Tanning the Pelt Ch 2
Abri tied the rabbit to her belt and thought what a small meal he would make for all the trouble he’d caused. She started east for home, her long shadow stretching into the darkening horizon ahead. The sequence of events ran through her head over and over as she tried to compose an explanation to give Lord Gillingham on the morrow.
She stopped near the well to fetch water to gut and clean the rabbit. Maw, her black and orange cat, was already there, looking up with expectant eyes.
“Ahk, you are a poor little bunny indeed, and I’m sorry to have ta’en your youth. Did’n your mother teach you nothin of the danger in crossing the road?” She lowered the bucket down the well and drew it up again brimming with cool, clear water. Abri withdrew from the well to rinse the carcase and wash her hands, and Maw made off with the guts. The pelt had to be tacked to a board to begin the tanning process, and she would have to scrap it soon. Otherwise, the pelt would rot. But Abri could put this off until after dinner.
Da came home from town later than usual that evening, so Abri had the rabbit stew on the table with a crust of bread when he came through the door. Abri’s thoughts had been so involved with how to deal with Lord Gillingham that she had not considered Da. She began slowly while methodically scraping the pelt.
“Da, I’m in trouble,”
“Hmm?” he grunted through a mouthful of stew.
“I was spied taking this rabbit from the lord’s forest.”
Da sputtered as he tried to spit out a rebuke at the same time he was swallowing the mouthful. After a coughing fit and a drink of water he croaked, “What?”
“I shot the rabbit in the field, but he ran for cover on the other side of the road. I hopped the fence and took ‘im just as Lord’s nephew--the young one--came up the road with his girl.”
Da’s eyes showed something that Abri hadn’t ever seen there before, so she continued haltingly.
“He wouldn’t ‘a done nothin’ about it, but his girl set him on. It’s nothin’ but I’m to appear at Lord Gillingham’s at noon tomorrow.”
“You shan’t go, Abri,” Da replied. “You shan’t.”
“Why, in heaven’s name, not?” There was a concern, a worry in Da’s voice that Abri seldom heard, and it troubled her.
“The Sheriff’s begun a new round up. You or I ‘ill be ta’en for laborers on the railroad.”
“How do you know?” Abri asked incredulously.
“Tom Saunders’s boy was ta’en just yesterday. The boys at the pub be talking of little else.” He paused to gulp his stew. “And this infernal railroad will mean ruination for every mule team and ox carter in the region.”
“What?” Abri’s exclamation showed more concern than question. “John Saunders is ta’en to build the rail that’ll put ‘is old man out o’ work?”
There was a stretch of silence while Da mopped up the last of his stew with the bread.
Abri asked, “What’d John do, Da? What was his crime?”
“Ain’t no one can tell. Ol’ Saunders thinks it may be John was truant from church Sunday last. Whenever Gillingham needs laborers for a public works project such as this railroad, he tells Sheriff to arrest a few likely suspects. The Judge is swift to find a guilty verdict, and the penalty is always “public works.” Whatever the reason, it’s sure an’ John never did no real crime.”
“Well then, it’s sure they’ll come for us whether or no I show tomorrow,” Abri said. “If I go, there’s no guarantee they won’t come for ‘ee as well.”
“Now girl,” Da said with quiet severity, “I need you to trust me on this. I c’na run this farm wi’out ‘ee. But sure an’ you can run it wi’out me. You’ve been running it wi’out me these two year now. So I need you to go to the farm on the morrow. I’ll go to Gillingham’s and plead your case. If he’s a mind to have someone arrested it’ll be me. They won’t want a woman on a chain gang. Per’aps they won’t want an old man w’ a bad heart neither.”
Abri continued scraping the bunny’s hide, deep in her own distressed thoughts, but comfortable in the silence. The lamp light flickered as a moth found it too attractive to resist.
In the early light of morning Da ate his breakfast of pan biscuits and packed a couple in a napsac for his lunch.
“Da, if they arrest you I’ll refuse to work their farm,” Abri said with determination.
“Abe, my girl, our family ha’ been working this ground for over two hundred year. I can’t bear that kind o’ talk. This ‘ill blow over, i’twill. When I’ve served the term...if I serve a term... I’ll be wanting to come back to this wee home where I played on my grandda’s knee.”
Abri couldn’t argue with such sentiments, so she kissed her father good day, and started for the farm; he, for Gillingham’s mansion.
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