O'er the Dale, Chapter 2

2

Sylvie ambled downstairs as she always did, with a light step and a slight hum in her throat. When alone she was quite comfortable and content, and couldn't be bothered with friends or even acquaintances. She never felt like she needed anyone around but her parents and the few animals they had left on the farm. She loved the quiet, slow mornings of her childhood, but time somehow turned days into years, and she was altogether now a young lady. 

"Good morning Papa," said Sylvie as she neared the bottom of the staircase. She always knew it was a good day when he was reading the morning paper by the fire and at complete ease. 

Walter rested his paper on his lap and peered over his reading glasses as he watched his daughter descend down the final step of the staircase. He felt he was seeing her with new eyes and it perplexed him. Was it pride in the young lady she was blossoming into? Or was it something else? Something that just happens overnight? Like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly, is the change of a child into a woman. Anyone could see that the small child his wife found alone in the abandoned gypsy camp, had grown into her large, gray eyes and dark brunette hair. Her looks of wide distrust and wariness were now replaced with a quiet confidence and an acute sense of observation. She used to always be disheveled, but she’d morphed it into a calculated simplicity. Don't be mistaken, Sylvie still reminded him of a mischievous little sprite, only now, she was grown up. 

Sylvie was just about to enter the kitchen to say good morning to mama, when she saw a furry bundle cuddled up on the hearth. Her eyes grew wide as she rushed to the side of her favorite friend, and got on her knees to have a look at him.

"What happened to you, you ol' rascal?" said Sylvie to Denny, as she ran her hands over the old dog and up to his head. She tilted her chin up a bit and looked towards Walter, "Just look at his ears Papa, they're all chewed up."

Sylvie looked up to the ceiling and blinked back a few tears. She looked back down at the old dog and bit her upper lip as if chewing it.

"Ah, dear girl," said Walter, breathing out a little sigh as he pulled himself to the edge of his chair, and then scratched his head. Sylvie was watching him. His hand came down and slapped his knee harder than he intended and then used it to direct her gaze back to the dog. "Ol' Denny'll be alright. He just got into a scuffle that he wasn't prepared for. He's not the top dog anymore, even if he is in spirit." 

Walter produced a chuckle he didn't feel. He never could handle her sad stares for long. Ol' Denny would be alright, but the fight had taken more out of the old dog than Walter expected. Maybe he should have the vet out to have a look. "That should make Sylvie feel better," he thought.

Sylvie had such a gentleness about her and she felt so deeply for the plight of the downtrodden; especially those of the four legged variety. 

"Come now, come now you two, and clean up for breakfast," said Alice in a slightly exasperated tone. For the life of her, she never could get them to realize that food never stayed warm on its own. "I never could get both of you to a meal without the company of animal hair or aught else. And I can see that this morning will be no different. Up now and get to the table. Eat and give poor Denny a break. He'll turn soft with all this fussin' over him."

Once breakfast was over, Sylvie slipped out the front door, leaned back against the stone of the cottage, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She loved the smell of fresh air after a rain and then, when the sun's rays began its work of warming the earth - pure bliss. It smelled of the promise of flowers and lambs. She couldn't really describe what that actually smelled like, but she knew Spring was around the corner when this sensation came upon her. The birds were singing and they were every bit as happy as she was; or that was at least what she thought.

Sylvie was still standing there with her back to the wall and getting ready to take in another deep breath, when she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Good mornin' Miss. Is Walter around?"

Sylvie was instantly flustered at the realization that someone was watching her. She looked at the wiry, old man with wide eyes and in a moment, whirled around to open the front door. In her hurry, she forgot that the front door was closed, and instead of running through it, she ran right into it. 

………………..                         

"Alice my dear, you've done it again."

"Mmm, hhmmmnn," responded Alice as she looked at Walter out of the corner of her eyes. She tried to be serious, but it was really hard with Walter. He had a way of always making her feel loved, even when he was somewhere else in his mind.

"Oh, I'm serious woman. You always know what I'm cravin' and this mornin's no different. I said to myself, 'biscuits sound real good. I haven't had a good biscuit in a bit' and there you go makin' your famous biscuits. I'm tellin' you, it----"

There was a loud thump at the front door.

