Freewater: Chapters 37–64

As Mrs. Petunia turned one way then another, struggling to get potatoes roasted, gravy thickened, and a cake baked, the chicken started smoking and slowly burned to a crisp.
"I'll have to figure something else for dinner," the weary woman said, rubbing her eyes and willing them to see.

"I could run down to the river and fish something for dinner," said Anna, feigning innocence.

The purple, feathery, striped petals with a ring of gold made the flower so striking and ornate it seemed hard to believe it was known for its power to sedate.

The purple, feathery, striped petals with a ring of gold made the flower so striking and ornate it seemed hard to believe it was known for its power to sedate.

Out in the yard, a fight over the food ensued between the dogs.

Her pensive stare prickled the hairs on Sanzi's neck.

"I know!" said Sanzi, exasperated, as she touched the damp moss of a tree and pointed left.

Sanzi's mother pulled back the brambles and uncovered bouquets of dried flowers at its base, and on the tree's wide trunk, a carving of a crescent moon.

Mrs. Light's salves and bandages had healed my head wound and ankle.

"Stand up straight, Nora," chided her mother.

It was six days before the wedding and Nora stood, covered in muslin and silk.

Once the hem was pinned, Rose sat back on her haunches.

The most imperceptible exhale of air escaped Rose's nostrils.

Viola and Mrs. Crumb prattled on.

Her face flushed with shame and something else that caught her by surprise.

Gauging by the pile of work before her mother, Sanzi judged that she could take her bow for the afternoon and have it back in the cabin before her mother even knew it was gone.

She docked at the bottom of the small, inclined slope and listened as sounds of thumping and breathing came from her hill.

Like nothing had gone wrong, like he wasn't trespassing, Ferdinand sauntered over to the tree target and pulled out his knife.

"You best go," said Sanzi in the strongest voice she could muster.

The two stood face-to-face. A standoff to see who would leave first.
The solution to that quandary was decided by something beyond them.

Sanzi teetered and swung as she careened toward the scream.

"And we give thanks to you, Ibra, for this catch."
Cheers began. Yet Ibra was quick to shake his head and wave his strapping arms.

The key turned easily in the lock of Mrs. Crumb's top bureau drawer and slid open to reveal a small stack of stiff paper and a tiny glass jar of ink, both of which Nora delivered to her mother.

Old Joe coaxed again, "Go on, there ain't—"

Instead, the bow was leaning against the cabin wall behind Ferdinand. The precarious spot would mean climbing around or over Ferdinand to collect it.

Ibra watched the piqued expression on his son's face and he touched his hand to the markings on Big Tree.

Instead of putting the drinker to sleep, the first feeling becomes a kind of dizzy, boisterous delirium that would make the wedding reception anything but the quiet slumber of Anna's imaginings.

Instead of putting the drinker to sleep, the first feeling becomes a kind of dizzy, boisterous delirium that would make the wedding reception anything but the quiet slumber of Anna's imaginings.

With her torch in her mouth, Sanzi unfurled her belt and climbed up her tree past the platform where her ropes were tied and continued up to the high perch.

They took animal pelts, soaked them, and used them to beat back the flames.

"No!" said Sanzi, clawing at the smoldering ground, trying to find the knife.

Deep, smoke-filled coughs echoed through the village as people rushed about dousing what was left of the fire with water.

Sanzi watched her sister deftly clean and salve her hand. She did it perfectly, as she did most everything, thought Sanzi.

Against the wall, remnants of dried black ash were still in the bowl.

"You mean to tell me you have a map to get to your old plantation?" said Sanzi, slipping it out of Billy's hands and poring over the drawings.

As Mrs. Light prophesied, once the rains subsided, the fire came back.

Instead of my mantra of what Mama needed to do to get to me, I'd created a new chant of all the steps I needed to get Mama and Anna out of Southerland.

He wore a heavy tattered wool jacket, long boots that were scuffed and opened at the knee, and a large rifle strapped to his shoulder.

I imagine you have some means of accommodating yourselves. I can't have you in the middle of my guests.

She swept a disdainful eye over the militiamen's appearance.