by Diane Darcy
Hannah shot her a look of incredulity and studied Melissa’s hair. “Your own hair is unbecoming. Why would I want your help with mine?”
Not a bit insulted, Melissa grinned, touching her short locks. “You don’t like it? You should have seen me in college. I once had bright purple streaks.”
Hannah stared as if trying to picture it, then glanced away.
“If I give you some cookies, will you leave?”
Melissa laughed and reached out to taste the batter left in the bowl.
Hannah slapped her hand.
Melissa grinned. She glanced at the bread cooling on a side table. Very familiar-looking bread. It looked exactly like the loaves that appeared on her doorstep every day, right down to the knife split down the middle. “Hannah, have you been leaving bread for us every day?”
Hannah was instantly flustered. “Why no, of course not. Why would I do such a thing? I’m going outside now.”
She was a horrible liar.
Melissa followed her, suddenly feeling deflated. Hannah was a really nice person. She wouldn’t gossip, she did things for others without expecting anything in return. She was a goody-two-shoes and they had absolutely nothing in common. So what was Melissa doing there?
Wistfully, she realized that if she could have a friend, she’d like one like Hannah. A true blue friend. Someone to confide in who wouldn’t tell her secrets; who would stick up for her if others tried to gossip behind her back.
The admission left her feeling vulnerable. Silly. Idiotic.
Hannah caught a chicken running around outside and walked over to a nearby stump and picked up the ax imbedded there.
Melissa followed. If she were to choose a friend, it wouldn’t be someone like Hannah. She was unfeminine, not interested in fashion of any kind, and nerdish, to boot. Melissa would choose someone she at least had something in common with; someone with class and style. Someone with at least a smidgeon of manipulative ability. Maybe even someone with a bit of a cruel streak so she wouldn’t be bored.
Anyway, Melissa was being ridiculous. She already had everything. She was happy with her life back home. She had her coworkers, her clients, Richard and the kids.
She was willing to do Hannah a favor and to be her friend, but what did Melissa need with a friend? Especially one who could only be temporary? It would be a waste of energy.
Hannah put her foot against the chicken to hold its struggling body in place and Melissa’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The ax lifted, and with a quick, sharp jerk, Hannah chopped off the chicken’s head.
Melissa’s mouth dropped open as the tiny head fell at her feet, almost touching the hem of her skirt. A small amount of blood spurted out of the chicken’s neck and down the side of the stump. The body struggled, wings flapping.
Hannah lifted it by its feet and held it upside down and more blood drained onto the ground.
Woozy, Melissa snatched her skirt away from the bird’s head, took a step back and dropped onto her butt. She stared at the chicken head, at the body dripping blood and the world turned an interesting shade of grey. Melissa toppled backward.
The last thing she saw was Hannah’s amused, slightly cruel smile and instantly Melissa changed her mind.
She could definitely be friends with this woman.
Chapter Fifteen
“Melissa, I’m ready for a fresh iron.”
“I’m on it.” Grateful for the intervention, Melissa sat a sticky toddler on the grass, dodged several small children and two ladies, and hurried to where Sarah ironed. Sarah’s timing was perfect since Melissa needed to check the biscuits anyway.
Sarah finished pressing a petticoat, set the iron down and quickly folded the slip and placed it in a nearby basket.
Amused, Melissa picked up the iron with its protective cloth and headed for the nearest cabin. They all acted like any underwear left out in public would be the most embarrassing occurrence imaginable.
She smiled as she realized she was actually having fun. She was used to being Top Prima Donna, but today the other women were bossing her around a bit; okay, a lot, but it actually amused her.
Besides, it hadn’t taken her long to realize their system of working together was a good one. It certainly benefitted her. She wouldn’t know how to do all this drudge work without help. Besides, how boring would it be to do this kind of chore alone?
