Forever The Flame – Norah – Hess

The faint scratch of a hoe from back of the cabin caught Juliana’s attention, and she smiled when over its sound came Molly’s gay chatter, then John’s low laugh. She stared up at the smoke-darkened ceiling, marveling that even so dull a thing as tending a plot of flax provided the pair with pleasure.

A tremendous amount of work had already gone into the flax field, and according to Molly an equal amount would be needed before the plant was finally turned into cloth. Altogether it took over a year from the sowing of seed to the finished product. After the harvesting there would come the rippling…

combing to get rid of seeds… separating the fibers from each other then cording them to lie parallel. Finally would come the spinning of the fibers into long threads which Molly would then weave into fine linen cloth. “And then”— Molly had beamed—”we’ll have smooth sheets, tablecloths, underwear, and lightweight dresses.”

“And what about the winter?” Juliana asked, glancing down at the faded homespun she now wore. “Oh, we’ll wear linsey-woolsey then,” Molly explained. “I’ll combine wool with the linen. John will have his first shearing before long.” “Do you think he’ll be able to take the shears to his pets?” Juliana laughingly asked. Molly grinned. “I’ve been wondering about that myself.” John’s small herd of sheep had grown from twenty-three head to fifty, counting the lambs that had been dropped a month ago, plus the additional ones bought with the proceeds of the apple pies.

He and Molly had talked it over and decided the money was better spent on a far-reaching project that would in time assure them of financial security. “You two won’t be drudges anymore when I really get the operation going,” John had promised. “And you can stop wearing those things you loosely call gowns.” She had shrugged, not really regretting the fact that she had packed away all the pretty gowns she had worn in Philadelphia. Certainly they had no place in her present life.

She had only smiled when John thought he was consoling her by assuring her that the time would come when she could dress like a lady again. “In the meantime,” Juliana said to the empty air, “I’d best be up and about.” After washing her face and brushing her hair and teeth, she quickly dressed, then removed the coffee pot from the hearth before sitting down at the table. Spreading butter over a still warm biscuit, she washed it down with coffee heavily laced with thick cream. She sat back then and waited for the old sickness to come upon her.

But her stomach remained calm and no bile rose to her throat. “I guess that part is over,” she thought out loud as she returned the pot to the fire.

The moon was full, its light reflected by the snow, so that the bare trees and dark pines stood out starkly on the softly rolling hillsides. On the topmost hill a lone wolf raised his head and sent a mournful cry to the yellow disk suspended in the empty black sky. At the bottom of the hill a trapper, his lean muscular body driving into that of a young squaw squirming beneath him, raised his black shaggy head and growled, “Howl, you bastard.”

The girl, taking his hard, fast thrusts, shifted uncomfortably. The frozen ground was cold on her bare buttocks and she sent a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, her black eyes searching for the half-empty jug of whiskey which she has previously sampled. A few more long draughts of the fiery liquid and she wouldn’t care how long this half-wild trapper kept at her, even though a good half hour had already passed.

Evidently this white man had been a long time without a woman, she thought, and she was almost regretting her venture into his camp. But she had been belly-twisting hungry and frozen to the bone. The aroma of his roasting supper and the hope of a warm spot before his fire had driven from her mind the thought that later she would have to pay for her meal. The girl felt the trapper’s sinewy frame tighten and braced herself for another release.

She stoically accepted the stepped-up battering of her narrow hips, keeping her eyes on the moon as the man gave one last strong shove, then fell on top of her, shivering spasmodically. She lay quietly, hoping that he had at last been satiated and that he would permit her to sleep beside his fire. But there is no warmth in this trapper who sprawls his weight upon me, she reminded herself, and he wouldn’t hesitate to send me away without a thought.

She had suspected his coldness from the moment she had stood uncertain in the shadows surrounding his campfire. For even as his huge dog caught her scent and raised his hackles and bared his teeth in a warning growl, the broad shoulders hunched before the fire never stirred an inch. Finally, although her legs ached from the many miles she had trudged that day, she reluctantly turned to leave, hopeful that farther along the trail she would run into a man more friendly.

She had taken but a few steps, however, when a gruff voice ordered, “Come into the light, squaw, and let me have a look at you.” The girl pivoted on the balls of her moccasin-shod feet, coarse black hair swishing across her dirt-streaked face. “Would you please call off the dog?”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 5ded11ae3f26856b
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,635,027 bytes (1.559 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 0740813013
• Pages: 578
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 635.43 minutes
• Total Words: 127,087
• Total Characters: 700,456
• Average Words per Page: 219.87
• Average Characters per Page: 1211.86

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