“All thet on a pitcher!” she marveled. “Issa purdy story, y’all was right.”

“Me an’ Pa, we allus tries t’git Ma a Blue Willow piece when we c’n, ’cause she do admire thet story,” he said. “Th’ mercantile don’t carry Blue Willow, it on’y carries Country Roses. So we gotta wait till we gets some Company scrip t’get it.” He settled the pitcher back in his lap. “This time, Pa had a liddle left over from fall when folks in town buy bacon an’ smoked hog from him, an’ Cavenel paid me most in cash an’ a liddle in scrip, an’ ’tween us we got ’nough fer the pitcher.” He grinned up at her. “Ma is a-gonna be over th’ moon. She’s been a-hankerin’ fer th’ big pitcher fer a purt long time.”

“So, did Mistuh Cavenel like yore statchoo?” she wanted to know.

“So much he sent over t’ the Hoppers t’ see it, an’ they come an’ Missus Hopper cried an’ right away wanted t’hev it in th’ parlor, an’ Mistuh Cavenel talked up me makin’ a liddle one outa marble.” His grin told her the result of that.

“Boy should’a made his own bargain,” Matt grumbled.

“An’ he’d’a got half what Cavenel got ’im,” Aunt Jinny said. “Boy’s usin’ Cavenel’s tools. Cavenel could charge ’im t’ use ’em an’ he don’t. The cut he took ain’t nothin’ compared t’ th’ deal he made. ‘Do not bind the mouths of the oxen what threshes yore grain,’ Matt Holcroft.”

“Still—” Matt began.

“Still, let ’im watch an’ learn afore y’all throw ’im offen th’dock t’swim.” Aunt Jinny seemed irritated, and Anna thought she knew why. That strange man—she got the feeling that her aunt felt forced to deal with him in a civil fashion, and didn’t like it one bit.

It could just be because he was a powerful magician. Not as powerful as Jolene, but more so than Jinny.

As if her aunt had heard her thoughts, Jinny sighed. “Sorry, Matt. Don’t aim t’be so prickly. Thet there Billie McDaran—”

“Y’all don’t hev t’ tell me, Jinny,” Matt half-scolded. “Thet man’s mean as a rattler an’ a liar an’ a cheat, an’ cain’t nobody lay a finger on ’im on account’a he’s the Burra Burra foreman! I’m jest glad I ain’t gotta hev truck wi’ him. An’ I dunno why y’all do when y’all cain’t stand him.”

“I ain’t doin’ it fer him, lemme put it thet way,” her aunt said, mysteriously. “So Josh, y’all c’n start a-countin’ hatchin’ chicks now, I reckon.”

“Yes’m,” Josh said happily. “Cavenel’s a-gonna send me th’ marble too, when Mistuh Strong takes ’nother load of ingots t’ Cleveland, so we ain’t gotter go inter Ducktown fer it.”

Matt Holcroft took their goods all the way up to the stile over their fence so they wouldn’t have to walk. He didn’t do it with the wagon, however, which would likely not have fit down the lane. He did it with a little cart that was just big enough to hold their purchases and not more more, and looked absurd when hitched to the mule. It was so small, in fact, that he led the mule rather than driving it. They’d stopped to make a trade with Maddie Holcroft for butter and cheese, two things Anna had barely tasted in her life. To Anna’s amusement, in the brief time Jinny’d been inside the Company store, she had bartered the potions she had left for two saucers of Maddie’s coveted Blue Willow, with the express purpose of trading them to her.