Silver Claws: Blood Twins

Chapter 16

16.

“We got fence mending to do,” Hannah announced.

Rhea screwed up her face. “The chickens got a coop and it looks fine. I don’t see any fences.”

Hannah slapped the table next to Rhea’s hand with her spoon. A quick, sharp crack. Rhea jumped.

“I thought you were so smart, Miss Sass. I’m talking about the fences you tore down when you knocked that big ox of a boy on his behind and shamed the teacher. There’s still whispers goin’ on about you two. I see the looks I get down to the Emporium, and the laundry lady makes me put down my bundle, won’t take it straight from my hands. You might be taming Lars and the little uns might be grateful he’s not giving them thumpings any more. That don’t mean they think you’re not . . .strange.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

The spoon smacked the table again.

“Are you thick?” Hannah demanded.

“Rhea,” I interrupted. “We have to care. We have to blend in. If we seem strange, somebody talks, somebody else talks, and sooner or later Nero or one of his scouts hear about us.”

“At least one of you got sense,” Hannah said.

Rhea’s mind was full of growls.

Hannah became a tornado of to-do’s. She invited every soul in Green Gulch to a Welcome Party. Wilf bought a cow and a pig to roast over a spit. Hannah baked loaves and loaves of bread. She set us to clear out a wide patch in the back of the house and forge. Then the day of the party, Wilf and I put up a big tent to give shade against the sun.

“Where’d you get this big ole tent?”

“Me and Hannah lived in it while I built the forge. Then we lived in part of the forge while I built the house. We had to move back into the forge for a bit when I put Hannah’s wood floors in.”

I hadn’t understood it before. Hannah and Wilf had worked hard for what they had. Johnny dumping us on them had caused them worry and hardship.

“I’m sorry we’ve caused you trouble, Wilf.”

“I don’t think you caused it boy. Don’t fret.” Wilf grinned but something sad darkened the back of his eyes. “Well, look who’s here.” He called out as a neighbor came toting a long table.

Soon the area under the tent was lined with our table and a few of the guests. Food filled the tables. Some Hannah’s, some brought by neighbor women. Men had fiddles and played tunes that hurt my sensitive ears but seemed to make the humans smile.

Rhea was dressed in what Hannah called her Sunday best and though she mindspoke different, she smiled and talked sweet as peach pie to everyone. And Hannah introduced us to each person that showed up. Telling the story of our poor sick mother. How we got such a bad start in town because we were grieving and lonely.

The mothers and wives clucked over us, the husbands and father offered us encouragement, only Lars’ father wasn’t won over by neither the story nor the beef ribs. But he and I seemed in agreement on something. Neither of us liked seeing Lars and Rhea spend so much time together. Laughing, whispering, dancing to the fiddler’s tunes. Later, when it was full dark we didn’t see them at all for a time.

“Where’s my boy? I think we’ll be going home. Work starts early on a farm,” Mr. Olsen said.

“Haven’t seen him in a bit,“ I said.

“He with your sister? Don’t see her no where either.”

“I think she went inside to get something for Hannah,” I lied. I walked toward the house.