The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

just get all the rest you can.”
    “Was the doctor here?”
    “Yes, and he’ll be back this afternoon.”
    Olivia nodded. It seemed a useless expense having Dr. Vance come all the way out to the house. But right now she was too weary to question it. She put the empty cup aside and slid back under the covers. She could breathe easily now, and the warm tea was already making her drowsy. “I’m sorry to be all this trouble, Grandma.”
    She was asleep before she heard any response.
    More than anything else, John dreaded telling the other children. Grandma and Grandpa, and even John-Boy, had seen enough of the world to know that disasters and tragedies were a part of life. But how did he tell the others? How could he explain a thing like this to children who had been told every Sunday that God rewarded people who were kind and generous and led good Christian lives? Nobody in the world was a better Christian than Olivia.
    For a long time John sat on the back steps, staring off at nothing. The dog seemed to understand. His tail didn’t wag, and his head rested heavily on John’s leg. John finally gave him a sympathetic pat and pulled himself to his feet.
    Grandpa was right about the front tire of the truck. There was nothing left of it to repair. John got out the jack and replaced the tire with the spare. He threw the shredded carcass into the back of the barn and came back to stare at the old truck.
    He would be lucky if that spare or the other front tire lasted another twenty miles. But that might not matter. There wasn’t much gas in the tank, and he had no money to buy anymore. Nor did he have any money for house paint, which he would be needing as quickly as spring came. Or money for new saw blades, or axes or wedges for splitting timbers. And now there would be doctor bills that were likely to go on for a long time.
    John sometimes wondered if he hadn’t been foolish trying to support his family all these years by cutting wood. Had he been selfish choosing an occupation that he enjoyed because he was independent—all to the detriment of his family? If he had gone down to Charlottesville years ago and gone to work at the soapstone quarry, would they be comfortable now, with plenty of money for the doctor, and maybe enough to send John-Boy to college? A lot of men had been laid off at the quarry, but there were plenty of them still there, still getting their weekly paychecks.
    John turned and moved slowly into the sawmill. It was a waste of time thinking about things like that. There was no chance of getting a job in Charlottesville now. And no matter how little woodcutting paid, he had to go on doing it.
    He and Grandpa had spent the previous week hauling logs down from the mountain and stacking them at the side of the mill. George Halverson, a contractor in Charlottesville, had bid successfully on a contract for a new bridge on the Scottsville road, and John had agreed to supply the structural timbers at three dollars each. For the work involved, the job would not be very profitable. But the bridge was not scheduled to be built until late spring, so he’d figured on cutting the timbers during his spare time or on weekends. But right now he had no orders for firewood, nor anything else to do.
    He put on his gloves, and with an angry heave, tumbled the top log down from the pile. Normally it took three of them to drag the big tree trunks over to the saw. But by twisting, swiveling, and wrestling one end and then the other, he managed to get it into position with an end raised to the saw table. Then he cranked up the motor, hoisted the other end of the log and guided it through.
    With each successive cut the timber grew lighter. He trimmed it down, cut it smoothly to the precise rectangular measure, then sheared off the ends. Then he dragged the finished timber into the barn for storage.
    He had wrestled the second log over and raised one end to the table when he saw John-Boy and the rest of the children coming. They