He made his way to the wagon and took out the supplies from the back. He placed everything on the ground and then motioned to Angus. “Come along.” Looking back at Emmalyne, he nodded toward the house. “Set it to rights, lass. We’ll be back in a few hours to see what ye’ve managed.”
With no further comment, he climbed into the wagon and waited only long enough for Angus to join him before flicking the reins. In all her twenty-eight years, Emmalyne had never known her father to show the slightest concern for her welfare. It never seemed to cross his mind that it might be dangerous to leave his daughter alone or that the work might be beyond her strength to accomplish alone.
Emmalyne sighed, gathered as many of the cleaning supplies as she could carry, and made her way into the house. She was glad she’d tucked her apron and remaining food into the bucket. At least she’d have something to eat if her father delayed in returning.
Inside, she pulled on the apron. Getting the water heating was of primary importance. She walked through the sad little kitchen and found an even sadder back door hanging from a single hinge. Though rickety, the stairs were still in place here and led to a nice clearing. The dirt was so hard-packed that it very nearly made a smooth surface on which to work. Not far from the caldron a rusty-looking pump gave her hope of easily accessible water.
Emmalyne inspected the caldron and found it to be serviceable. It would have to be scoured before it would provide an adequate receptacle for clean water, however. She quickly went to work gathering downed limbs and branches for kindling. She was happy to uncover a small collection of logs near the side of the house. A growth of new weeds among the old, along with dried vegetation from a previous summer, had hidden the wood from cursory glances. Fearing the possibility of snakes, Emmalyne gingerly gathered the pieces and looked around for an axe. To her dismay, there didn’t appear to be one anywhere. She did, however, find an old handmade hammer. That and a wedge served her well enough, and soon the wood was split and a fire burned bright.
Next she turned her attention to the pump. Priming it, she prayed that God would let the water flow. Her prayers were answered. Water began to sputter through the pipe and fall onto the hard-packed dirt. Taking up a bucket, she put just enough water into the caldron to clean it.
Using water, shaved soap, and her mop, Emmalyne managed to scrub the iron pot. It wasn’t perfect, but she felt satisfied for today. She knew it would take a great many cleanings before things were in the kind of order they would need. They would just have to abide the situation.
With the caldron finally in acceptable shape, Emmalyne filled it with bucket after bucket of water. She surmised from her trips back and forth that the kettle held about forty gallons. It was a good amount of water to get her started. Hopefully by the time she needed more, her father would have returned, and she could tell him of their need for an axe and maybe a saw.
With the water heating, Emmalyne went back into the house to figure out what to do first. Her father had said the bedrooms and kitchen were to be her priority, and she had to agree. However, Emmalyne had been cleaning house long enough to know that it was always best to assess the entire situation before actually starting.
On her way upstairs, she noted the steep and uneven steps. Near the top, Emmalyne tripped on the lip of one step and nearly fell headlong onto the floor. Righting herself, she frowned. “A ladder might have been easier . . . and safer.”
In her room, sunlight filtered in not only from the single dirty window, but from a hole in the roof. The room wasn’t large by any means, but it would be big enough for her. There was space for a bed and a dresser, but not much else. She would have to see if Angus could climb atop the roof to patch the hole—especially before the next rain.
Going back downstairs was just as perilous as it had been going up. This time, however, Emmalyne was more cautious, and she reached the bottom without further problems. She immediately inspected the other two bedrooms. They weren’t much larger than the one upstairs. She determined that the bedroom on the front of the house was a tad smaller and figured that would be Angus’s room. With this in mind, she started in on the other bedroom, knowing her mother and father would expect to take residence there. The room held a collection of odds and ends discarded from the previous tenants. Emmalyne took the castoffs outside and sorted them into stacks. There was always a chance she might find some useful items. Then she checked the water and found it still too cool. It didn’t matter; there was plenty to do before she’d have a chance to wash anything.
If there had been a single bad thing about being left alone, it was that it gave Emmalyne too much time to think. As always, her thoughts drifted to Tavin and the life they might have known together had she not acquiesced to her father. Fenella had written, begging Emmalyne to change her mind, certain that if Emmalyne gave the word, Tavin would come to the city and rescue her. But Emmalyne had given no such instruction. Then it wasn’t long before Fenella had told her that Tavin had left. No one knew exactly where he was bound or when he might return.
A part of Emmalyne had been relieved. With Tavin’s location unknown to her, she could better fight the urge to give up her promise to her parents. If no one knew where he was, there was no sense in her setting out to find him. At least that’s what Emmalyne told herself. She also tried to convince herself that it was foolish to go on thinking of him—that he was forever out of her life. Unfortunately, her heart told her otherwise.
Looking about, Emmalyne couldn’t help but wonder how close they were to the MacLachlans’ property. She went on to reason that they must surely be within a short walk. Maybe once she’d arranged the house and Mother had adjusted to her new quarters, Emmalyne could make a visit and reestablish her acquaintance with Morna MacLachlan. That is, if Tavin was still gone from the area.
