Bridget hid behind a tree and watched Effie run down the road, grabbing up her skirt with both hands, her elbows swinging, making Bridget smile at the sight of her frightened ankles, her legs pumping, and her hair flying. Effie didn’t want to be her sister, though she was no older than a big sister, and both of them were away from their families and alone together.
With Effie well down the road, Bridget backtracked and returned to the lodge. The single room with its small windows kept the corners hung with shadow. The mud-damp walls where she’d worked held patches of even deeper dark. She checked the wettest spot but saw no trace of her spoon. She needed to hide Grandma Teegan’s braid the same way. Close but safe. The hair couldn’t be buried beneath wall plaster, though. Not buried in mud
