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Back Plough the Furrow Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four
  38. Thirty-five
  39. Thirty-six
  40. Thirty-seven
  41. Thirty-eight
  42. Thirty-nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-one
  45. Forty-two
  46. Forty-three
  47. Forty-four
  48. Sow the Seed
  49. Reap the Harvest
  50. About the Author
  51. ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Copyright page

‘I aren’t going to let a little tramp talk to me like that . . .’ he muttered. His strong hands gripped her shoulders bruising her skin and digging into her flesh. Instantly she brought her arms up to knock his sideways, loosening his grip on her. Then she tugged on his right sleeve at the same time as she kicked his shin with her sturdy boot. He found himself lying on his back in the hay, staring up at her. The fall had knocked the breath from him. He could make no answer as she said, ‘Next time I’ll let you have it where it really hurts – boy!’

With that she climbed down the ladder.

As Esther sluiced the sleep from her eyes under the icy water from the pump, she heard behind her the clatter of hooves on the cobbles of the yard and turned to see Sam bringing two of his three cows through the farm gate and towards the cowshed. She wondered why he didn’t milk the cows in the field like her aunt had done, but watching his hobbling, bow-legged gait, she realized it was easier for him to bring the cows to the byre than to be chasing each one around the field to milk it – especially the temperamental Clover.

As he passed her, she thought he hadn’t noticed her until he said, ‘What sort of time do ya call this? ’Tis halfway through the day. Ah thought the work’d be too much for a slip of a wench.’

Esther opened her mouth to retort, but for once she thought better of it. She wasn’t one to make excuses. Let him think what he liked. Instead she said, ‘What do ya want me to do, Mester Brumby?’

He was moving away from her now, but over his shoulder he grunted, ‘Ah want you to go, that’s what Ah want you to do!’ He paused, one hand on the door of the cowshed, then turning to look at her, added, ‘But seein’ as how Ah dun’t expect you’ll tek any notice of me – you can get on with milking this pair.’

He let his hand fall from the door and began to go towards the house. ‘When you’ve done, turn ’em out into North Marsh Field. Ah’ll show you when you’re ready. Ah’m off up Top End, but Ah’ll be back by you’re done.’

There was no further sign of the ‘boy’. Who was he, Esther wondered, and what had he to do with Brumbys’ Farm? She wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. Maybe what Will had told her wasn’t true after all. Maybe Sam Brumby had got some help about the farm. If so, her argument about being the only one he could get to stay would lose its effectiveness.