Franny Parker by Hannah Roberts McKinnon

plunked down in her rightful chair by Grandma.
    â€œJust a hot spell. Been up since dawn trying to get some water on the corn. Nothing left in the river.”
    â€œI heard the Dorsen farm closed for the season. Their sorghum crop dried up,” Dotty said.
    Grandma sent her a warning look, and Dotty covered her mouth. “Oh, Faye, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
    â€œNo, no,” Faye piped up, taking the iced tea Mama offered her. “There’s no getting around it. We’re all hurting bad. We’ve applied for state aid, but I don’t know how much we’ll get.”
    Everyone, it seemed, was applying for government aid. I’d seen the state trucks driving up and down the town roads, outto inspect the fields for crop yield. It was only early August, and the month’s harvests were already being declared lost. Faye was right, everyone was hurting bad.
    Izzy winked at me. “Isn’t it about time to feed those critters?”
    I nodded, glad for an excuse to leave the sad group.
    â€œSidda, you and Ben give Franny a hand,” Mama suggested. For once Sidda didn’t argue. Clearly the ladies needed to talk.
    In the kitchen, we gathered the new formula from the fridge and pulled clean bottles out of the dishwasher. I held the tray steady while Ben and Sidda piled supplies onto it. I was almost out the front door when loud voices erupted from the yard.
    I looked up and saw Lucas jump off the porch, followed by his father. He was yelling something at him. But Lucas kept walking.
    â€œWhat’s all that scuffle?” Grandma Rae asked, coming up behind me.
    At that moment Lindy emerged. I couldn’t hear her, but it seemed like she was trying to get Lucas to come back. His father put his hand out, motioning for her to stop. Then he hollered after Lucas. “Get back here, boy!” Lucas continued to the truck.
    â€œPlease,” Lindy called from the porch. “Just let him go.”
    But Carl Dunn didn’t. He lunged forward, grabbing Lucas by his arm, twisting it behind him. When Lucas cried out, I dropped my tray, the bottles crashing all around me.
    Suddenly, Mama was there. “Franny, get back inside,” she cried. She pulled me in, stepping right over the bottles and spilled formula, her voice firm and frightened. The ladies crowded behind us, faces full of alarm.
    â€œClose the door,” Dotty yelled.
    â€œI’m calling the police,” Izzy said.
    â€œJust wait,” Grandma said shakily, her stern voice ruffled by the effort to keep steady. “It’s not our business. It could just be a family squabble.”
    â€œNo,” Mama said, swinging the door wide open. “Lindy and Lucas are our business. I’m going over there.” The back of the mother wolf arched inside her. She looked over her shoulder once, at Sidda and Ben and me. “Stay here,” she told us, the gold flickering in her eyes.
    We huddled by the windows, watching as Mama strode off the porch to the driveway.
    â€œLindy?” she called in a calm voice. “Is everything all right?”
    The scene before us shifted as Mama entered it. Lucas’s father let go of his arm, and Lucas fell against the truck. Lindy straightened her shirt and wiped the stray hairs from her face as if rearranging the scene before us.
    â€œOh, Celia, I’m sorry if we disturbed you. Everything’s fine, we’re fine,” Lindy said.
    Mama stopped on the edge of the driveway. “Lucas? Are you all right?”
    Lucas turned away, leaning against the truck door.
    His father spoke instead. “Mrs. Parker?” He movedtoward Mama, brushing himself off, and extending his hand. As he got closer, we could see the forced smile, crooked on his face. “We haven’t met.”
    Mama crossed her arms. “No, we haven’t,” she said, her shoulders squared.
    â€œCall me Carl. I’m real sorry if we disturbed you. Lucas and