Caddie Woodlawn's Family by Carol Ryrie Brink Read Free Book Online

forward to the money she would get from Bouncer’s wool after the shearing, for, as well as being a delightful pet, Bouncer was also Caddie’s fortune.
    Before the shearing started, Father came home with the news that wool was worth sixteen cents more a pound if it was washed before it was sheared.
    “We’re going to wash all of our sheep,” Father said.
    “Seven hundred and fifty sheep?” cried Mother. “My dear, you must have lost your wits!”
    “Not at all,” said Father. “I’ve thought it all out. We’ll build large pens near the sand bar on the river and, as soon as the weather is warm enough, we’ll begin washing the sheep there. We’ll turn them into the clean green pasture to dry before the shearing. I can get a couple of extra men from town to help the hired men and myself, and, of course, the boys can help.”
    “And me, Father!” Caddie cried. “Surely you’ll let me do it, too!”
    “Well,” said Father, “we’ll see how you do with Bouncer. If you can handle him, I guess that you can handle anything.”
    “Of course, I can handle Bouncer!” Caddie cried. “My very own lamb!”
    If her words sounded very certain, she may have feltsomewhat less certain within herself. For Bouncer was big and strong this spring and not so easily handled as when he had lain in her arms, a helpless, motherless baby.
    The barrel of soft soap, which Mother and Katie Conroy had made from waste fats and wood ashes, was trundled down to the new pens near the sand bar on the first warm day of spring, and the washing of the sheep was begun. For a while Caddie stood and watched Tom and Warren hanging on to a sheep by a strap round its neck while they poured water and a handful of soft soap over its back and worked up a lather. The more difficult part of the proceeding came when they had to entice the creature into the river for a thorough rinse before driving it up again onto the sand bar and along a little runway to the pasture. The men and boys had worn their oldest clothes, and it was not long before they were as wet as the washed sheep.
    The sheep were nervous and alarmed by these unusual proceedings. They jumped and plunged and tried to run away in the wrong direction. It did not help matters a bit that someone was hunting on the opposite bank of the river. The occasional sound of a shot in the distance only frightened the timid sheep the more.
    “Autumn’s the time for hunting,” Robert Ireton grumbled. “Bedad, this is no time to be out flinging shots about! The lad had better be washing sheep.”
    But whoever was at work in the woods opposite seemed to have his own opinion in the matter, for the shooting continued for some time.
    Father looked at Caddie as he finished a particularly lively sheep.
    “You’d better change your mind, daughter,” Father called. “I’ll wash Bouncer for you myself.”
    Caddie only shook her head, and was ready for Bouncer when he came out of the pen. A long time ago she had painted a bright red spot on his forehead, so that nobody should ever mistake him for anyone else’s lamb.
    She flung the strap about his neck as she had seen the boys do and, talking softly to him, got him to the edge of the water. But here he gave a sudden leap and change of direction, and it was all she could do to hold him down by flinging herself across his back and sinking frantic fingers into his wool. After a moment he stood still again, and she was able to pour the water over him. Warren helped her with the soap, and as she worked it into his wool she could see how fine and white it was going to be when it was rinsed.
    “Sixteen cents more a pound, Bouncer,” Caddie said, “and—my!—won’t you look funny when it’s all cut off? Come on now, baby, into the river with you! You’re going to be a beauty when I’m through with you.”
    Bouncer had other ideas about the river. He tried to run in every direction but the right one. Tom and Warren, shouting and waving him back toward the