Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (chapter books to read to 5 year olds TXT) 📕

“Yikes.” He'd cut his thumb. He looked, but didn’t see any blood.

Willis grabbed his hand and tried to spread the cut, looking for how bad it was. "Just a scratch."

Jason saw the thin line of blood, not even sore anymore, not really.

Willis pulled Jason down to the water and washed his hand, kind of angry. “Knife ain’t no toy.  Never run your thumb down the blade like that. You want to check the sharpness, drag your thumb across the blade, like this.” He took the knife and showed Jason, making sure he understood.

Jason took the knife and dragged his thumb across the blade. He understood now. This knife felt plenty sharp. Crossing the blade with his thumb, it wouldn’t cut. Jason put the knife away and washed his hands again.

Something down in the rocks under shallow water caught Jason’s eye, something round and golden, about the size of his new Swiss Army watch.

Jason untied his heavy coat, laid it on a rock and waded into knee deep water, a little deeper than it looked. The fast moving water tugged at his pants, so cold.

“Careful.” Willis climbed onto a rock a little bit downstream, where he could see better.

Jason rolled up his shirtsleeves and reached into the water, clear as the sky. He picked up the rock and stood to look at it, wading back toward Willis with a beautiful, frosty white rock wrapped around a gold colored rock, heavy for its size.

He climbed back to shore and showed it to Willis. “Look what I found.”

“That’s a gold nugget, Jason. Near pure. Valley’s full of it.”

“You mean it’s ours, mine and my mom’s?”

“Yep. You own the mineral and timber rights to this whole valley, ridgeline to ridgeline, like I already said.” His head darted in three directions as he spoke, as if touching the high peaks above the valley with his nose. He looked at the gold nugget then looked up and down Jason, head to foot, waiting for something.

Jason said, “And we can go prospecting for it?”

“That’s right. This place was a mining camp a hundred and sixty years back.”

“Why’d they leave if there’s still gold here?”

“Most died over two bad winter nights. The rest left less than a week after. Then, several years later, your great grandfather came here with Mary Lou, your great-grandma. They reopened one of the mines but did it slow, didn’t tear up the place or burn the soil with chemicals. That’s it up there by the falls.” He nodded toward the waterfall at a mound of rubble. “After they figured they had enough money, they shut it down. They both respected the natural wonder of this place.”

Jason looked at the heavy gold nugget and looked across the creek toward the waterfall. A big bird circled above the falls. “What’s that?”

“Bald eagle.” The bird folded its wings back and dove into the trees.

Jason looked down the valley at his tall stand of trees, his forest, and at those deer grazing near his cattle, out from under the trees now. He tossed the nugget back into the creek. He didn't need to tell Mom or Barnabas about this.

MOM MUST HAVE BEEN watching for them from the bay window in the kitchen. As soon as they walked into the kitchen, she pulled a platter of fried potatoes from the oven and set it on the table with some salads.

Willis handed her the creel and said, “You might want to put the biggest one in the freezer, good baking size. German Brown.” He hung Jason’s coat on the back of the kitchen door and turned into the pantry.

Jason followed him through the pantry and into the laundry room where they both washed up. The sink was plenty big for both of them.

Willis didn’t use salad dressing so Jason didn’t either. Whatever Willis did was good enough for him. Anyway, it tasted good without.

Mom had already seasoned and was frying the fish in butter, glancing at a recipe book she’d found in the pantry. By the time they finished their salads, the fried fish was on the table, one for each of them.

Willis said, “Mighty tasty fixin’s, ma’am. Never tasted better.” He licked his fingers, set his plates in the sink, rinsed his hands and slapped them on his jeans to dry them.

Jason washed his hands at the sink and Mom stopped him. She grabbed his hand to look at his cut thumb. “What happened?”

“Awe, it’s nothing.” Jason pulled his hand away. “Willis already washed it and showed me how to do it right.” Jason pulled his new knife and dragged his other thumb across the blade, showing her how.

“Where did you get that?” Her shrill voice startled him, like when he’d fallen off Grandma’s back porch and she'd thought he got hurt.

“Willis gave it to me. After all, a mountain man needs a good knife. Isn’t that right, Willis?” Jason turned, looking for support, but Willis had already gone.

She spun him back, mad as anything. “You listen to me, young man. You don’t take gifts from strangers. You already know that.”

“Willis isn’t a stranger.” Jason shrugged, searching for words that might work, not looking right at her. “He’s Willis.”

“We’ve only known him for three days. We don’t know anything about him, other than he’s a good handyman.”

“Handyman?  Mom!” Jason opened both arms wide, turning slowly, fanning their surroundings.

“I don’t think Willis built this house.” She folded her arms and stared at him the way only she could stare. “It’s been here too long. Besides, you know what I mean. We don’t know anything about him.” She took the knife and set it on the table. “You don’t take something as dangerous as this knife without talking to me first. I don’t care who wants to give it to you.” She softened and smiled a little, just a little, looking out the window. “And, I don’t like that Indian teaching you to ride a horse without asking me first.”

“Mom.” Jason was totally frustrated. “John’s the best horse