Brookland by Emily Barton Read Free Book Online Page B

not further explain. Dufresne was the only farmer in the neighborhood who paid wages to all his men, as a result of which, Prue’s father had told her, his family did not live so comfortably as Prue’s own. “Hot pears, nice hot pears!” Peg cried. She was tall, and the fringed red ends of her muffler streamed down her back. “Piping hot! Get ’em while they’re hot! Hot pears for a penny!” Tem shot up like a rocket at Peg’s cry, and bit Ben hard on the exposed skin of his wrist when he tried to wrestle her back into the pile.
    â€œYou get ’im, Temmy!” their father shouted to her. She roared at Ben in reply, then ran off toward Peg.
    Roxana said, “Don’t encourage her,” then shouted out to Ben, “Are you all right?” But he was already up, trying to keep Isaiah from arriving first.
    When Prue dusted herself off and went over to her father for money, he was saying to their mother, “She may be the littlest, but damme if she doesn’t spit fire.” Roxana didn’t look appeased. He fished a sixpence from his pocket and gave it to Prue, saying, “For the Horsfields as well. Check she didn’t draw blood.” Prue noticed the concern with which her mother was watching Ben shake out his injured wrist, then ran off, slipping, to catch up with the other children.
    Even as she held her goal of a hot pear in mind, Prue realized what a wonder it was to be able to run across the East River. The buildings that so fascinated her were drawing nearer, and she couldn’t wait to see them up close. She might have taken a certain grim satisfaction had a spirit canoe gone skidding across the ice; but she found reassurance in seeing nothing but ordinary rowboats lately abandoned by their owners near the New York shore, their oars hanging back in their locks.
    The Horsfield boys were high as Peg’s shoulder and clamoring for sweets, but Peg shooed them away so that Pearl, skating methodically across on her shoes and whistling a pleading trill, might have first pick. It was one way or the other with Pearl: Half the neighbors treated her as if she were a changeling, but those who didn’t seemed to like her attentive air and were willing to wait for her signs. “That’s a good girl,” Peg encouraged her, kneeling so Pearl might have a better view. Pearl picked the pear most evenly glazed in molasses; directly Tem grabbed another, almost without looking.
    â€œDaddy gave me enough for all of us,” Prue said to Ben, who reached under her cap to tug on her earlobe in thanks. Her heart leapt at his weird gesture; she understood it to differ from the aggression Tem wreaked upon her. At least, it felt sweeter. As he took his hand away, she grabbed his wrist, and saw that although there were still red tooth marks in the skin, Tem hadn’t drawn blood. He pulled away and shouted for his pear, once more shaking the bitten hand. Persnickety Maggie frowned at the selection of sweets still available to her, and lastly Prue turned over the sixpence and took her own, dripping warm molasses on the paper and her mitten.
    â€œThank you, Prudie. Now, eat that up,” Peg said to Pearl, who had her whole face buried in the fruit and molasses running down the yoke of her coat. “Good girl.” Then Peg winked at Prue and called out, “Fresh hot pears!” to a group from New York skidding past.
    The children walked along more sedately then, sucking on their pears and the sheepy fibers of their mittens. When Prue turned to see where her parents were, they were walking gloved hand in gloved hand. Her mother’s face, so recently clouded with worry over Ben and the sturdiness of the ice, was bright, if not from pleasure, then at least from the brisk weather. When Prue turned forward again, she drew in a breath of delight, for before her were the sights she’d dreamed of all her life, even larger and more vivid than she’d