Silent Thunder by Andrea Pinkney

Author:Andrea Pinkney [Pinkney Andrea Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780786753659
Publisher: Argo-Navis

When I woke, Mama had left the quarters. I hadn’t heard her rustling in the dark. I’d missed the dim light of her lantern.

When Rosco and I met near the cypress tree, I told him I wanted to take today’s lesson in Missy Claire’s parlor. Rosco looked at me sideways. He swung his lantern in my direction. The lantern wick started to sputter, flickering its light onto my face. “You gone dim-witted, girl?” Rosco asked.

I held Walnut close. Her dress was still keeping my hands warm. “My wit ain’t nowhere near dim, Ros, that’s why I’m askin’. You’re the one who said we could go to the parlor to see Missy Claire’s sampler. This is the only time of day Missy ain’t parked at the parlor window, stitching.”

Rosco’s breath rose in little puffs that billowed up in the cold air. When he spoke, the puffs shot from his mouth in spurts of white. “All right, Summer,” he said, “we’ll go to the parlor, but only to look at the sampler. Things ain’t as risky with Parnell being sick and Missy growing so timid. But it still ain’t a good idea to be having a whole reading lesson anywhere near the house.”

I nodded.

Rosco set out a better plan. “We’ll gather wood from over near the toolshed first, then take it to the parlor and make like we’re doing the Missy a good deed by starting a fire in the parlor for her.”

“Missy’s morning fire is Clem’s doing,” I said.

“I know,” Rosco said. “But Clem builds her fire after he bathes Parnell. He sets the flame while Missy’s taking her final cup of breakfast tea. Believe me, Summer, I’m sure Clem won’t mind us leaving him with one less chore to do.”

Without another word, I was on my way to the woodpile, with Rosco following after me.

When we got the parlor, it was black and cold and silent. Rosco crisscrossed the logs and lit them. He watched the fire logs catch, then knelt at the hearth to blow at the small flame. Slowly, the fire grew, bringing its amber light to the room.

I’d been standing at Missy’s sampler hoop, holding the lantern up to its letters.

“Summer . . . flowers . . .” I read the words slowly and with true pleasure. Missy Claire had marked a new word onto the muslin, a word she had yet to stitch. I moved closer to the sampler to get a better look. I waved Rosco to me. “Ros, what’s this say?”

Rosco kept his eyes on the fire. “You tell me what it says.”

“But this here’s a long word, Ros—a whole mess of letters!”

Rosco glanced up briefly. “They don’t look that messy to me. Start with the first letter and go from there.”

I began with the two words I already knew, then went on to the new word. “Summer . . . flowers . . . blo—blos—blossom—. . .”

The fire was burning fully now. Rosco was still kneeling at the hearth to tend the fire’s rising flame.

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