it?" The barber chuckled and tossed the coins into the open register.
                  "I think so." His smile returned again, briefly, but it was more inward. It hadn't all sorted out yet, who did what and when, not in any sort of pattern, but he was enjoying the prospect of finding out.
                  The barber came back and pulled off the sheet covering his client. "Well, there you go then, and a nice day to ya." He put out a helping hand.
                  Henry took it and pushed himself up, nodding. "You too."
                  "Oh—hold on," called the barber as he was going out the door. "Whatsisname-- the county supervisor. A mister… Mark Rogers. He's in town, wanted to see you about something."
                  Henry paused, unsettled. "I don't know him."
                  "That's what he said, but he seemed real interested in meetin' up. Couldn't tell you where he is now—had him in here for a shave this morning and went off on his horse."
                  "Well—if you see him again, I—reckon I'll just be over at our place most of the day."
                  "I'll tell him that."
                  They both nodded in parting, and Henry shut the door. His office was a ways down the street, and he took his time walking back. It was almost noon, but the weather was mild and warm, with just a little breeze to cool. He could smell summer fast approaching. He thought about Mary as he walked—he wasn't certain he would ever be able to think of anything else again; not for too terribly long, anyway.
                  The general store was just between the barbershop and his office, and he stopped in.
                  "G'morning," said the grocer. "'Fore I ferget, there was a man in here, lookin' to see you. Said he was the, ah, county supervisor. Never heard of him, myself."
                  "Seems he's been looking other places, too. I came—"
                  "Your books! Yes, yes, just came in this morning. Let's see..." The grocer dug around behind the counter, rooting through a plethora of miscellaneous items. "Ah. Here we go." He slapped three books down on the oak counter, two thin volumes and one smaller, leather-bound issue. The larger two were light, but sized about the same as an atlas. "Fine specimens of binding, if you don't mind me sayin'."
                  "What do I owe