Part 23 (2/2)
”There was dust half an inch thick,” she grimaced. ”I don't see how we picked all of it up in this short time.”
”It will gather,” Emma said thoughtfully, ”and I don't know what we can do except clean it out.”
”What are you going to do now, Mother?”
”There doesn't seem to be anything.” Emma, who must always be busy, knew a feeling of disquiet because there was no task at hand. ”Let's take the children for a walk.”
Joe and Alfred scampered ahead, overturning stones and picking up worms for what was probably the best-fed frog in Missouri. Little Emma gathered daisies, wove them into a chain, and proudly presented it to her mother. Carlyle stared, wholly entranced, at a horde of bright orange b.u.t.terflies that clung to a wet place on the ground. Barbara strolled gracefully beside her mother while they talked of events to be.
Then it was time to get lunch. Joe came, but there was no sign of Tad.
He'd been permitted to explore the town on condition that he be back for lunch.
”Do you suppose he's in trouble?” she asked worriedly.
Joe muttered, ”He just forgot. Doggone that kid! I'll--Say! What the d.i.c.kens!”
Across the meadow came a large and determined woman whose right hand had a firm grip on Tad's right arm. Mike sulked behind, ears flattened and tail drooping. Emma gasped. Blood crimsoned Tad's upper lip and had spattered from there onto his s.h.i.+rt. His nose was still bleeding. The woman approached the group at the table and pushed Tad toward them.
”Is this your little beast?” she said fiercely.
Joe knew a rising concern and a quick flash of anger, but he controlled himself. ”This is my son.”
”Keep him here or I'll have him jailed for a.s.sault!”
Joe asked wonderingly, ”Who did he a.s.sault?”
”First my Jeremy, then my Tommy, then my George! They--! All of them have b.l.o.o.d.y noses!”
”They called me a hayseed,” Tad muttered grimly.
The woman turned on her heel and strode away. Tad stood expectant but defiant, awaiting the punishment he knew he would get. His eyes widened when Joe said quietly,
”Wash your face and come have some lunch, Tad.”
”But, Pa--”
”When it's three to one,” Joe explained, ”it's not entirely sensible.
But neither is it a.s.sault. Besides, didn't they call you a hayseed?”
Emma controlled a smile.
The days pa.s.sed, and because there was little to do, Emma began to find them tedious. She still cherished a desire to shop in Independence, but she had given up hope of doing it, for Joe was working all day long and there was no one else whom she would trust with the children. Because Barbara knew how her mother felt, she contained her own crus.h.i.+ng disappointment and said nothing. Then the bomb exploded. Joe came to lunch, but instead of rising and going right back to work, which was his usual routine, he lingered at the table.
”Your afternoon off, Emma,” he said cheerfully. ”I'll wash the dishes.”
”But--”
”I'm going to let the mules rest this afternoon,” he ran a hand through his s.h.a.ggy hair, ”and I've been doing some pondering. I pondered that you and Bobby might like to see some of Independence. Go ahead. Take some money along so you can buy yourselves something.”
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