Free Outcast by Gary D. Svee Page B

arm. Arch was struggling, twisting, trying to free himself from the beast’s grip, as a trapped wolf struggles to free itself from a steel trap. Then another sound, a wheezing and then a snortle and then a full-fledged laugh.
    Miles Standish had him by the arm, and Arch collapsed. Standish dragged him toward the cabin, as he might drag a quilt stuffed with pillows, and all the way to the cabin, Standish carried on a monologue.
    â€œYou’ve had the drop on me until now, but taking my bath water last night was the last straw. We’re going to come to an understanding this morning, Arch. You understand me?”
    No sound came from the boy, and Standish walked on, dragging Arch behind him, his tattered shoes scuffing through the grass.
    Miles Standish was making a great ado of eating the strips of bacon on his plate. He examined each strip, seeking its uniqueness before taking a bite. The bacon was crisp, and he crunched through it, making as much noise as possible before swallowing and turning his attention to the French toast.
    â€œMaple syrup,” Standish said. “There are those who prefer brown sugar syrup, but, I’ve always been partial to maple syrup. Could be because I was raised in the East. About everybody out there makes their own maple syrup. Each one has a trick to bring out the flavor. Now, some like dark and some like light, but me, I like medium, just edging a little toward dark.”
    Standish turned his attention to Arch. The boy was bent over the tub, scrub brush in hand. He was polishing the inside of the tub for the third time.
    â€œWhat do you like, Arch? You like the dark or the light?”
    The muscles at either side of Arch’s face bulged, and a dull red crept up from this collar. The silence was broken only by the swish, swish, swish of the brush against the tub.
    â€œC’mon Arch, tell me what you think.”
    â€œCan’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œMa wouldn’t like it if I said what I was thinking.”
    â€œSurely she wouldn’t care if you shared your opinion on syrup.”
    â€œWant to share my opinion on you, but I can’t find any words that fit what I’d like to say.”
    â€œWell, that’s too bad,” Standish said. “I was hoping you’d try some of this maple syrup, and give me your opinion.”
    Swish, swish, swish.… The sound stopped, and Arch looked up. “You want me to try some of that French toast?”
    â€œAs a favor to me.”
    â€œWell, I’d like to do a favor for you, but I don’t think I can. Only real way to eat French toast is with bacon. The flavor of the bacon kind of sets the tongue for maple syrup. Wouldn’t be much good for me to try the French toast without the bacon.”
    Arch cocked his head and stared speculatively at Standish. When Standish shook his head, a dull red heat crept over Arch’s face.
    â€œSeems to me,” Standish said. “That to really test maple syrup, you need bacon and eggs.”
    A grin twitched the corners of Arch’s mouth. “Guess I’ll have to yield to your experience.”
    â€œMaybe, you’d best sit down and start on the toast.
    â€œWell, if you say so.”
    Standish stood and walked over to the tub. “Fine job you did, cleaning my tub.”
    But Arch wasn’t biting. He was too busy biting bacon and French toast. Standish grinned and stepped to the stove. No time to waste. Arch was eating. The eggs better be ready when he was.
    â€œThis is better,” Arch said, leaning back against a rock in the shade of an aspen.
    â€œWhat’s better?”
    â€œSalmon’s better on a sandwich that in that salmon loaf you made.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know.”
    Arch looked up, “Sorry, it was just that.…”
    â€œI know. It was just that you wanted some for your Ma.”
    Arch nodded, returning his attention to the sandwich.
    â€œI think salmon sandwiches are