by Hannah Ross
Priscilla opened all the windows and rolled up her sleeves, only to realize she did not bring any tools with her. Glorying in the excuse to step out of the stifling, smelly air if only for a few minutes, she walked back to the barn, noting as she did so the layer of chicken droppings stuck to the soles of her boots.
Back in the days of birdcage-cleaning, she used a neat little scraper to rid the cage floor of used wood shavings and droppings. This time, she took a rake, a shovel, and a bucket. She stuck her head in the door and found the smell now bearable, so she reentered and started at the corner furthest from the door, wishing she ate less breakfast.
She was almost finished after what seemed like an eternity when the door opened behind her with a loud creek. Emmerson's stout figure blocked almost the entire frame, looking like a black outline in the sunlight.
"You ain't done yet?"
Priscilla felt like he was mocking her as she straightened up, biting back a retort. I worked as hard as I could, and there's only a little bit near the door left to clean. I'd like to see him do better.
She didn't mind the smell much anymore. It was the stifling heat that was the worst part now. Sweat was running down her forehead and cheeks into the neckline of her T-shirt. She wiped it off with the back of her hand.
"Where can I get a drink?" she asked, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.
"There's a pump at the back. It runs to the waterers," said Emmerson. "You hurry up, now. There's the eggs to gather, and mind you don't break them. And don't forget to refill the feeders."
She felt like it must be midday, but was just after ten o'clock in the morning when she splashed water from the pump onto her heated face. It tasted a bit rusty, but was deliciously cool. She took two heavy buckets of chicken feed and started pouring it into the feeders, trying not to step on chickens.
* * *
Lunch was a hearty beef stew, served at noon and consumed by everybody in a kind of concentrated hurry. The farm workers were not a talkative lot, and seemed too intent on their food to say much. Mrs. Emmerson was likewise busy, serving stew to everyone and cleaning up the kitchen. About halfway through the meal, a car honked outside, and Mrs. Emmerson wiped her hands on her apron and looked out of the window.
"The children are back," she said as she walked to the door and hollered, "Get inside, now, and eat lunch before starting on your homework!"
Mrs. Emmerson claimed Priscilla for the afternoon, which was spent in a storage shed, shifting the location of some musty old boxes. It wasn't real farm work, but in the evening Priscilla was nodding over her plate of hamburgers and mashed potato. She must have actually fallen asleep at the table for a couple of minutes, because when Emmerson's voice startled her and she looked up, the rest of the chairs were empty and Mrs. Emmerson was washing dishes at the sink.
"This ain't good enough, Nell," he said as he pointed one fat finger up. "You're a clever girl and catch on things quickly, but it's plain to see you ain't used to real work."
"Are you saying I haven't worked hard enough today?" Priscilla flared up all at once, all traces of sleepiness now gone.
"That's not what I said. You've tried hard, but I need me workers who can do a good day's work, not weedy little girls who get knocked out cleaning a chicken coop. Now, I don't know where you grew up, Nell…"
A slight smile curled the corners of Priscilla's mouth. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
"…but it's clear you were never made to do any hard work. I'm not a bad man, and I did say I'd give you a chance, but if you want me to keep my word you'll have to—"
Priscilla didn't wait for him to finish. She got up, marched out and into the barn, and in a cold, focused rage, stuffed into her backpack every item she left lying around. She was bone tired and dying for a long, hot shower, but she made herself forget her weariness and her reeking clothes. She moved quickly, so as not to give herself time to change her mind. She hoisted her backpack, walked out, kicked the barn door shut, and strode into the ruby-red sunset.
For the first few minutes, the freedom of solitary walking and the beauty of the evening had a soothing effect on her. Then she realized she had to find a place to spend the night or crawl back to Emmerson with her tail between her legs. She squeezed her mouth tight and shook her head. I'll walk out onto the road and wait for a car to pass by. I'll catch a ride to Resurrection Town, and then… Her head shook again. I'm not sure, but I'll figure out something.
As she neared the road, she heard the rumble of an engine growing louder. A minute later, a truck turned onto Emmerson's long driveway and a pair of headlights flashed at her. As it neared, she recognized it, and when it stopped and the driver's window rolled down, she said, "Hi, Tim."
He stared at her with an expression of understanding and concern. "Hey there, Nell. I thought I'd just drive over to check on you."
"That…that was nice of you." She could see him eyeing her dirty clothes, flushed face, and backpack.
"I take it you and Emmerson didn't really take to each other? I thought that might happen."
She nodded and pursed her lips to keep herself from complaining. "Right. Could you give me a lift to Resurrection Town?"
Tim leaned sideways and opened the door of the passenger seat, but when she slid in, he shook his head. "What would you do there? I mean, you're a clever girl, I can see that. I guess you could help around in a shop, do paperwork, stuff like that. But there aren't too many jobs of that sort."
She tried to keep an edge out of her voice. "So where does that leave me?"
"I wish I could offer you to stay with us for a while," he said, sounding a little embarrassed, "but…well, things are kind of tight. I can't do that. Still, I don't suppose my parents would mind you having a shower and sleeping on our sofa tonight. Then again..." He paused, looking unsure.
