Strawberry Moon (4 page)

I closed the shanty door securely. As I walked back to the cabin, my stomach churned. The little fox must be starving. If he didn't drink soon, he would die.

In the morning, the fox lay like a limp rag in my hands. The milk in the pan smelled sour. I dumped it outside and fetched fresh milk from the barn. I dipped the corner of my apron in the milk and squeezed tiny droplets over the fox's nose and mouth.

I held my breath and waited to see if he would try to lick it away. His head flopped back weakly. I stroked his soft black fur for a long time. Then I tucked him into his nest in the hay and went back to the cabin.

I set out four pans of bread to rise and churned a crock of butter with Nettie's cream. Grandmother sat in the rocking chair, her knitting needles clicking furiously. She didn't offer to help once. I banged the dishes as I put out soup and bread for our midday meal. Papa and Max came in, talking about plans for Papa's new field. I should have been a boy, I thought. Then I wouldn't be stuck with Grandmother all day.

We had just finished eating when Kate arrived at the door, bubbling over with news. Her dog Jingo's puppies had been born last night. “Can you come and see them?” she begged.

Like Kate, I had been waiting and waiting for the puppies, but now I felt strangely distant. All I could think about was the tiny fox cub in the shanty. But I hated to disappoint my friend. I looked at Papa. “I could run all the way there and back.”

Papa frowned. “Max and I are going to the Jordan farm to look at a plough he has for sale. Grandmother—”

“I'm sure I can manage on my own again for a little while,” said Grandmother stiffly. “As long as Ellie is back in time for my walk.”

I groaned inside. I hated taking Grandmother for her poky old walk. But I said, “Thank you, Grandmother.”

“Make sure you're back here quickly,” said Papa, as I flew out the door with Kate.

Before we left, I took her to the shanty to see the baby fox. She stared at him in silence for a minute, and I said fiercely, “He's going to survive. I'm going to raise him and then put him back in the wild when he's old enough.”

A doubtful look spread across Kate's face, and I wished I had never brought her to the see the fox. I felt meanly that I didn't care about her puppies anymore. I would just take one look and come right back.

We ran most of the way down to the trail to their farm. Jingo was in the McDougall's barn. Her puppies lay along her belly, sucking at her teats.

“I'm keeping one, and I'll ask if you can have one too,” said Kate.

I knew Papa would say no, but I pretended I was allowed to choose a puppy. I picked a black puppy with a brown face. When the puppies had finished drinking, Kate and I picked them up one at a time and cuddled them. Their eyes were still closed, but their furry bodies felt warm and sturdy.

Kate was chattering on about the puppies, and I felt resentful that she had forgotten all about my fox. A pang of worry shot through me. Maybe even now he was dying.

I jumped up. “I have to go now,” I said. I ignored the hurt look in Kate's eyes and raced home through the forest. Our wagon was gone; Papa and Max had left for the Jordans' farm. I glanced at the cabin. I pictured Grandmother sitting stiffly on her chair, waiting for her walk.

“I'll just be a minute,” I muttered and ran to the shanty.

The little fox lay curled in a tiny ball just like I had left him. I cradled him gently in my hands. His chest rose up and down
weakly. He was still breathing, but he seemed barely alive.

I dipped my finger in the pan of milk and tasted it. It hadn't gone bad, so I dipped my finger in again and dribbled a drop across his nose. I held my breath. His eyes blinked, and I saw a flash of pink tongue.

My heart gave a jump. Kate was wrong! The little fox cub was going to survive. I dripped more milk around his nose and mouth, and three more times his tongue licked it up. Then his eyes blinked shut. “Please, just a little bit more,” I whispered.

But the baby fox had fallen asleep in my lap. I cupped my hands over his little body, trying to make a pocket of warmth. I leaned against the shanty wall. I felt like I could watch him forever. I turned over plans in my mind. Was there some way I could sneak him into the cabin? I was sure Max would help. My mind wandered and I forgot about everything else, Jingo's puppies, my chores and Grandmother's walk.

After a long time, I shifted my position. My legs and back were becoming stiff and cold.
I felt a sudden stab of panic. How long had I been sitting there? Grandmother must have given up on me ever coming back.

The fox was still sleeping, and I told myself that the little bit of milk had helped. I tucked him into his nest in the hay and then hurried out of the shanty.

I ran into the cabin, calling, “Grandmother, I'm here!”

I was met by silence. Grandmother's knitting lay neatly on the rocking chair. I glanced at the hooks beside the door. Her black coat and shawl were gone.

Grandmother never went for a walk by herself. Anger mixed with fear prickled my back. I went back outside and searched all over the farmyard, calling her name. She wasn't by the garden or the barn or the lake. I even peeked inside the shanty. It was empty except for the tiny fox, who lay curled in a ball just as I had left him that morning.

Our wagon rumbled down the road. My heart thudding, I went to meet Papa. “Grandmother is missing,” I said shakily. I looked
down at the ground. I had never lied to Papa before. “I ... I just got back from Kate's.”

Alarm flashed in Papa's eyes, but he spoke in a calm voice. “Check the trail to Blueberry Point. Max and I will look in the woods behind the cabin.”

I ran along the trail, my heart thudding. “Grandmother! Grandmother!” I shouted.

I hadn't gone very far when I heard a faint cry. I raced around the next bend and saw Grandmother, sitting on the ground, her back resting against a log. Her face was white and strained. I stared at her in horror.

