Lena whispered to Ruth on Tuesday in the early morning light of the kitchen. John stood nearby, tapping an idle foot and balancing a long rifle with ease between his hands. “Well, ye alarm me, that’s what, luv!” “Shhhh,” Lena said, snatching up her basket and tying the strings beneath her straw hat. “Ruth, please, you know we need sewing supplies if we are to make your dresses. John and I can be to town and back in a few hours. John found out yesterday that Timothy Stolzfus can give us a ride on his wagon while he goes to fetch some hides from the tannery. We will buy our few things and walk back before the sun is high overhead. And John will take the gun.” Ruth shook her head. “If ye’ve a mind to do it, I cannot stop a body. But I know how short coin is around here. Since we will be sewin’ fer me, you’ll be taking my coin.” She raised a warning finger as Lena opened her mouth to protest. “And not a word . . . I saved a bit from the fire, and ye’ll take it or I’ll drop two kettles on the floor and have your father out here in the curl of a cat’s tail.”