Emmalyne frowned and wrestled with her thoughts. It would be a blessing to see Tavin’s mother again. Maybe Fenella lived nearby, as well. Renewing her friendship with Fenella might make the move back to St. Cloud bearable. The two girls had once been the best of friends, and Emmalyne missed their closeness. But as she imagined the two of them chatting about the years gone by and all they had experienced, Emmalyne suddenly felt less inclined to see her friend again. As little more than a glorified maid to her parents, her life had been dismal and boring at best. She could tell Fenella about books she’d read and a musical performance or two that she’d once attended with Mother, but life in Minneapolis had not left her with a wealth of pleasant memories. And what if Tavin decided to come home for a visit? Or for good? She shuddered. That would be sheer misery.
Emmalyne turned her focus back on the work to be done. By late afternoon, she was filthy and exhausted. She had eaten the last of her breakfast and had cleared out the two main-floor bedrooms and the front room, as well. The walls cried out for paint and paper, but she doubted Father would spare the coins required for either. A little whitewash would go a long way toward cheering up the little place, however. Perhaps she could spend some of her own precious money for that.
She had just started work in the kitchen when she heard the wagon pull into the yard. Rushing to the door, she was surprised to see the conveyance full of furniture and trunks. Her father appeared from around the side and began to untie a rope.
“Our things came in early,” he explained.
Emmalyne nodded, pleased. “We can just put everything in the front room. I have it cleared out, and that would make a good place to organize it.”
Her father glanced at her. “And what of the bedrooms?”
“Yours and Angus’s are clean. I didn’t worry about mine just yet. There’s a hole in the roof, and I figure Angus will need to climb atop to patch it up.”
“You figured that, did you, sister?” Angus teased from his side of the wagon. “I suppose for some of your good shepherd’s pie, I might be persuaded.”
“And I suppose I might be willing to make that for your supper tomorrow,” she said with a smile. Emmalyne cherished h
er brother’s good nature, especially in light of her father’s harsh spirit.
Her father grunted and lowered a huge trunk from the back of the wagon. Hoisting it onto his back as though it weighed very little, he trudged toward the house. Angus picked up a couple of chairs and handed them to Emmalyne.
“I’ll see to the roof momentarily,” he told her.
“And the steps to the porch, perhaps?” she asked hesitantly, her voice low. “It’s quite difficult climbing up and down without them.”
He glanced that way, hand shading his eyes. “Aye. I’ll see to it. I spied a couple of good-sized stones, large and flat, near the barn that might suffice for now. Most likely cut for some similar purpose. I’ll see what I can do about bringing them around.”
“Thank you.” She trudged to the porch and settled the chairs on the rough floor before hiking her skirts to make the high step up. Her father burst out the front door, nearly knocking her aside, and without so much as a “by your leave,” made his way to the wagon for more goods.
Back at the hotel that evening, they found their mother asleep. Emmalyne wanted nothing so much as a hot bath and something to eat. She was famished, but she knew she could never settle down to enjoy a meal in her current condition.
“I’m going to have a bath,” she announced.
“There’ll be a charge for that,” her father said, frowning.
“Aye, but I cannot go to supper in this condition,” she said, looking down at herself. “Please don’t feel you have to wait on me. I can eat alone.”
“We can bring your food to you,” Angus offered.
Emmalyne thought on the offer momentarily. “That would be good. That way you can go and enjoy your meal without delay.”
“And ye won’t be needin’ to spend good money on a bath,” her father declared.
“Father, please.” Emmalyne pointed to her filthy attire. “I must have a bath.”
“Ye’ll only get jest as dirty on the morrow.”
“It’s but a wee expense,” Mother offered quietly from her place on the bed.
Father glared. “And a wee expense here and a wee expense there is takin’ ma coin much more quickly than ye’d know.”
“I’ll pay for it myself,” Emmalyne said under her breath, knowing better than to prolong the argument. She gathered clean clothing and her hairbrush without another word.
On the way down the hall to the bathroom, she couldn’t wait to lock the bathroom door and isolate herself from the rest of the world. Especially from her father.
Chapter 4
Emmalyne sat in the back of the wagon beside her mother. The rest of their things, including newly purchased groceries, were stacked around them. While Father squared the bill with the hotel proprietor, Mother questioned Emmalyne about the new house.
“Is it very big?”
“No,” Emmalyne said slowly, scrambling to find positive things to say. “But it has some lovely grounds. Of course, there’s weeding and planting to be done. There’s been no one on the property for some time.”
“But the house is in good condition?” Mother looked so hopeful, but Emmalyne knew she couldn’t lie.
“It was very dirty. Parts of it still are. There are repairs to make, but I think we can set it to good order in the days to come. I’m hoping perhaps to purchase some whitewash so we can at least freshen up the inside walls.”
“And what of our things?”
“Father and Angus brought everything by yesterday. We stored it all in the front room, and today as I get more of the house in order, I will see to helping you arrange them.”
“Oh, I’m hardly well enough for that.” Her mother put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “I’m quite weak. I shall need to go straightway to bed.” She sighed again and slumped against the side of the wagon. “I feel so tired.”
“Well, Angus and I will need to set up your bed before you can rest properly,” Emmalyne told her. She wasn’t at all sure where she’d get stuffing for the mattress. Seeing her father approaching from the hotel, she figured it would be best to question him now, before they left town.
