Beauty: an Everland Ever After Tale
Page 15
The Stepmother; an Everland Ever After Tale.
From Ella; an Everland Ever After Tale
Wyoming Territory, 1875
At least no one was kicking her awake.
Ella woke quickly, as was her habit, but took the time to relish that quiet moment before the sun lightened the kitchen enough to justify her getting up. There had been mornings—none recently, thank the Lord—that she’d overslept, and had been woken by angry screeches about breakfast and gowns and hairstyles.
But not today.
After not nearly enough moments enjoying the comfort of her blankets, the sun crested the Wyoming hills and hit the small mirror she’d positioned in the window for just this purpose. The beam of reflected light hit the pillow by her head, and she sighed. Time to get up.
The kitchen had been her home for eight years, since her mother had died and Mabel convinced Papa that she needed her own room. So Eunice moved in with Sibyl, and Ella… well, there weren’t enough beds for Ella, so she made do with the warmth of the fireplace in the kitchen. At least here, she was safe from their cruelty. Mostly.
Folding away her pallet and blankets, Ella slipped on the light slippers Papa insisted that she wear in the house, and listened to the sounds of the birds. They would often come and perch on the windowsill and trill at her early in the morning, no matter how often she tried to shoo them away. In the summer heat, the window was wide open, and it was only a matter of time before that particularly loud lark showed up to sing at her. They had a way of knowing when she was working, and Ella—completely baffled by the whole thing—had long ago resigned herself to their company.
She set a pot of water to boil on the stove, knowing that Papa and her stepsisters liked their coffee first thing, and then tied an apron around her dress—she only had the two—and got to work washing and peeling potatoes for breakfast.
The outside door opened and closed, and Ella heard Maisie’s happy humming. The older woman lived with her husband in a little cabin on the far side of the barns, and she joined Ella each morning to cook the food for the ranch hands’ morning meal. The two of them were friends… or as close of friends as Papa would let her be with a former slave.
“You get the eggs from this morning already?”
The other woman held up her basket, her eyes twinkling. “Those chickens listen to me better’n your birds listen to you.” She carefully balanced the basket on the shelf above the counter, and began to roll up her own sleeves.
“Listen to me? Those birds don’t even know I’m here.” She moved the potatoes to the board and got out the good knife, careful to keep her fingertips out of the way.
“Hmmmm. You think they coming here to visit me? Nah, them animals like just you.”
“I don’t see why,” Ella grumbled. “I don’t like them.” From the corner of her eye, she watched a brown shape scurry out from behind one of the stones in the hearth. She’d long ago stopped screaming when the mice scampered across her pillow, but now she glared down at this one’s big beady eyes. It somehow managed to look pleading, and Ella didn’t have the time to chase it away. With an exasperated eye-roll, she flicked a chunk of potato off the counter, and pretended not to hear Maisie’s chuckle when the bothersome little pest took her pity-offering and scampered off.
“I can’t imagine why they’d like you.” Maisie laid on the sarcasm thick enough to chew, and Ella tossed a potato piece at her. It bounced off the center of the dark woman’s forehead, and landed on the floor, where the mouse scooped it up too. Neither woman could stifle their giggles when the creature ran back to its den with double the bounty.
Ella cut the bacon while Maisie fried the first batch for the cowboys, and they chatted. “Have you been out to see the puppies?”
“Only one left, now.”
“Oh, no. The mama still hasn’t come back?”
“Nope, but Leonard says this girl’s strong, and she’ll make it fine. He says a few of the other men been acting interested in her too, so maybe he’ll have some help keepin’ her strong.” Ella smiled at the good news. “Of course, she likes you best of all. Just like them birds and mice and—” Maisie screeched when Ella pretended to threaten her with the big knife, and they both dissolved into giggles again.
They fell into companionable silence, each used to the other’s presence during the rush of breakfast preparation. Ella had the coffee done, the potatoes fried, and the eggs cooking in the bacon drippings when the first creaks came from overhead. Both women turned to look at the ceiling, and then at each other.
