Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 221

Chapter 221: Sleep in the barn
“That’s nonsense,” Grandma said immediately. Ford flinched. He didn’t want to wait to be kicked out; he’d rather eat whatever pride he had and go of his own volition. At least he had enough meat on his bones now that he wouldn’t starve as quickly. He might even find employment in Droth.

“Shall I leave, then?” His heart sank a little. He’d hoped to bring Mia with him when he did go.

“Didn’t you hear what I said before?” Grandma scolded him. “We can make room for everyone. This house was made for people, and I’m happiest when it’s full of them. Been too lonely with Mia’s brothers gone.”

Ford stared a moment, and shifted his stance, causing him to grimace as he accidentally put too much weight on his healing leg.

“Go sit back down at the table. We’ll be back in there soon with more food.” Grandma brandished a spoon at him, and Ford turned away.

The dining room was full of sound. The boys were all simultaneously trying to tell their grandpa and ‘Uncle Seth’ everything that had happened to each of them during their time away while everyone helped to unload the wagon.

Ford didn’t offer to help; he would be more in the way than anything with how slow he was and how little he could carry.

The bags were deposited next to the front door for the moment; Grandpa assured everyone that Grandma would work out who would be sleeping where once everyone was happily fed.

By the time everyone sat back down to their meal, the children had calmed somewhat. They sat in a circle on the floor since the dining room table was not quite large enough to accommodate both children and adults. Even so, they exercised more manners than Ford had seen from most grown men in the mines.

Well, no wonder, if their mother was a Countess like Mia had told him before. Children of luxury had every opportunity to be taught manners and all sorts of other things. They were probably three times as educated as he was in all sorts of subjects.

They certainly spoke with accents befitting nobility. He wondered if they picked that up in the capital or from their mother.

“We finished in the South fields today,” Grandpa was telling Trace when Ford refocused on the conversation. “I think tomorrow we can take a day of rest.”

“Day of rest?” Ford asked.

“A day off from working,” Mia told him cheerfully. “We only do the bare minimum chores that keep the farm going. Feed the animals and such. Everything else is put off so that we can rest. Read, play, whatever we want to do.”

Ford blinked at her several times. “All farmers do this?”

If he got a job, one where he could have days of doing minimal work sounded far better than anything he’d ever known.

“Most do it, but it varies how often,” Seth told him. “There are holidays, of course, but on this farm we try to take a day whenever we can manage it without sacrificing the well being of the animals or crops. I’m sure there are a few that never take a day off of work unless they are ill.”

Ford frowned, wondering what it must be like to choose whether to work on a certain day or not. Did worries of starvation not plague these people when they took a day of rest? Or were farms here so prosperous that they could enjoy such laziness?

“At the mines you work twelve hours a day, every day,” He said somberly. “If you get sick, they give your job to someone else and you’re out of luck.”

“That’s awful!” Mia cried. “It’s not your fault for getting ill… is that why you left? They gave your job away when you were hurt?”

She was indignant. Horrified, even. He was oddly torn by her expression. On the one hand, it spoke to how spoiled she was, that she’d taken days of rest for granted. On the other, she seemed genuinely angry on his behalf that he’d been treated poorly.

He couldn’t remember a time when anyone rushed to his side on an issue, let alone so vehemently as this girl did now. She looked as if she might march to the mines herself and thoroughly berate the owner.

That was a sight he’d find amusing in the extreme. The picture of the slender, pretty girl wagging a finger at the mine’s owner tipped his lips up slightly for a moment before he explained.

“I probably could have gone back to work,” Ford sat back in his chair. “But the foreman told me he’d be disappointed if I stayed. Said there was better here, so he kind of sent me off.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t he ever leave, himself?” Mia asked.

“The foreman made good money, unlike the rest of the miners,” Ford found himself talking more than he would like, but the questions were too unexpected for him to refuse to answer without appearing rude.

And, especially in front of Mia’s magical uncle, he wanted to be on his best behavior.

“Is there that much difference in the duties, that he’s compensated so much better?” Mia looked genuinely curious, and Ford remembered that he wanted this girl to like him. To trust him. That he should be nice and answer her prying questions instead of brushing her off. The other adults also seemed interested in his answer.

“He’s dead now, but his duties… were unique.” Ford hesitated. Martin had not wanted him to tell anyone of his magic. Did that still apply after death? “He was from this country and was treated differently than locals. He inspected the mine in between shifts, things like that. He had skills that the common laborers didn’t.”

Ford hoped that was enough information to make the conversation move on, but Trace paused as he chewed.

“You said he was from here? What was his name?” The man asked after swallowing.

“Martin,” Ford answered easily, figuring it was probably a common name here.

The silence around the table said otherwise.