Mending Horses Read Online Free Page A

the child’s clothes and hair. Blast that hair, couldn’t it stay combed for five minutes?
    Billy gestured at the house they’d just passed. “There’s no one about. All the houses are shut up tight like it was winter.”
    â€œPut your shoes and stockings on.” Jonathan pulled out his handkerchief, spat into it, and handed it to Billy. “And wipe that smudge off your chin. There’s prob’ly just some doin’s down to the common. A fair, maybe, or town meeting or training day.”
    After scrubbing away the smudge, Billy wrestled grubby toes into grayish socks. The shoes went on next, accompanied by a pained grimace.
    â€œDon’t you be making faces like that to my cousin Sophie, now,” Jonathan warned. “We’re depending on her hospitality.”
    â€œIf there’s a fair, can we go see?” Billy’s blue eyes sparkled at the prospect.
    â€œWe won’t be going that way. Where’s your hat?” Jonathan yanked the rumpled blue cap out from under Billy’s rump. “Why do you always have to be sitting on it?” He whacked the cap on hisarm a few times to beat the dust out of it, then settled the cap on Billy’s head. He stuffed as much of the unruly blond hair under the hat as he could and tugged the visor straight. “In case you’ve forgot, Eldad pays our wages. If we make Sophie happy, then we make Eldad happy. So
if
there’s a fair, and
if
you make your manners nice to Sophie, then
maybe
you can go.” Billy rewarded the peddler with half a smile. “Anyway, here we are,” Jonathan added, as the familiar white house and flower-filled dooryard came into view. Phizzy let out a cheerful whicker and stopped at the front gate.
    Jonathan climbed stiffly down from the wagon. He brushed the dust from his jacket and trousers, polished his coat buttons with his cuffs, tugged vest and jacket and collar into place. He wasn’t much cleaner than Billy, but then again, Sophie wouldn’t expect tidiness from him. As for Billy, well, she wasn’t expecting Billy at all.
    â€œHow’s that?” He glanced up at Billy, still perched on the wagon seat.
    Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Better, I s’pose.” Billy jumped down and applied a whisk broom to Jonathan’s elbows, lapels, and backside. “There.” Billy gave the peddler a satisfied nod.
    Jonathan fluffed Billy’s cravat into a fat bow. He tugged the blue jacket straight, brushed the road dust from the child’s shoulders, and set them square. “Now, you mind your manners in front of Sophie. Just ’cause she’s my cousin don’t mean she ain’t a lady.” Jonathan licked the tips of his fingers and plastered an unruly curl down under Billy’s cap. “Best foot forward, remember?”
    â€œYessir.” Billy’s right foot moved smartly forward.
    They looked down at Billy’s dusty shoes, then at Jonathan’s, which were equally filthy. They shared a shrug and polished the toes of their shoes on the backs of their trouser legs. The result was more smear than shine.
    A curtain stirred at one of the windows. He heard a muffled squeal, and the door flew open. “Jonny! Oh, Jonny, we didn’t think to see you for weeks yet!” A plump, blue-eyed woman dashed down the path and squeezed Jonathan in a lavender-scented hug.
    â€œNow, Soph, don’t go bruising the goods.” Jonathan kissed his cousin on the cheek.
    â€œAnd who’s this?” Sophie eyed Billy.
    â€œA—um—a business associate, you might say.”
    â€œWilliam James Michael Fogarty at your service, ma’am.” Billy bowed. A stray curl escaped the cap and drooped over one blue eye.
    A smile washed over Sophie’s apple-round face. She reached out one finger, captured the wayward curl, and tucked it back in. “Sophronia Elizabeth Bartholomew Taylor.” She bobbed in a little curtsy.