Clara offered no advice. It could only mean that something had gone wrong, and they might never find out what. Ned Spettle, the father of them all, had died of drink two years before. If she fell, he probably wouldn't even stop.
Pshaw, Call said. She almost hoped he would. Clara's house was the kind of house she thought she might live in someday--at least she had hoped to when she was little. It was that pacing horse he come home on.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.