Pamela Morsi (7 page)

“Are you ready?” Jeptha asked again.

“Yes!”
the boy ground out painfully.

Jeptha released his grip immediately and Rans stumbled backward before coming to his feet once more. His expression was one of fury, but along with it was a wariness that Jeptha knew was the beginning of youthful respect.

“Why don’t you girls start gathering up what eggs you can find,” Jeptha told the wide-eyed sisters watching. “Those chickens roost in nearly every low branch,
so you’ve got to do a good bit of looking.”

Little Minnie puffed out her lower lip in a manner that was beginning to inordinately annoy Jeptha.

“I don’t never gather eggs from tree roosts,” she said. “I’m not like those nasty Toby children. Mrs. Pierce has got a henhouse, and her chickens lay all their eggs in there.”

“Well, that would certainly take all the trick out of finding them,” Jeptha told her. “And there wouldn’t be a bit of glory in being the one to find the most.”

“I can find the most,” Minnie declared with complete assurance.

“Not if we get to them first,” one of her sisters said as she and her twin hurried off the porch.

“No fair!” Minnie claimed as she raced after them.

Silently, Rans turned to follow.

“Let the girls gather the eggs,” Jeptha said.

The boy turned back toward him.

“Moss does it mostly around here, but it’s kind of a woman chore,” he said. “Why don’t you go take care of the stock. I wouldn’t want one of them little girls around that big horse, he’s pretty dangerous.”

The words were offered with no warning of their own and no obvious boon. But the boy accepted Jeptha’s unspoken confidence like a cool salve on a hot, raw wound.

“Sure, I’ll take care of the stock,” Rans said, his chin rising proudly once more. “Wouldn’t want one of the girls to get hurt.”

Jeptha watched the boy walk toward the barn and wondered. Had he himself ever been like that? No, he was sure he had not. As a youngster, Jeptha had been happy, well-fed, certain, and sure. His own childhood
had been one of a boy wrapped in cotton batting.

But Moss had been like this boy, he realized. Moss had been burdened but unbeaten, old before his time. A boy with all a man’s troubles but none of a man’s respect. Moss had been just like that.

Jeptha glanced toward the kitchen building and pressed his lips together, making a note of worry. He sure hoped that Moss had had rime to overcome it.

E
ULIE
awakened slowly, her muscles cramped, not particularly rested. Her makeshift pallet on the kitchen floor was no harder than her typical sleeping arrangements, but she had lain awake through much of the night. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the thrilling feelings that had been sparked within her or the untimely interruption that had brought them to a halt.

Yawning, she ran a careless hand through her wild hair as she sat up and surveyed her surroundings. Her husband-man was stretched out asleep in two chairs. The one he sat in was rocked backward, only the rear legs making contact with the floor. At a long-limbed distance away, his bare feet were in another. His galluses, removed from his shoulders, hung down, scraping the floor on either side of him. His arms were folded across his chest in an almost belligerent manner, uncharacteristic of a sleeping man. And his head drooped near his shoulder at an unnatural angle, certain to give him a crick in his neck. She had no idea why he hadn’t joined her on the pallet. It was the height of foolishness to attempt sleeping sitting up when she was perfectly willing to share her bedroll.
The rickety ladderbacks were never meant for any kind of comfort at all.

Eulie smiled at the sight of him. He didn’t seem nearly as strange and unfathomable this morning as he had last night. One long dark forelock hung over his eyes, making him appear boyish and vulnerable. He had not been at all that way when he touched her. There had been nothing hesitant or uncertain. Moss Collier was a man who knew what he wanted. And last night he had wanted her.

Eulie had loved the wonderful kisses and the touch of his hands. She had not imagined that it would be as pleasant and as exciting as it had been. The naked part had been a little embarrassing; she had certainly never allowed anyone to see her completely without attire. But the look in his eyes when he had gazed at her had undone much of her natural modesty. She would have been content to allow him to look his fill. Unfortunately, their time together had been brought to an unexpected halt.

Eulie rose up on her knees and retrieved her clothing, piled so neatly next to her sleeping place. She had been embarrassed that he’d discovered that she didn’t wear drawers. Her frugal justification was almost as humiliating as the truth. The Toby family had lived directly off the land. And what little grain they put up, they milled by hand. Flour sacks were few and far between. Without a quantity of material, it was impossible to provide sufficient amount of clothing for four females. As the eldest, Eulie believed that if anyone must do without, it should be her. However, she would have wished that the husband-man hadn’t found out about it.

But he hadn’t seemed to care. It was almost as if he believed her excuse. She was grateful for that, at least. And he had been so gentle, so loving.

After the appearance of Rans, however, everything had changed. The husband-man had ordered her to right her clothes and make her bed.

He’d acted almost angry with her, as if it weren’t he himself who started all the kissing and cooing. She would have been fine sleeping with Clara, Eulie declared silently, with only a twinge at her dishonesty. Under no circumstances would she have wanted to miss being in his arms last night.

Surreptitiously, not wanting to wake him, Eulie eased herself off the pallet. Moving with slow, deliberate movements, determined to remain quiet, she stood and straightened her dress, combing her fingers through her hair.

