by Liz Harris
‘OK,’ Connor said. ‘I’ll give you something. It won’t be a lot because there isn’t a lot to give, but it’ll help you to find somewhere to stay and it’ll keep you going till you find work. I doubt it’ll go far when it comes to cards since I’m guessing you’d only play for high stakes, but if you lose it, that’ll be down to you. Let me know when you come across a place to stay and you’ll have the money. I guess you deserve that much from the ranch.’
‘I reckon I do.’
Connor nodded, turned away and walked back to the house.
Chapter Fifteen
Ellen stood staring down at the wooden tub on the ground outside the kitchen door. She ran the back of her arm across her brow, wiping the salty perspiration from above her eyes. It had been exhausting work, washing the first of the quilts and putting it out to dry, and she was going to have to figure out an easier way of doing the rest.
She’d forgotten how difficult it was to lift a wet quilt out of the tub, with water coursing from it to the ground, weighing it heavily in her arms, and then to wring it out and hang it over the line to dry. It had taken her almost all of the afternoon just to wash the quilt, and she hadn’t yet replaced the straw in the tick from the bed she was cleaning.
She glanced towards the house. The afternoon light was already dying. She should have started earlier in the day. As it was, it was now too late to drag out the tick and empty it. She’d have to leave both emptying and washing it till the next day. Apart from the lack of sunshine, Bridget would soon be back from school, and she needed to get out the spare bedding they’d be using that night and then get on with the dinner. But if she made an early start the following morning, the tick would be dry before sundown and she could fill it with fresh straw and return it to the bed before night.
One good thing about having the quilts to wash was that it had kept her out of the way of Niall and Conn, who’d had a long talk in the front of the house after Niall’s unexpected return from town that afternoon. Connor had been hoping to have a chance to talk to him, without it looking too contrived, and it had worked out well that he’d been near the house when Niall had got back, and she’d had chores to do in the yard behind the house. Conn had gone straight out to the fields when he and Niall had finished talking, but hopefully, he’d found out more about Niall’s intentions and would tell her later.
She turned to go into the house.
‘Uncle Niall,’ she heard Bridget call from the direction of West Barn. ‘You’re home.’ Bridget’s voice was alive with pleasure.
She stopped halfway into the kitchen, took a step back and glanced to her right. Bridget was running between the empty corrals and the entrance to the barn, her lunch pail in one hand and her school bag in the other. Niall was just coming out of the barn, but he’d stopped at the sound of Bridget’s voice. Even from a distance, with his hat shading his eyes, Ellen could see the broad smile on his face as he looked down at her.
She turned around and stood watching them.
‘Hi there, Bridget!’ she heard Niall say from afar. ‘And how was that test?’
She went a few paces forward so that she could see them more clearly and hear them better. Niall’s expression as he gazed down at Bridget was one of amusement. And of affection, Ellen noticed in surprise.
‘The First Reader class had to answer questions this afternoon.’ Bridget’s voice jumped up and down as she hit out at a cloud of midges with her lunch pail. ‘I got all my answers right,’ she added. ‘Martha got one wrong.’ Ellen couldn’t see her face, but she could hear the pride in her voice as she spoke.
‘You’re a clever gal,’ he said. ‘Just like your uncle.’
Bridget laughed.
‘What’re you goin’ to do now?’ he asked. ‘I’m about to go over to the horses’ shed to polish my harness. I sure could use some help with that. And while you were helpin’ me, I could tell you about the time your pa disturbed a wasps’ nest.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Bridget sounded so happy, Ellen thought. In the short amount of time that he’d been there, Niall had clearly gotten through to her, while Ellen still hadn’t. A wave of envy shot through her. ‘I’ll have a glass of milk and then I’ll come and find you,’ Bridget said.
‘You do that,’ Niall said. ‘I’ll see you over in the shed.’
Bridget spun around, and saw Ellen.
