Free Katerina's Wish by Jeannie Mobley

without her permission? My plan had been to bring a chicken for the pot—there was no foolish dream in that. But my bag filled with squirming chicks was full of dreams. And that was the last thing my mother was going to let me bring into the house! How was I going to explain this? More important, what on earth was my mother going to do when I tried?

Chapter 6

    I SAT DOWN on the ridge and looked into my bag. The three little chickens looked up at me with their glossy black eyes and peeped their uncertainty. I stared back the same way. I knew nothing about raising chickens. Maybe I should take them back to the farmer and get my money back rather than try to explain it all to my mother. The farmers would laugh at
    my foolishness, and I hated that idea. I hated even more the thought that it was foolishness; I wanted my plan to work. I wanted the chickens, and I wanted fresh eggs and meat. Mostly I wanted to prove we didn’t have to rely on Mr. Johnson and his awful store.
    It was a good plan; I just had to find a way to convince my mother, and that wouldn’t be easy. She had protested a garden. I didn’t like to think what she would say about chickens. I closed the bag again and got slowly back to my feet. I descended the ridge and entered camp on the west end, so I could pass Old Jan’s house before going to my own.
    â€œAh, here’s our fisherman now,” Old Jan said as he saw me coming. “Did you have any luck?”
    I climbed the porch steps and sat down beside him. “I caught plenty of fish,” I said. “And I have something else, too. But I need your advice.” I told him of my idea to buy a single chicken for meat and how it had changed, and I showed him the three pullets in the bag.
    â€œThat is very serious, Trina, taking money without asking,” he said, his tone sober but still gentle. “You shouldn’t have done so.”
    â€œI was afraid my mother would not let me try.”
    â€œYour mother only wants what is best for you,” he said.
    Frustration welled up inside me again, just as it had the night I brought home the seeds. “How is it best for me—for any of us—to be stuck here, working and working and never getting ahead? If she wanted what is best for me, she’d let me try to make things better. That is all I’m doing—where’s the harm in trying?”
    Old Jan patted my knee. “You are a brave girl, Trina, and a good girl. How many fish did you catch?”
    I held up the string. “Enough for everyone to have a whole one this time. But what about the chickens?”
    â€œDo you think your momma would cook all the fish for us? I will bring potato soup. I have it simmering on the stove already, but your momma’s a better cook with fish.”
    I nodded. “She is always happy to have you.”
    â€œThen leave the chickens with me and take the fish to your momma. I’ll work something out.”
    I did as he said and set off for home with the fish. Momma was pleased to get them, and pleased, too, that I had invited Old Jan and his sons to supper.
    â€œIt’s the neighborly thing to do,” she said, “and the least we can do, since they are kind enough to lend you the fishing pole.”
    I helped Momma prepare supper and filled the tub of washwater for Papa, as I did every evening. My mind, however, was not on my work. I hoped Momma wouldn’t notice. I needed her to be pleased with me, to be in a good mood. I had no idea what Old Jan was planning to do when he arrived. I did not see any way he could bring the pullets to our house without brooking my mother’s opposition.
    My stomach swirled with butterflies when I saw Old Jan approaching with Papa. They were discussing something in earnest tones, so I slipped back inside the house before they saw me. Old Jan did not appear to have the chickens with him, and I was afraid my expression would reveal that I had a secret.
    Papa