It was her turn to do the job of trading irons, and she carried the warm implement into Sarah’s cabin and set it beside the two hot ones on the stove. They had six irons between them, and were continually trading them off to keep them heated.
She was glad for the break; she was good at pressing clothes, as she ought to be, since she’d had enough practice over her years in fashion. But archaic ironing was hard, hot work, and 100% cotton was a pain.
Using a towel, Melissa opened an oven door to check the biscuits, which were slightly overdone. “Great.” She blew out a breath in disgust. “Just great.” She’d thought she had at least five more minutes. Everyone was counting on the treat. She pulled them out of the oven and set them on the table, burning herself in the process. “Ow!”
Shaking her singed fingers in the air, she studied the biscuits. They really weren’t too bad. She quickly transferred them to a plate so they wouldn’t burn on the bottom. A little trick Amanda had taught her.
Using a protective cloth, she grabbed a heated iron and took the hot implement outside to where the four ladies ironed and gave it to Sarah.
“Thank you,” said Sarah.
“Mmm hmm.” The smell of starch permeated the windless air and Melissa glanced past Emma and Amanda to Hannah, slightly off by herself. She’d done her best to ignore Melissa for the last four hours or so.
Melissa was amused. “You okay, Hannah? Need a new iron yet? More starch?”
Hannah shook her head.
Melissa conceded Hannah had won the first round this morning. When Melissa had woken from her faint, one of the disgusting barn dogs had been licking her face. No chicken head to be found. She shuddered again. Surely the dog didn’t eat it? And then lick her? That didn’t bear thinking about. She’d washed her face and needed to put it out of her mind.
But the bottom line was Hannah still didn’t have a chance. Melissa had set her sights on a goal and now it was simply a matter of time until Melissa was her bosom buddy.
Heading back to the cabin, she realized she was humming and in a good mood. Probably excitement about the new dress. She actually liked the material the widow had given her and was itching to get to it. Melissa had been studying the women’s dresses as she’d ironed, trying to decide what she wanted to do with her own.
Something similar enough to be fashionable, yet different enough to stand out and be envied; in other words, business as usual. She’d cut it out tonight and sew it tomorrow on Amanda’s pride and joy, a treadle sewing machine.
Once inside, she cut the biscuits in half, applied butter and jam and took them outside. As the kids devoured them, she made a second trip for the adults.
Amanda wiped her brow as she finished her biscuit. “In a few minutes I’ll be ready for a new iron.” She’d just finished ironing a frilly chemise and now started on the matching pair of drawers. When the iron cooled, they always switched to the underwear as it wasn’t as critical they be perfectly pressed.
“Those are nice.”
Amanda grinned and blushed a bit. “They were specially made for my wedding day.”
Melissa arched a brow. “Wedding day, or wedding night?”
Amanda tossed her auburn hair and shot her a superior look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Melissa grinned. “Yes, actually I would. Also, I’m doing a survey. I’m not wearing any underwear because I’m washing mine and I’m wondering if the linen or the cotton chemise cuts down better on the breeze factor?”
Amanda put a hand to her mouth and laughed. “I’m not wearing any, either.”
“Me, neither,” said Sara
h cheerfully.
They all three started to laugh.
Emma looked scandalized and Hannah ignored them all.
Amanda shot her a curious look. “What’s a survey?”
Melissa chuckled and shook her head. “Never mind.” She was actually starting to like these ladies.
She turned to see Jessica smiling, seeming younger somehow, less worldly, her simple dress giving her a childlike appearance and stripping away the sophistication of the twenty-first century. No doubt the lack of black eyeliner helped the impression too.
“Jessica, you’re doing a very tidy job,” said Emma.
Jessica and Sarah’s eleven-year-old daughter were folding and hanging the clothing for Emma and Hannah. Jessica glowed at the compliment.
Jessica had lapped up attention from the women all day and, once again, Melissa wondered if she were a good mother. Materially, she had always given her children everything; they’d never be able to fault her on that. But...perhaps she could have personally been there more?