She stopped. Her smile faded and her face hardened. ‘I can’t,’ she said, and she turned back to Niall. ‘I told Pa I’d milk the cows this evening. His wife’s started on the fall clean today and Pa said she’d be too busy to get the cows done, too.’ Ellen could hear the bitterness in her voice. ‘And you have to do them the same time each day or they don’t give you as much milk.’
Ellen saw Niall glance above Bridget’s head in her direction. His face broke out into a grin when he saw her standing there, watching them. She took a step back. Inclining his head to her, he touched the brim of his hat, and then turned his attention back to Bridget.
‘Like I said before, you’re a real smart gal.’
‘Will you tell me about Pa and the wasps when I’ve done the cows?’ Bridget begged.
‘I’ve got a better idea, honey. Why don’t you and me do the milkin’ together? I can tell you the story while we’re doin’ the cows. I can always polish the harness later.’
‘Thanks, Uncle Niall!’ Bridget jumped up and down in glee. ‘I’ll go and get my milk and be right back.’
‘I’ll wait for you outside West Barn.’
Clutching her bag and lunch pail in her arms, she spun around and half-ran towards the house, pushing past Ellen without acknowledging her as she sped into the kitchen.
Ellen looked across the corrals towards Niall. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. She stared after him for a moment, then followed Bridget into the kitchen.
‘Uncle Niall’s gonna help me do the cows,’ Bridget said, dumping her school bag and lunch pail next to the sink. ‘But you were listening so you know that. I want a glass of buttermilk first.’
Ellen slid her hands into her apron pockets, stood still and stared at her.
‘Please,’ Bridget snapped.
‘I’ll get it,’ Ellen said. She went into the pantry, lifted the trap door, went down the stairs into the cellar and came back up with a stoneware jug.
‘I’ll heat the milk for you, if you want. It won’t take long.’
‘I don’t want.’
‘As you wish.’ She poured a glass of the milk for Bridget and handed it to her. Bridget reached out to take the glass. Her fingers closed around it, and she went to pull it towards her, but Ellen’s grip held firm.
Their eyes met above the glass.
Bridget scowled at her. ‘Thank you.’
Ellen released her hold on the glass. ‘I need to start getting dinner ready,’ she said, and she moved away from Bridget. Raising the pump arm at the side of the sink, she pulled it up and down, slowly filling the bowl in the sink with water.
Bridget finished the milk, put the glass in the bowl, pulled her school bag towards her and thrust her hand into it.
‘Miss Quinn asked me to give you this,’ she said, her tone ungracious. She held a slip of paper out to Ellen. Ellen stopped pumping, lifted the glass out of the water, wiped her hands and took the paper from her. ‘Though I don’t know why she’d want you there, why anyone would,’ Bridget threw over her shoulder as she crossed to the corner of the kitchen. She picked up an empty pail in each hand and left the house.
Ellen unfolded the piece of paper and read through the message. Oonagh was inviting her to a sewing bee, to be held at her home this Saturday. It would begin in the afternoon and last through the evening.
She’d obviously remembered Ellen’s dislike of sewing as she’d written that those who liked sewing would be making themselves a dress for the forthcoming wedding of Hannah Carey, and those who didn’t, would bring the dress they were going to wear, improve the fitting if necessary, and add any finishing touches they w
anted. Also, they were all going to line their bonnets with material that matched their dresses. They’d help each other and have an enjoyable time doing so. And while they sewed, they could also work out who was going to bring what dishes to Hannah’s wedding.
Just before she’d signed off, she’d added that she was sure that either Connor or Niall would bring her into town, and that Abigail Carey, Martha’s mother, would bring her home. This was what used to happen when Alice joined them, she wrote. Abigail would bring Alice back home and stay overnight, and then Abigail would return to her own home the following morning. But if she would prefer, Oonagh had written, she would be very welcome to stay the night at Oonagh’s house. Conn could collect her the following day.
It was kind of Oonagh, but she wouldn’t go, Ellen decided. It was not the sort of thing she’d ever really liked doing, and she’d like it even less after the accident.
She tucked the paper into her apron pocket, went into the bedroom and started to pull one of the spare quilts out of a chest standing against the wall.
