CHAPTER XII

There was very little crop that fall. The settlers learned that sod-corn never amounts to much. What few ears formed, Will fed on the stalk. “I don’t care. I’m not disappointed,” he said, “I knew it would take a year to get a start.” But Abbie knew it was not so. Abbie knew that Will cared. The stubble and roots, rotting all winter in the newly broken fields, fertilized the ground, and so it was with high hopes that Will went into the field the first spring of the ’seventies. Abbie’s summer was one of fighting sick…