Work Text:
Sarah Larabee brushed a loose stand of hair back from her face with the back of a flour covered hand before rolling the next bit of dough and dropping it into a bowl with the other dumplings. The strained broth and chicken was just beginning to simmer, and the small cabin was fragrant with the smell of the apple pie that sat cooling on a shelf above the stove.
The soft breeze of a late summer day danced through the open door, fluttering the window curtains and swirling little bits of shiny dust in from the porch. Sarah hummed softly to herself as she rolled out the last of the dough and covered the bowl with a towel, an old hymn that she'd always liked. Her Ma would have been sorrowful that the Larabees did not attend church with any regularity, but Sarah secretly preferred spending her Sundays home rather than getting spit and polished to drive a good ways into Eagle Bend just to be preached at. Chris worked mighty hard during the week, but he was good about using Sundays to spend time with her and Adam. Taking a walk along the creek after supper, or sitting on the porch just talking, with Chris teasing in that devilish way he had – with the glint in his eye that gave her shivers of pleasure right down her spine. A body couldn't do much about those shivers if it was stuck sitting on a hard pew surrounded by a crowd of pious, praying townsfolk.
"No," Sarah thought with a smile, "she liked their own way of Sunday worship just fine, thank you very much".
A thump at her feet drew her attention and she bent down to smile at Adam, sitting corralled beneath the table so he wasn't underfoot, who was enthusiastically banging a wood spoon against the floor.
"How you doing, baby? Are you playing a song for Mama?"
Adam gurgled happily and returned her smile before becoming suddenly interested in the small wooden rattle lying next to him on the floor. Dropping the spoon with a clatter, he snatched up the rattle with both hands and began chewing vigorously on one rounded end.
"Now Adam," Sarah said as she squatted down and gently cupped the top of his head with her hand, "what do you suppose your Papa has been so busy with out in the barn lately? I'm about ready to drop these dumplings. You think we can get him to come in to eat at least?"
As if on cue, Sarah heard the firm tread of Chris' step on the porch, and then his shadow spilled though the open doorway.
"Well it is about time you. . ." her teasing admonishment died on her lips as Chris came to a halt in the doorway – a huge grin on his face, and a large wooden rocking horse cradled in his arms.
Sarah rose, hands on hips. "What is that?"
"What the hell does it look like? Its my boy's first horse." Chris shot back.
"Christian Larabee. You mean to tell me you've been ignoring the list of things I need fixed around here, and burning all that extra lamp oil out in the barn at night making a toy horse for a baby ain't even walkin' yet?"
"Never too soon to learn how to sit a saddle," Chris replied with a wink.
"Well, set it on down here then and let's see how it looks," said Sarah, repressing a smile.
Chris gently set the rocker on the floor to one side of the stone fireplace and then stepped back as Sarah knelt down and ran her hands over his handiwork.
The horse, painted shiny black with a small white star between its eyes, was in full gallop, its legs stretched along the rocker rails, carved mane and tail flowing back, eyes wide and nostrils flared. One ear pricked forward and one canted back slightly as though listening to the rider's voice.
The carved saddle was painted brown and sat on a red, painted saddle blanket. The unpainted runners made the horse look as though it was flying along the ground. Chris had fashioned the bit, bridle and reins out of pieces of old harness, and the carved wooden stirrups were attached with leather straps through which Chris had punched a series of holes designed to lengthen the stirrups as its intended rider grew.
Sarah gently stroked her hands along the nose and neck of the horse. It was as fine a piece of carving and carpentry work as Chris had ever done and she looked up, eyes shining, to meet his grin. Then, in teasing exasperation, she said:
"Honestly, Chris, this thing is twice as big as Adam. I don’t want him to be crying to me every ten minutes because he's fallen off and cracked his head or something."
Chris laughed. "Not my boy, he's a born horseman. 'Sides, I made it big so by the time he outgrows it he'll be ready for the real thing. Already got it planned out. Some horse trading trip, when the time comes, I'm gonna find a pony looks just like this and bring it home for him. Now stop fussing and let's swing Adam on up here."
Sarah rose and walked the few steps to the table, pulling aside one of the chairs that had Adam penned in. Adam, already bouncing with excitement at the sound of Chris' voice, raised his arms in eager anticipation as Sarah swept him up and handed him over to Chris who swung him high overhead and then made him squeal with tickled delight by pulling him close and blowing air against Adam's bare tummy.
"Hey, how's my boy doing? Look it here at what Papa's got for you." Chris swung Adam into the air again before kneeling down and settling him into the saddle of the rocking horse. Sarah knelt down as well on the other side.
Adam sat very still for a moment, a comically concentrated and serious expression on his little face as he contemplated his unaccustomed position astride the horse. Even at their shortest, the stirrups were too long for his chubby baby legs to reach, but as Chris held him in place and gently rocked the horse, Adam suddenly patted his hands flat against the horse's neck a few times before grasping the leather reins, slapping them wildly up and down while kicking his feet, laughing and babbling as if to say "Faster Papa, faster."
Chris and Sarah matched one another grin for grin.
"What'd I tell you?" Chris said. "Look at that, a damn near perfect seat first time on."
"Well you just sit here and make sure he don't get throwed off the first time on. If we're gonna eat this evening I got dumplings to finish." Sarah rose and went to the stove, smiling as she listened to Chris quietly give Adam instructions.
"Now, son, you hold the reins like this, and when you want to go you say, 'Giddyup, horse, giddyup', and when you want to stop you pull back on the reins like this and say, 'Whoa, horse, whoa. That's it, look at you, you're gonna be riding all on your own in no time, and before you know it, you'll be a big boy out working horses in the corral and you and me will go riding together every day."
"A born horseman." Sarah whispered to herself as she gently stirred the dumplings into the simmering broth. "Just like his Papa."
April 2012