Winter Shadows Read Online Free

Winter Shadows
Book: Winter Shadows Read Online Free
Author: Margaret Buffie
Pages:
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back from her
.
    As for Kilgour, he has barely said two words directly to me since I arrived home. Not that I care, as I am still adjusting to finding his widowed mother installed in our house as my father’s wife!
    “Good morning,” I said. “My grandmother needs more wood placed on her fire.” I looked at Kilgour. “I wonder if you would –?”
    Ivy pushed the bowl of porridge at her son, and he sprinkled it, not with precious sugar, but with lake
sîwîhtâkan,
the brown salt sold to us by Indians every fall. He nodded at my request, the spoon moving back and forth
.
    Ivy’s eyes narrowed when she spotted the brooch on my dress collar. She had followed me to my room when I unpacked from my long trip home and saw the pin when I placed it on my table. She’d asked me if it had once belonged to my mother. When I’d said yes, to my shock, she snatched it up and darted off to Papa – with me, outraged, following behind
.
    “As your wife, it should rightly be mine!” I’d heard her cry through the door of Papa’s study
.
    On entering, I could see him teetering on the edge of giving the small jewel to her, but I said, “That brooch was given to me on my mother’s deathbed. I shall never part with it, Papa. Never.”
    He nodded, returned the brooch to me, and left the room, Ivy skittering after him, talking all the while. Her shrill voice was cut off by the loud bang of the kitchen door. She ran up the stairs, gasping and huffing with indignation. Later that evening, Papa asked Kilgour to help him move a truckle bed into his study. Ivy now slept alone in their room upstairs. The next morning, she had claimed it was all her idea, as she was tired of hauling that man upstairs every night, but we all knew the truth of it
.
    “I’ll get the wood.” Kilgour pushed away his empty bowl, filled a basket from the wood bin, and left the room
.
    I began to count … one, two, three.… With perfect timing, my stepmother snarled in her thick Scottish accent, “No reason why you can’t fix the old squaw’s fire yourself.” She held the bread knife in front of my face. “If I had my way, she’d be living in that Indian town of St. Anthony’s with her own kind. It’s bad enough I have your ailing father to attend to.”
    I finally threw the gauntlet down after three weeks of holding my tongue. “My grandmother is with her own kind, right here. Do
not
speak of her this way again!”
    She bridled, sucking in a sharp breath. Up to that moment, I’d steadfastly refused to rise to her bait, although I often felt as if I’d swallowed its sharp hook. I knew if I fought back, Ivy would only make things miserable for nôhkom when I wasn’t around. But let her try her worst now! With trembling hands, I piled a bowl with porridge for Grandmother. As I reached for the bannock, the flat of Ivy’s knife slapped hard across my knuckles. I let out a yelp
.
    “What’s this, what’s this?” Papa stood in the doorway, gripping his pronged walking sticks
.
    Ivy ran to help him into the kitchen, simpering, “Goodness, can you believe it, Gordon? My knife accidentally tapped Beatrice’s hand. No harm done.”
    She settled him into a chair at the table, picked up her weapon, and handed it to me, handle first. With unsteady hands, I took it and cut slabs of cheese and Ivy’s hard bannock for Grandmother’s midday dinner, covering them with a damp cloth. I then filled a heavy jug with fresh cold water and a stone foot warmer with boiling, which I slid into a fur cover. Ivy served Papa his breakfast, chatting cheerfully. I knew Papa wanted me to get along with Ivy, so to keep the peace and protect nôhkom, I kept my anger to myself
.
    As I left with the tray, she returned my cold stare with one of sneering satisfaction
.
    When I reached the upstairs hall, I heard nôhkom’s tittering giggle and Duncan Kilgour’s deep chuckle. He was
stoking the fire in our room. “And will you tell me more if I come again, nôhkom?”
    How
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