The Unplowed Sky (28 page)

If they saw Hallie at all, she would be a tiny speck, nothing as visible as a cottonwood tree. Somehow, trying to imagine the earth from their lofty sweep calmed Hallie, made her take a long view, consider her ultimate purpose in being here.

That was to free Garth from worry about his daughter as he went about making a living and to make it possible for Meg to recuperate in familiar surroundings rather than go to the feared and detested invalid home. Ranking close to that was having employment that provided a good home for Jackie and allowed her to look after him.

Wonderful as it would be to win Meg's affection and trust, that was not Hallie's reason for staying. She couldn't keep herself from imagining how welcoming and pleasant she could make the austere house, and she would clean it thoroughly and wax the floors, but that was not her main goal, either.

So she would try to think of the high, wild geese next time Meg provoked her, and hold to her intention as the geese pursued their winter haven above the changing and divided earth.

When Meg came out, she darted a belligerent half-shamefaced look at Hallie. Hallie smiled and closed the door. “The geese are starting south.”

Meg gazed up. The crutches seemed like skewers clamping her to the ground. “It must be wonderful to fly—to not even need a traveling cloak like Prince Dolor.”

So the girl did escape with the lame prince and soar over the wide, wide world on his magic cloak. Hallie could not stay cold to her. “You probably will fly someday in an airplane.”

“That's not the same.”

“No. But I'd love, at least once, to watch the world spread out below the way the wild geese do.”

Immediately, Hallie regretted confiding the wish. She braced herself for a jeering remark or withering glance, but Meg only looked at her in a puzzled fashion and swung along toward the house. Helping her up the steps, Hallie ventured a suggestion.

“I broke my ankle when I was about your age, Meg. It took it a long time to get strong again, but I got around by pushing a chair in front of me. That way I could put as much weight on it as was comfortable, but have support when I needed it.”

Meg considered. “I might try it. I'm sick of these old crutches.”

As soon as they were in the kitchen, Meg got next to a chair and leaned her crutches against the wall, gripping the high back. Gingerly at first, leaning heavily, then with increasing confidence, she shoved the chair along the floor.

“Why, I can use my legs better!” Her cheeks glowed with happy color. “I don't have to hop like I do on the crutches, but I can rest when I need to! Oh, I'm glad you broke your ankle, Hallie!” Hallie's shock must have been clear for Meg hastily added, “I mean, I'm glad you found out how to do this!”

Jackie watched a minute and asked, “Can I push a chair, too, Meg? We could run a race!”

Meg had the grace to look at Hallie. “
May
you,” Hallie corrected and smothered a sigh as she relinquished her dream of a resplendent waxed floor. That wasn't a goal, though. It was only a wish. She brushed back her brother's curly dark hair. How he had grown since Felicity left him, and how brown and healthy he looked! She smiled and said, “Yes, Jackie, you may push a chair but I think you'll have to do it by the seat.”

“Race you to the end of the front room!” cried Meg, and they were off.

Hallie watched them scoot out of the kitchen, more hopeful of friendship with Meg than she had ever been. Then she got the catalog and began to fill out her order.

XIV

When he came home that weekend, Garth was so pleased that Meg was pushing around with chairs and getting more use of her legs that it stung only a little that Meg didn't credit Hallie for the idea.
Pretend you're a wild goose
had become Hallie's watchword for the high, long view. It did help.

The postman left the curtains and wax package in the big mailbox at the turnoff to the MacLeods on the same day that he brought a letter from Luke. “His writing's as beautiful as—as he is!” Meg said. “Look, Jackie, he drew you a picture of the cows and their calves!”

Her expression changed. Her fingers clenched on the paper before she handed it to Hallie and began to read the letter aloud. The sketch must have been done from memory. Hallie, in her sunbonnet, was at the controls of the engine while the belt ran to the separator. Garth and the pitchers on the stacks were defined by a few swift strokes but Hallie was drawn carefully, even her shadowed face. Meg, driving up with the water wagon, had her back turned.

Peering over her shoulder, Shaft whistled. “The boy's good! You can almost see that old belt whirrin' and the chaff spitting out.”

