"Ol Rosie's led the horses off again!" Pa's voice was like a shaft of cold steel jabbing me under my warm quilts. "Get up, Wart. You got to go after them."
I opened my eyes. It was still black dark, and the loft was so cold, there were ice crystals on the edge of the quilts where my breath had left a little moisture. I pulled my head in like a turtle and huddled down deep in the warm feather bed.
"Get up, Wart." Pa poked me in the ribs with his hard hand. I shut my eyes quick and pretended I was still asleep. Even when you are twelve years old, sometimes that will work. For a little while.
"Wart! Roll out!...