Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found Read Online Free PDF Page B

women. I’ve heard they pair off just the same as Autlach married couples, but—” Terry’s mouth thinned as she considered the best manner to explain. “I don’t quite understand it myself, but that’s the way things work for them.”
    “If there’s not men then who tells them what to do?”
    “Taelachs do it all for themselves,” Terry said, with a hint of envy in her voice.
    “For themselves?” Rankil delighted at the idea of autonomy. “But Archell said there were short-haired ones with women and children in their arms.”
    Granny tossed a handful of broken beans in the pot. “Well,” she shrugged. “Like I said, some do wear their hair short, broadbacks I believe.”
    Rankil’s confusion ran deeper than her voice could ever register. “But there aren’t any Taelach men?”
    “Some say broadbacks are somewhere in between, but I don’t think it’s true. They’re just strong—strong women and tall, too, usually a little taller than the long-haired Taelachs, but then again most Taelachs are taller than Autlachs.”
    Like me, thought Rankil.
    “Broadbacks are fighters, warriors even, but they’re definitely women.” Terry filled the pot with water to keep the beans fresh. “Like I said, Taelachs keep to themselves. I wish I could tell you more. Just keep your eyes open. They do come around on occasion.”
    Rankil’s face brightened at the prospect of seeing one of her own. “They do?” She marveled at how easy their conversation flowed. It felt like talking to Archell when no one else was around. “How do you know?”
    Terry set the cutting board on the table and handed Rankil a large slicing knife. “There are round roots in the bottom of the sling. Let’s cut them to dry. We’ll let them cure today then spread them on the porch tomorrow morning. It gets full sun and will keep them out of the dirt.” She took a second knife and began to separate the long white tubers into paper-thin slices. Dried, round root made for hearty winter eating and proved excellent in stew. “Now, to answer your question. How do you think I’ve gotten along by myself all this time, blind as I am?”
    “Danston called you stubborn.” Rankil’s slices were thin but not as even as her steady-handed elder’s.
    “Yes.” Terry smiled. “I am stubborn, but, whatever your father thinks about me, I’ve needed help since long before you came. Know who’s been helping me?”
    Rankil startled and the knife slipped from her hand, just missing her fingertip. “But you said you hadn’t seen a Taelach in a long while.”
    Terry pointed to her shrunken orbits. “No, I haven’t seen them, but they’ve been helping me. They leave spices and fresh meat from time to time. That’s where I got the cloth. They left it for me as a thank you for some cakes I gave them a while back.”
    They sliced all the roots and stacked them on the cutting board. Rankil’s young mind danced with excitement while they worked. “How often do they visit?”
    “Oh,” said Granny in an almost teasing fashion, “they ring the smoker shed bell once or twice a moon cycle. That should be any day now.” Terry crinkled her nose. “Sure you don’t want a bath?”
    Rankil’s tattered appearance had never been bothersome until now, but then again, she’d never known any other way to be. “Yes. Yes, Granny Terry, I think I do.” She took a soapstone and rag Terry offered and rushed for the creek below the house.
    The water pool was tepid in the summer heat, and Rankil stripped and waded in, scrubbing from top to bottom, her toes giving an occasional kick to ward off the curious fish. She’d never been given the opportunity to take a real bath and enjoyed the thorough soak, playing among flowering water grasses, floating about in her clean state until her fingers shriveled. Finally swayed by Granny Terry’s calls to have her hair trimmed, she emerged from the pool, shook off the worst of the water, and walked back to the house with her