staring over at Amanda. Lou finally looked, but she didn't seem very excited to see her
mother outside. Cotton's gaze went from daughter to mother, and even Cotton had to
admit, the woman looked pitifully out of place in the sunshine, her eyes closed, the
breeze not lifting her short hair, as though even the elements had abandoned her. He
carried her back inside.
It was a bright summer's morning a few days later, and Lou had just finished milking the
cows and was coming out of the barn with full buckets in her arms. She stopped dead as
she stared across at the fields. She ran so fast to the house that the milk splashed around
her feet. She set the buckets on the porch and ran into the house, past Louisa and Eugene
and down the hall yelling at the top of her lungs. She burst into her mother's room, and
there was Oz sitting next to her, brushing her hair.
Lou was breathless. "It's working. It's green. Everything. The crops are coming up. Oz,
go see." Oz raced out of the room so fast he forgot he only had on his underwear. Lou
stood there in the middle of the room, her chest heaving, her smile wide. As her breathing
calmed, Lou went over to her mother and sat down, took up a limp hand. "I just thought
you'd like to know. See, we've been working really hard." Lou sat there in silence for a
minute more, and then put the hand down and left, her excitement spent.
In her bedroom that night, as on so many other evenings, Louisa worked the Singer pedal
sewing machine she had bought for ten dollars on installment nine years back. She
wouldn't reveal to the children what she was making, and wouldn't even let them guess.
Yet Lou knew it must be something for her and Oz, which made her feel even guiltier
about the fight with Billy Davis.
After supper the next evening, Oz went to see his mother, and Eugene went to work on
some scythes in the corncrib. Lou washed the dishes, and then sat on the front porch next
to Louisa. For a while, neither ventured to talk. Lou saw a pair of titmice fly out of the
barn and land on the fence. Their gray plumage and pointed crests were glorious, but the
girl wasn't much interested.
"I'm sorry about the fighting," Lou said quickly, and let out a relieved breath that her
apology was finally done.
Louisa stared at the two mules in the pen. "Good to know," she said, and then said no
more. The sun was starting its fall and the sky was fairly clear, with not many clouds
worth noting. A big crow was sky-surfing alone, catching one drift of wind and then
another, like a lazily falling leaf.
Lou cupped some dirt and watched a battalion of ants trail across her hand. The
honeysuckle vine was in full, scented morning glory, filling the air along with the
fragrances of cinnamon rose and clove pinks, and the purple wall of maypops dutifully
shaded the porch. Rambling rose had twisted itself around most of the fence posts and
looked like bursts of still fire.
"George Davis is an awful man," said Lou.
Louisa leaned her back against the porch railing. "Work his children like mules and treats
his mules better'n his children."
"Well, Billy didn't have to be mean to me," Lou said, and then grinned. "And it was
funny to see him fall out of that tree when he saw the dead snake I put in his lunch pail."
Louisa leaned forward and looked at her curiously. "You see anythin' else in that pail?"
"Anything else? Like what?"
"Like food."
Lou appeared confused. "No, the pail was empty." Louisa slowly nodded, settled back
against the railing once more, and looked to the west, where the sun was commencing its
creep behind the mountains, kindling the sky pink and red.
Louisa said, "You know what I find funny? That children believe they should be shamed
'cause their daddy don't see fit to give them food. So shamed they'd haul an empty pail to
school and pretend to eat, so's nobody catch on they ain't got nothing to eat. You find that
funny?"
Lou shook her head, her gaze at her feet. "No." "I know I ain't talked to you 'bout your
daddy. But my heart goes out to you and Oz, and I love both of you even more, on 'count
of I want to make up for that loss, even though I know I can't." She put a hand on Lou's
shoulder and turned the girl to her. "But you had a fine daddy. A man who loved you.
And I know that makes it all the harder to get by, and mat's both a blessing and a curse
that we all just got to bear in this life. But thing is, Billy Davis got to live with his daddy
ever day. I'd ruther be in your shoes. And I know Billy Davis would. I pray for all them
children ever day. And you should too."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE GRANDMOTHER CLOCK HAD JUST STRUCK MJD-night when the pebbles hit Lou's