GodPretty in the Tobacco Field Read Online Free Page B

used to protect my arms, and changed out of my heavy work dress into a clean one.
    In the kitchen I found Henny and Baby Jane Stump and their mama seated at the table next to Gunnar, who was studying papers.
    Henny was my best friend, well, besides Rainey, my only friend who lived close enough to claim. She was sixteen and the oldest of ten kids. Her little sister, Baby Jane, was eleven.
    The Stump family lived on the mountain behind us where rocks gather and the pines straighten up scrawny for breath. Gunnar’d been renting some of his land to Mr. Stump so he could grow food to feed his family. Gunnar would hire Henny for field work—when she’d show up.
    â€œHi, Mrs. Stump. Lena’s baby come yet?” I asked about her fifteen-year-old daughter, and tossed a smile to Henny and Baby Jane. “Hey, Henny . . . Baby Jane.”
    Baby Jane scrambled up from the table and wrapped her small arms around me. She pressed her face to my chest, squeaking a sob into my dress.
    I patted her head and glanced over to the table.
    Mrs. Stump’s face was packed loosely with folds of hard times. Henny’s fragile cheekbones were tight and tear tracked. Henny didn’t answer about her sister. Mrs. Stump wouldn’t answer, just cut Baby Jane a look.
    Baby Jane scurried back to her chair.
    I wondered why they were here and what had them so upset.
    â€œRubyLyn,” Gunnar interrupted.
    â€œI was only—”
    Gunnar had his spectacles on, studying a letter of sorts in front of him. “You’re late,” he said without looking up. “My supper should’ve been on the table an hour ago.”
    I eyed the skillet he’d used to fry himself up a bologna sandwich while I’d been working. “Your bones ain’t broke,” I huffed. “Look at this mess. No one thought to wash the skillet?” I said fussier than I’d intended and knowing I was the only “no one” doing chores in this big house.
    The Stumps shifted in their seats. Gunnar stopped reading and knitted his snowy eyebrows together.
    I set my lower lip in defiance until Gunnar pierced me with his summery green eyes.
    â€œRu-by-Lyn,” he shoved the syllables through his teeth.
    Even in front of company I knew Gunnar would never give. He was one of those people who don’t splinter—who grow stronger from others’ fractures. He splayed his hands in the air—those loud hands that never seemed comfortable to rest and you wondered where they might land.
    â€œCleaning and dishes is women’s work,” Mrs. Stump admonished quietly.
    â€œSet some extra plates for the Stumps,” Gunnar said, rising from the table. Chairs scraped against the checkered-green linoleum as Gunnar and Mrs. Stump headed into the sitting room.
    Baby Jane rushed back to my side, and whispered, “N-n-need some help?”
    â€œNo.” I bumped the oven door shut. “What are y’all doing down here anyway? What’s wrong?” I rested a hand on my hip and looked over at her sister. “I thought you weren’t feeling good, Henny.”
    â€œPa’s worked out a deal with Gunnar and we’s just delivering on it,” Henny said, looking away and fidgeting with the collar of her dress.
    Before I could ask what type of deal, Gunnar came back into the kitchen with Mrs. Stump. He eased down into a chair and asked for coffee.
    They drank mostly in silence while I melted butter in the skillet and tossed in the chops. Mrs. Stump talked a little about fall crops while Gunnar listened with grunts. I sprinkled salt, pepper, and parsley onto the meat and tried to listen, too. When I finished, Baby Jane helped me out by setting the plate of meat in front of Gunnar. Quickly I added a couple teaspoons of vinegar and flour to the butter in the skillet and stirred it into a gravy that Gunnar liked.
    Dusk scratched narrow tracks across the walls by the time I put the basket of biscuits on the