Gingham Mountain by Mary Connealy Read Free Book Online Page B

since the day she was born. She was so tired of always having to be strong, beyond tired of all work and no play. Grim experience told her what Libby and Charlie were going through tonight and she wept. From the deepest part of her heart, she cried out to God through her tears.
    Forgive me for failing them and subjecting them to that hard, miserable life.

S IX
     
    L et’s go sledding!”
    Grant was jerked out of a restless sleep when Benny tripped over his stomach.
    Benny fell with a terrible clatter against the kitchen table, hitting so hard he should have broken every bone in his body. The six-year-old bounced back to his feet and grinned down at Grant, who lay on his bedroll on the kitchen floor. “Can we get the sleds out, Pa? Can we, huh? Can we, please?”
    Benny’d been on the orphan train when it turned around here three years ago. He’d ridden all the way from New York with Martha and never been adopted because he was too young. Three when Grant got him, Benny was the closest to a baby Grant had ever taken, and Grant couldn’t have loved him any more if he’d been his own flesh and blood.
    Trying to shake off a lousy night’s sleep, he massaged his head to clear it. Grant rubbed a hand over his face. No bristles. Oh yeah, I shaved last night. Why had he shaved? Normally he’d do that Sunday morning not Saturday night. For that matter, what was he doing sleeping on the floor?
    Grant sat up straight. I adopted two more kids yesterday.
    Benny didn’t wait for an answer. He dashed to the little window beside the front door and pressed his nose against the frosty pane. “This is the bestest snow I’ve ever seen.” Benny glanced over his shoulder andgave Grant a sly look. “I mean, this is the worstest snow I’ve ever seen. We can’t get through it to church. No way! It’d be”—Benny paused for dramatic effect—“dangerous!”
    Grant grinned at Benny. Then he laughed out loud.
    The other children came pouring out of their rooms wearing their heavy nightgowns or union suits—depending on whether they were girls or boys. Even the older girls rushed to the window and crowded around fighting for a square inch of glass.
    Libby was right behind them, still as silent as a tomb. He wondered what it was the little girl couldn’t say.
    Marilyn turned and scooped Libby up in her arms so the little one could see the snow outside. Their two heads together, Libby’s dark and Marilyn’s fair, the expressions of joy and excitement matched until they looked almost like sisters.
    Before they’d covered the window with their rampaging herd of bodies, Grant had seen that the sun wasn’t even up yet. Only the faintest light glowed in the eastern sky. Grant couldn’t resist saying, “If the mountain pass is snowed in, we can still make it through the valley.”
    Grant heard Benny groan, which made Grant grin all the more. “I think there’s time for a couple of quick trips up and down the hill before church.”
    There was a collective gasp of joy, and the children vanished out of the room so quickly Grant might have thought he’d dreamed the whole thing if Benny hadn’t stepped on his stomach again in the stampede.
    If he let them go, he’d be stuck with all the morning chores. But in New York City, where Grant had grown up, there had been plenty of snow but never time for sledding. And here in Texas, it got cold, but the snow didn’t come this deep very often, and it never lasted for long. He wasn’t going to deny the children this pleasure.
    Thinking of the fight on his hands to get the young’uns ready for church, he heaved himself up off the floor and groaned. He was getting too old to sleep on a hardwood floor. He quit his groaning to smile athimself. He was twenty-six. Not too old for anything. Although, raising twenty children on his own, starting from the time he was seventeen, might have made him an old man before his time.
    He got to his feet and laid more wood on the fire before he did another