William Rosewood's Arc

Chapter 18 of 20

The coldest week came like the wind had promised. William split green wood at the stump all morning. The axe bit deep and clean, but each round he fed the fire only hissed and smoked. The dry inner rows were gone. He had burned them to keep the cover pinned. Now the flames sank low, and the room lost its heat. By nightfall the green rounds would not catch at all. His breath showed white inside his own house. His children would freeze by morning. He pulled his work shirt tighter and felt the stiff seam at the hem where Cecily had sewn the dried flower. He stood at the stump with the axe in his hands and no plan. Green wood was all he had left, and green wood would not burn. Eddie came out with Tommy behind him. Eddie looked at the smoking fire through the open door, then at the axe. "It won't dry in time," he said. He did not soften it. Tommy walked past them to the woven branch fence that split the pig yard from the grain. He put his hand on the top pole. "This is old. Dead a year, maybe more." He gave the fence a shake. Dry rails rattled loose in their weave. "It's seasoned. It'll burn tonight." William stared at the fence. He had mended it a dozen times. It kept the pigs from the grain. If he tore it down, the pigs would root the corner bare by spring. But there was no grain in the corner field now. He had ground the seed corn to feed for the herd. The fence guarded nothing but a patch of frozen dirt. "Pull it," William said. They worked fast in the failing light. William wrenched the poles from the ground. Eddie unwove the branches, hand over hand, the way he weeded a row. Tommy stacked the dry rails by the door. The wood was gray and light and cracked easy under the axe. William split it small and carried an armload to the hearth. The fire took the dry branches at once. Flame climbed the split rails and threw real heat into the room. William fed it steady until the stone hearth grew warm to the touch. Sarah stopped shivering under her blanket. The white left the air. William sat back on his heels. His hands had nothing to do now, so he turned a split rail over and over. The family had heat tonight. They would reach morning warm. But he looked at the bare posts standing empty in the pig yard. The fence was gone. Come the thaw, the pigs would run loose across the whole field, and he had nothing dry left to burn if this cold week stretched into two.