John woke up just as Matunaagd was about to pick him up from the ground. Jeremiah stood beside him, lifting the bed to grant him access. They both smirked good naturedly, which made John feel embarrassed. Bashful he turned his gaze away, waiting a little, until he was ready to get up. He wasn't quite awake enough to make a run for it, but also saw no feasible exit nor a real reason for alarm, so he sat up self-consciously rubbing his eyes. He was grateful that Matunaagd had stepped back to give him a little space which gave the dog an opportunity to help the boy clean the sleep from his eyes.
He heard the woman say something, and saw Jeremiah turn towards her, holding out his hand. She put a dustpan brush into it and laughed. Alarmed, the boy jumped up to get away but was caught by Matunaagd. Realising his mistake, Jeremiah got annoyed with himself as much as the boy. "For God' sake kid, I am not going to beat you. You are full of dust, is all, take this and brush yourself off," he snapped, holding the brush out by its bristles for the boy to take.
John pursed his lips in annoyance but took the brush nevertheless and started to brush the dust of his clothes starting with his legs. The space under the bed had been filthy.
"Outside," Jeremiah ordered brashly, and nodded in the direction of the door so John left the cabin to continue the job outside, ducking his head as he passed Jeremiah. The dog followed him with his tail between his legs as if it was he who had been given out to, which made Jeremiah feel guilty so he followed them both.
Outside Jeremiah sat himself down on the steps of the porch, where he was joined by his dog who laid down beside him, with his head held high and his paws out front, alert, majestic. They watched silently how the boy dusted himself off with angry little strokes. When he tried to do his back Jeremiah asked if he would like some help, but John decided to ignore him.
"You missed loads. Come here John. Let me do it," Jeremiah instructed, but John continued to ignore him, even though there was not threat in Jeremiah's voice or his demeanour. He didn't even blink. The dog lowered his head onto the wooden blanks of the porch with a little whine.
"Enough already, John. I said I won't hurt you and I meant it," Jeremiah told him sternly, "Now come here, and let me help you," this time he sounded determined and left no doubt what he wanted to happen, and the dog let out a quiet little yip.
John however, continued to ignore him nevertheless and kept brushing the dust of the front of his clothes even though there was none left.
Jeremiah got up and told the dog to stay, before he walked towards John with a sigh. The boy continued with his task and pretended not to notice but inconspicuously tried to follow Jeremiah's every move from the side of his eye. Jeremiah was surprised he wasn't attempting to run from him, he had readied himself to give chase.
"You don't have to be afraid of me John," Jeremiah said in a quiet but firm voice, when he reached the boy. He gently took the brush out of the boy's hands.
"Who's afraid?" John growled in a low voice lifting his head that revealed a hateful glare but also tearstained cheeks. He was angry with Jeremiah, for thinking he could keep him here against his will and tell him what to do, for making him doubt his ma even for just a moment, but mostly he was angry with himself, for having let Jeremiah get to him and make him feel so small and wretched earlier, for being so stupid to let Jeremiah know what he was planning to do in the first place and lastly for having let his guard down and fallen asleep under the bed.
"I'm not afraid of you nor anybody else. I am just no fool neither," he spat challengingly, not taking his eyes of Jeremiah.
Surprised by this unexpected outburst but preferring it to the boy running away from him, Jeremiah paused for a moment before he knew what to say. "Hm," he went keeping his voice even and his eyes kind, "that's good to know I suppose," was all he said with a nod.
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Historical FictionBetween 1854 and 1929, up to a quarter of a million children from New York City and other Eastern cities were sent by train to towns in the Midwestern and Western states. The orphan trains as they were later known served to remove children from slu...