Part 9 (2/2)
A stand of oaks drew Nate's interest. Several were more than thick enough. He patted a trunk. ”What do you think?”
”That there isn't enough respect in this world for those with white hair.”
”I meant the trees.”
”Oh.” Shakespeare walked around it. ”Nice and straight. And oak is stronger than pine.”
”Let's do it.”
Shakespeare nodded and chose another.
Nate settled into a rhythm, swinging smoothly and powerfully. Chips flew with each bite of his ax blade. When the oak gave a lurch and there was a loud crack, he yelled, ”Timber!” and quickly backed away. With a tremendous boom, the giant oak fell. It took a few smaller trees with it and when it hit, raised bits of gra.s.s and dust into the air.
A few minutes later the tree Shakespeare had picked came cras.h.i.+ng down. He walked over, his brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. ”That felt good.”
”See,” Nate said. ”You're not as old as you keep saying.”
”Because I can chop down a tree?”
”You never once stopped to rest. Many men would have.”
”I have never been puny,” Shakespeare said. He gazed about them at the untamed wilds. ”You can't be and survive out here.”
”Neither puny nor careless,” Nate said.
Evelyn appeared, carrying a pitcher and two gla.s.ses. She was wearing one of her best dresses and a bonnet Nate had never laid eyes on before. He had seen her sewing something a few days ago and now he knew what. ”That's new,” he said, nodding.
”Yes,” Evelyn said absently.
Shakespeare studied it. ”I've never seen you in a bonnet, young one. It becomes you.”
”I'm not so young anymore,” Evelyn replied in the same absent tone, ”and I was hoping it would.”
”You act down in the dumps,” Shakespeare remarked.
Evelyn gave a toss of her head and smiled. ”Sorry. It's just that Dega isn't here today.”
Nate and Shakespeare exchanged covert glances.
”Not here?” Nate said.
”No. He's off with his pa, hunting. His sister says he wanted to come but Waku promised you he would do the hunting and Dega had to go with him.”
”It's rough having a stomach,” Shakespeare said.
Evelyn blinked and then grinned. ”You say the strangest things, do you know that?”
Nate said, ”You'll get to see Dega later probably.”
”I hope so.” Evelyn gave each of them a gla.s.s. ”I brought blackberry juice. Ma made it as a surprise.”
”Daisies and nags rolled into one,” Shakespeare said.
”Excuse me?”
”Women,” Shakespeare said.
”That's awful. Not all women nag, I am sure.”
”Girl, you're, what, sixteen? You've lived long enough to know that females will be females and males will be males and never the twain shall meet.”
Shakespeare chuckled. ”Well, except under the blan-”
Nate nudged him with an elbow, hard.
”Except what?” Evelyn asked.
”Except in the heart, where it counts the most,” Shakespeare said, and rubbed his side. ”If it wasn't for love we'd likely kill each other off.”
”Love,” Evelyn said dreamily.
Nate wagged his gla.s.s. ”Are you going to pour or do we do it ourselves? I'm right thirsty.”
”Sorry, Pa.”
Shakespeare waited his turn, took a long sip, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. ”Delicious. Tell your ma if I wasn't married to my personal nag and she wasn't hitched to this lunkhead next to me, I'd dang well propose to her.”
”I'll tell my ma no such thing,” Evelyn said. ”You're terrible.”
Shakespeare drank more juice and said, ”Marriage isn't a bed of roses, fair maiden. You'd do well to remember that.”
”But you believe in love. You just said so.”
Shakespeare smiled and said kindly, ”Yes, precious. I believe in love as much as I believe in anything.”
”Me, too. I think about it a lot.”
Shakespeare took another sip and looked at a pair of finches that flew past and then at the sky and then at his moccasins and then he said, ”Have anyone in particular in mind when you think about love?”
”Who? Me?”
”I wasn't talking to Horatio, here. I already know he loves Winona. The wisest choice he ever made in his whole life.” Shakespeare raised his gla.s.s and stared at her over the rim. ”How about you?”
”I'm too young to be in love.”
”Really?”
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