Shorn: Chapter 19

At breakfast the next morning, Melda said, “Things have been a little scary around here lately. I think we all need a day off. What do you say, Shorn? Can we put off harvesting the squash for another day?”

“I believe so.”

The children had quit talking and were listening intently. Melda looked at them.

“Would any of you like to skip working today and head down to this swimming hole I keep hearing so much about?”

They erupted immediately. Kit took off running around the room, howling like a wolf. Pol and Lysa jumped up and down and hugged. Ren picked up on the excitement and added a few of her own screeches.

Melda turned to Shorn, smiling. “I think that’s a yes. I will pack us a lunch.”

Shorn stood. “I will finish the chores and put the horse out to graze.”

“We’re still waiting on that name,” she teased.

“Buttercup!” Lysa yelled.

“Midnight!”

“Lightning!”

“You can see the problem. Only you can solve it.”

“I will think of something.” Shorn left the house and went to the barn. The horse whickered to him from her stall. He scratched behind her ears.

“What do you want to be named?” She swiveled her ears toward him and showed her teeth, letting him know she wanted a treat. Shorn gave her some vegetable peelings which she daintily ate from the palm of his hand.

“You’re always hungry. Should I call you hungry?”

The scraps were gone. She bumped him with her head, wanting more.

He rubbed her neck. “How about I call you greedy?”

She followed him from the barn, not needing a lead rope. She knew he was taking her to pasture. There were some meadows not far from the farmhouse where the grass was waist high.

It still surprised Shorn how quickly the horse had become comfortable around him. Her behavior toward him was much different from most horses. She was very good with the children too. Calm and gentle, she stood patiently while they crawled all over her. Even when Ren pulled her tail, she didn’t jump or kick, only gave the child a look that said, That’s my tail you’re pulling.

When they reached the meadow, Shorn put the hobbles on her. He didn’t think she would wander off, but it was best to be sure. She waited calmly while he put them on.

He patted her again. “I’ll see you at the end of the day.”

The children were still going crazy when he returned. Melda had clearly given up trying to control them and was just accepting the din.

“Just wait!” Kit told Shorn breathlessly. “Just wait until you see how great this place is. It’s the best swimming hole ever. There’s so many fish. Sometimes they tickle your legs. I wish I had a fishing pole. One of the boys at the party told me he has one. He said I can use it sometime.”

Melda called Shorn over. Kit continued talking. Melda handed some folded cloth to Shorn.

“These are for you. I made them while you were helping the town.”

Confused, Shorn took the cloth. It was much too small to be a blanket. Maybe a shirt? He unfolded it and held it up. Still, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“You’re holding them upside down.”

They were pants. But there was something wrong with them.

He tried to hand them back. “These are much too short for me.”

Melda laughed. “They’re supposed to be. They’re shorts. You can wear them to swim.”

“Oh.” Shorn frowned.

“Don’t look like that,” she chided him. “Were you planning on swimming in your trousers?”

He shook his head. “I do not swim.”

She laughed again. “I don’t think you’re going to get away with that.”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured at the excited children. “Do you think they’re going to let you get away with not swimming?”

Shorn looked at the children. Kit was jumping up and down. Lysa was flailing her arms in a manner that could be considered swimming.

“No.”

“That’s why I made you these. I was so worried. It gave me something to take my mind off.”

“You do not understand. I do not swim because I…sink.”

“You sink?”

“I do not float. Much.”

“You can still get in and enjoy the water.”

“Okay. This, I can do.”

“You made the right decision. Now go get ready. They’re going to burst if we don’t leave soon.”

 

It was a pleasant walk to the swimming hole. The children laughed and chattered the whole way. There was talk of bringing new friends from town to swim someday, bragging about who would dive from the highest spot, whether there were turtles in the pond.

It was a pretty spot. The stream spilled over a small cliff—perhaps twice Shorn’s height—of smooth, black rock and into a teardrop-shaped pool lined with ferns. On the far side, where the pool returned to the stream, was a small, sandy beach, a lone elm tree providing shade.

“It’s lovely!” Melda exclaimed.

“We knew you’d like it!” Lysa said. “Come on. There’s a path down to the beach.”

They all followed her down. As soon as they hit the beach, the boys whooped and raced for the water. Lysa started after them, then turned back to take Ren’s hand.

Melda rolled out the blanket they’d brought and lay down on it. She turned her face to the sun. “This feels wonderful. I can’t remember the last time I could just lie around. I think I could get used to this.”

Soon, she was snoring softly. Shorn wasn’t sure how he felt. It was uncomfortable, having nothing to do. Like an itch he couldn’t reach. He felt restless. There were so many things that needed doing on the farm. Some of the shingles had come loose on the barn roof after the last storm. The tomatoes needed to be tied up. And he needed to figure out what to do about that skunk that kept raiding the garden.

