Bittersweet by Cathy Marie Hake Page A

I’d appreciate it. Oh, and while I’m asking for things, if you could see clear to having that horse be hale, I’d be thankful .
    Ten minutes later Galen held the mare’s hoof between his knees and guided the dull knife in Sean’s hand. “See here? That pebble worked its way in and is hurtin’ the poor beast. Pry it out gently. Aye. Better to take your time and do a good job than to rush.”
    “It’s hard not to hurry. Lightning is hurting!”
    “Not when she’s not putting her weight on this hoof. There! You got it out.”
    “I did it!” Sean beamed. “I made Lightning better!”
    “Aye.” Galen turned loose of the mare’s leg and straightened up. “But you were right to have me come check her. Have you ever noticed how Josh and I often look at a horse together?”
    “Yeah.”
    “There are plenty of good reasons. A second opinion or evaluation can often bring to light something one man might miss. Then, too, hurt beasts aren’t always docile, and horses are big and powerful.”
    “Like when Mr. Lufe’s stallion bucked?”
    “Exactly so.” Galen slid the knife into his belt. “Eddie Lufe was smart enough to have someone with him, else he might have gotten hurt. Never mistake being brave with being foolish.”
    “I won’t, Galen.” Sean stooped down to pick up the little pebble. He stood up, admired it for a moment, then stuck it in his pocket.
    “Go round up Dale. I’ll have the two of you carry some wood in for Ma.” Minutes later, Galen held Dale and Sean off to the side until Ishmael finished splitting another piece. Just as the ax descended, the log tumbled. The ax struck and most of the log shot off to the side while a big chunk flew up and hit Ishmael.
    “Argh!” Ishmael dropped the ax and covered his eyes with his hands.

CHAPTER TEN

    G alen parted the boys and ran over to the stump. He spun Ishmael around and shoved him to sit right where that log had once been. “Let me see.”
    Ishmael didn’t remove his hands. He rocked back and forth. “Dad burn it!”
    Grabbing his bandanna from his back pocket, Galen barked, “You lads go tell Ma he’s hurt and I’m bringing him in.” He didn’t bother to look to see if they obeyed. Blood poured from Ishmael’s nose and through his fingers. Galen wrenched Ishmael’s hands away and smashed his bandanna to the wound running from Ishmaels eyebrows to his hairline. “It’s your forehead. Can you see now?”
    The farmhand’s eyes opened. “Wouldn’t hurt … so much … if you weren’t so ugly.” “If you weren’t already bloody, I’d punch you for that. Here. Stand up. I’ll help you into the house.”
    Ishmael stood. “Dad burn it! Dad burn it!”
    Galen clenched Ishmael’s arm. “You’re hurt, but mind your tongue. Bad enough you cursed with my little brothers here. I won’t have you speaking that way around my ma.”
    Ishmael reached up and took over holding the bandanna to his head. He gritted his teeth, and that was the full extent of his reaction.
    Galen led him across the yard and up the porch. Colin stood in the doorway. “Do I need to go fetch Doc, or do you want me to hitch up the buckboard to drive him in to town?”
    “Let me have a look at it first.” Ma already had towels on the table and one in her hand. “Half of this mess is nothing more than a bloody nose. Ooch, now. A chunk of skin’s missin’ from your forehead, Ishmael Grubb. It’s none too deep, but it’s wide enough to make you glad the dear Lord gave you a thick skull to protect your brain.”
    “What do you need, Ma?” Galen admired the way she always stayed calm in an emergency.
    “I’m wanting to stop the bleeding and clean him up.”
    “We’ve got a styptic pencil with our razors.” Colin dashed toward the washstand. “Nay, Colin. Some purple loosestrife would serve far better.
    Ishmael, pinch your nose here to stop the bleeding. Galen, hold this towel to his head. I’ll fetch some loosestrife.”
    Ma left and returned with