“I like the cows and calves better,” Meg said. “Now, Shaft, if you don't mind, I'd like to read this letter.”

“Yes, ma'am, Miss Meggie.” Shaft bowed low.

Luke was sawing up logs he and Rusty had cut and trimmed the year before, and splitting them into firewood; one size for the kitchen range, bigger chunks for the fireplace. They had slaughtered a hog, rendered out the lard for cooking, and Luke's mother and sister were making sausage and headcheese while hams and side meat cured in the smokehouse.

At night, while the women patched clothing, or worked on a quilt, Luke and the older children picked meats out of black walnuts or shelled corn. Mrs. Wells—Vinnie, Luke called her—usually popped a dishpan of fluffy corn and poured melted butter over it. Luke's mother told stories, or they sang songs, or just talked. “
Tell me what all of you are doing,”
Luke concluded. “
Send me another picture, Jackie. Meg, we all pray every night that you will soon be walking
.”

Meg's voice wavered on the last sentence. “They—they're praying for me!” she choked, scrubbing at her eyes. “When you couldn't blame them if they hoped I'd be crippled forever!”

“They're not that kind of folks, honey.” Shaft patted her shoulder. “But if you've got any dolls or toys or such you've outgrown, you could send them to the kids.”

“I won't send them old stuff. Daddy saves my wages for college or whatever I'll want to do, but he'll get me a money order for Sears, Roebuck. Jackie, bring the catalog here, and let's pick out something nice for each of the kids.”

While they were absorbed in this exciting task, Hallie swept and mopped the front room. As soon as the wood was dry, she began to rub in the wax with a soft rag while she knelt on an old doubled towel. The dry wood soaked up the wax thirstily, but the grain showed mellow and pale gold. Garth might not take much care of his floors, but he had bought expensive oak.

When this coat dried, she would buff it and put on another. Polished to a sheen, that ought to keep this seldom-used floor looking nice for a long time. She'd have to do the kitchen after everyone was in bed.

She had opened the front door in order to let the floor dry faster. Something blocked the light. She glanced up. The man seemed to fill the door. The sunlight spilling around him obscured his face, but she knew it was Raford.

“Stay outside,” she ordered. “I don't want anyone tracking up the floor.”

“Such hospitality!”

“You shouldn't be here at all.”

“Oh? In that case, I'll just go my way and return this letter the MacReynoldses wrote you.”

“Give it to me!” Hallie scrambled up. She opened the screen door and reached for the envelope.

He caught her hand, held it easily in spite of her efforts to withdraw it, and examined the wax-stained fingers and nails. “My God, Hallie! You'll ruin your hands!”

“They're my hands.” She couldn't break free without attacking him with kicks, scratching, and teeth. He'd enjoy that. She willed her her hand to be lifeless in his, as a wild creature plays dead. “Give me my letter.”

“MacLeod has a nerve to expect you to slave on your knees like this!”

“He doesn't expect it. He doesn't know I'm doing it.”

Raford sucked in his breath. His eyes glittered like sunlit amber. “That makes it worse! You
want
to break your back for him!” He dropped her hand and caught her shoulders. “You're beautiful and special, Hallie. You belong with a man who would know how to take care of you.”

She fought down panic at being gripped in those merciless iron fingers. “I'm not a horse or machine. I can take care of myself. Give me the letter.”

His eyes flamed. His grasp tightened. Something in her expression checked him. He muttered a few words beneath his breath and let go of her so abruptly that she had to catch herself against the door.

“Why, when I finally love a woman, does she have to be a fool? Tell me this: are you warming his bed?”

Without thinking, Hallie slapped him as hard as she could, so hard her palm hurt. His arm drew back. She thought he'd hit her back, but after a moment, he laughed with relieved exultation. “He hasn't had you yet.”

“You—you—”

“Can't think of anything bad enough?” Raford chuckled. “You missed your only chance to be rid of me, my dear. If you'd blushed or looked ashamed, given away that you'd been with him, I'd have made myself leave you alone. I won't have MacLeod's leavings.”

“You thought Jackie was my child.”