He looked over at the sleeping Melda. He looked at the children splashing in the water. There was no reason for him to be here. He should head back to the farm and get some work done. He didn’t like sitting in the sand anyway. A rock was poking him. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come.

He stood up and brushed the sand from himself. On top of everything else, he felt ridiculous wearing these short pants. His knees looked weird. He was never going to wear them again.

A wet hand took his. It was Lysa, water streaming from her. She looked up at him. “Are you coming in now?”

“I was thinking that there is much work to be done—”

“No!” she cried. “Come swimming. Please.”

Then the others were there, adding their pleas to hers. Kit began tugging on one of Shorn’s boots. “Let’s get this thing off. You can’t swim in boots. You’ll drown.”

Reluctantly, Shorn sat. The children surrounded one foot, small hands pulling at the leather. At first, they got nowhere. Then it came free, and they tumbled in the sand. Pol came up brandishing the boot like a trophy.

The other boot followed. Shorn shed his tunic. Ren insisted on riding on his shoulders. She slapped his bald head gleefully as they entered the water.

He had to admit that it felt quite refreshing after the hot sun. He waded in until the water was up to his waist.

“Deeper,” Ren urged.

“No. This is enough.”

“Splash fight!” Kit yelled, and Shorn was hit in the face with a wave of water. Ren shrieked. Pol and Lysa joined in, splashing Shorn from all sides. He could hardly see. Each time he opened his eyes, he got hit with more water.

Ren started yelling, “Splash! Splash!” and pulling on his ears.

Shorn moved back to shallower water and set Ren down. She started splashing him too.

“Not you too,” he said in mock anger.

She squealed with laughter and splashed him some more. Shorn sat down in the water and splashed back. That made the children become even more frenzied. It turned into a general melee, everyone splashing everyone else.

Kit tried to climb onto Shorn’s shoulders. Shorn plucked him off and held him in the air like a wriggling puppy, not sure what to do with him. Then he tossed him into the deeper water.

Kit bobbed to the surface a moment later yelling, “Again! Again!”

Pol and Lysa weren’t going to be left out either. Soon, they were sailing through the air and splashing into the pond. Shorn tossed them each a few times. They kept clamoring for him to throw them higher and further, but he wanted to be careful.

Ren was trying to climb up his leg. He picked her up. Her eyes were shining, big dimples on her pudgy cheeks. “Me too!”

Shorn considered it for a moment. “Okay.” He walked out into deeper water. He pretended to toss her in the air and dropped her gently into the water, then pulled her out right away.

“Again!”

They splashed and played in the water as the sun climbed in the sky. The frenzy gradually died down, and the children gave Shorn a break. He went and sat on the sand. Lysa wandered off to look for frogs. Pol found a round rock that he was sure had diamonds or some kind of gems inside. He began hitting it on a larger rock, trying to crack it open. Ren crawled close to her mother and dozed on the blanket. Kit got his spear and spent some time trying to spear fish in the shallows.

“It’s too hard,” he complained, throwing the spear down after yet another failed attempt. “They’re too fast. I wish I had a pole.”

“When we go to town, we can ask Dale if he sells them,” Melda said without opening her eyes.

“Really?” Kit said.

“I don’t know if we can afford one, but we can at least ask.”

Lysa, listening in, said, “Don’t forget about the bows. You said we could have bows.”

“We can ask about those too.”

“Moll said she’d teach me how to shoot better than any boy.”

Melda gave her a look. “You talked to Moll at the party?”

“I heard how great she was when Bloodmane attacked. People say she’s a hero.” Lysa pushed hair out of her eyes as she leaned close to look at a small flower. “So, I went and talked to her.”

“Just like that?” Melda asked.

“Just like that.”

Melda gave Shorn a look. “How about that girl of mine, Shorn? She wants something, she’s not afraid to go get it.”

“I’m right here, Mama. I can hear you talking about me.”

“I know. Who’s ready to eat?” She pulled the basket close, turned back the cloth covering it, and began to set out food on the blanket.

The children didn’t need to be asked twice. They tore into the food like ravenous wolves. A whole loaf of dark bread and a block of buttery, yellow cheese were gone in moments. There were tomatoes, fresh-picked that morning. A crock of milk that had been cooling in the water. Fresh made blackberry jam.

There was peace for a while after the food was finished as the children lay around letting their full bellies rest. Kit sat up first.

“Let’s go diving.”

Lysa mumbled a sleepy refusal. Pol yawned and got up. “I’ll go.”

“Be careful,” Melda said. “I don’t want anyone diving off the top of the waterfall. It’s too high.”

“Aww, Mama,” Kit complained.

“What’re you moaning about?” Pol asked. “You’re scared to jump from the top anyhow.”

The younger boy stuck his lip out. “That’s not true.”

“You can jump off that lower ledge.” Melda pointed.

