Naomi was woken by the hubbub of the house. Kids were everywhere, laughing and running through the little bedroom. She got up and tottered through the house into the kitchen, still dressed in her jeans and the horse-flavored T-shirt. Her mom and Mrs. Fitzpatrick were at the table with Clara, flanked by two kids, a boy and a girl.
“Morning,” said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
“Morning,” Naomi said, wringing the sleep from her eyes with her fists.
“This is Kelly and Jimmy,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said. The two looked at Naomi, toast stuffed into their mouths.
“How are you?” Clara asked.
“My shoulder hurts,” Naomi said, putting her hand to her the place the mare kicked her.
“Let me see,” her mom said. Naomi went over and her mom looked through the neck of the horse-flavored T-shirt.
“Mom!” Naomi squealed.
“You have a huge bruise,” her mom said. “What happened?”
“Everything happened,” Naomi said, and Clara laughed.
“Let me see,” Clara said. Naomi moved over and Clara looked at her bruise. “That’s a good one. You got kicked?”
“Yeah,” Naomi said. “She didn’t mean to. She was scared.”
Clara pushed on her collarbone. “Ouch,” Naomi said.
“No breaks. You’ll be okay,” Clara said.
“Dillon’s got a saw if need be,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said.
“You think we should cut it off?” Clara asked.
Naomi shouted, “No!”
“Okay, okay,” Clara said.
Naomi ate toast and fruit for breakfast. She sat and listened to the women while she ate. Sammy was with his dad getting the harvest equipment ready, as were most of the farmers. Some farmers were holding out, not wanting to help the gypsies, who they still saw as traitors.
“Give them time,” Molly said. “They’re in shock. They’ll come around once they put blame where it’s deserved.”
“Or when they have no choice,” mom said.
Most gypsies were bringing white people into town. Clara said, “It’s going to be hard to find room for everyone. And if the farmers don’t get farming, we’re going to run out of food pretty quick.” Clara had been transporting food from Gypsy Grove to town all night long. “Most of the trucks are out of juice. Naomi, can you come with me and help?”
Naomi swallowed her toast. She saw how tired Clara was. But it was a tired mixed with a kind of wildness. “What you need me to do?” Naomi asked.
“Horses,” was all Clara said.
“Okay,” said Naomi.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick stayed behind, waving to Naomi, her mom, and Clara as they left the Farmer’s Market. Naomi could not believe all the activity, farmers yelling and running around. She would have liked to watch for a while.