“Instead of standing there like a ninny, you might help me up,” she said crisply.

Grandmother put one hand on my arm and the other hand on her cane and slowly eased herself up. She closed her eyes and leaned on me.

“I'll get Papa!” I said.

Grandmother shook her head sharply and said, “Nonsense! I'm just feeling a little dizzy.”

We hobbled back along the trail, stopping every few minutes to rest. When we were
almost back, Papa met us, relief spreading across his face. He ignored Grandmother's protests, picked her up in his arms and carried her to the cabin.

Grandmother rested in bed all afternoon. Papa went into the bedroom, and they talked for a long time in low voices. Papa's face was stern when he came back out.

“What happened to Grandmother?” said Max.

“She doesn't really remember,” said Papa. “She's had a bad fright.”

“She said she was feeling dizzy,” I mumbled. “I think that's what made her fall.”

Papa frowned. “It could have been much worse. Grandmother could have broken a bone. Ellie, you are forbidden to go to Kate's for two weeks.”

Two weeks! I forgot that I had been annoyed at Kate. I would miss seeing the puppies open their eyes and everything. And now that Papa was angry, there was no hope that he would understand about the baby fox. My breath caught in a sob
in my throat. Grandmother and her stupid walk! She was probably just pretending to be dizzy to get me in trouble. I sighed. It was all her fault, and knowing her, she wasn't one bit sorry.

“Is Grandmother staying for Christmas?” said Max at supper.

“Christmas is months and months away,” said Papa.

“I know,” said Max stubbornly. “I just want to know. Is Grandmother staying for Christmas?”

“No, young man,” said Grandmother. She was still pale, but the spark was back in her eyes. “I am not. I could not abide a winter in Canada. My ship sails in the fall.”

Max looked relieved, but my heart was pounding. Had Papa and Grandmother
discussed her horrible plan again? Would Papa make me go? I shivered. I would run away and hide until Grandmother's ship left. Papa would be sick with worry, and it would serve him right.

Just then, a pounding on the door made us all jump. It was our neighbor, Mr. McDougall.

“There was a fire last night at the Robertsons'!” he said.

The Robertsons had a farm on the road to The Landings. They had a big noisy family of eight children and another baby on the way.

Papa was already grabbing his coat. “Is it bad?”

“They saved the barn, but the cabin burned to the ground,” said Mr. McDougall. “They lost everything.”

Grandmother gasped.

“I'm getting together a group of men to build a shanty for the family to live in,” said Mr. McDougall. “Can you spare a couple of days?”

Papa had finished planting his wheat, but he looked at Grandmother and hesitated.

“The children and I will be fine,” she said, her face pale.

My stomach sank. Papa said, “Max will come with me. He's old enough to help. Ellie, put together some food while I hitch up the horses.”

For the next hour everyone rushed around. I packed up jars of fruit and vegetables, two loaves of bread, a sack of potatoes and a big ham. Papa and Max loaded tools, buckets, blankets, pots and spare clothing into the wagon.

I waved until Papa and Max were out of sight. How would I ever stand Grandmother for two days by myself?

I slipped back to the shanty. The baby fox looked like a ragged scrap of black fur in the hay, his eyes tightly closed, but he was still alive. I tucked more hay around him and went back to the cabin, afraid to leave Grandmother alone for too long. Grandmother was lying on Papa's bed, snoring gently. I closed the bedroom door with a sigh and walked over to the spinning wheel. The wheel moved smoothly without making
even a tiny squeak. I spun it harder and it whirred softly.

I had watched the widow Sally spinning my wool into yarn on her old spinning wheel lots of times. A sudden idea burst into my head. I always had to give Sally some of the yarn in payment. But if I could spin my own, I would have a lot more to trade at the store at The Landings! I might even have enough to get that matching coat and hat that I had wanted for so long.

I glanced at the bedroom door. The Robertsons' fire had upset Grandmother. She would probably stay in bed for the rest of the evening. I looked back at the spinning wheel. What was so special about it anyway? How could it hurt if I just tried it once?

I fetched a basket of my wool from the barn. When I got back I stood by the bedroom door and listened. There was no sound. My heart pounding, I sat down at the spinning wheel.

I pushed the treadle with my feet. I pushed too hard, and the wheel spun
wildly. Startled, I yanked my feet off. I took a big breath and tried again. The wheel jerked and stopped, jerked and stopped. I sighed. Sally made it look so easy.

I grabbed a handful of wool and started twisting. The treadle banged up and down. After a while, I stretched out a piece of the yarn to inspect it. It didn't look like the yarn Sally spun. It was skinny in places and had horrible lumps in others. I bit my lip. Maybe I was trying to go too slowly. I pumped the treadle harder.

Whirr
. The wheel spun wildly.

I was concentrating so hard that I didn't pay any attention to Pirate. He crouched on the floor, watching the spinning wheel. I glanced down and saw his tail twitch back and forth. I knew what that meant!

“Pirate, no!” I said.

But it was too late. Pirate sprang through the air and landed on the side of the spinning wheel.

Rrrrooow
! His claws scrabbled for something to grip. The spinning wheel teetered
and crashed to the ground. Pirate fled to the windowsill, his fur bristling.

I stared in horror at the spinning wheel. It lay on its side, the wheel turning slowly. I was terrified that it was broken.

The bedroom door opened. Panic swept over me. I didn't look at Grandmother. My heart thudded so loudly I could feel it in my ears. I squeezed my shoulders, waiting for the whack of her cane.