“Here’s the sugar and the coffee,” Pauli said as he entered the tiny log cabin.
His mother was sitting by the fire nursing the baby. “Danke,” she said, smiling at him. The English he spoke so easily was still difficult for her, even after eight years in New Mexico Territory.
“Mr. Pearson asked me how my Uncle Herman was getting along,” Pauli said. “Does he mean old Herman the miner?”
His mother gave him a puzzled frown and he repeated his question in German. The door behind him opened as he spoke.
His father came in with an armful of firewood and boy and woman looked up at him.
“He is my brother,” his father said stiffly. “He don’t talk to us.”
His parents exchanged glances.
“He don’t, is all,” his father said. He turned to the woman. “Is this enough firewood for the dinner?”
opyright © 2015 Loretta Miles Tollefson