Free Blossoms on the Roof by Rebecca Martin

just for this trip—started off again.
    â€œI might,” the man said shortly.
    â€œBy the way, I’m Jacob Yoder. Who might you be?”
    â€œJess Holmes. I’m homesteading west of here.” He waved a hand in that direction.
    They drove along in silence for a while. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the dull thud of the horses’ hooves and the swishing of the wheels in the grass.
    â€œSee that mound over there?” Jess said, pointing. “That’s an Indian hut.”
    Ben stared hard. He was just about to ask where when he spied a brown, grassy mound on the left side of the track. A thin plume of smoke spiraled from its peak.
    Ben’s heart beat fast as he wondered, Is an Indian warrior going to come out of that wigwam—a warrior with painton his face and a bright feather headdress? Will the warrior shoot arrows at us with his bow?
    Father said calmly, “I understand the Indians in this area are friendly.”
    â€œRight now they are,” said Jess, “but it wasn’t always so. My parents pioneered in the Dakota Territory back in the 1860s. Those were wild days! Ever hear of the Minnesota massacre?”
    â€œAh, no.” Father glanced uncomfortably toward Ben.
    Ben thought he knew what Father was thinking. Father probably wished Jess wouldn’t tell wild Indian stories when he was able to listen, but there was no stopping Jess, and Ben was all ears as the man continued.
    â€œThe Sioux Indians went on a rampage in Minnesota and killed many white settlers. Then the Indians fled to the Dakota Territory, and the army went after them. When I was a boy, I watched some battles between Indians and soldiers practically on our doorstep.”
    â€œThat was quite a while ago,” Father said mildly.
    â€œOh, but there was a battle only four years ago—in 1890,” Jess persisted. “It was supposed to be the last battle, but you never know. Some of those Sioux braves escaped to Canada. If they should ever take it into their heads to come back and incite the local Indians to an uprising…”
    Ben shivered. By this time even he was wishing Jess Holmes would stop talking about angry Indians.
    Jasper and Rob plodded along slowly as the trail wound upward. Trees grew thick and tall on either side. Father stopped the horses and tied them to a stout tree. Pointing to a huge fallen tree, he said, “Once we’ve cut that up, we’ll have a load.”
    Ben wondered if Jess would help them cut up the tree, but he merely said, “Thanks for the ride,” and hurried up the trail. Ben and Father set to work with an axe and saw.
    By noon Ben was so hungry that he felt he could eat the whole basket of lunch Mother had sent along, yet he knew it must also last for supper and breakfast and maybe even for tomorrow’s noon meal.
    All afternoon they toiled. With Father at one end of the crosscut saw and Ben at the other, they pulled it back and forth. Ben was sure he had never worked so hard in his life.
    At last darkness fell. Father built a fire and warmed some soup. Ben huddled close to Father and stared at the flames. His eyelids drooped lower and lower.
    Father chuckled. “I think we should get our bedrolls.”
    Ben helped spread the blanket and then lay down. It didn’t matter that the ground was hard. It didn’t matter that he had heard wild Indian stories that day. Ben slept like a log!

    The next thing Ben knew, morning had come, and Father was poking the fire to life. For breakfast they fried the eggs that Mother had carefully wrapped in grass to keep them from breaking.
    â€œReady to work the saw again?” Father asked as Ben chewed down his last bite of bread.
    â€œYes,” Ben answered manfully though his shoulders and arms felt sore.
    After an hour they were ready to load the wagon and start for home. Jasper and Rob trotted eagerly downhill. They had not liked being tied up in the forest. They