The Treasure Hunt

The Treasure Hunt by Rebecca Martin

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Authors: Rebecca Martin
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up the shotgun, he started for home. It was high time to help with the chores.

17
    Storm Dog
    J ake came walking in from Wild Horse one October evening. His face was as brown as a nut beneath his tumbled red hair. It seemed to Lydia that he had grown taller and wider too. His arms rippled with muscles when he took off his jacket. “I must have pitched a million sheaves,” he told the girls with a grin.
    â€œWhat about Ben? And Jonas? Are they back too?” Mother asked
    â€œYep. Threshing is over for this year, at least for that crew. What’s for supper, Mother?”
    â€œPotato and turnip soup along with some dried corn,” answered Mother.
    â€œMmmmm. Sounds good and smells even better.” Jake sat down at the end of the table in his usual spot.
    Scurrying to set the table for supper, Lisbet asked, “Why are you so hungry? I thought they made big meals for threshers.”
    â€œWell, yes, but…” Jake paused. He wasn’t used to making a fuss about things. “I guess I’m ready for home cooking again.”
    For Lydia that answered a question she hadn’t dared to ask. Jake was glad to be home. Sometimes she had worried about him while he was in Kansas. After all Father had made it sound like there was a danger of falling into bad company.
    â€œYou came just in time,” Father informed Jake. “We’ve run out of coal. Joe and I were wondering whether we could go and get some on our own, but Joe is supposed to go to school, and I’m not much good at driving or handling a shovel for that matter.”
    Jake’s eyes went to Father’s hand. “Still not well?”
    Father shook his head. “No, but it’s coming. Very slowly.”

    So the very next day, Father and Jake went off to the coal mines, twenty miles away, where all the families dug their own coal. More fuel was needed right away. The nights were growing colder now that November was almost here.
    But winter never came in 1910, at least not the kind of winter Lydia had known in North Dakota. There was no snow. Throughout January 1911, the mild, sunny weather stayed on.
    At last one morning in February, Lisbet woke Lydia with a little shriek. “Snow! Lots of it!”
    In a flash Lydia joined her at the window. The pane was so plastered with snow that she could barely see outside. In the swirling whiteness, the dim shape of the barn was just visible. “Why, it’s a blizzard!” Lydia exclaimed.
    Lisbet didn’t agree to that. “Have you forgotten the North Dakota blizzards? Remember how the wind used to pound the house? You couldn’t see a thing outdoors.”
    â€œWell, yes, but this is almost as good,” Lydia said while putting on her shoes. “I wonder if I have time to go outside before breakfast.”
    When she entered the kitchen, however, she heard the men stamping snow off their boots on the porch. Apparently they had finished the morning chores already.
    Joe’s coat was all frosted with snow when he burst in and said, “Do you know what, Lydia? There’s a dog out there.”
    â€œA what?” she exclaimed in disbelief.
    â€œA dog. In the barn,” Joe repeated.
    â€œIs it a nice dog? Not wild?”
    â€œI don’t know if it’s nice. It looks pretty sick to me. It’s just lying in the hay with its head between its paws. Hardly paid any attention to us while we were doing chores,”
    â€œPoor dog. Maybe it got too cold in the storm, and it came to our barn for shelter,” said Lydia. She wanted to run out through the snow right away, but she couldn’t because everyone was sitting down for breakfast.
    Half an hour later, Lydia eagerly pulled on her coat. “I have time to go see the dog before I have to get ready for school, don’t I Mother?”
    â€œYes, but…” Mother looked at Father. “You’ll go out with her? We don’t know anything about this

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