Sable Read Online Free Page B

back to the kitchen.
    Pap came in and asked if I’d like helping him on a project in the shop.
    Pap’s asking like that made me angrier than ever.
    I turned my head to the wall. “You never asked me to help before.”
    Why did he have to ask now? Now, when he knew I wouldn’t!
    When I finally left my room for school on Monday morning, I found Sable’s empty bed off in the corner of Pap’s shop, on top of a tall pile of stickers. Grandmam’s blanket, newly washed, hung on the line, drying. I lifted the box and carried it gently back to the shed, tucking it away where it would be safe.
    That’s when I decided. I could make a fence good as Doc Winston’s.
    That afternoon I sorted through Pap’s stickers, picking out the best ones. It took ten trips, carrying all that wood behind the shop. Mam’s cat watched from the back porch.
    After busting open a couple garbage bags, I slithered around in the crawl space under the shed, spreading the bags out. That plastic would keep the damp earth from rotting the stickers till I was ready to use them.
    With Sable gone, I didn’t need money for food anymore, but I kept working at Tom’s anyway, saving for a hammer, nails, a saw. I bought the saw first, using it to cut sharp points on the ends of the stickers.
    By late May, I had the other things I needed too.
    *   *   *
    Dragging the sticks out from under the shed, I carried an armful at a time across the yard.
    I dropped each load with a clatter near the path to the secret place.
    â€œWhat are you up to, Tate?” Pap asked.
    â€œI’m building a fence, sir,” I said.
    â€œWhat you building a fence in the middle of the yard for?” Pap asked.
    â€œâ€™Cause we need one here,” I said.
    I started by laying long pieces of wood end to end on the ground until I had outlined a run big enough for Sable. Spreading the stickers out along the frame, I began hammering, two nails at the top of each stick. I bent plenty nails, but that was all right. Sometimes I missed the nail and hit the ground, or I’d hit the wood and mess up the row of stickers not yet nailed down. Sometimes I smashed my thumb.
    But slowly, the sections came together. When I finished hammering the last one, they looked like big hair combs laying there.
    Now I needed to stand the sections up and drive them into the ground.
    I lifted the first piece and started pounding. Immediately, I hit rock.
    Digging out smaller stones, I lugged them over to Pap’s rock pile. But some were just too big to move. I shifted the fence sections instead, and tried again in softer ground till I got them standing.
    With the last section though, I hit more than rock. I struck ledge.
    â€œI’ll just make the gate out of this piece,” I decided, “where Sable can go in and out.” With rope, I tied one end to a section I already had standing. On the opposite end, I screwed in a hook and eye. It took some tinkering, but I made a gate out of it.

    For days I worked, whipping those stickers into a fence. My hands filled with splinters and blisters. My thumbnail turned black. Every part of me ached.
    But in the end, when I stepped back and looked, I’d done a good job. It had to be good. It was for Sable.

8 / The Runaway
    Pap and Mam planned a trip to Hartford to visit Aunt Aurelia. I wasn’t going. Aunt Aurelia kept a stash of candy in her pantry. That part I liked. But she always made me sit on the itchy sofa with her and talk about school. And she kept the temperature in her house hotter than July.
    I had other plans.
    â€œI guess you’re old enough to stay on your own for a while,” Pap said.
    I listened for the sound of the truck engine firing up. Seemed like it took Mam and Pap half the morning to leave. Finally I heard the crunch of gravel under tires. I saw the dust kicked up behind them as they turned onto the road.
    Now it was my turn. I was going to Concord to