“I could forgive a slip that happened when you were little more than a child yourself. But I've had a letter from the MacReynoldses, too. They confirm what you told me; that the boy is your half-brother.”

“What can I do to make you believe me? There's no way on earth I'll ever—”

She couldn't even say it. He smiled. “Never say never, Hallie love.”

He gave her the envelope and sauntered toward the Pierce-Arrow that was parked some distance down the road. So he could come up quietly, take her by surprise. Hallie began to tremble. She sat down on the front step to read the MacReynoldses letter.

As she read, slow anger burned in her. It was clear that Raford had given them a dire picture of her circumstances. They wrote that she and Jackie were welcome to come live with them in Maryland, though their house was small and it would be a little crowded. They could look after Jackie while Hallie worked in an office or store.

“
Though,”
Mrs. MacReynolds admonished, “
it really sounds as if you should go back to the Rafords. He's baffled as to why you left but is willing to give you another chance
.”

I'll bet, Hallie thought grimly. She had written the MacReynoldses a few times that summer but explained there was no way they could answer till the run was over. She had, in fact, got off a letter a few days ago, but they wouldn't have it yet.

Maybe what she told them would allay their worries over whatever Raford had passed on, but they had been kind to her and she didn't want them troubled. That was why she hadn't told them why she'd left Rafords, only that it seemed like a way to keep Jackie from missing his mother so much.

Tonight, while thanking them for their concern and kindness, she would set them straight on that and any other lies Raford might write them in future. She didn't even consider going to Maryland.

Shaft put up rods for the curtains and helped Hallie hang them. They looked even better than she had hoped, emphasizing and framing the outside views and brightening the colors of the wallpaper. Would Garth like them?

Meg didn't. “They'll just get dirty,” she said with a curl of her lip when Hallie stepped back to admire the transformed kitchen windows.

“Then I'll wash them.”

“They make it dark.”

“How can they? Look, I ordered the rods long enough so the curtains cover the woodwork but don't shade the window at all unless they're closed on purpose.”

Meg shrugged and smiled at Jackie, who was wriggling with impatience. “Do you want to show Shaft and your sister what we ordered for Rusty's kids?”

Nodding, Jackie opened the catalog on the table to the first marker. “We picked out this dump truck and this locomotive.” He flipped pages to the other things. “And Tinkertoys and a blackboard that makes into a desk and paints and this big teddy bear and a uke-uke—well, a uke! And look! A red wagon like the one I used to have, and Meg's ordered one for me, too!”

Hallie's conscience smote her. Why hadn't she thought of that? Toys would have been in the way during the run, and they had never stayed in one place long enough for Jackie to exhaust the natural possibilities. Now that they were settled, of course he'd miss the toys he used to have.

“I want to pay for the wagon,” Hallie said. It cost $5.98, a week's pay for being in the cookshack from four in the morning till supper dishes were done about nine in the evening. “And I'd like to help buy the other things, Meg.”

“No. I want them to be from me.” Jackie looked crestfallen. Meg gave him a hug and added, “And from Jackie, of course.” The girl stared at Hallie above Jackie's dark head. “I want to give him the wagon. You can get him something else.”

Don't let this turn into a contest, Hallie warned herself. It wouldn't be good for her brother to sense that he could manipulate them. Jackie's birthday was a few days before Christmas. She would replenish his toys then. Now she forced a smile and said, “That's very generous of you, Meg.”

After the others were in bed that night, Hallie waxed the kitchen floor by lamplight. The drawn curtains made her feel safe and protected—as much as she could with Raford living three miles up the road.

He had left no mark on her wrists and hands, yet they felt bruised. Why was he so set on her? It must be because he wasn't used to being refused, and he found her provocatively different. Also, just as he coveted Garth's land, he would want any woman he thought Garth might care for—not that he had that reason in her case, Hallie thought. She rubbed the wax vigorously.

It was past midnight when Hallie polished the second coat by sliding around the room on part of an old sheet. Panting and exhilarated, she surveyed the shining floor and gold curtains. It looked beautiful—an entirely changed room—and she had done it, mostly by hard work.