Justin Morgan Had a Horse by Marguerite Henry

Author:Marguerite Henry [Henry, Marguerite]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
ISBN: 9781442488014
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2012-12-11T08:00:00+00:00

“Justin! What’s wrong?” Mister Jenks’s voice was full of concern as he noted the flushed face of the schoolmaster.

“I’m all right. Just riled.”

“You had me scairt, man. I swear I thought the schoolhouse was afire or the hull class murdered by Injuns. Climb aboard! Me and Nip and Tuck’ll take you wherever ’twas you was goin’.”

It struck the schoolmaster that whenever he needed help in a hurry, God sent Mister Jenks. He smiled now at the sunburnt face with its white lashes and brows. “If it please you, Jenks, would you be so kind as to drop me off at Ezra Fisk’s house in Randolph? And whilst we’re jogging along, I’ve an epistle to read you . . . soon as I catch my wind.”

• • •

Ezra Fisk lived in a comfortable, rented cottage while he waited for his land to be cleared and his own house to be built. When the schoolmaster arrived, the family was seated at the table, eating cold gander and hot bread.

Mistress Fisk quickly set a place for the unexpected guest and nudged her boys to move closer together on their bench to make room for the schoolmaster.

“Have a thigh or a nice breast of gander,” Mister Fisk urged heartily. “Time enough then to unburden your mind.”

Smiling his thanks, the schoolmaster helped himself. He tried to pick at his food, but he was too excited to eat. Suddenly he could pretend no longer. He got up, reached inside his coattail, and presented the letter to Ezra Fisk. Then he sat down again, while every eye around the table focused on the letter. Master Morgan bent his head over his plate, his mind busy with questions. Would Mister Fisk be willing to race Little Bub? Would he let the horse and Evans, too, stop work for nearly a whole day? Could he spare them?

The face of the tall man was a mask as he read, now pursing his lips thoughtfully, now thinning them into a line. He read the letter once, and then to everyone’s dismay began all over again. When he had finished his second reading, he folded and refolded the single sheet of paper, ran his finger over the gold seal, sniffed of the mingled odors, and returned the letter to Master Morgan.

At last his voice rolled out strong. “All right! All right, Morgan! They’ve asked for a whopping and we’re going to give it to ’em!”

“Who, Pa? Who wants a whopping?” cried the older boy.

“Hush, son,” said his mother.

Ezra Fisk picked up the bare drumstick from his plate and brandished it like a club. “Egad!” he trumpeted. “We’ll give these New York gentry a royal run for their money. By all means, man, let us accept the challenge! I shall be more than glad to spare Evans and the horse—for a full half day,” he added.

He signaled now to the schoolmaster to try to eat, and he himself nibbled the gristle at the joint of a drumstick to show how good it was. Then, “Morgan!” he boasted, thumping himself on the chest.

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