Wish You Well by David Baldacci Page A

followed her.
    Diamond was left with the spoils of something, surely not victory, judging by his disappointed face. He looked around and whistled, and Jeb came running. “Let’s get on home, Jeb,” he said quietly.
    The pair ran off in the opposite direction from Lou and Oz, as the mountains headed for sleep.

 
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    There was no trace of outside light as yet, when Lou heard the creak of foot on stair. The door to her room opened and Lou sat up in bed. The glow of lantern light eased into the space, followed by Louisa, already fully dressed. With her flow of silver hair and the gentle illumination around her, the woman seemed a messenger from heaven to Lou’s sleepy mind. The air in the room was chilly; Lou thought she could see her own breath.
    “Thought I’d let you and Oz sleep in,” Louisa said softly as she came and sat next to Lou.
    Lou stifled a yawn and looked out the window at the blackness. “What time is it?”
    “Nearly five.”
    “Five!” Lou dropped back against her pillow and pulled the covers over her head.
    Louisa smiled. “Eugene’s milking the cows. Be good you learn how.”
    “I can’t do it later?” Lou asked from under the blanket.
    “Cows don’t care to wait round for us people,” Louisa said. “They moan till the bag’s dry.” She added, “Oz is already dressed.”
    Lou jolted upright. “Mom couldn’t get him out of bed before eight, and even that was a fight.”
    “He’s right now having a bowl of molasses over cornbread and fresh milk. Be good if you’d join us.”
    Lou threw off the covers and touched the cold floor, which sent a shiver directly to her brain. Now she was convinced she could see her breath. “Give me five minutes,” she said bravely.
    Louisa noted the girl’s obvious physical distress. “Had us a frost last night,” Louisa said. “Stays cold up here longer. Works into your bones like a little knife. Be warm afore long, and then when winter comes, we move you and Oz down to the front room, right by the fire. Fill it with coal, keep you warm all night. We’ll make it right good for you here.” She paused and looked around the room. “Can’t give you what you had in the city, but we do our best.” She rose and went to the door. “I put hot water in the washbowl earlier so’s you can clean up.”
    “Louisa?”
    She turned back, the arc of lantern light throwing and then magnifying her shadow against the wall. “Yes, honey?”
    “This was my dad’s room, wasn’t it?”
    Louisa looked around slowly before coming back to the girl, and the question. “From time he was four till he gone away. Ain’t nobody use this room since.”
    Lou pointed to the covered walls. “Did my dad do that?”
    Louisa nodded. “He’d walk ten miles to get ahold of a paper or a book. Read ’em all a dozen times and then stuck them newspapers up there and kept right on reading. Never saw a boy that curious in all my life.” She looked at Lou. “Bet you just like him.”
    “I want to thank you for taking Oz and me in.”
    Louisa looked toward the door. “This place be good for your mother too. We all pitch in, she be fine.”
    Lou looked away, started to fumble with her nightdress. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she said abruptly.
    Louisa accepted this change in the girl’s manner without comment and softly closed the door behind her.

    Downstairs, Oz was just finishing the last of his breakfast when Lou appeared, dressed, as he was, in faded overalls, long john shirt, and lace-up boots Louisa had laid out for them. A lantern hanging on a wall hook, and the coal fire, gave the room its only light. Lou looked at the grandmother clock on the fireplace mantel, itself a six-by-six timber of planed oak. It was indeed a little past five. Who would have thought cows would be up so early? she thought.
    “Hey, Lou,” Oz said. “You’ve got to taste this milk. It’s great.”
    Louisa looked at Lou and smiled. “Those clothes fit real good. Said a