Free No Eye Can See by Jane Kirkpatrick Page B

later, as they'd made their way up a rocky swath of ground with Mazy exclaiming over black-eyed yellow plants she'd never seen before, talking about the maple tree they'd planted and carried now in a bucket, she heard Jessie complain again. She made her way to the wagon in time to hear her say, “These dolls are bad! Look. See the stickers they gived me?”
    “The boys made them especially for you, Jessie.” It was Suzanne's voice offering explanation. “They told me all about it. I suggested the dresses for them. I thought it was something you'd like.”
    “What do you know?” she sassed at Suzanne. “You got no eyes! You can't take my stickers out!”
    The next thing Ruth knew she was ducking as the twists of pine needle dolls were hurled through the puckered canvas opening. Wagon wheels crushed them.
    “Jessie!” Ruth said, springing into the wagon. “That's enough.”
    The girl cowered, perhaps surprised by Ruth's entrance, but just as quick she'd sat up, her arms crossed over her chest. “They make stinky things for me, and you let them. What kind of an auntie are you, letting an old blind woman take care of me?”
    Ruth felt the blood rush to her face and her hands clench. It was one thing to be rude to her, but she couldn't tolerate it directed toward someone else. Ruth had wanted to slap the child's face, would have if Suzanne hadn't been there, she knew she would have.
    A night of terror flashed before her, the night she'd been too rough with her son.
    “I've got to go,” she told Suzanne, racing from the wagon. She swung her leg over Koda's back and reined the horse around and let the wagons pass, trembling with the knowledge that the girl could so incite her. Farther behind, she dismounted, and felt the bile from her stomach move up. Fear and humiliation spilled out onto the ground. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then laid her head against Koda's neck, still spitting out the vile taste.
    Had Jessie been like that when Betha and Jed were alive? Ruth didn't remember.
    “The girl could come in our wagon,” Sister Esther said, the woman's quiet approach startling Ruth. “I was privy to what occurred back there.”
    Ruth shook her head. “No. She's just horrid enough she'd aggravate the bees. Then where would you be?” Esther nodded agreement. “Besides, Elizabeth says it's important that she learn to bend a little, not expect so much from everyone. She'll get along with other people better if she can do that.”
    “And be kinder to herself as well,” Esther said. “We're almost alwaysharder on ourselves than we are on other people, so just imagine what she must think of herself.”
    Ruth frowned. “You dont think her rudeness is from… I dont know how to describe it. Arrogance seems too big a word to describe a little person, but it comes to mind. Just like her father always was?” Ruth added.
    “Not the word I'd choose, no,” Esther said. “Frightened, perhaps. Lonely. Overwhelmed with the amount of influence she has. Imagine getting an important adult to do whatever you want. That's terrifying for a child. She may just think you can't take care of her so she has to do it herself.”
    Ruth stared at her. Scared? Lonely? The thoughts had never occurred to her. “That isn't the way I see it,” Ruth said. “Bratty, that's what she is.”
    “You might be spending too much time living in valleys, Ruthie, and missing out on the mountaintops that living with children can bring.”

    “Whooee, look at that!” Jason shouted. He punched his younger brother in the shoulder, and the boys, who had walked out ahead, came running back, the thick and thin of them silhouetted against the blue sky. “There's a huge meadow and hundreds of deer over there.”
    “And a cabin,” Ned said.
    “John Hill's Ranch,” Seth said. “Deer Flat, they call it too. And beyond is the Sacramento Valley. We're almost home, boys. Almost home.”
    Now they found the signs of civilization, of lumber