The fun petered out of the day.
These women seemed to be instinctive nurturers: their touches, their loving looks, their moments of teaching the kids how to work hard and have fun doing it. Had Melissa missed the boat somewhere along the way? Been gypped of her portion of mothering instincts?
She smiled at Jessica and held up the plate. “Jessica, do you want another biscuit?”
“Sure.” Jessica smiled, walked toward her, and Melissa felt something inside her unclench. It was all right; she still had time to make it all right.
She noticed Jessica’s dress was dirty at the knees and also realized she only had the one. A hand-me-down, almost threadbare, too-any-times-washed, icky, calico dress.
Melissa blew out a breath. She had two dresses: two ugly-as-sin, nasty dresses; two despicable embarrassments.
She sighed. Yes, she did love this kid. She must. “Jessica, I got some material today. I’m going to make you a new dress.”
“Really?”
Melissa nodded.
Jessica glanced at the other kids. “A nice one?”
Melissa smiled at the happy look on Jessica’s face. In the last year, Jessica had turned down every bit of clothing Melissa had made for her and the turnaround was wonderful. Melissa nodded. “Way nice.”
Hannah stopped her work and turned to look at Melissa. Melissa gave her a slight shrug, and, just like that, felt happy again.
* * *
“Get out of here!” yelled Melissa.
The stocky black-and-white dog scrambled backward, out the cabin door, its back legs skittering on the wooden steps as it tried to find a foothold without taking its wary gaze from Melissa. Finally, its feet caught and the dog twisted and ran away. Again.
“Stupid dog.”
“He’s just hungry,” said Jessica.
Glancing up from the material, Melissa looked at the food on the warmer. The delicious smell of stew and biscuits had lured the animal inside and she couldn’t really blame the poor creature. She was hungry too.
It was already starting to get dark outside and if Richard and Jeremy didn’t get home from work soon, they’d eat without them, take baths and go to bed. She was too tired to wait much longer.
She’d like to shut the door to keep the dog out, but the stove was still warming water and the heat in the cabin was already unbearable. She just needed a few more kettles of hot to add to the cold she’d already filled the tub with to make the water lukewarm. With the backside of her wrist, Melissa wiped sweat off her brow. “I can’t wait to take a bath.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Melissa smiled at Jessica, enjoying the feeling of comradery between them. Leaning over the table, she carefully smoothed the green jersey and snipped another piece of fabric with the inferior scissors she’d borrowed from Emma.
Jessica’s dress was already taking shape and a buzz of excitement tingled through Melissa, pushing back some of the weariness. The dress would be beautiful and it was wonderful to work at something she loved for a change.
“Do you see how I’ve snipped this at an angle?”
Jessica leaned over. “Yes.”
“Well, what do you want to do on the other side to make it match?”
“The mirror thing?” asked Jessica.
Melissa smiled and held out the scissors. “Correct. You want each piece to be a mirror image of the other so when we sew them together they’ll match up.”
Carefully, Jessica did as she asked.
Melissa reached forward and tucked a blonde strand of hair behind Jessica’s ear. “You know, I never realized how talented you are at this.”
Jessica smiled, then shrugged.
Melissa stuck in several pins to hold the two sections of bodice together and set the finished piece with the others on the back of a chair.
Taking the scissors, she started cutting out the last section of the skirt, stopped to measure one last time with the string, then continued.
Jessica bent over to see better. “How do you do it without a pattern? In school we used a pattern.”
Melissa shrugged. “I don’t know. I just see it in my mind and cut it out. You’ll get better with practice.” She made a few more snips and let Jessica pin the fabric.
“All done.” Melissa straightened, drew in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders to relieve some of the tension. Every muscle in her body ached. She stretched.
Like it or not, she was settling into this life. It was absorbing her. The slow rhythm-- She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “Get out of here right!...now.” Melissa’s voice trailed off and heat seared her already hot cheeks.
