Free The Springsweet by Saundra Mitchell Page A

comfort.
    Taking her up, I smoothed my hand over her hair, letting her soak my neck with the slick effluvia of her tears. What an awful, cruel thing I had become.
    Crooning to her, I choked on a sob of my own, then cut it off viciously. The wideness of the plains had never seemed more desolate to me, but I had no right to cry.
    My fears were stupid and childish—if someone had set on Birdie, I wouldn't be left alone in the prairie with a baby.
    I'd take her home to Baltimore, where Mama would know how to make her eat a plate of eggs without shouting. I'd have a clean dress and a corset, hot meals thrice daily, and water that ran from a pump in the kitchen again.
    "Shhh, shhh," I whispered to Louella, rocking her, though she had stopped crying in earnest. I rocked her so hard, it seemed the earth floor trembled beneath us. "We'll sweep it all up. It's no matter at all."
    Suddenly, someone knocked on the door, and Louella started in my arms. "Mama!" she cried, wriggling free and running to throw the door open. But the shape in the doorway frightened her, and she ran back to my skirts.
    "Mr. Birch," I said.
    He was so tall he had to lean a bit to see inside, his broad shoulders casting a wide shadow. I stepped in front of him, ashamed to let him see the terrible mess Lou and I had made of the house. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
    Tipping his hat back, he looked from Louella to me and asked, "Where's your aunt?"
    "In town," I said airily. "She'll be along anytime now."
    "I brought you something."
    Then he turned and walked away, an invitation to follow him. This time I did, for it was a relief to see proof that we weren't forgotten out on Plot 325.
    Louella kept one arm tight around my neck. "Who is?" she asked around her finger.
    "A friend," I told her.
    Emerson strode to his buckboard and lifted a parcel from it. When he turned, I realized it was my muddied silk scarf, and it hung heavy with something wrapped in it. Instead of simply handing it to me, he cradled it in his arm and folded back the corners.
    Peppers. Dark green capsicum peppers, nestled beside two fat tomatoes and a striped turnip, on a bed of white and yellow corn. He shifted the pack, to give account of its contents. "Some beans and some onions, too. I wanted to bring carrots, but they weren't ready yet."
    My mouth watered, but I hesitated. "I haven't got any money. I lost everything on the coach."
    Emerson tied the bundle, then handed it to Louella, who didn't know any better than to take it. "I don't have any money either. That's for the well."
    "I ... all right."
    With a deep breath, he started to speak but thought better of it. He tipped his hat to Louella, then to me, making as if to take to his buckboard again.
    At that, I should have said thank you and bid him goodbye. But he seemed full, round with some kind of anticipation. Against my own best judgment, I wanted to uncover it.
    "Wait! May I ask you a question, Mr. Birch?"
    He smiled at that, a crooked tilt to his lips. "Why so formal, Miss Stewart?"
    I hefted Louella up on my hip and lifted my chin. "It's not formal, it's polite. You have heard of manners, haven't you?"
    "I was thinking I might ask you the same thing."
    His gaze trailed from mine, and he made the oddest expression—eyes rounded and nose pinched. I realized he was trying to make Louella laugh. Warmth flooded my skin, touching me with an unexpected fondness.
    Nuzzling against Louella's hair, I gave her a little kiss, then asked, "How do you make your garden grow so prettily? Ours is struggling."
    Rubbing his hands together, he seemed to ponder the question. Then he met my eyes again. There was no mistaking it, not in moonlight or sunshine: he was very handsome and not the least bit affected. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
    He interrupted my vanity with a question. "Can I take a look?"
    Honestly, I should have told him no. My little mourning Zora protested, and I knew Birdie wouldn't be happy to have had him near her home