The boys climbed up onto the rocks and out onto the ledge, where they spent some time daring each other to go first. Finally, Pol said, “I’m the big brother,” and jumped.

Kit was soon after. Lysa woke up and decided she wanted in on the fun.

“It’s Shorn’s turn,” Pol said. “Come on, Shorn. It’s fun.”

Shorn did not think it would be fun. He stayed put. The kids kept up their wheedling.

Melda chuckled. “You might as well give in. You know they won’t stop until you do.”

Shorn sighed. He hauled himself to his feet to cheers from the children. Even Melda joined in.

He was careful climbing out to the ledge, watching for small or loose rocks that would give way under his feet. He made it to the ledge and looked down. The older children were treading water, looking up at him, calling out suggestions.

He jumped in.

And sank to the bottom, as he’d known he would. He began walking. The bottom sloped upward and then he was back in sunlight.

“That was the biggest splash ever!” Kit howled.

“I think you blasted all the water out of the pond. It’s half empty now,” Pol added.

Lysa looked around. “You scared away all the birds.”

 

As afternoon began to turn toward evening, Melda called out that it was time to go. Soon, all of them but Lysa were back on the beach.

“Where’s your sister?”

Pol shrugged. “She was looking for birds’ nests last I saw her.”

“Lysa!” Melda called. No answer. “Lysa!” She was looking troubled.

“Over here!” Lysa called, her voice faint. “Come see!”

Melda started to call her back. She shrugged. “Might as well.” She picked up Ren and headed in the direction they’d heard her voice.

They found Lysa crouched down behind a bush looking at something.

“What is it?” Pol asked, running forward.

“It’s a baby raccoon.”

Kit was right behind. “A baby raccoon? I want to hold it.”

Lysa was cradling the raccoon to her chest. It was blinking in the light. Nearby was a fresh hole and a pile of dirt. It looked to Shorn like something had dug up the raccoon’s den. He saw some torn-up earth leading off into the bushes.

Lysa looked at her mother. “Can we keep him, Mama? Can we?”

“It’s a wild animal. It needs to be with its mother.”

Shorn had followed the trail while they talked. Under a tree, he found the mother’s torn body and the tracks of a cougar. There was no sign of any other young. He went back to the others.

“Its mother is dead.”

Lysa started crying. “It’s an orphan. We have to keep him. He will die.”

Kit and Pol added their pleas. Melda put up her hands. “Okay. We can bring it home. But you have to understand something. Most likely it will die. You have to accept that.”

That quieted them, but not for long. “I don’t care,” Lysa said stubbornly. “I won’t let him die. Poor little baby.”

So it was that they returned home near dusk carrying a tiny raccoon which had already been named Rascal by Lysa. Lysa was still cradling the raccoon. When the boys tried suggesting other names, she simply shut them down. Nor would she give up the raccoon.

“Rascal is too scared. He doesn’t want anyone else to hold him right now.”

When the boys still pushed, Melda stepped in. “She’s right. He’s been through a lot. Give him some time.”

Shorn went to retrieve the horse. It was starting to get dark. She whickered when she saw him and nuzzled him when he came up.

“I know,” he said, bending to remove the hobbles. “You were probably wondering if I was going to leave you out here all night.” He thought of the cougar tracks. That would not be a good idea.

The horse stood quietly while he removed the hobbles, though he sensed she was eager to get back to the safety of the barn. Even when it took him longer than it should have—he was still getting the hang of the hobbles—she didn’t get restless.

He finally got them off and stood. He patted her neck. “You are a patient horse. What if I call you Patience? Would you like that?”

He pictured the men he had fought with while on Themor, hardened warriors every one of them, imagining their reactions if they saw him talking to a horse like a person. The thought made him smile. He was more grateful every day that he’d been exiled from Themor. He could finally say it was the best thing that could have happened to him. He’d lost his home world and his people, but he’d found himself and a new family. It was a trade he’d make any day.

He put Patience in her stall. He milked the cow and put her in her stall right next to Patience. Patience nuzzled the cow.

Inside, they’d made a nest for Rascal in a wooden box that Melda normally kept her hairpins and brushes in. Melda was showing them how to feed Rascal using a hay straw.

“Suck the milk up with the straw, then pinch the end so it doesn’t run out.” She demonstrated. “Once he has it in his mouth, release it and the milk will flow out.”

“I want to feed him,” Kit said excitedly.

“You will get to. But I think Lysa should feed him for now. She should be the only one who holds him, too.”

Kit moaned dramatically.

“Stop it. Think about it from his point of view. He lost his mother today. Giants carried him away to their castle. He’s scared. Give him some time to get used to us.”

Kit grudgingly agreed. “I’m going to go get him some more fresh grass to sleep on,” Pol said, heading outside. Lysa’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she fed Rascal. Fortunately, the little raccoon was eating and eating well, greedily sucking up each straw full and complaining until he had more.