Read The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker for Free Online Page A

land,” Doc observed. “Looks to be building on another room.”
    â€œMrs. Peck’s sister and family have come to stay,” Lydia informed him. “Mrs. Peck will be having the baby soon,” she added shyly.
    â€œThat makes, what, five little ones?” asked Doc.
    â€œNo, six, sir,” answered Lydia. “Same as in our family.” She stopped, and Lucas saw that her lower lip trembled. “Well, before this winter, and all the sickness…”
    Doc took one hand off the reins, clasped Lydia’s mittened fingers, and murmured some word of reassurance that Lucas couldn’t hear.
    Later, they passed a small, crudely built cabin with a thin trickle of smoke rising from the chimney.
    â€œI wonder if old Moll Garfield is making it through the winter all right,” Doc said, peering intently at the little house. “I should stop to pay her a call.”
    â€œI didn’t much like walking past there today,” Lydia said with a shudder. Turning to Lucas, she said, “Moll’s an old granny woman. Some people go to her when they’re sick, for cures and spells and herbs.” In a low voice she added, “But other folks say she’s a witch.”
    Doc was chuckling. “Now, Lydia,” he said, “Moll’s got her own ways some folks find peculiar, but she’s no witch. I come here for ingredients for some of my medicines. She knows more about plants and what to do with them than anyone I know.”
    Lydia looked uncertain. “I heard she’s an Indian…”
    â€œHalfways,” said Doc. “Her mother was full-blood Pequot, but her father, Orvis Garfield, was a white man. It was Moll’s mother who taught her the old Pequot ways, root healing and so on.”
    Lucas asked, “Who else lives there?”
    â€œNo one,” answered Doc. “Moll’s too ornery to marry, I expect.” He chuckled. “Like me.” Then, turning serious, he added, “That’s one reason folks say the things they do. It unsettles them to see a woman like Moll, keeping to herself and doing as she pleases. But Moll doesn’t belong in town. She never really belonged anywhere, I suppose. A lot of white folks, I’m ashamed to say, hold her Indian ancestry against her, and there’s hardly another descendant of the Pequots left around these parts…or in all of Connecticut, for that matter.”
    Lucas looked back over his shoulder at the little cabin, feeling curious about the woman who lived there. Lydia looked back, too, and whispered, “Perhaps Doc’s right. But with all the sickness, I do fear sometimes that…my family has been witched.”
    Lucas was about to speak of the cure the Roods had performed for their son Enoch, but he stopped himself. Perhaps Doc was waiting to talk it over with Lydia’s parents. Lucas, remembering how peculiar he’d felt when Mr. Rood had told him of the remedy, was interested to see how Doc would go about explaining it to the Stukeleys.
    Doc was saying, “Lucas, lad, as part of your education, I believe I’ll send you over to spend a day or two with Moll, so you can see how things were done before the advent of our so-called modern medicine. How would you like that?”
    With a shrug Lucas answered, “Well, sure, Doc. If you say so.”
    Lydia looked at Lucas with big eyes and, making a face, shook her head. Lucas smiled at her, acting braver than he actually felt about visiting the old witch woman.
    By the time the wagon reached the Stukeley farm, the wintry sky was growing dark and a few snowflakes were beginning to fall. Lucas tied up the horses, then followed Doc Beecher and Lydia inside.
    In the corner, a girl lay on one of the beds, coughing. Lucas looked away. He had been eager to come along on this trip, but hadn’t been prepared for the rush of memories that assailed him when he walked into the Stukeleys’ home.
    It was a