“Father, what are we to use for mattress stuffing?”
He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “What do ye suppose?”
“Well, some fresh straw would work well enough for a time. I thought it might do us well to purchase some bales before heading too far from town.”
“Always somethin’ to spend more of ma hard-earned dollars on.”
“I was hoping, too, that we might purchase some whitewash for the walls. They’re in very poor shape, and painting would help—”
Her father’s sputtered oath stopped her comment. He shook his head. “Mebbe ye’d like to be buyin’ eiderdown instead of straw, as well.” He climbed into the wagon seat and grabbed up the reins. “I swear, wimen cannae leave a man his coin.” He continued to mutter after putting the horses in motion.
Emmalyne said nothing further. It was best to let him rant and vent his anger. For whatever reason, her father was of the mind that the entire world had one purpose: to rob him of his cash.
They drove away from the heart of St. Cloud, and Emmalyne tried her best not to worry about the matter. Her father would relent on the straw; after all, he would have to sleep somewhere, too, and she knew he wasn’t about to make his bed on the floor. He might even give in on the whitewash, because she knew he expected a tidy and well-managed house.
Lord, she finally prayed, you know our needs. It does little good for me to fret over them. Please provide for us. She caught sight of her mother dabbing a handkerchief to her face. And please help Mother to feel better. Amen.
They were well to the west side of town before Father slowed the wagon and stopped in front of a hardware and feed store. He motioned to Angus and came around to the back of the wagon.
“Ye’ll need to arrange things here to make room for the straw,” he told Emmalyne.
“Aye, Father. I’ll see to it now.”
She wasted no time as her father and brother disappeared into the store, almost fearful that if she delayed, Father might change his mind. The wagon now held only the things they’d traveled with from Minneapolis and some crates of food items her father had purchased earlier. Emmalyne quickly stacked the three small trunks atop each other and pushed the crates together toward the front of the wagon.
It wasn’t long before her father and brother reappeared. “We’re to drive around back,” her father announced abruptly.
Emmalyne didn’t dare to ask about the whitewash, but she continued to pray that God would influence her father’s choices. Her father might be of a mind to ignore God, but Emmalyne was quite certain that God wasn’t likely to ignore Luthias Knox.
Her father parked the wagon near an open barn behind the store and climbed down once again. Angus went with him to where two men were standing. Emmalyne saw her father produce the bill of sale, and the men sauntered off to retrieve the goods.
To her surprise, her father had purchased ten bales of straw. It was most generous, given his earlier comments, and Emmalyne felt very fortunate. Ten bales would go a long way to making their beds comfortable.
As they continued to bring bale after bale, Emmalyne had to assist Mother from her perch on the wagon bed and exchange it for a seat on one of the bales.
“This should prove more comfortable, anyway,” she told her mother with a grin. “You can lean back against the trunks.”
Once the bales were loaded, Father stepped toward the front of the wagon. Angus, however, turned and went back to the barn. In a moment, one of the workers appeared with four tins of whitewash, two in each hand. Emmalyne watched in silence as Angus took the cans and hoisted them into the back of the wagon. He threw Emmalyne a wink, then lifted her into the back, as well. Before he left her there, he pulled a broad paintbrush from his back pocket and handed it to her.
God had heard her prayers.
Once Father had the horses move out, Mother began to again question Emm
alyne.
“Is there a good fireplace?” Her voice was low.
“I believe it will be suitable. I did a bit of cleaning on it, but of course we’ll need to check the chimney. As long as it has sat idle, there are bound to be nesting birds within.”
Her mother frowned. “Is it still terribly dirty?”
Emmalyne couldn’t very well lie to her mother. After all, she would see for herself the extent of the situation soon enough. “It is, but I’ll be hard at work to set it right. Your bedroom is clean enough, and Angus will set the bed up while I find the ticks and stuff them. That way you can rest right away.”
“Is there a fireplace in the bedroom?”
“No.”
“What of a stove?” Mother asked.
“No, but I’m sure if the bedroom doors are left open the warmth from the kitchen and fireplace will provide enough heat.”
“But what of the winter?”
Emmalyne shrugged. “Maybe Father will buy a stove before then.” She didn’t believe he would, but it was better than telling her mother they’d simply have to pile on additional quilts.
Mother seemed uncertain. “Perhaps we should have stayed in town,” she murmured as she looked around. Their journey was taking them farther and farther into the less populated countryside.
“I would have liked that, too,” Emmalyne admitted, “but Father felt it necessary to leave the hotel and save money. At least we have the whitewash and other supplies. I’m sure we can make a nice home. There are repairs that will need to be made, of course, but you mustn’t let that cause you worry. Angus and I will see to it.”
Her mother gave a heavy sigh and lowered her voice even more. “This place reminds me of . . . your sisters.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “When I think on them, I can’t help but wonder what kind of women they might have become.”
“I know, Mother. I think about that sometimes, as well.” She patted her mother’s hand.
“And ye think of him.”
Tracie Peterson - [Land of Shining Water 02] Page 3