A stranger, decked out in quality western wear, fancy stitched boots, and a tan, sliver-studded cowboy hat, stood in the open doorway. He was tall, over six feet, muscular, with shoulder-length, wavy dark hair and a huge grin on his good-looking face. “Howdy, ma’am.”
Melissa put a hand to her chest, mortified. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, I thought you were the dog. He keeps trying to sneak in here and...” she suddenly realized she was offering excuses to a total stranger. She lifted her chin. “Can I help you?”
The man took off his hat and held it against his chest. “Name’s Curly. Curly Jenkins. We met down at the saloon the other night when you threw me to the floor.”
Melissa’s blush intensified. Then a thought occurred to her. He wasn’t going to sue, was he? A quick glance at his body revealed no obvious damage. “I hope you weren’t injured in any way?”
Curly laughed. “No ma’am. Takes a lot more than a little scuffle to hurt me.” He thumped his chest. “I’m packing a lot of muscle. Why, that little altercation didn’t so much as leave a bruise.”
He smiled again, staring at her. “I just wanted to stop by to see if you were as pretty as I remembered, and I’m not disappointed.”
Melissa blinked and felt herself getting hot again. She took a breath and let it out. What was she supposed to say to that?
Jessica giggled.
Melissa glanced away. “Oh. Well. Uh--”
“I also wanted to find out if you were going to the picnic.”
“Picnic?” She seemed to remember the ladies mentioning something, but hadn’t really paid attention. “I don’t know.” This guy needed to go. Now. “You’d have to ask my husband if he wants to go.”
Curly shrugged. “Don’t rightly care if your husband goes. Will you save me a dance?” He grinned, confident and cocky. “Or two?”
She drew her brows together. “Mr...um,”
“Call me Curly.”
Who was this joker? Where had he come from? “Do you live around here?”
“I have a nice place about five miles west of here.” He glanced around the cabin. “It’s real nice. You’ll like it a lot.”
What did he mean by that? She wasn’t handling this well. She simply needed to tell him to get lost. “Look. My husband will be home any minute. You need to leave.”
Smiling, Curly ignore
d her words and took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “I’ve written a poem for you.” He cleared his throat.
A poem? Receding heat flared up again. Could this get any worse?
“I saw you when I was playing cards, you’re a breath of fresh air and I fell real hard.” Curly chuckled, his gaze meeting hers, asking her to share the joke.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Jessica giggled again.
Curly continued. “I want you to always be mine, even if you kill me before I’m twenty-nine.” He laughed out loud at that.
Melissa put a hand to her brow and groaned. “Please stop.”
“My heart pounds in my chest when I see your face, you are prettier than a porcelain vase.”
“Look, buddy,” she pointed an index finger in his direction. “If you don’t knock-it-off--”
Jessica made a choking sound and Melissa glanced over to see her hand clamped over her mouth, stifling laughter.
“I swear to you I will always be true, and as soon as you’re divorced, I will marry you.” He stopped and looked at her expectantly.
Marry? Melissa could feel her face throbbing with heat and she huffed out a breath. She didn’t know where to look. “Mister, you are one weird cookie, and if--”
Richard and Jeremy, both with slicked-back wet hair, walked up the steps behind Curly.
Relief flooded Melissa.
Jessica shrieked with laughter when she saw them.
Richard shot Curly a curious look. “Hi.” He held out his hand. “Richard Kendal.”
Curly grasped his hand. “Curly Jenkins. I’m askin’ Mrs. Kendal to promise me a dance at the picnic.”
Richard raised a questioning brow toward her. “Melissa?”
Melissa shrugged, made a crazy sign with her index finger by her temple and turned away, gathering up the last of the material from the table.
“Looks like the answer is no.” Richard sounded unfriendly.
“For now. Bye, Melissa.” Curly left, whistling as he sauntered off.
She could feel Richard staring at her.