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sheltered cows once. I reach down and pick up a bit of the hay that’s in piles, and over my head I see the loft. An old lantern hangs from a hook on the stairs to that loft.
    This is a place to nestle in the hay and read, a place for a cow, for a goat, for chickens.
    I spin around, my arms out, the way I did in that bedroom.I feel something in my chest, something I couldn’t have imagined a few minutes ago. It’s a bit of happiness taking over a small edge of my heart—in spite of everything.
    But Clarence isn’t here. I go outside again. A rusty chicken wire fence pokes up through the snow. It bends with me as I try to climb it, so I just stand there, shivering, calling, “Clarence, please come back!”
    The wind tears the words away from me, and I know he can’t hear me. How can he with half an ear torn off? Still I keep shouting for him.
    “You don’t belong here,” a voice says, and I spin around. I don’t see anyone at first, just a shape in snow-shoes in the next field. “Go home where you belong!” he yells.
    I squint to see better. It’s a boy wearing an old hat, hunched up in his jacket.
    I take a step back, but then I open my mouth. Miss Mitzi always says manners help in a pinch. “Have you seen my cat?” I ask nicely. “He’s quite—”
    I hesitate. What’s a word that will bring sympathy to that awful boy? I clear my throat. “He’s quite fragile.”
    The boy begins to laugh. “I knew it. You don’t know a thing about the country. Someone saw a bear with her cub the other day, and there are mountain lions and coyotes.” He leers at me. “Do you know what they eat?”
    Cats? Could he be telling the truth?
    He’s still talking. “And a skinny city thing like you. Gone in a gulp.”
    Suddenly I’m filled with anger so fierce I can hardlybelieve it. It’s the last straw. Leaving home to come to this place with no light, no heat, no school, no library.
    No nothing.
    “Don’t you dare!”
    He laughs again, pointing at me. “What are you going to do about it?”
    Never mind Miss Mitzi and her manners.
    I crouch down to scoop up a clump of snow. “I come from the city,” I tell him in my fiercest voice. “And you know what they say?”
    “Who cares?” He’s still laughing.
    “They say we’re born wearing boxing gloves.” I crunch the snow between my freezing hands and let go. My aim is deadly from years of stickball on Colfax Street, but he steps sideways just in time. He stands there, mouth open in surprise.
    I tuck my chin deep into my scarf just in case he intends to fight back, and bend over for another scoop. But he’s laughing; he turns and trudges away from me along the fence line.
    “Round one!” I yell after him, but the anger is draining away. What would Miss Mitzi say?
    “Clarence!” I call a few more times, and then go back to the house, remembering what Mrs. Lazarus used to tell Edward Ray:
I’m mortified at your behavior
.
    Dear Miss Mitzi
,
    You can’t imagine how much snow we have. I will mail my two letters to you as soon as I can get them to
the mailbox at the end of the road. It’s probably rusty, but I’ll clean it out as soon as I can
.
    Our address is Waltz Road. That’s a musical name, isn’t it?
    I hope you write to me soon. I want to know about Lazy, your cat from years ago. Clarence hasn’t found us yet
.
    Please don’t tell Charlie the Butcher that Clarence has disappeared. He’ll be heartsick at the news
.
    I miss you and Madden’s Blooms. I miss the smell of lilies and the cold air when you open the icebox door
.
    Love, Rachel

CHAPTER NINE
    Pop is up early this morning, wearing his gray suit and a silky red tie with dots. He grins at us. “How do I look?”
    “You could be the president,” I say.
    He runs his hand over my head, then pulls on his coat and goes outside with shovels he’s found in the cellar.
    The three of us go after him to help as much as we can. The snow is heavy, but once we clean the truck off, Pop will be set to