"Fine, carry the stupid firewood. We didn't want to anyway," John said.
She let John up and examined his arm. "Does it hurt?"
"No. I'm fine," he said.
"Good. Maybe now you've learned your lesson about picking on people." She poked John in the chest and added, "If I find out you touched Wendell later, I will hurt you."
"All right, I get the point."
"Now run along. I'm sure more people need firewood."
John's mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something, but he took off after his comrade instead.
Samantha knelt down beside Wendell, wiping the tears from his eyes. "They won't bother you now."
"I could have handled them!" he shouted.
"I'm sure you could have," she said. She helped him to his feet and then they gathered up the fallen wood. This time she took half of it; he didn't protest this.
As they walked through the forest, Wendell stomped along; Samantha wondered if he was mad at her or the other boys. "It's not fair!" he said at last.
"What isn't?"
"I'm big enough to carry the firewood. I keep asking Miss Brigham to talk to the reverend, but I don't think she does. Everyone thinks I'm a baby." He spun around, his face so red she thought he might burst into flames. "I'm not. I don't need you or anyone else to protect me."
"I'm sorry," she said. She thought of Helena teasing her about wetting the bed and her reaction to Miss Brigham braiding her hair this morning. "I don't think you're a baby at all. I think you're a big, strong boy."
"You're just saying that."
"No, I mean it. Why else would I let you carry the firewood?" she asked. As he considered this, the red in his cheeks faded to pink.
"Then why didn't you let me fight them?"
"Well," Samantha began and then stopped to think of a plausible explanation. "I wanted to even the odds. Two against one isn't very fair."
"They don't scare me." His back straightened and as he started down the path he carried himself with more confidence. Samantha had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing.
He led the way through town, looking from one side to the other as though he were leading a victory parade. She supposed it was a victory for him to be allowed to carry the wood into town. She hoped Miss Brigham didn't get too upset with him; she didn't know what she could do then to comfort him.
But Miss Brigham was not in the cottage. Wendell dumped the wood in a pile next to the hearth followed by Samantha. Then he began to stack it into a neat pile with the efficiency of an expert. "You're really good at stacking," she said. "I couldn't ever do it so well myself."