Once they entered the county town, the happiest of all were the children.
Each child trailed after their own parents, gawking left and right in excitement.
Deb leaned close to whisper in Rosie's ear, "My father studies at the county academy, you know."
Rosie cooperated perfectly, letting out an admiring "Wow!" and saying how amazing her third uncle was—loud enough for Lester, who was eavesdropping, to grin so wide his cheeks nearly split.
After all, he'd basked in plenty of glory back at the city gate today.
He'd like to see whether, once they got back to the village, the old housefolk still dared call him a good-for-nothing.
Caleb and Doreen needed to buy vegetables, so Lester led them there. Rosie and Ryder tagging along would make shopping inconvenient, so they went with Old Walter instead.
Clara took Adam, Ben, Ryder, Deb, and Chad to accompany Old Walter to look at farm tools.
Six children following behind—now that was noisy.
Fortunately, Adam, Ben, and Ryder took their roles as elder brothers seriously, each holding the hand of a younger one and keeping them close to the adults.
That was, until they spotted a peddler holding a long stick skewered with bright red candied hawthorn sticks—and they couldn't take another step.
Old Walter raised his hand as if to swat them, but Rosie quickly piped up, "Father gave us coins! We can buy them ourselves!"
"So generous—how much money is that?" Old Walter asked gruffly, though he didn't bring his hand down.
Rosie hurriedly dug in the little pocket sewn into her jacket by her mother and produced two copper coins.
Ryder was shocked. "Why didn't my father give me any?"
They were all children of the family—why did Second Uncle give Rosie money, but his own father gave him nothing?
"That's not fair, Grandpa! I want some too!" Ryder demanded, holding out his palm—only to get a firm slap on the back of it.
"If you want money, ask your parents. I'm not your keeper."
Seeing Ryder put in his place, Ben couldn't help laughing. "Ha! You're the only one without pocket money—we all have some!"
Every month, their mother gave the four siblings fifty coins each. The earlier allowance had been tricked away by their useless father, and they'd regretted it ever since—if only they'd spent it first.
Ever since, each month when Clara gave them their allowance, the four quickly spent part of it—whether asking her to buy paper for them or asking someone going to town to bring back a bit of meat.
Otherwise, who knew when that useless father might trick it away again.
Under Ryder's incredulous stare, Ben pulled out the siblings' allowance and bought each of the four one stick of candied hawthorn.
Adam didn't want his. He offered it to his grandfather instead. Old Walter hadn't expected that—looking at the stick of candied fruit being handed over, he was touched beyond words.
"Good boy, Adam. You eat it yourself—Grandpa doesn't like these," Old Walter said with a smile, patting his grandson's shoulder, thinking how the child seemed suddenly grown, and more handsome too.
Adam shook his head and pushed the treat into Old Walter's hand. "You have it—it's sweet."
"You should try it," Clara added.
Once Adam insisted he truly didn't want it, Old Walter chuckled and accepted.
"Then this old man will try it. I've only ever seen you little ones clamoring for them—let's see what makes you think of them so much."
Ryder immediately ran over. "Grandpa, when we get back I'll help you harvest wheat. I'm grown now—I can do more for the family. Isn't that right?"
"Oh?" Old Walter looked at his usually work-shy grandson in surprise. "You? Harvest wheat? Don't start crying to go home the moment we reach the field."
"No way!" Ryder clung to his grandfather's arm, eyes fixed on the candied fruit, while spouting syrupy promises about letting Grandpa rest and leaving the work to him.
Old Walter was so amused by the greedy act that his heart softened. Without taking a single bite, he handed the whole stick to Ryder.
Ryder instantly turned and made a face at Ben. See? I have one too!
Ben just rolled his eyes and ignored him, happily enjoying his own—sweet and tangy, perfect.
Chad and Deb finished the top fruits but couldn't reach the ones lower down. They held up their sticks for their big brothers to break the sharp ends shorter.
Adam and Ben called them silly while snapping off the pointed tips.
By the time they reached the farm tool stall, the children's sticks were nothing but bare bamboo.
Old Walter bought two iron hoes—without handles, so he could fit them himself later—and, after gritting his teeth, one iron plow.
Farm tools weren't cheap. Just those three items cost him three taels of silver.
Carrying the plow and hoes, he was pained and delighted all at once.
Now they had two plows and extra hoes—spring plowing would be much easier.
But the silver was gone. The grain money from last year was nearly spent.
And with Caleb's banquet coming up, even with gift money received, they'd only just break even—and still owe plenty of favors.
Clara wanted to visit the cattle-and-horse market. She wasn't planning to buy a horse yet, but if there was an ox at a good price, she might consider it.
Plowing was no fun—not for Lester, not for her. Adam and Ben could help a bit, but only so much.
Old Walter thought, We can't afford one, but can't we at least look? and followed happily.
On the way, Clara remembered Logan's marriage prospects and asked, "Father, how's the match-search going for our youngest?"
At that, Old Walter's face fell. "Not great. He hasn't liked a single one. Can you believe it? Doesn't even see what he's worth himself, but he's being picky—wants someone good-tempered, capable, and pretty."
"And a good girl like that—doesn't he think about whether she'd even want him? Even if there was one, we couldn't afford the bride price."
Clara raised her brows, regretting she'd asked.
Before he could rant on, she quickly changed the subject. "Father, look over there—someone's selling an ox with a cart. Let's take a look!"
"Where?" Old Walter's attention was caught at once. He called for Ryder to hold his sister's hand, and the whole group squeezed into the crowd.
It turned out to be a second-hand ox cart, bought less than a year ago. The seller was desperate for money and had priced it low—sixteen taels for both ox and cart.
Plenty of buyers were interested and haggling, but the seller clung stubbornly to sixteen taels, eyes wet as he patted the ox.
Old Walter stepped forward with his plow, not afraid of getting dirty. He pried open the ox's mouth to check its teeth, squatted to feel its legs and belly, even lifted a hoof to examine it—utterly professional.
When he finished, he nodded in satisfaction.
The seller brightened, thinking he'd found his buyer—only for Old Walter to turn to his daughter-in-law and say, "It's a fine beast, but we can't afford it. Let's go."
The Liew family only rented ten acres of land. Old Walter had never thought they needed an ox for such a small holding.
So when Clara took out her silver to pay, the old man nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly blocking her. "What are you doing? Put that silver away! We're not buying. Not buying!"
The last "not buying" was aimed at the seller.
The poor man, already miserable from all the haggling, looked as if he might cry when his last hope vanished.
(End of Chapter)
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