“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.
2 MEETING ETHAN
Darla woke with a desire to explore the grounds out back. Especially the little gazebo. It had been a long time since she’d been on anything resembling a farm, and she wanted to find out more about her new home.
Lisbeth’s bed was already empty and the covers pulled smooth. Darla wasn’t surprised she’d been left to sleep; the girl had said new members of the house were always given a day to get used to the order of things before they were asked to help.
Draped over a corner armchair were clothes provided by the charity. Darla spread the dress over her arm and pursed her lips. Large swirls that looked like pink cabbage heads covered the fabric. It’s ugly as pig snouts, and far too big. However, it would keep her warm during outside chores. She put on the horrible dress and found a bright green sash in her drawer to cinch it around her waist. I had much worse at the orphanage.
Venturing down the stairs, she listened for voices or signs of activity. Silence met her ears. Should I try to find someone? She crept to the door. I’ll just take a peek at the gardens before anyone sees me. What could it possibly hurt?
A worn path led around the house and past a workshop. A hammering sound echoed through the wall.
She went on through a smaller gate and into an enclosed area, which she assumed would host a garden in the spring. And there was the gazebo.
Five posts supported the structure, each of them covered in delicately carved hummingbirds, doves and other birds of flight. Darla stepped into the small structure to examine the inside more closely. The roof dripped with curlicues and vines. Suspended from the center of the ceiling, a carved cherub held a trumpet so realistic it seemed as though musical notes would play at any moment.
Darla sank onto one of the wooden benches. Peace washed over her, and she closed her eyes and listened as winter birds sang good mornings to each other.
Whatever is required of me at the house, I can handle it. But it’ll be nice to come out here sometimes to have a break from that dreary parlor.
###
Ethan Downs slid the plane across the glossy red wood. A few slivers curled beneath the blade, fine as angel hairs. He ran his hand over the surface.
Smooth as silk, and such a nice color. Too bad I have to use it to repair that floor joist. As long as he could remember, wood had spoken to him, told him what to make from it. And this longleaf pine plank begged to be something beautiful--part of a baby’s cradle maybe, or a corner shelf in some fancy sitting room.
“You’ll have to accept your fate, same as all of us,” he told the board, then chuckled. People would think I’m crazy, talking to a piece of wood. Sometimes the mundane labor got to him, the menial tasks that must be done to keep the ancestral home standing. But if he didn’t do it, who would? He shook his head. Ethan didn’t resent being a part of the ministry carried on by his family for generations. But all the time wasted on repairs could have been spent making much more beautiful things.
Picking up a thumb-sized scrap off the floor, he started to whittle. In a few moments, a half-bloomed rose began to form in the soft wood.
“That’s pretty.”
Ethan almost dropped his creation. He turned to see the silhouette of a girl in the barn door, bathed in the golden light of dawn.
She stepped inside.
Perhaps twenty, the girl’s eyes had a wild, scattered look, as though they held tales of things best not spoken aloud. A smile twisted up in the corner of lips almost too red to be natural, and wisps of bright blond hair curled beneath a shabby straw bonnet. Her frock and apron hung loose on her shoulders, as though they had been made for someone else. Ma must’ve given her something from the mission barrel. His mother was forever trying to help the ladies develop character and purge worldly vanities. It’s not going to work for this one. She’d look pretty in a gunny sack.
The girl laughed. “Well, are you just gonna stand there and let flies take up housekeeping in your mouth, or can you say hello?” She put one hand on her hip, and held the other toward him. “I’m Darla North, and I’d like to make your acquaintance.”
“Uh, hello.” Ethan offered his hand with the rose still in it, stared at the carving and shoved it in his pocket. He opened his palm once more. “Ethan Downs. Ma told me you came in last night.”
“So Ma Downs truly is your ma?” The smile curved up once more, but nothing in her expression or tone suggested mockery, only good fun. She shook his hand firmly. “Yep, I got dragged in by the cat, I guess. Or traveling preacher. Whichever you’d prefer. Do you live here?”
How did she end up at Down’s House? The shed seemed transformed by sudden light and color.
Though both of them wore clothes barely more than rags, Ethan felt as though they should be at some fancier place, like a county dance.
“Um, yes.” He gathered himself, remembering she had just asked him a question. “My father died three years ago, and my brother left to join the Texas Rangers, so I help look after things. I have a little place at the back of the property.”
“Oh, I see.” Darla trailed a slender finger across the board he’d been finishing. “I visited the gazebo. Did you make it?”
“Yes. I build things. Some stay here, and some I sell, to help pay the bills.” Ethan pulled the rose out of his pocket and twirled it in his hands. “I don’t get much time to carve trinkets. If I didn’t fix things, the house would fall down around our ears.”
“How many . . . what do you call us . . . unfortunates live here?” Darla walked to the doorway and turned her back to him, clasping her hands behind her.
