Once the milk was strained, she pulled the milk filter from the jar and removed the coffee filter, tossing it in the trash. She put the lid on the jar and pushed it back on the counter. Ma would put it in jars and can it later.
Pa told them he would have enough for a generator and a refrigerator after this next trip. Maybe after that they could get an electric pump for the well and get inside plumbing. He barely made enough money to feed them after he paid on the funeral bill. A person couldn’t even afford to die.
With all the chores done, she ate an egg sandwich and headed for her room. At least she had a room of her own. Jim Bob and Billy Ray had shared a room until Jim Bob died. Jim Bob was the one who usually watched after Billy Ray, but Ma had resumed that job when Jim Bob started doing drugs.
She opened the door to her tiny bedroom and went inside. A steady dripping sound indicated another leak. She'd have to crawl up on the roof again with some tar and fix it. She lit a lamp and glanced around. There was a narrow path between the bed and the table where she stacked her papers. Some day she was going to publish a book that would convince people of the need to conserve the forests and wildlife. Right now it lived only in handwritten pages about the animals of the forest. Maybe it would never be published, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying.
She lifted the lamp higher and listened for the drip. It was slowing down. She spotted the puddle of water on the floor about the same time she saw the next drip. It wasn't bad. She kicked the old tin pot into the puddle and waited for the next drip to hit the pan before she turned away.
She placed the oil lamp on the table and dragged a crate over to the table. There she sat for a few minutes, staring at the papers. She wasn't in the mood to write tonight. She was exhausted, but that had never stopped her before. No, it wasn't fatigue that made her reluctant to write tonight. Instead, it was thoughts of a good looking timber man who had expressed interest in her and how she had put him off. Monroe intrigued her as well. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. He didn't know a mule from a horse - or a burro - and yet he had climbed on Ol' Ned and stayed there even though he was sick. Most men would have laughed at her mode of transportation, but he didn't. He had treated her with respect, regardless of what she said. He wanted to see her again…why? He wore a gun. Was he an undercover policeman?