“May I make a suggestion?” the peddler said. “I’ve been studying you and think I have the item here in this box.” His unique turquoise eyes drew her in.
Curiosity piqued, Briar followed him back to the end of the cart where he pulled out an old wooden box. “Something from the Old Country. Something beautiful. Yet something practical.”
Briar gasped then chewed her lip. Had she mumbled those words out loud?
He turned the box so the object would be facing her when he opened it. After clicking the lock, he lifted the lid to reveal a drop spindle nestled in a cloth of royal blue. It was unlike any spindle Briar had ever seen before. The whorl was carved with roses and the wooden shaft, stained a light brown, came to an unusually sharp point on the end.
“Well, spinner girl?” He tapped his fingers triumphantly along the edge of the box.
“It’s beautiful. And practical.”
“Even more, ’tis special.” The peddler hiked his ragged boot up on the wagon wheel and leaned his arm against his knee. “That spindle is said to bring prosperity to the owner. Take that with you to your work and replace just one of your spindles on your frame with the shaft. Keep the whorl in your pocket and the wooden spindle will absorb the shock of the machine such that the threads will not break. You will finish your work quickly and easily ahead of all the other girls.”
Briar eyed him sideways to show she wasn’t believing his tale. Besides, if she got caught changing out a metal spindle for this wooden one, she’d be let go on the spot and given a dishonorable discharge. She looked more closely at a dark smudge on the whorl. “Has it been in a fire?”
“It’s been through many a trial, an old spindle such as this, but it’s proved its worth. Once belonged to kings and queens.”
Briar let his words rush by. It was the habit of peddlers to create stories around their goods. An ax from a poor farmer became the ax used to forge a trail west by Daniel Boone.
“What is it made of, then, that it didn’t burn? I don’t recognize the wood.”
“Looks to me like fairy wood,” the peddler said. “A rare hardwood from the old German forests. If you believe it, legend says a fairy formed it out of briarwood from the Black Forest. Maybe she even imbued it with her magic.”
Briar smiled indulgently at the peddler. “I’ve never heard of fairy wood, and I didn’t know rose stalks could grow thick enough to make a spindle.” She refused to even touch it. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s worth too much for me to take just for giving you the news about town. You’ll be able to sell that to an artisan. Don’t waste it on me.” She backed away and continued looking for something else. The peddler stood straight, closed the lid with a snap, and returned the box to the corner of the wagon.
She glanced up at the man and moved on. A doll with a real porcelain face stuck out of a box of toys. It would send Pansy to the moon and back, but then the twins would likely abscond with it and make Pansy cry. Besides, her mam always taught her: If you buy what you don’t need, you might have to sell what you do. Even if she wasn’t actually buying. Briar touched the doll’s nose but kept looking. A plain and sturdy pot with only one dent lay on top of a box of kitchen items. Nanny could use it for her stews. What else did he have?
The peddler stood with his arms crossed.
“I’m sorry I’m taking so long, sir.” She didn’t want to waste her choice. It was like getting a wish.
His eyes followed her every move, making her feel like she should take any old thing and let him move on.
“You already know what you want. Take it.” He spoke so quietly Briar wasn’t sure if the peddler actually said anything or if Briar made it up, because she really did know what she wanted.
The spindle.
She’d never seen anything like it. A spindle like that might be common in a royal’s court, but not in out-of-the-way Sunrise Valley in the possession of a mere spinner girl. Already she felt guilty for wanting it.
“Use it in your spinning frame and let the fairy magic work for you. You’ll be the best spinner in town.”
She pictured the beautiful drop spindle lined up with the others, its beauty hidden with a bobbin. “No, thank you, sir. Sorry to have wasted your time. I have everything I need.” With that, she turned her back and walked with the wind into town.
However, the farther away she walked, the greater the urge to turn around.
The spindle did want her. And she wanted the spindle.
So much it scared her.
Chapter Eleven