The Master's Chair (The Chronicles of Terah) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and about showed signs of use but also signs of care and attention. He could see a mixture of crops, cow pastures, and woods from the road, but he had no idea how much belonged to the Peters. The farmhouse was a two-story frame house with wide porches, several chimneys poking out of the roof, and huge trees in the yard. It looked like it had been standing there for at least fifty years, probably longer.
    Several dogs came out from under the porch when he pulled up in front of the house and parked the car. As he stepped out of the car, one of them approached, sniffed, and gave his hand a quick lick. Then, seeing the lead dog’s sign of approval, the rest of the pack came towards him, wagging their tails.
    While he was petting the dogs, the front door opened and a woman stepped outside. She was wearing a plain dress, an apron, ankle socks, and cheap tennis shoes. Her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, but a few strands had escaped the rubber band and were hanging down around her face. As she wiped her hands on her apron, she cocked her head to one side and asked, “Mr. Stewart?”
    Pallor nodded, still petting the dogs.
    “We’ve been expecting you. Mr. Peters is out at the barn seeing to the one of the cows. He’ll be in directly. Come on in.”
    Pallor nodded and followed her into the house. She led him through the living room into the kitchen where a big pot of something was steaming on the stove.
    “I’m canning vegetables today, so we’ll have to sit in here and talk so I can keep an eye on things. Can’t afford to waste a pot full of beans.” She picked up a big wooden spoon and stirred the pot a couple of times. Then she turned away from the stove and waved Pallor towards a chair at the kitchen table. After he set down, she asked, “Care for some coffee? I perked it about 4:30 this morning for breakfast, but there’s still a little left in the pot. I’ve been keeping it hot just in case.”
    Pallor pictured the thick black sludge that would be left in the bottom of the pot after hours of sitting on a hot stove and said, “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
    Mrs. Peters nodded and turned back to the stove.
    A few minutes later, a man walked through the back door. He was wearing a pair of dirty coveralls, a short-sleeve tee shirt, and work boots. He wiped his feet on the little rug in front of the door and nodded towards Pallor. “Mr. Stewart, right?” Again Pallor nodded. Mr. Peters pulled out the chair opposite Pallor and said, “Well, let’s get this over with. I’ve got work to do. Don’t have time to be sitting in here jawing all day.”
    “I’ll try to be as brief as possible,” Pallor said. “First of all, why are you using a private adoption lawyer? Why not go through the state agency?”
    “They take up too much of your time,” Mr. Peters said. “Want you to come in for interviews with all kinds of people and take classes in how to raise a kid. People been doing it for thousands of years without no classes. Our parents sure didn’t take any. No, we don’t have the time to waste on all their mess.”
    “I see,” Pallor said slowly. “Why do you want a child if you’re so busy already?”
    “To help out,” Mr. Peters said as if that was the most stupid question he’d ever heard. “Everyone knows that farm families depend on their children to keep the farm going. We can’t have none ourselves. My fault. Some kind of sickness when I was a kid. Anyway, we figure that we can count on maybe another twelve, fourteen years before I start needing some real help around here, help that we don’t have to pay for that is. And if we get a boy now, he’ll be ready to pull his share of the load about then.”
    Pallor nodded as if the man’s explanations were the most logical in the world. “How do you feel about school?”
    “Law says they have to go, they go. We finished school. Expect he will too, but most of what he needs to know, he’ll learn right here.”
    “What if he wants to go