Sweetwater Run by Jan Watson

Author:Jan Watson [Watson, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical
ISBN: 9781496415400
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2016-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

A FEW DAYS after Big Boy Randall took the funeral parlor’s chair away, Cara was sitting on the front porch, sharpening her small-bladed whittling knife on a leather strop. She had begun to think Big Boy was not going to return the mule. And what could she do if he didn’t? Go to the sheriff and say, “Someone stole the mule my husband stole that someone stole from him”?

As if in answer to her quandary, she heard, “Morning, missus,” from across the barnyard. “I brung your mule back.”

Cara laid the tool aside and stepped out into the yard. She didn’t want to encourage Big Boy to come up on the porch. She aimed to keep his visit short. She needn’t have worried, however, for Big Boy dismounted and with a jaunty wave strode away, leaving Pancake by the barn. Cara guessed he was going to cross the creek and head back to the road.

“Well,” she said, retrieving the leather strop. Slap, slap, slap—the blade stroked the strop at an angle. Cara ran the mirrored edge of the blade across the surface of her thumbnail to check for nicks.

The midafternoon air was soft and balmy. Who didn’t love the first sweet days in June? The porch was quiet, and Cara fell into a meditative state as she carved a chunk of butternut. Strangely, she was let down by Big Boy’s quick departure. She’d thought they’d share a few words. After Big Boy’s visit the other day, she searched the Bible until she found the book of Proverbs, and she read every word aloud. The rhythmical flow of the short verses put her in mind of the cadence of whittling—each line a beat as each score with her knife was also a beat.

She had memorized her favorite verses, and now she recited them. “‘There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.’” That was pretty to say. The whole book reminded her of the riddles her daddy had taught her when she was a girl and which she now taught to Jay. Each one had a lesson at its core.

Wood chips flew through her fingers as the rough face of a doll emerged from the butternut. Tiny ears appeared on the oval shape; a slight dimple creased the chin. Given a chance, she might have asked Big Boy about the spider verse. It puzzled her: “The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings’ palaces.” Was that some kind of warning? Cara didn’t like spiders. She kept knobby green hedge apples under the bed and in each corner of the house to keep the creepy things away. She thought of one time she’d seen a hairy wolf spider big as a half-dollar crawling up the bedpost. She smacked it so hard with a cord of wood that she busted the post.

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