“Miss Mabel’s up early.”
Ella hummed noncommittedly, hurrying in her tasks. Years ago, it had been her duty—Mabel had made it her duty—to get her stepsisters dressed in the morning. Then, when she’d taken over the cooking for the family, Mabel had bullied Sibyl into helping her and Eunice. But they were fast dressers, and if they were up, then Papa was probably already in the dining room.
She pulled off the apron, settled everything on the tray, and turned to find Maisie giving her a sympathetic look. “You want me to help you carry all of that?”
Ella smiled thankfully. “And let you take some of the credit for this fine meal?” Her teasing made the other woman smile, as she’d known it would. “No ma’am. I’ve got to butter them all up.”
“Today’s the day you going into town?”
“Mabel wants a new dress for the July Fourth parade and picnic, so of course the other girls demanded one, too. I’ve got to go find some more white ribbon and lace, if there’s any left. Papa’s got to let me go.”
Maisie smiled sadly and patted her arm. “They worked your mama to death, and now work you too hard too, child.”
That caused a slight laugh. “Of course they do. But if these dresses are pretty enough, maybe they’ll all find beaus—finally!—and get married and go away and leave me alone.”
“Your sisters are ugly inside, and the men ‘round these parts know it.” Ella noticed that Maisie’s voice had dropped to a whisper, lest Edmund Miller hear her insult his precious daughters. “They ain’t getting’ married ‘til they change their ways.”
“Hush that nonsense, Maisie. They’ve got to get married; I’m not going to escape them otherwise!”
“You could always find yourself a man. You’re a pretty girl, inside and out. Find a handsome prince and ride away from here.”
Ella burst into laughter, not quite sure if her friend was teasing. “And where would I find a man around here?” She shook her head, still smiling, while she rolled down her sleeves and made sure that her dark curls were contained in a neat bun. Mabel and Eunice gave her enough trouble for not having straight blonde hair like they did; Ella tried her hardest to keep from looking “slovenly,” which always set them off. “And even if I did, why would I want to leave all of this?” She swept one hand around the room in mock seriousness, gesturing at the kitchen’s tight space and inadequate light and vermin-infested hearth.
Maisie relented, and smiled at her teasing. “All right, go on then. Go serve them bullies you call your sisters, and then go have fun in town.”
“I will!” she called as she backed through the door to corridor, her arms full with the silver tray that had belonged to Papa’s mother back in Boston.
You can find out if Ella gets her stepfather’s permission to go into town—and who she meets there!—in Ella, the first bride of Everland!
ACKNLOWEDGEMENTS
First of all, thank you to all of my fans; readers who enjoy sweet historical western romance crossed with fairy tales! I couldn’t do what I love without your support. I owe a grand debt to my critique partners JA Coffey and Merry Farmer, and my “I wanna be you when I grow up” mentor, Kirsten Osbourne. Thanks are also owed to my editor, the awesome Eve Hart of Hart’s Romance Pulse, and to my Cohort. If you’re on Facebook, and you adore the Everland tales enough to want to help brainstorm the next one and promote the current one, drop me a line about joining Caroline’s Cohort. The more, the mer
rier!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Caroline Lee is what George R.R. Martin once described as a "gardener author"; she delights in “planting” lovable characters in interesting situations, and allowing them to “grow” their own stories. Often they draw the story along to completely unexpected--and wonderful!--places. She considers a story a success if she can re-read it and sigh dreamily... and she wishes the same for you.
A love of historical romance prompted Caroline to pursue her degrees in social history; her Master's Degree is in Comparative World History, which is the study of themes across history (for instance, 'domestication of animals throughout the world,' or 'childhood through history'). Her theme? You guessed it: Marriage throughout world history. Her favorite focus was periods of history that brought two disparate peoples together to marry, like marriage in the Levant during the Kingdom of Jerusalem, or marriage between convicts in colonial New South Wales. She hopes that she's able to bring this love of history-- and this history of love-- to her novels.
Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After with her husband and sons in North Carolina.
You can find her at www.CarolineLeeRomance.com.