Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

Jason had already piled some snow behind Sgt. Snowman's head but not enough. He piled on more snow, packed it down and shaped it, and then he picked up Sgt. Snowman’s head. He'd made it bigger than his dog’s head and it was heavy. He pushed with both hands getting it up there and pressed it down into the dip between Sgt. Snowman’s shoulders until he knew it would stay.

He stepped back and looked before sticking the twigs into both sides for his arms. He stepped back for another inspection, time for his face. Jason needed to go inside for that stuff.

Speaking to Barnabas, he said, “Sgt. Snowman can stand guard at night. That means you get to stand guard in the day.” His dog didn’t need to answer. He was already a good soldier.

Mom opened the front door and Barnabas jammed past her, going inside to get warm. “Come on, honey. It’s time to eat.”

“Did you find Sgt. Snowman some eyes and a mouth?”

Mom nodded. “I found him a hat and a nose too.”

“Can’t I put them on now?”

She smiled. “Come on. Everybody’s waiting.”

He went inside.

She closed the door behind him and helped him off with his heavy sheepskin coat. The house felt pretty warm inside. She hung the coat on the deer antlers by the door.

Jason pulled his half frozen mittens off with his teeth. On his way to the kitchen, he set the mittens on the hearth near Barnabas, lying there on a big dog pillow, almost asleep already.

“Wow, it smells good in here.”

“I think it came out okay.”

A huge, dark brown turkey sat on a platter in the center of the kitchen table.

John and Willis stood near the bench, waiting.

“Awe, you guys can sit down.”

They smiled but ignored his invitation.

Mom said, “Wash your hands, honey.”

“Mom, they’re all clean from the snow.” He showed them to her, all wrinkled and pink.

“Come on.” She opened the pantry door and waved toward the wash sink.

He washed up then took his place at the head of the table, the only chair in the kitchen.

Willis and John still stood, waiting.

“You guys need to sit first ‘cause Mom gets up and down all the time.”

They sat opposite each other on the padded benches and slid toward the window end of the table.

Mom sat next to John, looked at Jason and everybody lowered their heads.

Being head of the family, it was Jason’s job to say the blessing. “Thank you, Lord, for this our home, and for all our new friends, especially for John and Willis, and thank you for this snow. It’s so cool. Bless this food that it might nourish us, and bless us that we might better serve Thee. Amen.”

“Willis?” Mom handed him the carving knife.

Willis slid out so he could stand and carve the turkey. He cut the tie string from the legs, set the knife down and filled a bowl with steaming stuffing. It smelled awesome. He picked up the long fork, stuck the bird's breast and carved off a drumstick. He set it on Jason’s plate. He sliced the breast and piled the platter with white meat.

Mom put some green beans, dressing and gravy on Jason’s plate.

Jason helped himself to a buttered roll and some cranberry sauce.

Everybody dished up and dug in except Willis. Willis didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. He ate a little dressing, a small slice of turkey and some vegetables, no roll or cranberry sauce.

Mom noticed. “Is something wrong, Willis?”

“No, ma’am.” Willis barely glanced in her direction. “Mighty tasty victuals. My appetite must have stayed at home. I apologize.”

That was enough explanation for Jason, and it seemed to satisfy Mom. They ate the rest of their Thanksgiving dinner in silence.

“That was better than Grandma’s restaurant,” said Jason, choking down the last of his dinner roll and cranberry sauce. “Can I be excused now?” He'd only eaten half the drumstick because it was so big, but he had eaten all of his vegetables. Mom would make sure anyway.

“You want your pumpkin pie later?”

“Huh.” Jason sprang from the table, ran all the way through the living room and up into the entry where he put on his sheepskin coat.

Barnabas bumped and grumbled at the front door, eager to go outside. He hadn’t left the porch all day so he probably needed to pee real bad by now.

“Here, you forgot these.” Mom handed him his mittens, warm but wet. “Is your sergeant a cavalry man?”

“The best.”

“Good. Wait here.” She turned into her office and came back with a black cowboy hat. Inside were two big buttons, a short fat carrot and a long stemmed pipe. “I think this hat and pipe were your grandfather’s.” She handed the hat and stuff to Jason. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jason shoved the mittens into his coat pockets and opened the door. “You coming Barnabas?”

Barnabas rushed onto the porch and stopped. He'd forgotten about the snow.

Mom closed the door.

Jason started slowly down the front steps, being careful on freshly packed snow from walking up and down steps. He slapped his leg and looked back at his dog. “Come on. You don’t need to lay down in it.”

Barnabas slowly followed him down, looking and sniffing wherever he stepped. Once down, he followed Willis’s and John’s tracks around the corner of the garage and disappeared.

Jason climbed the mound of snow behind his snowman and put the hat on top of his head, pulling it down to make it fit tight. It looked okay. He held onto the body and leaned around to put the eyes in place, then the nose and the pipe, back and forth, making adjustments until his sentry looked ready.

Barnabas barked, already back from his business, bounding back and forth in chest deep, white powder, biting into it, playing with it. Good soldiers like Barnabas always learned quickly.

The door opened and John followed Willis onto the porch, both already wearing their coats and hats.

“Are you guys leaving already?”

“Getting late,”said John, and they started