Outcast by Gary D. Svee Page B

shook his head. “I told you I would bring you a loaf of Ma’s bread. Don’t you remember that?”
    â€œShe’s baking bread this early in the morning?”
    Arch stiffened. “None of your business what she’s doing this morning. Only thing that concerns you is the loaf of bread I brought.”
    Standish shut his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him as Arch was.
    â€œI suppose we should break bread.”
    The words scrubbed away the anger on Arch’s face. “I saw that you had some bacon. I brought some fresh eggs, and I thought.…”
    Standish sighed. “That’s a great idea.”
    â€œI got some of Ma’s huckleberry jelly, too. Ain’t nothing better than that.”
    â€œHuckleberry jelly?” The thought teased Standish’s tongue. He couldn’t remember how many times he had pursued the tiny berries in sun-drenched mountain meadows, trying to bring a little sweetness to his life. “We’d best get started on that bread.”
    â€œBread will stay warm in the oven while you fry the bacon,” Arch said.
    â€œGuess it will,” Standish said. “Let’s prepare the feast.”
    Standish took the last bite of warm bread, butter and huckleberry jelly. He shut his eyes as he chewed, savoring the taste. When he opened his eyes, Arch was holding the last piece of bacon between his index finger and thumb. He stared at it as a trout might stare at a yellow-bellied grasshopper.
    â€œDon’t see how I can eat this,” he said.
    â€œDon’t see how you can’t.”
    Arch cocked his head and gazed at Standish. “Guess you’re right. Don’t see how I can’t.” The bacon disappeared in two bites.
    â€œSuppose we should get busy,” Standish said.
    â€œMaybe we should take a nap,” Arch replied.
    â€œSun’s burning the day.”
    Arch nodded and sighed. “That’s about the best bacon I ever ate.”
    â€œNo doubt in my mind that your mother makes the best huckleberry jelly ever.”
    Arch grinned. “She sure does.”
    â€œSuppose you could clean up in here, while I go tend to the horses?”
    Standish half expected the boy to rail about how he didn’t do women’s work, but he nodded without a thought. His mother had trained him well.
    Standish stepped into the barn, talking to his horses, telling them what wondrous creatures they were. Sally nodded. Hortenzia ignored him until she heard the rustle of oats in the bucket. Her head jerked up then in anticipation. He tended to Sally first, giving her oats and sending her off to the meadow for grass and water. She was in a fine mood, dancing as she trotted toward the serenity of the meadow.
    Standish approached Hortenzia with the oats, petting her neck as she ate. “Hortenzia, I know you are a fine horse. Some horses don’t care for pulling a slip, but I know you’ve done it before so it shouldn’t bother you too much. Probably doesn’t seem fair that you have to work while Sally plays, but you’ve had a good rest, and she’s been pulling more than her own weight. She got me out of the high country. She’s a helluva horse. Course you know that. So after you finish eating, I’m going to slip the harness over your back, and we’re going to dig us a root cellar.”
    Arch was standing behind him, head cocked, speculation running across his face. “You play cards with those horses, too?”
    â€œNope, they’re too good for me.”
    â€œYou’re crazy, ain’t you?”
    â€œA little.”
    â€œThis the only way the crazy comes out, talking to horses like that?”
    â€œNo, sometimes I howl at the moon.”
    â€œThat ain’t so crazy. Sometimes I do that, too.”
    Arch scuffed at the earthen floor, and looked up. “So why do you talk to the horses?”
    â€œCouple of reasons. The sound of a man’s