"Yes?"
"Well, there's another place. It's a bit of a drive from here, but..." Again he did not sound too sure of himself.
Priscilla shook her head thinking, I'd rather save myself another farm fiasco, if it's all the same to you. At the same time, she felt a sense of burning shame. I'm just a spoiled little princess who's good for nothing in the real world. I won't even last a day out here without someone to take care of me. Someone like this simple and hard-working fellow. He probably has a thousand better things to do with his time, but he's helping me and here I am acting ungrateful. The consciousness of that made her feel humble, and she bit her tongue.
"It's like this," he said. "I take it you're more after a place to stay than making money, right?"
She gave him a cautious nod. "You could say that."
"So, there's this retired couple. They have a little homestead, but it's nothing like Emmerson's. They grow things mostly for themselves, with a little extra to sell, and I suppose they get by on that and on some savings. Their children are grown and don't live nearby, and though they come and help from time to time, I know they'd appreciate having someone around in a more regular way. I don't know if they can pay anything, maybe only very little, but they're sure to treat you nice."
Priscilla tilted her head a little to the side, weighing the possibility. Tim's right. What I really need is a place to stay for a while. A safe place and as remote as possible. "Okay. I suppose we could give it a try."
"Good. The thing is, I've got a lot to do for the next week and it's all in the other direction so I won't be able to take you 'till I'm done. Do you have any place you can stay?"
"No."
He rubbed his face with his hand. "Well, I'll probably catch it from Ma, but I can't leave you on your own out here. I guess you can come home with me. I don't know what Ma has planned for the next few days, but if you offer to help with whatever it is, it would sure make things a little easier for me."
Priscilla laughed. "She doesn't like you bringing home strays?"
"Not really." He grinned. "But you won't be the first."
____________
________________
> ____________
The last rays of the afternoon sun finally brought Ben and his companions within view of the sturdy hide tents, sheep and horse paddocks, and the central outdoor cooking area of the Ravens' winter camp.
A figure on horseback moved in their direction.
Ben recognized the rider as he drew near and waved his hand in greeting. "How's it going, Fred?"
"Ben!" Fred grinned as they all dismounted and shook hands. "We weren't expecting visitors. Raven's going to be thrilled, I'm sure."
"Where is Raven?" Ben asked, looking around with poorly concealed eagerness. Fred's eyes crinkled as he smiled.
"Oh, here and there. You know what she's like. Never stays in one spot longer than she can help it, even if everyone else will do anything to avoid poking their nose outside."
"Has her ankle healed, then?"
"Oh, you heard about that." Fred raised his eyebrows at Ben's anxious expression. "News travels fast, I suppose. Yes, well, this is Raven we're talking about. She spent one day resting with her foot propped up, fretting and fidgeting and driving everyone nuts. Then she declared she was getting up. She had a walking stick at first, but threw it away after another day. A tight bandage did the trick for her."
"And how are things around the camp?" asked Tom.
"Not too bad now that we're settled in our spring spot. Getting here was a pain this year, though, but hey, why are we standing here talking? Let me take care of your horses, and you go to the visiting area. Raven will be there soon. And I'm sure you won't say no to some supper."
"Thanks, Fred," Jimmy said as his stomach gave a loud rumble.
A huge hunk of mutton was roasting on a spit above the roaring fire in the central area of the camp. Over another fire, an enormous pot was boiling, with steam rising above it in a vast silvery cloud. People were milling around, eating, chatting, and casually passing their plates for seconds. With such abundance in sight, the friends forgot their scruples about eating their hosts out of house and home, and Tom and Jimmy moved to get plates.
Ben looked around for Raven, shielding his eyes from the blinding fire. Mere seconds passed before he saw her. She was moving toward him with nothing but an almost-imperceptible limp hinting of her recent accident. She was smiling, and threw her arms around him as soon as they faced each other, but Ben sensed something reserved in her embrace. Maybe it's because there are so many people around, or the wolf-whistles, but she never used to care about people before.
"Ben! You're actually here! I didn't expect you to be able to make it. Not anytime soon, at least."
"Well, I'm here. I wish I could have come sooner. How are you feeling?"
"What, this?" Raven waved at her ankle, which was clad, as always, in a knee-high laced-up moccasin. "It's nothing. Let me get you a plate."
She came back in a moment with two deep bowls. Ben stared into his; it contained some of the biggest brown beans he ever saw, topped by a generous chunk of mutton. He felt himself salivating and picked up his fork as he sat down on an old log.
"So things are not as bad as I've heard?" he asked between mouthfuls.
Raven shrugged and settled down next to him. "Depends on what you heard, and how you look at it, I guess. It could have been a lot worse. At least we haven't lost any sheep to predators, so we have plenty of mutton right now. Still, I was planning on growing our herd so we could make more cheese, and this is a setback. And then, losing those horses..." She sighed. "You know how much work I put into them, Ben. We've had better times, but we're slowly getting things together."
A young man Ben vaguely recalled seeing in an all-camps meeting sauntered over, munching on a few bits of roast meat strung together on a sharp stick. In his other hand, he held a tankard that gave off the yeasty, ripe smell of some homemade brew. He offered the tankard to Raven.
