The Gentle Rebel by Gilbert Morris Read Free Book Online Page A

them to a halt in front of the two-story building that fronted the harbor with the sign THE WINSLOW COMPANY over the door.
    “Wake up, Caleb.” He nudged the small mountain of blankets huddled close beside him, and a smile touched his lips as a groan of protest emerged from the depths. “We’re here—come out of there, boy.”
    “What is it?” The blankets parted, and Caleb reluctantly surfaced from the warm cocoon. He wore a black wool knitted cap pulled down to his eyebrows, a red and blue scarf swathed his face, so that all that could be seen of him was a sleepy pair of dark eyes.
    “Go see where they want the load,” Nathan said. “Looks like they might be closed.” He watched with amusement as Caleb climbed down stiffly, then waddled across the snow to the big double doors. He looked like a walking barrel, for he hated cold and wore every garment he’d brought on the trip, in addition to a buffalo coat of Nathan’s.
    Been a hard trip, Nathan reflected as he watched Caleb disappear into the depths of the warehouse. Bet not even Father could have done better! Ice glittered in the short red stubbles of his beard, and he shook his head ruefully at his pride, knowing that his father would have made the trip faster.
    But it had been a hard journey. Winter had closed like aniron fist, freezing the roads to slick ribbons, and near-blizzard cold had punished the horses terribly. Caleb had begun well, but for the last week he had done nothing but hug the fire at night and swath himself into every garment he could find during the day’s trek. They had met with few travelers, and Nathan could not resist a heady gust of pride as he realized that he had brought the furs through when most men had sought the warmth of fire inside snug cabins.
    As the big double doors swung open, he glanced down at his large hands, blue from the cold and calloused from handling the lines, and was pleased. There had been doubt in his father’s eyes when they had parted, but the good feeling of accomplishing a hard task was a solid feeling in Nathan. “Hup, Babe—Dan!” He guided the team into the dark interior, climbed down and stamped his feet, which had no more feeling than the iron ring he tied up to.
    “Mister Winslow didn’t look for you.” A thick-bodied man with a face blue from cold and red from drink stared at Nathan, and there was some resentment in his clipped New England speech as he added, “Don’t have no help this time of day fer unloadin’.”
    “It’ll wait for tomorrow.”
    “Them horses won’t wait!”
    If the man had been more civil, Nathan would have helped unhitch, but he was bone-tired and both he and Caleb were half-starved. “We’re going to my uncle’s house. How far is it?”
    The big man’s face flushed, but he said, “Three miles back down the old Turnpike—you must’a passed it comin’ in—big white house with pillars.” He gave them instructions in a grudging voice, then grinned sourly. “You’ll have a nice little walk—may get there by dark.”
    Nathan stared at him, then said, “Caleb, we’ll take Babe and Dan.” The two brothers unhitched the horses, put a pair of hair hackamores on them, and led them outside. Nathan said tersely to the heavy man, “Get those other two animals unhitched and fed!” He mounted easily, but Caleb had tolead Dan to the watering trough and use it for a platform as he scrambled aboard, not without groaning.
    The horses were just about played out, but three more miles would not kill them. As they plodded down the frozen road, the light beginning to fail, Caleb asked, “Uncle Charles won’t be looking for us, will he?”
    “I guess not, with all this weather. But he’ll sure be glad to get the furs.”
    Caleb beat his hands together, then blew on them for warmth. “I can’t remember much about him, Nathan. Is he like Father?”
    There was a small interval of silence; then Nathan shook his head, a thoughtful stirring in his eyes. “No, Caleb,