Gives Light(Gives Light Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

get a bit...get a bit rude , I guess, but you shouldn't let that bother you."
     
    I knew what he wasn't saying.  It was the older folks who were more likely to remember what had happened eleven years ago.
     
    "Anyway, your dad's Shoshone, so you are, too.  Even if you don't look it."
     
    Dad had told me otherwise, though.  Children from Nettlebush belonged to their mothers' clans.  It was why I had my mom's surname and not my dad's.
     
    "Aubrey!"  The two men who had accompanied him came out of the kitchen.  "Time to go."
     
    Aubrey jumped up.  "Thank you for the towel," he said.
     
    I smiled after him as the three of them departed; one of the men gave me a stiff but polite nod.
     
    Granny came trudging out of the kitchen and sat down at her loom.  "From now on," she said, "you will fetch my parcels for me.  I won't have the Takes Flight boys coming out all this way when you're perfectly capable of making the trip on your own."
     
    I nodded, but I really wanted to ask why they were making deliveries in the rain.  Didn't they worry about getting sick?  Or maybe that wasn't a risk when you knew the land and its climate as well as they did.  Dad never liked to talk about his childhood, but on the off occasion that he mentioned it, I envied him his experiences with wild animals and rough terrain, the home remedies he knew by heart.  He could have been exaggerating, but when you're seven, that's not really your first thought.
     
    "Don't you have something you should be doing?"
     
    Getting out of here, I thought.  But the more I considered it, the more childish I felt.  Officer Hargrove had made it clear that I was still a child as far as the law was concerned.  What right did I have to complain?  It wasn't like I was in any danger...just severe discomfort.  Granny could use some help around the house.  If I could fetch deliveries for her, if I could light the hearth for her at night and draw her a bath in the morning...  She was so tiny and frail.  And the windows needed to be washed pretty badly. 
     
    And that's exactly what I spent the rainy morning doing--washing the windows, I mean.  Granny would occasionally look up from her loom--initially with surprise, I thought--and offer input: "Some vinegar would help..."  Or, "Not like that!  You'll leave streaks!"  I know I was pretty inept.  Like I've said, Dad and I were slobs.  Granny's coaching ultimately got me through the grimy task.  I even thought I saw her smile, once, behind her heddle rod.
     
    I was finished by afternoon, and the rain had dwindled to a drizzle.  Granny waved her hand at me and went to her room for a nap.  Feeling restless again, I thought I'd visit the Little Hawk house.
     
    A man was standing outside of the house and gutting fish on a folding table, the stench nauseating.  He looked up as I approached.  He frowned, though he never met my eyes.  He had a long face, his brown hair streaked with gray.
     
    I tried waving to him, but he pretended he hadn't seen me.
     
    The front door swung open and Annie came bounding outside, her long hair flying freely behind her.
     
    "There you are!"
     
    I spoke to your secret admirer , I signed; she looked puzzled for a moment but passed it over, snatching up my arm.
     
    "I'm making stew," Annie said, "in case the rain stops by evening.  All it really needs to do is sit there and simmer.  Shall we go inside?"
     
    "Annie," said the man, still not looking our way. 
     
    There must have been an implicit warning in his voice that I hadn't heard; Annie bristled.  "I'm not allowed to have friends, then?"
     
    I waved my hands quickly.  I didn't want her arguing with her father.  Anyway, I was pretty sure that most dads wouldn't be too keen on their teenage daughters spending time alone with boys.
     
    Annie sighed, defeated.  "I'll see you tonight, then," she said to me.  She shot a dark look at her father's bowed head.  " Hopefully ."
     
    Now I really didn't know what