"Thought you could use a drink."
Raven's face lit up. "Ben, this is Taylor Black. Taylor, Ben Grey of the Eagles. Taylor's been a huge help with pretty much everything lately. Rounding up the herd, butchering and salting, moving to spring camp, settling in here. I don't reckon things would have gone half as smooth without him."
"You exaggerate, Raven," protested Taylor, but without any great displeasure. He settled down on a tree stump next to the log, and Raven took the tankard and sampled the drink. "Not too bad for an experimental brew," she concluded, offering Ben the tankard as well.
He shook his head and played with his food, watching Taylor out of the corner of his eye as he tried to combat a sudden, irrational feeling of dislike.
Taylor was about twenty years old, of medium height and compact, muscular build, and had a slightly wild look, with his flaxen hair pulled back in a long, messy ponytail threaded with beads. Where his right sleeve was partly rolled up for the convenience of eating, Ben noticed an intricate dark tattoo encircling his wrist and creeping up his forearm.
Not wanting to seem unfriendly, Ben asked, "So, Taylor, what camp are you from?"
The youth grinned. "I don't really belong to any camp, though there are many where I have good friends, and stay a few weeks at a time. I like independence best, and move around a lot. I do some fur-trapping, too, and trade up at Resurrection Town for stuff I need."
"Doesn't sound very stable." Ben knew very few people who weren't settled down in some camp or other. In the harsh conditions they were thrown into, banding together was by far the most effective way to survive.
"Yeah, well…" Taylor shrugged as he accepted the tankard from Raven again and took a hearty swallow. "This kind of life has its charms. Now I'm thinking of staying with the Ravens for a while, though. Spring is always more cheerful in company."
"You're very welcome to stay," Raven said.
* * *
Ben felt a stab of irritation as a large group sat around a fire. He expected that, as had always happened on his previous visits, Raven would soon get up, give a huge yawn, and declare she could not possibly keep her eyes open another minute. She would then go straight to her tent, and he would follow, after making a discreet circuit of the camp to avoid people's giggles and stares. Tonight, however, Raven seemed in no hurry to retire. She stayed up, eating, drinking, and chatting with Taylor and others in the large circle until the fire burned low, and Ben felt his eyelids positively drooping. He stood and, without saying a word, stalked away.
Tom and Jimmy were nowhere to be seen, which meant someone already put them up for the night, but Ben could hardly stumble into every tent and break in on people, most of whom were already asleep or getting ready to turn in. He walked around the camp until he spotted Raven's tent, slipped in, shrugged off his outer clothes, and buried himself in the bundle of sheepskins that made up Raven's bed.
He was asleep long before she returned.
4
________________________
Tuesday, March 18
As the grey shades of dawn crept through the smoke hole, Ben saw Raven curled up among the sheepskins next to him. It was cold, and she was covered, so he could see nothing but the back of her head. As if feeling his gaze, she stirred and gave a little yawn. Her eyes slowly opened, unfocused and blurry at first.
"It was clever of you to go to bed early last night," she said, suppressing another yawn. "I think I'm going to have a headache."
"Stayed up late?" Ben slipped from under the sheepskin and put his sweater on. The air in the tent was so chilly that every word came out with a little puff.
"Get the fire in the brazier going. And pass me that plate, please. I'm starving."
Ben did as she asked, and passed her a covered plate which contained a stack of dried, pressed fish roe. The roe cakes, made from roe harvested by the Ravens in the spring, kept almost indefinitely, and were a popular and nutritious snack.
Raven took a cake, bit into it, and offered another to Ben.
He shook his head. "So. Did Taylor stay up late as well?"
"Yeah, he did. Many did. It was a cheerful evening, and when Taylor took out his gu
itar…"
"It seems to me that Taylor wouldn't have stayed up late if you hadn't." Ben's voice betrayed his displeasure.
Raven's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He crossed his arms on his chest."I think he fancies you."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Yeah? You think nobody else has figured it out?"
Raven put down her second roe cake. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Taylor is a good friend who helped me… helped us out of a very tight spot. We were badly off until we managed to make the move here to spring camp, where it's warmer and more sheltered. People were tired, stressed, overworked, and everything seemed to be hanging by a thin thread. We're all very grateful to Taylor. He pitched in with all his worth."
"As I didn't, you mean." Ben blushed with a mixture of guilt and mortification. "I wanted to come a long time ago and lend a hand, but things haven't been going too well for us either this season, and—"
Raven threw up her arms. "I know! I know, Ben, and I wasn't blaming you. But that doesn't change the facts. We needed help and Taylor was here to give it. And we'll all be glad if he stays. We need more people. People who come to stay for good." Her voice was shaking with suppressed emotion as her eyes bored into his.
Ben felt helpless as he said, "You know I can't leave the camp right now. Not for any length of time, anyway. Not now that Elisa left."
"I know." Raven sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't expecting you to."
"And you can't imagine going away either."
"This camp is my life. You know that."
Ben leaned closer, studying her face. "So where does this leave us?"
Raven looked sad but resigned. "I don't know, Ben. I don't know."
"You know."