Kindle Edition
Audiobook
Charley Brindley
Category:
Literary Fiction
Publisher: Amazon
Type: Fiction
Pages: 443
Copyright: September 15, 2012
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
December, 1925.
Fourteen-year-old Vincent “Fuse” Fusilier opens the barn door on a freezing morning—and finds a girl sleeping in the hay.
She is thin, exhausted, defiant.
She doesn’t understand English.
By the time Fuse returns from his chores, she has vanished—leaving only a trail of footprints in the snow leading to the nearby woods.
But she hasn’t gone far.
Rajiani Devaki (Raji) is a girl of thirteen from India. On a cold December morning in 1925, Vincent Fusilier (Fuse) finds Raji sleeping in his parents' barn. He thinks she's a vagrant and tells her she has to go. She doesn't understand English and doesn't know where she is, having recently escaped from a house in Queens New York where she had been held for the past nine years as an indentured servant. After Vincent leaves for school, Raji slips into his house to find something to eat. She peeks into the front room and is startled to see a man sitting in a wheelchair. He stares at her but apparently cannot move or speak.
Excerpt
Fuse pushed open the barn door and saw a girl sleeping in the hay. He reached for the doorframe to steady himself. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Where did she come from?
Pretty...she is so pretty.
The girl lay on her side, framed in a trapezoid of Virginia sunlight.
What should I do? Wake her? Leave her alone? I can’t stare at her all day...well, I could...
He nudged her foot with his boot. “Hey, wake up.”
She shivered, curled into a ball, and tucked her hands between her knees. A patched, ragged dress and a thin jacket covered her small frame. She wore worn-out patent leather shoes, with no laces or socks.
She’s sure not dressed very well for the middle of winter.
“Ransom.” The miniature horse rolled from the hay and came to the boy’s side. “Did you let her in here?”
The little stallion nickered, bumping his head against the boy’s hip and sniffing his hand.
“No.” Fuse shifted the metal bucket to his right hand and scratched the horse between the ears. “I don’t have a candy cane for you this morning.”
In the hay, close to the girl, lay a small, battered suitcase cinched with an old leather belt.
“Where did she come from, Ransom?”
He tilted his bucket so the horse could get at the oats inside. Ransom, at four years old, came only to Fuse’s waist.
“You have to leave,” Fuse said, raising his voice to wake the girl. With long black hair and a deep tan complexion, she reminded him of a gypsy. “This is a barn, not a hotel.”
The girl jerked awake. As she glanced around, her eyes fell on the suitcase. She grabbed it, clutching it to her chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She shook her head, glaring up at him. Her eyes were dark brown, smoldering with defiance. Her breath made quick little clouds of mist as she exhaled in the freezing December air, the way Ransom did after galloping away from a pack of dogs. Fuse waited a moment, but she didn’t speak.
“Well, you have to go,” he said. “We don’t need beggars sleeping in our barn.” His words made bigger clouds than hers.
He pointed toward the door. She looked that way, then stood, holding her suitcase by the strap.
Why won’t she talk to me?
She combed bits of hay from her hair with her fingers and raised her chin, holding his gaze. Her hair fell below her waist. She was shorter than he, and a bit younger—thirteen or so—but she wasn’t backing down, not a bit. He admired her determination and wished she would talk to him.
|