Guide Me Home by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

looked down, shaking his head. “A woman growed, for sure.”
    For reasons she didn’t understand, the statement made her want to cry.
    “Old enough to choose to marry up or not. Old enough to decide to take a job…or not.”
    He was letting her choose. She dove at him and wrapped her arms around his middle. Despite the chill morning air, the bib of his striped twill overalls was warm beneath her cheek. He already smelled of sweat and soil—better than any dandy’s cologne. “Thank you, Daddy.”
    He caught her by the arms and set her aside. “But you ain’t gonna go to work in your brother’s clothes. If your mama sees you comin’ up the yard in Andy’s shirt an’ britches, she’ll likely faint dead away. So you change into a dress, gal, you hear me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then head over to the preacher’s house. Well-meanin’ ladies from the city churches are always sendin’ barrels o’ clothes for us poor folks. Ask to pick through the barrels an’ find some shirts an’ britches an’ such. Leave those things you’re wearin’ now in the toolshed. I’ll see they get put back in Andy’s trunk.”
    Rebekah nodded. “I’ll do that. And, Daddy?” Unblinking, she gazed into his weary face. “I’m sorry I made you angry. I only wanted to help.”
    He grabbed her in a hug so tight it stole her breath. “I know, gal. I know. But when I seen you come runnin’ that way, for a minute I thought—” He gulped. His hold tightened briefly, then he patted her shoulders and let her go. “Make sure your mama doesn’t see you in that getup. Not so sure her heart could take it.”

    Cissy
    She couldn’t take it! Cissy smacked the plates onto the table. How unfair that Rebekah got to take a job at the cave. Plus, starting tomorrow, she’d be staying at the estate, not even coming home to help ready the little girls for bed or get them up in the morning or help with first-thing and last-thing chores every day. So who’d be stuck with all that? Cissy, that’s who. She stomped one bare foot against the floorboards and growled under her breath.
    “What’s the matter, Cissy?” Tabitha looked up from laying out the spoons and forks. “Your foot go to sleep?”
    Cissy scowled at her sister. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
    “You done this.” Tabitha imitated her foot-stomp. “I do that when my foot’s gone to sleep. Wakes it up again. Did your—”
    “Just shut up, Tabby.”
    The little girl’s brown eyes flew wide. “You ain’t s’posed to say ‘shut up.’ Mama’ll put lye soap on your tongue when I tell her.”
    Cissy rounded the table in a flash and grabbed Tabitha by one of her braids. “You better not tell, you little brat, or I’ll put spiders in your nightgown while you’re sleepin’.” Tabitha was more scared of spiders than anything. Except maybe of Cissy.
    Tabitha wriggled. “Lemme go, Cissy. I won’t tell.”
    “Good.” Cissy yanked Tabitha’s braid, making her sister yelp, before releasing it. “See that you don’t.”
    The girls continued setting the table, Cissy with tightly crunched lips and Tabitha with her lower lip quivering. Cissy sent glowering looks meant to tell Tabitha to get that quiver under control before everyone else came in from their chores. If Mama asked why Tabby was all a-pucker, and Tabby told, Cissy’d gather up a dozen spiders.
    Mama and Little Nellie hurried in as Cissy and Tabitha finished. Tabitha aimed a pathetic look at Mama, but Mama went straight to the fireplace and picked up the stick she used to shift the blackened kettle to and away from the fire, not even looking at Tabby as she went. “Cissy, fetch me a dipperful of water. This’s about bubbled itself dry.”
    Cissy deliberately bumped Tabitha with her elbow as she moved to the water bucket. She carried the dripping dipper to the fireplace and gave it to Mama, wincing as the heat reached out and singed her. “Here.” She scuttled backward while Mama stirred the cool water into