That spring we found out what hungry meant.
In desperation, Pa went over the hill and got work on the railroad gang. He left Ma with ten kids, and his old scatter gun. She never said much, but she cried at night.
It was getting on towards winter when a cart made its slow way up the track. It was Pa, and the stuff his railroad wages bought. Ma cooked up a feast, and we et till our bellies was drum tight.
Ma’s face glowed in the firelight as Pa took her hand in his.
“Welcome home, love,” she said.