Fields of Home by Ralph Moody Read Free Book Online Page A

she was wearing, tied a cloth over her head, and took a milk bucket down from the pantry shelf. I could see she was going out to do the barn chores, and said, “I’ll take care of the chores; I’ve done a lot of milking.”
    All she said was, “Hmfff! I pity the poor critters!” and went out through the summer kitchen.
    I couldn’t just sit in the house and let a woman do the barn work, so I took my cap and followed her. When I got there, she was standing at the tie-up doorway, pulling a pair of old rubbers on over her shoes. I tried again to get her to let me do the milking, but she said Clara Belle had a sore teat and would kick the daylights out of me. She did let me slop the hogs and do the rest of the chores, though.
    When we went back to the house, Grandfather had gone to bed. Millie told me she had put my things in the front room at the head of the stairs, and she made me take my work shoes off before I went up. She came to the foot of the stairs while I was climbing them, and whispered, “That’s Levi’s room. If you go and get it all messed up, I’ll skin you alive.” Then, without saying goodnight, she went back into the kitchen and closed the hallway door.
    There was just enough light left in the sky that I could see where the bed was and that a corner of the covers was turned back. I didn’t bother to look for my suitcase or a lamp, but took off everything except my BVDs and crawled in. I must have gone to sleep awfully quick, because the next thing I knew Millie was calling up the stairway, “Get up! What be you; cal’lating on sleeping the whole blessed day?” It was just about as light as it had been when I went to bed.

6
    I Currycomb the Yella Colt
    M ILLIE had a lamp lighted and was building a fire in the cook stove when I came down to the kitchen. I said good morning to her when I came in from the front stairway, but she only grumbled something about hoping she’d find the fires of hell built with Getchell birch when she got there. I didn’t know what Getchell birch was but, as I washed my face and hands at the pump sink in the back pantry, I could see she was having a bad time getting the fire started. Twice, she jerked a stove lid off, threw in kerosene from a tin dipper, and slammed the lid back as the flames shot up. Both times, red glowed from the front of the stove for half a minute, then died down, and billows of smoke poured out from every crack.
    The wood I’d sawed the afternoon before had been hard maple, but it had been dry and I knew it would make a good fire. I didn’t say anything to Millie, but went out and split an armful of it into kindling, picked up a couple of pine knots, and took it into the kitchen. Smoke was still pouring from the stove, and Millie was jawing away to herself about it. She didn’t pay any attention to me until I’d put the wood in the wood box and was taking the milk bucket down from the pantry shelf. Then she said, “Leave be! Thomas don’t want the milking done afore six o’clock. I’ll take care of that; you fetch the swill to the sow with the new litter. And take heed you don’t tromp on none of them little pigs.”
    I took the swill bucket from under the sink. It was full almost to the brim with dishwater, and I was careful not to slop a drop of it until I was outside the summer kitchen. When I opened the barn doors, the bay mare whinnied for her breakfast, but the old buckskin snaked his head out over the half-door and snapped at me as I passed his stall. His teeth didn’t miss my shoulder by more than half an inch. I had trouble not to dodge away from him, but I didn’t, and by the time I got to the sow’s pen I had my mind made up about the way I was going to handle him.
    It was only quarter of five, and if Grandfather didn’t want the milking done before six I’d have plenty of time. I worked just as fast as I could while I lugged water to the hogs in the barn cellar, measured them out a quart of corn apiece, cleaned the tie-up,