“Hey now, I didn’t come up with the name. But there’s six ladies right now, including yourself. There’s room for a dozen.” Ethan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the girl’s hair, which shone like molten gold in the morning light. None of the other ladies ever had hair like that.
Over Darla’s shoulder he saw a billowing shape come through the front door of the house and stand on the porch. “Ethan!” his mother called. “Ethan, will you please come here?”
“I’d better see what she needs. And it’s almost time for breakfast.” Ethan jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Our cook, Mrs. Betty, usually doesn’t have much to work with, but she could make old burlap taste good.” He stepped up to pass Darla.
She laid a hand on his arm, “May I have it?” she asked.
“Have what?” Heat rose to his face. Ethan Downs, pull yourself together. She’s just a girl . . . and probably been through a world of hurt, just like everyone else. He swallowed a lump in his throat and forced his lips back into a smile.
“May I have the rose? It’s so pretty, and it didn’t take you long to make.”
He held it up to the light. “Give me a little more time, and I’ll make it e
ven better.”
“All right.” She gave him a full smile, and a single dimple flashed on her right cheek. “You ain’t . . . I mean aren’t . . . going to forget, are you?”
“Of course I won’t forget.” He watched her step out the door, skirts swishing. She’d disappeared by the time he realized he hadn’t asked her a single thing about herself.
###
“I would rather you ask me before traipsing out in the yards on your own so early in the morning.” Ma Downs’s ostrich plumes, already in place, shook with each word.
Darla nodded, her heart pounding in her ears. When she had seen Ma Downs’s frown, she thought she might be turned out right then. It was going to take some time to get used to this new home and the rules set before her. But I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ve got to learn how to act if I want to be fit for a better place than a saloon.
A sudden warmth crept over her, and she remembered the verse she’d read the night before about the fruits of the Spirit. Patience. The word rose up, unbidden. I’ve never been patient in my life. God is going to have to teach it to me.
“So, are we agreed?” Ma Downs’s eyes softened. “Poor girl. I can see you have been over some rough roads. We want you to do well here. But I must hold everyone to the same rules, otherwise . . .”
“Yes, Ma’am. I understand.”
“Now let’s go have breakfast; everyone else is already waiting.”
Darla followed, the jumble of rules she’d been told so far jumping through her mind. Don’t leave the house without permission. Clothing must be approved by Ma Downs. Lights out by 9:00.What’s next? She shook her head. The only rules in the saloon were don’t get caught stealing, never allow a patron’s wife inside the building, and stay away from Mr. Gandro when he was drunk.
The same type of muslin curtains used in the parlor darkened the dining room. It was lit only by candles flickering from two rickety candelabras. A long table covered by a black cloth filled most of the room. Few other details could be seen in the dim light.
Three women were lined up behind chairs on the right side of the table and Lisbeth stood with one other lady on the left.
Ma Downs nodded to the empty chair beside Lisbeth. “You may sit there.”
Darla scooted over and plopped down in the seat.
Lisbeth raised her eyebrows. Two of the other ladies tittered behind cloth napkins.
Darla glanced at everyone else. They were all still standing. She stood up quickly, and her chair crashed to the floor.
Ethan emerged from the table’s shadowy end, rushed over and righted the offending seat before she could reach it. Wordlessly, he returned to his place.
Ma Downs’s lips remained in the same tight line during these proceedings. When Ethan was settled she finally spoke. “Are we quite ready, then?”
Darla fought the urge to crawl under the table. “Yes,” she managed to squeak.
Ma Downs bowed her head. “Lord, we thank Thee for your many provisions . . .”
A very long prayer followed which seemed to address the ailments of every citizen in Dallas and perhaps a few outside of the city as well.
Darla’s stomach growled loudly, and one of the girls across the table giggled again. Darla didn’t blame her. Never in all my born days have I felt like such a clumsy oaf.
When she opened her eyes, Ethan flashed her a sympathetic smile.
At least I have one friend here. But I bet he’d never speak to me again if he knew who I used to be.
3 COWS AND CONVERSATION
The next ]morning, Darla’s slumber was interrupted by a voice calling her name. When her eyes fluttered open, Lisbeth’s white face floated above her.
“Milking time,” the Irish girl said.
When Lisbeth stepped back, Darla thought she saw something furry crawl down the thin shoulder, half hidden by hair.
Darla scooted back in her bed. “What was that? On your arm?”
Lisbeth blinked. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
A fuzzy face peeked out between the long, red strands and chittered at Darla.
“A squirrel! What a darling little thing. Is he yours?”
Lisbeth’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, his name is Danny, after my grandfather. I rescued him from a cat when he was a baby. But please don’t tell Ma Downs, all right? She can’t abide rodents and I know she’d make me let him go. And he needs me.” She stroked the little animal’s head with a slender finger. “Don’t you, Danny?”
