The Elizabethtown gold mining venture hadn’t worked out, and now there was a letter from Ohio, telling Thomas Pollock that his father had died and there was land for him, if he wanted to farm it. He stood with the paper in his hand, looking at his wife.
Sarah gazed back at him over the bowl of potatoes she was peeling. “What about John?” she asked.
“What about him?”
“A Navajo boy in Ohio. What kind of life will that be?”
“The mining hasn’t amounted to anything much, and it’s getting poorer,” Thomas pointed out. “We have to eat.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
“There are other boys here on their own.”
She lifted her chin. “They wouldn’t be, if they were mine.”
He grinned, knowing this was true. “I don’t have to decide right away,” he said.
She nodded and returned to her potatoes, her eyes troubled.
Copyright © 2015 Loretta Miles Tollefson