Free The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey Page A

the trees, the air cooled, the dead animal stiffened, but they kept at it. Sometimes Garrett offered advice about where to make a cut or how to separate a joint. He held the legs in place or pulled back the hide so Jack could work more easily. They joked some and talked some, but mostly just worked, and it was comfortable.
    When they had cut away the legs and ribs, the tenderloin and backstrap and neck meat, Garrett fetched a handsaw from his saddlebags and they sawed the antlers from the skull.
    “You’ve got to bring these back tonight,” Garrett said, “so we can show everybody. They’ll never believe it if we just tell them.”
    Jack would have rather left the antlers and hauled more of the meat home, but he decided the quarters would be safe enough hanging in the trees until he could come back with the horse and wagon in the morning. He hated to disappoint the boy after all he’d done to help, so they strapped the antlers, vital organs, and some of the finest cuts of meat to Garrett’s saddle.
    “That’s a good horse you got there,” Jack said as they secured the load. “Doesn’t balk at meat being strapped on.”
    “I bought him myself from a miner who used him for packing. I’m going to make him into a trapping horse.”
    Bloody and tired, they made their way through the trees, Garrett leading the horse by a rope. Jack hadn’t realized how close he was to his field, and from there they followed the wagon trail. It was nearing dark as they came into the yard.
    “I sure am grateful for your help,” Jack said. “I’d still be out there hacking away by myself.”
    “Sure. Sure,” Garrett said. “Wait till Mom and Dad see it.”
    With Jack hobbling after him, Garrett rushed ahead.
    “Looks like your folks beat you here,” Jack called out when he saw the sleigh in the yard. Just then, George and his two older sons came out of the barn.
    “You’re not going to believe this!” Garrett hollered. “Jack shot the biggest damn moose you ever saw!”

CHAPTER 8
     
    A s she prepared that morning for the Bensons’ arrival, Mabel reminded herself of how it had been at their house for Thanksgiving. She would not fret about the stains on the tablecloth or the rough-plank floor that could never be scrubbed clean. Dinner would be well made, but not so much that it seemed she was trying to show them up. She didn’t own any men’s overalls and never intended to. Her long skirt and formal sleeves might be overdone, but they were all she had.
    By late morning, the cabin was clean and the table set. She spent an hour or so fussing with her hair and rearranging the place settings. She was relieved when dusk came and the Bensons arrived on a sleigh pulled by one of their draft horses. George and the two older boys took the horse to the barn, while Esther unloaded some things from the sleigh and came to the door. There was no knock or opportunity to invite her in as Esther pushed past Mabel.
    “Thank God, we’re finally here.” She tossed a dusty grain sack on the table, nearly knocking a plate to the floor. “I thought you could use some onions. We ended up with more than we need.”
    She opened her coat and unloaded Mason jars from her oversized pockets. “This one here’s rhubarb jam. Terrific on sourdough pancakes. Did you get that sourdough to take? You’ve got to baby it some. Don’t let it get too hot or too cold. Oh, this one here is blueberry-raspberry, I think. Might have some currants in there. Hard to tell. Sure it will be good, though. Oh, and here’s some spicy pickled peas. George’s favorite. Don’t tell him I snuck you some.”
    She took off her coat and threw it across the back of a chair. “I feared those were going to freeze on the way over. I had to keep them up next to me, just to be sure.” She laughed and looked up at Mabel as if finally taking notice of her. She flung her arms around Mabel’s shoulders, squeezed her tightly, and pressed her cold cheek up against