"What in the heavens is that?" said Alice. She jumped at the sound and tossed the kitchen towel on the table and put her hands to her hips. She watched Walter quickly go to the front door and open it.

Walter opened the front door not knowing what to expect and thankfully saw his old friend was paying him a visit. He also saw Sylvie standing there rubbing her head and looking intently on the ground. Walter had an idea of what happened and acted like Sylvie wasn't even there. He learned a while ago that it's better to not draw unwanted attention to his daughter when around other people. It never went well.

"Good mornin' James!" said Walter in his exaggerated tone when he was in the presence of his boyhood friends. "What are you about at this time of day and I hope you're not askin' me to go on some fools errand. I've got work to do today!"

"Ah, Walt. You've never, never worked a day in your life," drawled James. He was slow of speech, but was three steps ahead in his mind. He was known by the locals as one to watch out for. While you were waiting for him to finish talking, he had you by the arm and you were halfway to where he was wanting you to go. 

"Why Walt, I remember when we were lads. And don't I know about us being lads? I was working in my dad's shop hammering away at the anvil, getting your horseshoe just right, and it was for your horse I might add, when you walked by and told me that you could do it better and in half the time."

"Oh, aye, I remember that James. And it was true, I could do it better!"

"You could not and I might add, you did not. There I was all sweaty and tired, been working since the morning, and you looked fresh and fancy with your town clothes on. I was thinking of hammering your hand that you were waving in my face to the horsesh --"

"Ha! If you would have done that, I would have --"

"Would have run home crying is what you would have done." Walter and James were deep in this story and Sylvie took the opportunity to slide into the house and look for a cool towel to put on her forehead. Too bad it wouldn't work the same on her bruised pride.

James continued, "I decided against it and said, 'well, why don't you give it a try then if you are so good. Didn't know there was more than one smithy in town.' Well, you never backed down from a challenge and there you were hammering away when you decided to give me a knowing glance, only that glance caused you a broken finger! Ha! I'll never forget laughing at you as you sucked in air so fast and gripped that poor swollen thumb! You wouldn't cry, but you did moan a bit and then ran home. I didn't see you for a solid two weeks after that. I was thinking you were softer than I thought and maybe it killed you dead."

"Ah, James! You always have a flair for the dramatic. How about the time that you had to come work at the farm for a week because you made my dad's plough point too short. Not only did you have to fix it, but you had to plough my dad's new hay pasture. You fell asleep every night during dinner."

"I remember that. And I learned something too!"

"You did, did you?" said Walter with a chuckle. "What's that?"

"That I was thankful that God made me a smithy and no farmer."

Walter and James shared a good laugh still standing just outside the front door. Walter looked in and saw Alice looking over Sylvie's forehead. That woman was born to be a mother. Always so tender and caring to Sylvie's needs, but never making a fuss.

"Say, Walter. Where's Denny? He usually greets me before I reach the door and I heard he's been in a scuffle. Was it that bad?"

"Well, you know James, I didn't think it was that bad, but he's still not up this morning. I think it took it out of him. Not much fight in the ol' boy, I'm afraid." Walter turned into the house and made a motion for James to follow. They both sat down by the hearth and stared at the dog.

"Hello James," said Alice. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Alice then promptly put a cup in his hand and then gave another cup to her husband. 

"Thanks Alice, you've always been a woman that knew her mind and the minds of others. I never didn't know a time when you asked me if I'd like a cup of tea and then you didn't already have it ready. Thank you ma'm for taking the guess work out of it." 

Alice nodded her head and then smiled at Walter. She knew how much it meant to him that she doted on their guests. Truth be known, she lived for it.

James set his cup down on the end table and then pulled himself to the front of his seat. "Well friend, I'm needing to head out. I told Tommy Graham that I'd drop off my healing salve the next time I went by his place. Seems Ol' Denny got his wish of one final scrape and made it a good one."

"The Ol' devil," muttered Walter. 

"Alright, good day to you Walter and thanks again Alice!"

James walked off in the way of Tommy Graham's farm and Walter said to Alice, "Seems I need to be making a call to Graham's farm and make sure all's well. Ol' Denny still has the devil in him."