Revere Literary Anthology 2022: ‘The Giving’

The Palisadian-Post has partnered with Paul Revere Charter Middle School to highlight a series of pieces from its 2022 Literary Anthology. The following piece, penned by Beatrice Hudson, originally appeared in the Fictional Narratives section of the anthology, released in spring, and has been reprinted here with permission.

The moonlight slithered in through the big brown barn doors of the Tiflin’s California ranch, where the ranch hand Billy Buck sat with tears streaming down his face. He was a middle-aged man with eyes as gray as the clouds in the stormy February sky, and hair that had begun to match the color. The winter hail hammered the roof with muffled bangs, and Billy did not even realize when he was interrupted by 10-year-old Jody, the son of the ranch owner. His light blond hair was dripping with water and his face was crumpled with despair.

“I got the water from the trough,” Jody said helplessly, for he knew it was his fault Billy was so upset. Jody had made Billy promise him a colt, and Billy had paid the price. He had killed his own mare to deliver Jody his colt. The black horse was now his responsibility and he was not sure if he could even keep it. His father would refuse to let him keep the colt if it was a stallion.

Billy kept his back turned on Jody. “Leave it at the door,” he said gruffly. “Then you can go to bed. I’ll stay here with your … colt.” It pained Billy Buck to even think about the new colt.

“B-b-but Billy!” Jody begged. “I can stay here! I want to! Please let me stay.”

“No, now please leave.”

Jody could not sleep, with all of the thoughts pounding in his head. He could barely stand it. He crept outside and grabbed a big, flat stone gray as the dense fog swirling around him. Jody silently crept back into the ranch house.

He got to work carving three tiny words into the large stone. The moment he saw a sliver of light through the window, he jumped up and tucked his project away. Jody dashed to the barn, with the ground covered with frosty grass crunching under his feet.

He entered the barn quietly, and saw Billy with the colt. “Can I see him?” the boy asked.

“It’s right there.” Billy spoke of the colt in a way that he seemed to want to loathe it but couldn’t. Something about the colt intrigued him, though he was not sure what.

The high-pitched ring of the triangle rang. The big house loomed before the small boy. And with a sullen look on his face entered Jody.

“Morning, ma’am,” Jody’s raspy voice cracked.

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked in a soothing tone. “Are Nellie and the colt all right?”

Not trusting his voice, Jody shook his head. On the kitchen table a newspaper rested in the dim glow of the oil lamp. Outside, a mouse lay dead on the grass and another, smaller mouse looked sadly at it. His mother suddenly realized that something was wrong, and her face grew softer, her light eyes darkened. She embraced Jody, and he began crying once more.

As the sun slipped from the sky a large flock of birds, black and white and all of the grays in between, flew out of the jagged mountains. Jody crept out to the barn to the waiting Billy Buck. As they walked to the base of the Gablian Mountains, the sweet and strong and fresh smell of sage invaded Jody’s nostrils. They found a clearing where the wind was stopped by thick trees, swaying silently. The ground was covered with many colors of crisp frosty grass, green and brown and gray, sparkling in the purple glow of twilight. Billy gently unwrapped the large parcel he had carried on his back.

Looking almost asleep, in a gentle position was the mare. They gently lowered her into the grave, and buried everything they had worked so hard to excavate over the past hours.

The gravestone Jody had worked on the previous night was then placed on the mound, as an appreciation of Billy’s sacrifice.

“Where were you? You never did your chores!” Carl Tiflin, Jody’s father, had appeared in the clearing and drove his cold black eyes into Jody. Then he saw Billy, and the gravestone, and the look on Jody’s face. His sharp eyes softened. “You know what? You can save those chores for later. Your mother has a doughnut saved for you, and your stallion could use some food.”