That Boy Red by Rachna Gilmore

Author:Rachna Gilmore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2011-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

When he woke the next morning, Red knew right away Pa wasn’t there.

The house didn’t sound right. Pa was always the first one up; he got the stove going and put on the porridge.

Red could hear the clunk of the stove opening, the thud of wood being thrown in and the thunk of the pot on the stove. But none of it sounded like Pa; it sounded Ellen-ish. Sharp and quick, instead of solid and steady, like Pa.

It was a relief to get up and start on the chores, to be busy with something. He and Mac worked in silence; they milked and fed the cows—grinding some turnips for their feed—mucked out the stalls, then fed the horses and cleaned the stables. They watered the livestock, fed the pigs and even cleaned out the pigsty, though it didn’t really need it yet. Then they went to the henhouse to feed and water the hens and look for eggs—there weren’t many this time of year, with the days so short.

More visitors came by, and later, Dr. MacLeod dropped in to bring them news and pick up some clothes to take back for Pa and Ma.

“Your Pa’s going to be in the hospital a little longer, but your Ma said she’ll try and get home on the train soon.”

Red wanted to ask about Pa’s hand, but the words stuck like a burr in his throat.

Then Ellen asked, “And how is Pa’s hand?”

Dr. MacLeod looked at them with his keen brown eyes. He wasn’t one to mince words, Ma always said. Right now Red wasn’t sure if he was more glad of it or sorry.

“Well now, he’s lost three fingers just above the second knuckle.” Dr. MacLeod indicated the last three fingers of his left hand. “That’s the bad news. But the good news is he’s still got his thumb and forefinger and that’s a real blessing. I believe that, after a while, he’ll be able to do just about everything he’s always done. Don’t worry, he’s going to be just fine.”

“Pa doesn’t have fingers?” Bunch’s eyes filled and her face wobbled.

Ellen picked her up and cuddled her.

Red hardly noticed Dr. MacLeod leave.

Three fingers.

Three fingers gone. How in the world would Pa manage everyday chores, never mind the delicate work of making those caddies?

Red went outside to the bleak November sunshine.

It seemed an insult to have the sun shining.

He paced along the hard ground from the house to the big barn. Tubbs, who was perched on the wellhouse roof, watched him with solemn golden eyes.

Mr. Munn came by a short while later with Tinker. Red heard him tell Ellen not to go frettin’—he’d help Tinker saw the rest of the firewood. And once the snow was down, he said, he’d help Pa cut hardwood to take to the mill.

Hardwood. To cut into boards for the caddies.

Except they wouldn’t need any more boards if they couldn’t make the caddy order.

A few years back, Simon MacPhee, from Marram Point, had also made tobacco caddies. But Mr.

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