Marna Read Free Page B

tobacco, and moved toward the house. Emery grunted
in satisfaction. "Good, they're gonna eat. Maybe they'll
invite us in for a bite."
    Urging the mule to catch up with him, Hertha called
to him anxiously, "Don't ask them for food for us. Ask
them if they can spare some milk for Marna."
    If Emery heard her, he gave no indication.
    As it turned out, the man and woman greeted them
warmly and invited them to share their meal. As Marna
noisily emptied a bottle of freshly strained milk, the
woman remarked how grateful they were for company.
"It was a long winter with never a visitor," she complained. "I thought I'd go crazy with only Luke to talk
to."
    Hertha smiled in sympathy. "I guess it could get awfully lonesome out here."
    The woman sighed. "You can't imagine. I told Luke
we're gonna sell this place and go back to civilization.
There ain't no way I'll spend another winter here."
    Hertha looked at the disgruntled speaker with interest. "When do you plan on selling?"
    "Just as soon as someone comes along and gives us
our price."
    In a voice the men could not hear above their discussion of horses and trapping, Hertha asked, "What is
your price?"

    The woman looked at Hertha speculatively for a
minute, then answered firmly in an equally quiet voice,
"A hundred and fifty dollars for the land and buildings,
or two hundred dollars with the stock and furniture
thrown in."
    Hertha ran a measuring glance around cabin. There
were few pieces of furniture, but it seemed to be sturdily constructed. There was at least one cow, she knew,
and a dozen or so scrawny chickens had scattered
under their feet as they walked across the grassless
yard.
    She threw a glance at Emery, still conversing loudly
with the husband, and scooted her chair closer to the
wife. "Do you think you and I could do some business
without the men?"
    "Indeed we can," the woman answered quickly. "I
handle all our dealin's. My old man don't know beans
when it comes to handlin' money."
    Hertha gave a short, bitter laugh. "Neither does
mine, although he thinks he does." She gave the woman
a long, searching look. The woman gazed back encouragingly. Deciding that she could be trusted, Hertha
spoke rapidly, "I don't want my husband to know I
have any money. He'd be furious if he found out. So
would you please pretend that you are willing to sell
us this place on time?"
    Compassion flickered in the woman's eyes. She had
not missed the pinched, unhappy look in the narrow
face, nor the large bruises on her legs and arms. It was
plain that this gentle woman lived in hell with her overbearing husband. She reached over and patted Hertha's
knee. "Tell him anything you want to, honey. I'll back
you up."
    By nightfall the Akers owned thirty acres of forest
land and ten acres of cleared land. They also owned a
cabin that was in fair shape and a barn that might fall
down with summer's first storm. There were a dozen
and a half scraggly hens and one rooster. The cow had freshened a month ago, her calf a bull. Rounding out
the livestock were a sow and six baby pigs.

    Just before the couple left, Hertha slipped some
money into the wife's hand and whispered, "Would you
please buy me some seed at that post you spoke about?"
    The knowing hill woman climbed on her horse and
picked up the reins. Then, as an afterthought, she spoke
down to Emery. "If you'll come down to the post tomorrow, I've got some seeds you can have for plantin'."
    When her surprised husband inquired what she was
talking about, she gave him such a look he quickly
snapped his mouth shut.
    As the Akers stood on the porch, waving good-bye to
their new acquaintances, Hertha was almost happy. At
least they had a roof over their heads, a start. Time
would tell what Emery would make of it.
    The next morning, well after the sun was up, Emery
hitched the stolen mule to a plow and started to break
ground. It took but half an hour of fighting the bouncing plow as it bit into hard