The shoe in the river

Short attempt at writing from a child's pov

The scent of crushed grass and mud mixed with the sweet smell of horse sweat as Jesse rode west. He topped a low hill, one he had named Dreary, and saw little green treetops peeking over the top of the next hill. It was the first sign of his destination. The Elven Wood.

He rode down Dreary Hill and up the next, taller hill on his route. Promise Hill, he decided, trying the name out in his head. He had considered many names for this hill over the past year. Dreary was always a disappointment, just another grassy knoll in a long line of hills that never seemed to end. But Promise was different. It was the last one.

Jesse was never sad riding up its steeper windward slopes, because the other side always gave him the same reward: stout oaks, willowy aspens, and a wide, curving riverbank where the current slowed enough to look lazy.

This little haven in the usually turbulent Silverlode River wasn’t really called the Elven Wood. It didn’t really have a proper name. Most places on the ranch didn’t have names. Except the river. Everyone knew the river.

That didn’t matter much to a ten-year-old boy looking for adventure, and a break from work.

The tree line crowded close to the water’s edge, only a few yards from its banks. As soon as he trotted beneath the canopy of green leaves, the scent changed to the smell of water: damp moss, wet leaves, rotting wood, and a hint of fish. He liked the cool air on his skin and the way the water talked when it moved over rocks and logs.

Jesse dismounted and led Mara to the river, looping her reins over a low branch and leaving enough slack for her to drink or graze. She was another reason he liked this place. He wasn’t supposed to be riding her, especially now that she was pregnant. The Elven Wood kept her hidden and out of sight.

His brothers had warned him about working a maiden mare too hard during her first foaling. Jesse knew that. But he loved his prize girl and couldn’t stand the thought of adventuring without her. He watched as she drank and sniffed at the grass. She looked happy to be there.

On either side of the river bend, the water narrowed and ran fast. Upstream were boulders and steep banks, The Rapids. Downstream were The Falls, after which the river widened a lot and left most of its trees behind.

If you kept walking past the fence for a long way, there was a little house by the water filled with boats. It had a large flat raft that could take people back and forth across the river. His father had told him never to go there alone. From there, people said you could follow the river all the way to the Great Lake. Jesse had never seen the lake, but he’d heard it was so big it took ships with sails two days to cross. He wasn’t sure how fast ships went, but he thought a paddle canoe might be almost as fast, if you didn’t stop.

Once, he had decided to build a canoe and try. But his brothers talked him out of it.

“Jesse,” Jacob had said, “you’d get to the middle and be so small you couldn’t see anything but water. You’d get lost.”

Jesse had thought about that and agreed. A lake that big was no place for a small canoe. He’d have too stay close to shore, and then people would see him. They’d say he was too little to paddle alone, and ask why he wasn’t home learning letters and numbers and things. Someone would send a telegram to Istbirden, and then his parents would have to come get him. Only, they didn’t have a canoe. They’d have to ride their horses all the way around the lake for days and days.

It would be a big hassle. That didn’t sound like much fun.

Still, the remains of the log Jesse had started carving sat on rocks by the river. It was twice his length and nearly as wide, with a pale patch on top that had begun to yellow. Proof that he had tried.

Today, Jesse decided it was time to finish his house.

He’d been working on it since the spring storms knocked over a big old oak. Its trunk lay wedged between two boulders right at the river bend, held up out of the water like it had been pinched there on purpose. Beneath it was a flat, dry place, half hidden from view. It was plenty big for Jesse to live in.

His brothers talked about building houses someday, but they hadn’t started yet. Jesse figured they’d laugh when they saw his, but not in a mean way. He’d invite his sisters to visit first. He could fish right from his bedroom. As far as Jesse knew, no one else had a bedroom with a river in it.

Emily and Anna would think it was wonderful. They’d cook the fish and make dinner, and then they’d tell Samuel and James how nice Jesse’s house was.

Imagining their first visit, Jesse cut and stripped more branches and dragged them back to the oak. He notched the ends and wedged them beneath knots and old limbs, trying to finish one whole side before he added a door.

He waded across the river to trim green holly and cedar and laid the branches along the top. Their needles would help keep the rain off where he planned to sleep.

A whinny from Mara made him stop. She was restless, shifting her weight. Jesse untied her and led her closer so she could see. There was room for her too, if she stood near the boulders where the roots hung up in the air.

Jesse thought she might like it.

Mara nosed around for a bit, then settled down near the stump. She treated the space like her stall back in the barn. Jesse grinned.

He left her under the shadowed branches and searched the far bank for reeds that could be used to make her a bed. Perhaps, he thought, he could sneak some hay from the hay cart the next time they cut the grass on the hills. She’d like a proper dry bed more than anything.

As he waded into the reeds, Jesse kept a careful eye out for snakes. He’d seen long black ones here before that he just knew were poisonous. As he pulled back the first bundle of reeds, a long thin ribbon swayed through the water toward his hand, and his heart thumped an extra beat. Panicked, he stumbled backward and fell, water soaking his clothes up to his neck.

The moving thing didn’t come after him.

Slowly, Jesse reached in with a stick to get a better look. There was the long thin thing, but its movement was wrong. It couldn’t be a snake, because it wasn’t going anywhere. It only moved with the current. He leaned closer.

The ribbon was just a ribbon. Long and green, something his sisters might wear. Jesse let out a breath and tried to pull it free, but it was tied fast to something deeper in the reeds. He followed it with his eyes, looking for where it was fixed, when a light tug brought a shoe popping up out of the water.

The shoe was a girl’s. It was small, light-colored, darkened in spots from mud. It was laced with so much green ribbon it could be tied around an ankle several times and still have enough for a bow. Mud swirled through the water where it came loose, and Jesse couldn’t see its pair anywhere.

He forgot about making a bed for Mara and waded back to shore, where he sat dripping beside the resting mare.

He held the shoe up against his own foot. It was several inches shorter than his toes. It might belong to a large doll, or someone as small as Anna. There was no mud inside it, just on the outside, which meant it could be washed up and worn outdoors if someone wanted. But it was only one shoe, which wasn’t very useful. Still, Anna might like the ribbon.

A breeze crossed the water, and Jesse shivered. He needed to get back into the sun to dry off before heading home, or his brothers would know just how far he’d taken Mara.

With a sigh, Jesse apologized to her and tugged her reins, leading Mara out of the house he hadn’t quite finished.

“I’ll make a bed for you next time,” he promised. “Then you can rest all day while I finish building the house.”

He mounted up, tied the little shoe to the saddle horn by its ribbon, and the two of them trotted out from beneath the shade of Elven Wood, back onto the slopes of Promise Hill.