The Love Letters by Beverly Lewis Page A

his black pony to Boston. “Razor likes his sugar cubes.”
    â€œThen I want very much to treat him . . . if the store carries such things.”
    â€œJoe’ll know.” Small Jay went to untie Razor and waited for Boston to get into the cart. He handed Sassy over to him till Small Jay was also seated, then reached for the driving lines, and they were off.
    When they made the turn onto the two-lane country road,Small Jay didn’t see the soiled letter he’d stuck back in the bushes . Must’ve blown away.
    Up the road, a Yankee farmer was burning a brush pile, the dark plume billowing high and scenting the atmosphere. Further along, they came upon two little Amish girls riding in a red wagon pulled by an older boy. Small Jay pointed out cattle, hogs, sheep, and hen houses to Boston, who seemed to enjoy the ride, humming a tune and occasionally murmuring to himself. Sunshine sparkled off the big silo just ahead, like the jewels Small Jay had seen in the Sears and Roebuck catalogue at one of the English neighbors’.
    At Joe’s General Store, Boston helped him tie up Razor, taking time to stroke the sleek pony’s mane. If he wasn’t mistaken, Boston whispered something about a sugar cube, which made Small Jay smile. He carried Sassy up the store steps, the leash wrapped around one hand to keep her away from the many trinkets and things inside. Small Jay figured Boston would want to take time to explore the place, though he hadn’t an inkling how they were going to pay for much food.
    Mamma will wonder what I bought, he thought, remembering that his father liked black licorice. Maybe he’d buy a bagful for Dat . . . if Boston didn’t need the money, that is.
    â€œ Willkumm , Small Jay. Haven’t seen ya here lately,” Joe Stoltzfus greeted him, an eye on Boston, who ran a hand over his chin whiskers before waving to Joe.
    â€œHello again, sir,” Boston said. “Might you have some sugar cubes for the pony out back?”
    Small Jay liked the sound of this and was pleased when Joe nodded his head and darted off to look. “What are ya hungry for, Boston?” he asked while they stood at the wooden counter.
    â€œBeef jerky, some cocoa powder mix, Wheaties, and a half-gallon of milk will be fine. Oh, and dog food.”
    Surprised at the short list, Small Jay asked if he wanted to buy more hot dogs. “Or maybe some ground beef to make hamburgers?”
    â€œI can easily cool the milk in the creek, but fresh meat won’t keep longer than one can snap a finger,” Boston replied, explaining that Allegro, or other animals, might be tempted to snatch it right up. “Don’t you agree?”
    Small Jay didn’t think there were any coyotes or foxes over near the mill, but he could be wrong. “By the way, I brought some coins from my—”
    â€œYoung man, I have plenty to cover what is needed, sugar cubes included.” Boston opened his wallet and flipped through a wad of bills—more than Small Jay could begin to count.
    â€œI might be able to get the pony cart again,” he said quietly, “but ya still might want to stock up. It takes a long time to walk over here.”
    Boston nodded absently, his eyes on the row of shelves behind the counter.
    â€œSome sticky buns would taste gut with chocolate milk,” Small Jay suggested.
    â€œAll buns are sticky when you spread jam on them, wouldn’t you say?”
    Small Jay flashed him a grin. Boston had him there, for sure.
    Pretty soon, Joe returned with the sugar cubes. Boston counted out the amount, thumbing through his dollar bills, and Small Jay couldn’t understand how this man had so much money, yet no place to call home. No place to wash up properly, either.
    Boston also needed a shave, unless he was deliberatelygrowing a beard, which Small Jay doubted. At least the man didn’t stink like some of his father’s hardworking