‘I just saw Bridget,’ Connor said, coming into the bedroom after her. ‘She tells me that you’ve been invited by the ladies to their sewing bee. That’s good. Alice used to enjoy them.’
‘I’m not going,’ she told him, straightening up.
He stared at her in surprise. ‘Why not? This is not about your face, is it? They’ve all seen you in church or in town so they know what you look like. You should go, Ellen. You might enjoy it. When is it?’
‘This Saturday. No, it’s not about the way I look,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just that Abigail Carey would have to bring me back and stay over, and there isn’t room for her; not with Niall here. Oonagh did invite me to stay at her house, but I would not like that.’
‘Did someone say Niall?’ Niall’s voice came from behind Connor. ‘I coulda sworn I heard my name.’
Connor glanced at him over his shoulder. ‘Ellen’s been asked to go to a bee in town on Saturday. She wants to go, but she’s worrying where we’ll sleep Abigail Carey. Abigail’s gonna bring her home.’ He turned back to Ellen. ‘There’s no problem. We’ll do what folks do in these parts, make up a bed in the living room. I’m sure Niall can find himself another place for the night.’
‘No need for any of that,’ Niall drawled. ‘I’ll be in town myself on Saturday. I can easily take a wagon, and then I can collect you at the end of the evening and bring you back with me. No need to trouble Abigail Carey.’
‘Thanks, Niall.’ Connor turned back to Ellen with a smile. ‘So, no reason not to go.’
She hesitated a moment, then glanced at Niall. ‘Thank you, Niall. I’ll go then, and I’d be grateful if you brought me back.’
‘My pleasure,’ he drawled. ‘And now I oughta go and give Bridget a hand. I only came back for another pail, and also to tell you that I’ve decided to join the hands in town this evening when I’ve done the milking with Bridget. They’re gonna be spending the money Aaron’s paid them now that their job’s done, and I’m of a mind to relieve them of some of it. There’s talk of setting up a game of cards. So if you’ll excuse me from dinner, ma’am.’
He grinned at them both, put a short piece of straw between his lips, touched his hat to Ellen and walked out.
Connor turned to her with a wry smile. ‘I think that maybe you didn’t really want to go, and Abigail Carey was just an excuse. But I’m pleased you’re going. They don’t have these bees very often, and it’s a good chance to meet the ladies and get to know them better. Especially with Hannah Carey’s wedding coming up so soon. It would be real good for you to have met a few more people before we go there. Look on it as another first for you.’
She glanced at Connor, gave him a resigned smile, then she carried the quilt across to the bed and threw it on to the straw tick. Leaning over, she started to straighten the quilt.
Connor moved swiftly to her side and together they spread the quilt across the bed. As she reached across the bed to flatten the corner, her hand brushed against his. She went to pull it back, but he caught hold of it, and held it.
She stared down at their linked hands.
‘You’ve no reason to hide from people, Ellen,’ she heard him say through the pounding in her ears.
He tightened his hold on her hand.
Her heart beating fast, she glanced up at him and saw warmth and understanding in the depths of his eyes. Then he released her hand.
‘I’d better water the horses,’ he said, his voice sounding awkward, ‘or I’d have to hold off graining them till later. We wouldn’t want them getting colic.’
She nodded.
He stood still for a moment, staring at her, and then went out.
She put her hand to her mouth, drew in a deep breath and stood there, motionless.
Chapter Sixteen
Bridget dropped her nightdress over her head and shrugged it into position. ‘It’s not fair that I had to have my bath tonight. Saturday night’s bath night; not Friday,’ she shouted from the kitchen to Ellen.
Ellen stopped folding the square of silk with which she was going to line her bonnet, and sighed. ‘It’s good to have a change every now and then,’ she called back, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.
Bridget pushed the screen aside and came into the living room, her face sullen. ‘I wanted to go and say goodnight to the calves, and now I can’t.’
Ellen resumed folding the material. ‘The calves will still be there tomorrow.’
