Solomon. Marilyn Bishop Shaw

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “We’d never have got so much done but for you, Pete, you know that,” Moses offered.

      Diamond shifted, anxious to get moving, “I was glad to do it and the work was good for me. Got me limbered up a mite. Now, you all take good care. Winters down here get worse than folks think. Florida’s hot most times, but it can have some kind of cold, too, I learned that last year.” His three friends nodded, since they now knew how serious weather could be. “And, Solomon, I want you to work slowly and carefully on your whip. You’ve got a fine steady hand to do the weaving. Just try to remember all I showed you and take it out and rework it if it gets wobbly.”

      “I will, Mr. Pete. I’ll do it real good. And I’ll practice using it, too, you’ll see!”

      Moses’ back went stiff and Pete continued, “What else, Solomon? What else must you remember?”

      “The whip ain’t a toy, ain’t nothing to play with or use on a man. I won’t forget, Mr. Pete. Not ever.”

      A large hand reached down and wistfully rubbed the top of Solomon’s head, carefully avoiding the healing wound, then lifted in farewell as Pete and Diamond headed north.

6

      December, 1866

      Moses, Lela, and Solomon worked harder than ever as the sharp mornings of winter approached. Solomon helped his father salvage what they could and replant the rest of the winter garden so they could at least have a few collard greens. They gathered all the dead fall from the storm and added it to the woodpile. There could never be too much wood.

      Rocks were dredged out of the blanket of mud the storm had washed over them, and the fire pit was rebuilt. They’d had little time when their house was built, so it had no fireplace. Lela was so relieved to have walls, a roof, and a few sticks of furniture, that cooking outside was of little consequence. Her time was spent clearing the area around the house and mending damage to the chicken coop. She even stole a whole afternoon to reorganize the house.

      Moses and Solomon put the mules in the lot and followed their noses to the stew pot hanging over the fire. “Papa, I don’t care if I do get cold. I don’t want to chop any more wood.”

      “You say that now, but you be shivering enough come cold to be glad you did all that choppin.’ ” His father chuckled. “and I know you don’t want the cookfire to go cold!”

      “Mmmm, Mama does cook good, don’t she, Papa?”

      “That she do, boy. Like makin’ magic with the little bit we has.” They washed up and went inside where they heard the sweet sound of a contented woman singing at her work. They stopped in their tracks. “Lawdy, Miz Lela, I never saw such.”