Child of the Storm Read Free Page B

small to hold,
he slapped a deck of cards down in the middle. His friend John Stone was coming
around and they liked to play cards. “ For pleasure. Not for
money, ” he liked to say, “ since neither of us has any. ”
    Celeste
knew John Stone and knew he was an Indian, though she ’ d never seen him wear feathers or
paint. He dressed and talked like anyone else. A Red Man, she ’ d heard him called by someone in town,
though he didn ’ t look very red to her. A nice red man who lived down the road away from town with a nice
black lady, Sandrine, who was her mother ’ s only friend.
    With
Augustin and Celeste hovering around the barrel, John Stone asked if they would
like to join in, and they said they would. Bernard asked if Celeste knew how to
play poker and she said that she did. Augustin had taught her. One of those valuable life skills. Marie stood on the back
porch with her arms crossed, not sure about her little girl playing poker, but
she relented, since it was Celeste ’ s birthday, and she
let her use one of the chairs since the ground was dry.
    As
they played, Celeste was always drawn to the Jack, particularly the one-eyed
kind. She managed her cards well and never bothered to sort them since she
could see that sorting in her head. So no one could judge how she felt about
her hand. When she looked up to find John Stone trying to read her face, she
just looked back without expression, offering nothing.
    “ Don ’ t bother trying to tell anything from
that child ’ s face, ” Bernard told him. “ It won ’ t show you a
thing."
    A
movement in the woods caught Celeste ’ s eye but it was only
someone ’ s dog out exploring, but it brought the
bears to mind so she told John Stone about them.
    “ Celeste likes the
bears, ” Augustin explained. He tossed out one
card. Confident, but wanting to improve his position.
    “ As long as she likes
them from a distance, ” Bernard said. He dropped three cards
onto the barrel. Not a good sign, but he was a hopeful man and didn ’ t give up easily
    John
Stone enjoyed the game but mostly for the company it offered. His hand wasn ’ t taking him anywhere and he folded it
onto Bernard ’ s discards; more interested in what
Celeste held. “ My grandfather told me that the bear
was a great dreamer, ” he explained to her. “ She is not afraid of the dark and
sleeps the long sleep through the winter, hidden in the earth. Dreaming. ”
    “ What does the bear dream about? ” Celeste asked him.
    “ I was never told, or
never thought to ask, ” he said.
    “ Maybe you could ask
him now, ” she offered.
    “ He is gone.
    “ Then if I find out, I ’ ll tell you. ” She spread out her cards across the
barrel. Three threes and two Jacks. Both of them one-eyed.

 
    That
night she dreamed she watched her father working at the forge. As her father
shaped the iron, her eyes drifted to the fire and the shapes in the red heat.
She wondered if he saw those shapes and fashioned them into the iron. But the
shapes she saw were meant for her, and what she saw was a bear.

Smear
    She
didn ’ t go into town very often, but on that
unfortunate day she walked in with Augustin to see their father at work.
    “ Three things, ” her father explained to them without
looking away from the fire. “ That ’ s what you need to turn this bit of
iron into something useful or something beautiful. ”
    “ What three things? ” Celeste asked, though she already
knew. He had told her before.
    He
jostled the coals and they hissed. “ The fire. ” He raised his hammer. “ Me. ” He touched the anvil
with the hammer. “ And my little black companion here. ”
    They
watched him until Augustin said it was time to go. Augustin checked his long
stride to allow her to keep pace with him, but also to give himself time to
think. Occasionally he would stop to consider, and she would pause beside him
to wait. He stopped once to read a posted sign, tracing the lines of small type
with a