‘That’s not the point.’ Bridget went up at the dinner table and sat down heavily on her chair.
Ellen glanced at her. ‘I think it is. There was no other way of doing things, as you well know. You must have a bath before Sunday School, and I’ll be at the sewing bee tomorrow evening, which makes work for you and your father if you choose to have a bath tomorrow night.’
Bridget kicked Ellen’s basket of sewing things away from the foot of the table.
‘Of course,’ Ellen went on, ignoring the upturned basket and the needles and thread scattered on the floor, ‘you might have been hankering after pumping the water from the outside well into the large drum, and watching your father boil the water and then pour it into the bathtub, a bucket at a time. And you might have been looking forward to emptying and cleaning the tub when you’d finished your bath. If I’d known you wanted to do that, I could have left the tub out after I’d had my bath tonight and you could have had your bath tomorrow. Then you could have spent those extra few minutes with the calves this evening. If that’s what you would have preferred to do, then I apologise.’
She bent down, pulled her basket back to the side of her chair, put the strewn contents back into the basket, and placed the folded piece of silk on top of them. Then she put the basket on the other side of the table, out of Bridget’s reach.
She felt Bridget’s eyes on her as she sat back up, and she smiled at her with exaggerated sweetness.
‘I’ll need these, too, I suspect,’ she said, seeing her scissors on the floor by the leg of the table, and she bent down to pick them up.
‘You don’t talk to Pa like you talk to me,’ Bridget said, her tone accusing.
Ellen stopped mid-action, sat upright and stared at her in surprise. Puzzled green eyes stared back at her.
‘Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t talk to you in the same way as I talk to him. Your pa’s a grown man, and he’s my husband. You’re a child, Bridget. A clever child, but still a child.’
Bridget flushed. ‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘What do you mean, then?’
Bridget bent down and picked up a reel of thread from by her foot. She put it on the table between them. ‘If I say something I shouldn’t, you tell me. You didn’t at first, but you do now. Though not always when Pa’s around.’
Ellen smiled at her. ‘That’s because underneath the backtalk, I suspect there’s a very pleasant little girl, and I want to make sure that everyone sees her. But they might not if I let her cont
inue to get away with being rude. When your pa’s here, he can deal with you.’
Bridget sat back in her chair, wrapped her nightdress around her legs, pulled up her knees and hugged them to her chin. ‘How d’you know that I’m a very pleasant little girl?’
‘From everything I’ve heard about your ma, she was a fine woman. And I know your pa. Two fine people made you, so it stands to reason, you must be a fine person, too.’
Bridget shifted her position. ‘Uncle Niall likes me, doesn’t he? He already thinks I’m pleasant.’
‘Yes, he does. But you don’t backtalk him, do you? You discuss things with him, talk to him normally. You don’t talk normally to me, do you? Be honest now.’
‘I guess not. But you don’t talk normally to Pa, do you?’
Ellen stared at her in surprise. ‘Of course, I do.’
Bridget let her feet slide to the floor. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t say what you’re thinking to him. I always know what you’re thinking ’cos you tell me plain, but Pa doesn’t know what you’re thinking ’cos you don’t tell him. Why d’you tell me, but not him?’
Ellen felt herself going red. ‘I’m not clear what you mean.’
‘Yes, you are. Sometimes, when you’re with Pa and you think I’ve been rude, I can see that you’re angry with me and you want to say so, but you don’t ’cos Pa doesn’t say anything.’
‘As I said, it’s for your Pa to correct you when we’re all together.’
‘But it’s you I’m rude to,’ she said bluntly. ‘And another thing. Even if you don’t want to do something, but Pa wants you to do it, you do it. Like the sewing bee tomorrow. I heard Pa tell Aaron that he suspected that you didn’t really want to go, but you hadn’t liked to say so. You’re jealous of Miss Quinn because she’s beautiful, and you don’t like all the women saying how ugly you are. They’ll all talk about your face when you go out of the room, and you know they will. But you didn’t tell Pa that.’