Danny grabbed her finger in his paws.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Darla climbed out of bed. “Does he stay up here during the day?”
“I have a box for him. No one else comes in here. The ladies are expected to keep their own rooms clean.”
“That’s lucky.” Darla had decided to play a little game with herself, which involved pointing out whenever something was fortunate, since everyone here was so convinced of the opposite.
She turned bleary eyes towards the window, but no morning light welcomed her.
“What time is it anyway?” she asked Lisbeth, who was already dressed.
“Half-past five. So we’re late today. I let you sleep in a bit, so hurry up.”
“Sleep in?” Darla yawned. Due to late nights at the saloon, she normally wouldn’t be awake until the sun was high in the sky. Lisbeth must think I’m a complete sloth for sleeping so late yesterday.
With fumbling fingers, she buttoned her dress and shuffled down the stairs after her roommate.
The barn stood at the edge of the pasture, dilapidated but stately, like most of the other buildings on the property. Various farm implements rusted in the tall grass, abandoned, as new and better devices had come along. Or perhaps they planted large crops at one time, but no longer have the workers to care for acres of land.
Several cows mooed as the girls entered the building. The sweet scent of hay mixed with pungent manure instantly transported Darla to her childhood. She’d always been awake this early on the farm, following her father and helping with his work.
“The supplies are in here.” Lisbeth opened a side stall and handed her a clean pail and cloth. “Water for cleaning should be on the shelf by the cows already, Ethan usually fills it for us when he feeds the animals.” She looked over at Darla. “I’m going to tidy up in here a bit. Can you manage alone?”
“I think so.” Darla carried the items into the large open half of the barn, where five cows had been lined up and tied to posts. After moistening her cloth in the bucket of water, she approached the first cow, a large black and white animal that mooed at her approach.
“I’m a stranger, but I’ll do my best,” she said to the cow. Words her father had spoken years ago when he’d first taught her the task flooded back into her mind. Clean the udder with the cloth. Place your stool in just the right spot so the cows can’t kick you or the pail. Don’t pull too hard or too soft, or all you’ll get is a cantankerous cow. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about her dad’s voice. She wiped a tear away on her sleeve and concentrated on her chore.
Thin streams of milk landed in the bucket with a satisfying hiss.
A throat cleared behind her.
Darla craned her neck to see Ethan standing in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and thick brown curls stood out from his head with wooly abandon, not slicked back like they had been at meals in the house.
“Good morning.” He strode over and grabbed the cow’s tail, which had been switching closer and closer to the pail.
“Thank you. Good morning.” Heat rose to Darla’s cheeks and she concentrated on the milk going into the bucket. Land sakes. It’s not like I’ve never seen a man before.
“Did you sleep good? I know the rooms here aren’t fancy.”
“It’s fine for me. Thank you. I’m glad I’m not riding a horse across the wilds right now.”
“Yeah? Is that what you usually do?” His eyes were wide and interested.
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“Well, not all the time. But the last week or so.” Darla lowered her head and hoped he wouldn’t ask any dangerous questions.
“I like riding. It helps me sort out my thoughts.”
She looked over at him. “I know what you mean. But not when you’re being chased by someone who wants to shoot you dead.”
“No joshing?” Ethan dropped the cow’s tail and stared at her. “Who’d want to hurt a sweet girl like you?”
Darla draped her cloth over her knee. “I don’t feel like talking about it just yet. I’m sorry.”
“Not to worry.” Ethan lowered his eyes. “Maybe some other time.” The cow’s tail moved again, and he grabbed the end right before it slapped her face. “I came in to ask you something. Every day we take a big pot of soup around town in a wagon to the sick and elderly,” he said. “Would you like to come with me this afternoon? It’ll allow you to meet some of the folks we help and show you part of our mission here at Downs House.”
Darla stood, picked up the bucket and poured it in the large jug by the wall. “I’m at your service, Mr. Downs.”
“Everyone calls me Ethan.” He picked up the large collecting jug and hoisted it into the next stall. “And I’m not forcing you to come.” He studied her with grey-green eyes. “I just thought you might want to see the town and get out of the house.”
“Sounds nice.” Darla rinsed the cloth and rung it out. “Let me know when I should be ready.”
“After breakfast.” Ethan disappeared through the barn door.
Lisbeth came in from the side room, swinging an extra milk bucket. “I see you’ve met the man of the place.”
“Yes. We met last night, actually.” Darla turned so Lisbeth wouldn’t see her flushed cheeks. “He seems nice enough.”
Lisbeth put the pail down and twisted a section of hair around her finger. “He is . . . but don’t be getting any ideas. He hasn’t had a sweetheart for a long time.”
Darla’s head snapped up. “I declare, Lisbeth, I had no particular notions! But I wonder why he ain’t . . . isn’t married? Or engaged? Is his ma too smothering?”
The Saloon Girl's Journey (Texas Women of Spirit Book 3) Page 2
