by Granger, Ann
‘I’m going into the stabling business,’ he announced. ‘Livery and hiring out horses for townspeople to ride.’
His father looked even more disapproving than usual. But the old bugger never did like any new idea suggested by either of his sons.
‘I know it’s not farming,’ said Eli defiantly, ‘but I’m getting older, you know, and farming’s changed.’
He was getting older and one day he’d be joining them. There was a thought: stuck with them all for eternity. Well, he was stuck with them anyway. But tonight there was an addition to their table company. As Eli had suspected she would, the girl he’d found in his cowshed had turned up, just like that. She’d pushed herself in between him and his brother in a way, thought Eli, that smacked of bad manners and want of tact.
The cat was skulking outside in the woodshed where she always went to hide. Eli was pretty sure that even after they’d all left, old Tibs would know a stranger had been there. He’d been bracing himself for the girl’s appearance. But now she had arrived, you couldn’t deny it presented something of a problem. He particularly didn’t like her sitting so close.
His father didn’t know what to make of her. He sat scowling away at the head of the table. His mother, oh my, she didn’t care for the development at all. She sat glowering at the newcomer and hadn’t shown much interest in Eli’s future plans at all, not even enough to look disapproving of them. Even Nathan looked discomfited at finding the girl sitting next to him. His eyes were nearly popping out of his head. He’d stopped fiddling with that silly rope halter and taken to smoothing back his hair instead.
As for the girl, she took no notice of any of them, ignored Nathan’s patting of his hair, didn’t seem to be listening to Eli talk about the stables. She just sat there, looking down her nose as if the kitchen wasn’t good enough for her, not fancy enough, probably.
Her disdain annoyed Eli even more. The cause was probably that wallpaper with Chianti bottles on it. The snooty little madam didn’t like that. Well, she’d have to learn to live with it. No, wait a bit, wrong word. She’d have to learn to be dead with it. If she thought herself a cut above them all, too bad. She’d chosen to turn up. He hadn’t asked her along. Uninvited, that’s what she was, even if not unexpected.
‘You’ll have to budge up a bit, Nat,’ he said loudly to his brother, jerking his head meaningfully at the new arrival. ‘It’s getting very crowded in here.’