Chapter Thirteen
The blister on her thumb burned. She’d lost track of the number of sweet potatoes she had peeled, washed, and sliced. On the opposite side of the table, Mary did the same with apples. After the nightmare of learning not only how to pluck, but to butcher, skin, and gut a chicken, Lucretia had more than welcomed the chance to work with potatoes. She was to cut them into thin slabs then place them into the pot of cold water that sat beside her on the bench. The pot was half full, and Lucy had been relieved when Abby had told her the last two potatoes she had left would be enough. Lucretia had never worked so hard in her life and found an unusual level of pride and satisfaction in the labor, much like how she had felt with the fire.
While working with Mary, Lucy had quickly
