Free The Rope Carrier by Theresa Tomlinson

Crookes Moor on the outskirts, where he kept his goats.
    Nathan had become a good friend, but the friendship grew strained when they owed him money, and he stopped calling at their door. They owed for rent and coal, and they’d run up an alehouse score though Josh had long since stopped sending out for ale to quench his thirst.
    The hot weather came and with it, water shortages. Fetching water was harder than ever, and Minnie and Marianne learnt to creep fast and quiet to the front of the queue, ducking theslapping hands and dodging the trampling feet. They were lucky to return without a fight. Josh worked all hours, candling late into the night, but he could not seem to turn out enough finished files to catch up with their debts. The bailiffs came and slowly, stick by stick, all the decent furniture they had was taken.
    Josh returned from delivering finished work one night to find Netty weeping. The bailiffs had taken the wooden cradle that he’d carved when Marianne was born. He rushed out after the men and begged them to give it back, but it ended in a brawl. Later, Josh came back to the house carried by his friends and drunk as never before.

Chapter Thirteen
    IT WAS THAT night’s drinking that brought the alehouse score up to forty shillings, and when the landlord heard whisperings of Josh owing money to others, he called in the debt. The constable came for Josh and took him before the magistrate.
    Josh went off quiet and shamed. Minnie could hardly bear to see it. She wanted to run after them, to shout and argue that it wasn’t fair, shout that Josh was an honest man and didn’t deserve this. It would do no good though, she knew that, so she clamped her mouth shut and tried to copy the bitter silence of Netty and the Dame.
    Jack watched it all wide-eyed. He whispered to Minnie that the magistrate would be old Niddledy Nod. He pulled a face and drew his finger across his throat.
    â€œWhat?” Minnie cried out, horrified at the sign.
    â€œSets ’em all in the stocks, he does.”
    Dame Eyre’s hand slapped hard across Jack’s face. “Don’t talk so stupid, lad.”
    Minnie and Jack both gasped, shocked. The Dame had threatened it many a time, but had never actually hit him before.
    â€œThe magistrate is Vicar Wilkinson,” she said. “’Tis disrespectful to call him Niddledy Nod. The poor man can’t help the twitch that he’s got. He’s not of my way of religion, but there’s many that say he’s fair. Someone has to try to keep order in Sheffield, and a hard task he’s got. I’ll have faith in the vicar, even though it’s my own son I’m worried for. Now get totha work, lad, and thee be off to fetch t’water, lass.”
    They spent the day at their usual work, just as if Josh were there, though they missed the quick regular tapping from the workshed. Minnie grumbled that the awkward, uneven sounds which Jack produced got on her nerves.
    Late in the afternoon, the Dame sent Jack up to the court to gather news of Josh. The three women waited together, restless and snapping at the children. Darkness fell and still there was no sign of Josh nor Jack. Netty was threatening to put on her shawl and walk up to the court herself when they heard stumbling footsteps and the creak of the workshed door.
    Jack was hunched over the dying embers of the fire, holding out his hands for warmth, hands that could not seem to stop shaking.
    â€œWhat is it, then? What’s happened?” Netty demanded.
    Jack shrank away from her. “I don’t like to tell thee, missus.”
    â€œOh, they’ve not set ’im in the stocks?”
    Jack shook his head.
    The Dame pressed her lips tight together. “He’s sent to the debtors’ jail.”
    â€œAye.” Jack bellowed it. “He’s sent for three months, unless any will pay off his debt.” He hid his face in his arms.
    â€œBut in three months’ time