Michael thought wildly, clenching his teeth against the pain as tears burned in his eyes. "Yes, sir," he finally cried.
And the whipping was suddenly over.
"All right," his grandfather said. Slowly, Michael straightened up and pulled his jeans up to cover his stinging buttocks. Then he turned to face his grandfather, his eyes blazing with fury and his head throbbing with a sudden ache that overpowered even the pain of the thrashing. "Wait 'til I tell my mom-" he began, but Amos knelt down and took him by the shoulders, his hands gripping him like twin vises.
"Stop that, Michael," he said. "What just happened here is between you and me. You're not to speak to your mother of this. She's been through a lot, and you're not to put her through any more. From now on, you behave yourself. If you don't, you know what will happen. And if you take your troubles to your mother, I can guarantee you they'll only get worse. You're a big boy. I expect you to behave like one."
"But-"
"No buts. Things are different now, and you'd better understand that. I don't like having to do this, but so help me, I'm going to teach you some respect, boy, so that next time you feel like going for a walk in the middle of the night, you'll think twice about it. Understand?" Michael hesitated, then nodded. But as he followed the old man back to the house, his headache grew worse, and his mind whirled with confused thoughts. It's not fair. I didn't do anything… All I did was go for a walk… It's not fair…
In the kitchen, Janet was at the table, sipping a cup of coffee and making notes on a spiral pad. She looked up as Michael and Amos came through the back door. "Hi. What have you two been up to this morning?"
"Chores," Amos replied before Michael could say anything. He went to the sink and washed his hands; then, drying them on a dish towel, he went around to peer over Janet's shoulder. "What's all this?"
"Things to be done," Janet sighed. "There's so much, and I haven't any idea of where to start. But here're the colors I want for the farm." She tore off the top sheet and handed it to Amos, who studied it for a moment, then passed it to Michael.
"Some imagination your mother's got, huh?"
Michael stared at the old man. It was as if his grandfather had never been angry at all. He was smiling as if the thrashing behind the barn had never happened. And his voice was calm. He was even trying to make a joke: "White paint for the house, red for the barn, with white trim. Now, how do you suppose she came up with something so radical?" His expression turned serious, and he studied Janet's face. "Any problems this morning?"
"You mean morning sickness? Not a trace." Though her stomach was still queasy from that morning's session in the bathroom, she put on what she hoped was a bright smile and rapped the wooden tabletop a couple of times. "I'm hoping it's over with. It was probably just-well, the last few days." She took a deep breath and emphatically returned to her lists. "The problem's going to be the furniture."
"What's wrong with our furniture?" Michael asked, easing himself carefully onto one of the hard kitchen chairs. "I like it."
"There's nothing wrong with it," Janet tried to explain.
"It just doesn't seem practical for a farmhouse in Prairie Bend, that's all."
"Farmhouse furniture is ugly," Michael pronounced; then, realizing what he had said, his eyes filled with fright and shifted to his grandfather.
But the old man only nodded in agreement. "It may be ugly, but it's comfortable," he said just as Anna rolled her chair into the kitchen and brought it to a stop between the sink and the range. Janet started to get up, but Anna waved her back to her chair. She dropped an apron over her lap, then pulled a skillet from a low cupboard and placed it on the stove. "What were you talking about?" she asked of no one in particular. "What's ugly but comfortable?"
"Farmer's furniture," Amos told her.
"According to whom?" Anna demanded, suddenly taking on the look of a ruffled hen.
"According to your grandson."
"Oh," Anna said. She hesitated only a second, then shrugged. "Well, of course he's right. But don't you worry about it," she said, addressing Janet, as she began scrambling a dozen eggs in the enormous cast-iron skillet. "I can furnish that house with a couple of phone calls. Every barn and attic in Prairie Bend is full of furniture, and it won't cost a cent. Besides, you'll spend more money shipping your stuff out here than you'd get if you sold it, so you'll be money ahead even if you have to give it away. Bring me the plates, Michael."
As Michael hesitated, Anna watched him. There was something in his eyes-a hurt-that she had seen before, years ago, in her son's eyes. She had hoped never to see it again. "Michael, are you all right?"
Michael's gaze met his grandmother's, and for a quick moment there was an unspoken communication between the two of them. But then Michael nodded, turning away to move toward the cupboard where the china was kept. Anna's eyes followed the boy, then shifted toward her husband. But if Amos noticed the concealed fury in his wife's eyes, he gave no sign.
As Michael began putting the breakfast plates on the table, Janet thought over what her mother-in-law had just said. It did make sense. Still, there was a faint twinge at the feeling that by leaving her belongings behind, she would be shedding still another piece of her old life. But she quickly shook off her misgivings. After all, she had made up her mind to start all over again in Prairie Bend.
The sun was high in the sky as Michael carried the pail of garbage around the corner of the barn. The pigs, milling around in their pen, immediately began grunting and snorting in anticipation of their midmorning snack. Michael climbed the sturdy metal bars of the small enclosure, using only one, hand to haul himself up, while he clutched the bucket with his free hand. The pigs clustered around, snuffling at the toes of his sneakers, shoving each other aside in their eagerness to be first at the trough. Finally, when he was perched on the top rail, Michael grinned down at the churning animals.
"Okay," he said. "Here it comes!" He upended the bucket, and the garbage cascaded into the feeding trough. A boar, the largest of the herd, immediately shouldered his way between two sows, one of which promptly nipped him on the ear. The boar squealed in surprise and quickly backed off. The sight of the immense hog giving way to the smaller female struck Michael as funny, and he began to laugh, shouting encouragement to the big pig. "Come on, don't let her get it all. Get in there and fight for it!"
The hog, as if sensing that he was being mocked, suddenly turned toward Michael, his small eyes gleaming. Then, with a speed Michael wouldn't have believed possible from such a clumsy-looking animal, he reared up, grabbed Michael's foot in his mouth, and gave a quick jerk.
Michael tumbled into the pigpen, and his laughter turned to a sudden scream of fright.
The boar backed off for a moment, his front hoof scraping at the ground as his beady eyes fixed upon Michael. Then, grunting angrily, he hurled himself forward.
Michael rolled aside at the last minute and tried to get to his feet, but stumbled over a second pig. Suddenly the whole herd seemed to be on the move, their sharp hooves digging into the ground as they jockeyed for position, half of them attempting to get to the trough, the other half more interested in Michael.
"Help!" Michael screamed. "Someone help me!"
Janet heard Michael's scream and raced out of the kitchen just as Amos emerged from the barn. "What's happened?" she yelled as she dashed across the yard.
"The pigs," Amos shouted back. "He must have fallen into the pigpen." Then he disappeared around the corner of the barn.
By the time Janet reached the hog enclosure, Amos was already using a long pole to poke at the furious animals. "Get up," he yelled to Michael. "Get on your feet boy, or they'll trample you. Get up!"
Suddenly, from around the far corner of the barn, a black dog the size of a large shepherd hurtled into sight, charging straight for the pigpen. With one leap, it was over the top rail, and then it was in the midst of the pigs, snarling and barking, snapping first at one of the sows, then turning its attention to the big boar. The boar, surprised at the sudden attack at its flank, backed off for a moment, giving Michael a chance to scramble to his feet. A moment later, Amos had lifted him up and over the top rail of the enclosure.