The Comanche Girl's Prayer, Texas Women of Spirit Book 2
Page 16
“Thank you.” Darla pulled a drawer open and placed her few things inside, wishing she could have gotten rid of the scandalous lace petticoats left from her saloon days. So far, she hadn’t been able to purchase anything else. I can’t very well go without under things.
If Lisbeth was scandalized by the clothes, she didn’t say anything about them. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, and closed the door in her wake.
Darla washed her face and hands, removed the horrid shoes and cleaned her feet with a soft cloth hanging on a hook beside the basin. She changed into a nightdress and peeked out the window to yard below.
The grounds were bathed in moonlight. On the left sat a courtyard and the front gate, and to her right the property stretched out into pasture, with a barn and gardens. A small gazebo caught her attention. Could the son have built that too?
She closed the shutters, almost slamming her finger. “Dratted window,” she muttered, then covered her mouth and looked around. She doubted that ‘dratted’ was an acceptable word in this home.
How am I going to do this? Darla sank down on the quilt and ran her fingers along the even threaded lines. Every stitch had its place. Can I possibly fit in here?
Lisbeth came back in, settled in her chair, and began to work on a bit of embroidery.
“Your needlework is beautiful.” Darla admired the knotted flowers covering the thick white cloth.
“Mountmellick,” came the reply.
“Oh. An Irish technique?”
“Yes.” Lisbeth lowered her head.
Darla gave up on the conversation. Some of the other saloon girls had been quiet like Lisbeth. She might be shy. I’ll give her some time.
After flipping to a random page in the Bible Pastor Jenkins had given her, Darla read a passage in a book called Lamentations. Even after reading the chapter through twice, she couldn’t make a lick of sense out of it. Everyone was sad, that’s all she could figure. Flipping to a different section, a verse in Galatians caught her eye.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.”
Longsuffering. Doesn’t that mean patience? She tapped her fingers against her head, trying to remember long-ago Sunday school lessons. Finally she closed her Bible, turned down the quilt, and got into bed.
She had to stifle a squeal of excitement as her toes slid all the way down to the end of the sheets. What luxury after the crazy places I’ve slept in the last few days. Her hair spilled out over the pillow, brushed and free of tangles. Looping a curl around her finger, she smiled.
“Well, goodnight,” said Lisbeth as she crossed the room and blew out the lantern.
“Lisbeth?” said Darla as she heard the girl settle into the bed across from her.
“Yes, Darla?”
“How long is the testing time? Until I know if I’ll get to stay?”
Lisbeth’s bed creaked as she rolled over to face the wall. “It’s different for everyone. But you’ll know.”
“How?”
Quiet, steady breathing was the only answer.
If only I could find rest as quickly. When Darla closed her eyes, faces flickered before her. Girls from the business she had left behind, battered and tired under the bright paint. Faces of the Comanche and Kiowa people who lived in the settlement where she’d stayed for a few days after her escape from the Easy Dipper Saloon. And an evil man named Hal who’d uprooted those people and scattered them to the winds. Including her friend, a part-Comanche girl named Soonie.
Where is Soonie? I’ll probably never see her again. But she’ll be all right. Soonie had a strong young man. They would take care of each other.
She clutched her pillow, waiting for sleep. This seems like a good place to be. If only I can make it through the trial period.
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