Read Courting Miss Amsel for Free Online Page B

until . . . we’re done.”
    He gave one more yank and the kettle finally slid from the shelf. The weight took him by surprise, and he lost his grip on it. Robert jumped back as the kettle clattered onto the floor. The lid rolled away, and sand spilled across Joel’s feet.
    At the fabric table, Miz Jenkins and her daughter, Maribelle, released surprised squawks. Joel offered a slight shrug and half smile in apology.
    The mercantile owner raced around the corner. “What’s – ?” He came to a halt when the toes of his boots encountered the sand. “Joel, where’d that come from?”
    Robert pointed to the dented kettle, which now lay on its side. “It all come out of that, Mr. Scheebeck.”
    Joel crouched down and began to scoop the sand back into the kettle. “Now I know why the thing was so all-fired heavy. Must’ve been twenty pounds of sand in there.”
    Wally Scheebeck scowled. His right foot tapped the wood floor. Then he cupped his hands beside his mouth and bellowed, “Lewis, you get down here!”
    Robert dove behind Joel. Scuffles sounded overhead, then feet clattered on stairs. Lewis careened around the corner. He skidded to a stop in front of his father. When he looked down at the sand, he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. “Y-yes, Pa?”
    Wally pointed to the remaining sand on the floor. “You know anything about this?”
    Lewis’s gaze skittered from Joel to the kettle and then to his pa. “I didn’t do it.”
    Joel stood, the kettle in his arms. Robert clung to his uncle’s leg, peering out with wide eyes.
    “That doesn’t answer my question.” Wally caught the back of Lewis’s shirt and gave him a shake. “Do you know how all that sand got in the kettle?”
    Lewis fidgeted. “Y-yes, sir. William Sholes done it. He put it in there when he was over last week. Said it’d be a funny joke when someone pulled on it an’ the sand poured down on ’em.”
    The boy looked so scared Joel almost felt sorry for him. Almost. If that kettle had come down on his or Robert’s heads, somebody’d be wearing a goose egg. Or worse.
    Wally aimed a swat at his son’s rear end, but the boy ducked away. Red-faced, Wally pointed to the back of the store. “Get up to your room an’ stay there!” The boy scuttled off, and Wally turned to Joel. “Don’t know what gets into young’uns sometimes. Fool boys . . .”
    Joel handed the damaged kettle to Wally. “They’ll get into mischief, that’s for sure.”
    Robert crept out from behind Joel. “William plays lots of jokes. Sometimes they’re mean ones, too.”
    Wally harrumphed. “Well, he ain’t gonna be welcome over here anymore. Land-a-mercy, somebody could’ve got hurt!” He shook his head. “Sure am sorry, Joel. You still needin’ a cannin’ kettle? This is the only one I have in stock, and it’s not much use with that big dent in the rim – won’t seal the steam inside. But I can order you a new one from the catalog. Be here in a couple of weeks.”
    “That’ll be fine.” Joel had never canned before, but with the boys’ growing appetites, he’d decided it was something he needed to learn. “I figure I can hold off canning my beans, tomatoes, and carrots for another couple of weeks.” He chuckled. “Maybe by then I’ll have all the stalks turned under in my fields and have a little more time for household chores.”
    “You still turnin’ them stalks under ’stead of burning ’em off?”
    Joel smiled at Wally’s skeptical tone. No one else in Walnut Hill saw the sense of putting those cornstalks back into the soil, but he figured it wouldn’t do any harm and it just might feed the soil something it needed. “Yep. It’s a heap more work than burnin’, I’ll grant you that.”
    Wally ambled toward the counter. “Don’t see how you do it, keepin’ up with the farm an’ doin’ all that needs doin’ in the house.”
    Sometimes Joel wondered how he managed, too, but with the good Lord’s help, he and