Effigy
“Cedar City. She knew she was meant to be delighted, and so she made sure to keep her trembling hands hidden, twisting them beneath her shawl. She rode sandwiched between them on the front seat—Papa’s jouncing hip bone, Mama’s giving haunch. When the track hit a flat stretch, Papa let her take the reins. Or not let, exactly. She had no real interest in assuming control.
He’d shown a fine mood all morning, harnessing the horse early, then coming to stand at the bedchamber door and watch Mama brus...h and brush Dorrie’s black tumble of curls. “Leave it loose,” he said when Mama began dividing the dark mass into braidable hanks.
Mama turned on her chair. “She’ll get terribly tangled.”
At that he delved into his trouser pocket, withdrawing a length of silk ribbon, the purest white. He tossed it onto the bed.
“Oh, Lyman.” Mama reached for it, smiling. “Look, Dorrie, see what Papa’s bought you.”
Dorrie stepped out from beneath the shadow of the stilled brush and stroked a finger down the ribbon’s length.MoreLess
He’d shown a fine mood all morning, harnessing the horse early, then coming to stand at the bedchamber door and watch Mama brus...h and brush Dorrie’s black tumble of curls. “Leave it loose,” he said when Mama began dividing the dark mass into braidable hanks.
Mama turned on her chair. “She’ll get terribly tangled.”
At that he delved into his trouser pocket, withdrawing a length of silk ribbon, the purest white. He tossed it onto the bed.
“Oh, Lyman.” Mama reached for it, smiling. “Look, Dorrie, see what Papa’s bought you.”
Dorrie stepped out from beneath the shadow of the stilled brush and stroked a finger down the ribbon’s length.MoreLess
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