She carefully folded up her pallet and began tiptoeing to the door. His double chair perch was right in the doorway, and Eulie would have to get up very close to him in order to go around. She had not had a good deal of experience with this skill. More often than not she had to holler, bribe, and threaten her brother and sisters awake. But she didn’t want to face Moss Collier quite yet. She could make her way down to the water, take care of her necessary, and wash up a bit and do her hair before the husband-man saw her again in the clear light of day.

She picked up her skirts to keep them safely out of the way. He continued to sleep on, undisturbed. Eulie became confident that she could slip past him. He would start his day with the smell of the finest coffee brewed on the mountain. He’d open his eyes to see his
clean and tidy wife hard at work next to the fire. And before he had a chance to say more than “A good morning to you,” she would set before him a fine plate of side meat with a half dozen eggs fried to perfection. How lucky he would think himself to be a married man.

She was right up beside his chair. Whether he had chosen this place just in front of the door for her protection or to catch the cool night breeze, it was now necessary to ease herself around him, only inches away. She was in the process of doing just that when she grasped the doorjamb for balance and the timber creaked loudly. Eulie smothered a gasp and stood frozen, still, waiting, watching him, not breathing, less than an arm’s length away from him. He made a slight snorting sound, moving his head slightly, then once more he quieted. The rhythm of his breathing was once again the only sound in the room. Slowly Eulie let out her breath and relaxed. If that didn’t wake him, she thought, then nothing would.

She turned again to the doorway, her mind once more upon a neat, clean bride, fine coffee, and a hearty breakfast.

Her foot caught in one of the galluses hanging at his side. She had no chance to untangle herself before she realized that she was falling. She dropped the hem of her skirts and hastily reached out for something to steady her. Her choice was an unfortunate one. She grabbed the back of the chair where his feet were. It broke her fall all right, but not before rocking precariously, tossing off his feet and causing the chair he sat in, balanced on its back legs, to fall to the floor with a loud clatter.

The sound of the back of his head hitting the dirt floor was not pleasant. Neither was the oath that sprang from his lips.

Eulie took a deep, determined breath.

“Good morning,” she said very cheerfully.

He had rolled out of his chair and sat crossed-legged, looking up toward her with near murder in his eyes.

“What in all unholy hell is going on?” he demanded.

“You mustn’t curse,” she reproved him firmly. “I was just stepping outside, but I’ll be back in no time to fix you some of the finest coffee that you’ve ever tasted.”

“I can make my own damn coffee,” he answered. “And it’s my house. I can curse a blue streak if it suits my temper. Right now it suits my temper. What were you trying to do to me?”

“I was just trying to get by,” she told him. “I was trying to get by and I tripped upon your galluses.”

The husband-man was apparently plagued with morning bad tempers. Eulie’s chance of pleasing him was no better than a grasshopper’s in the chicken yard.

She didn’t stay around to even try. Hurrying outside she made her way past the small fenced garden and through the wooded path down toward the river. Her heart was pounding, but she refused to allow herself to be disconcerted. He was awake. That was the purpose of morning, after all. She was sorry about his head, but accidents sometimes happen, they were nobody’s fault.

And as for her dream of being cleaned and combed when he opened his eyes, well, it was undoubtedly best to start out seeing each other in the morning exactly as they were prone to look. She was a bit untidy and he
was somewhat out of sorts. It was best for them to know that now, in order to begin their lives together in a more honest fashion. There had been more than their share of deceit in this marriage already.

She glanced up at the cabin and was delighted to see that the youngers were already up and dressed and busy gathering eggs. Eulie made a little sigh of grateful relief. Today should be a better day than yesterday, at least, she assured herself. They would all be able to prove to him how well they could get along and how hard they could work and before you could say “weevils in the flour,” the husband-man would be thanking good fortune for bringing his new wife this way.

The river was clear and flowing smooth this morning. Only the tiniest bit of breeze fluttered little waves across the top of the water. A turtle or two could be seen here and there, only their heads raised above the surface. A fat mamma duck noisily herded her little ducklings in for a morning swim. The croak of frogs and the occasional splash of fin or feather were the softer sounds of morning. In the distance a cranky old gander honked with displeasure over something that clearly didn’t suit him.

To the east, the sky above the water was as colorful and pretty as a meadow full of wildflowers. The bright yellow sun shone through billowy pink clouds in a background of deepest blue. It was truly something beautiful, and she could hardly look away.

Eulie liked the river, she decided. This was one of the widest, slowest running stretches of it. It broadened here, becoming almost lakelike, and then narrowed dramatically to pass over the falls just downstream. Clearly it was a grand benefit to have so much water on such
high land. But she was stirred by the beauty of it as well as she washed herself and tidied her hair.

Eulie was glad that she had married him. He might be prone to gruffness, but she was certain there was goodness in him. He had shared his peaches. He had shared his cabin. And last night, he had shared kisses too sweet to be imagined.

Not for one moment did Eulie even suggest to herself that she hadn’t liked it. She had been enjoying herself quite nicely, in fact, before her brother’s untimely interruption. She wished that it could have gone on. Then at least that part of it, the obeying-her-husband part, would be over with. It would be good simply to have it over with.

She didn’t expect anything really terrible. Oh, she’d heard women talk about the horror of the wedding night with veiled mentions of pain and blood. But she knew it would be nothing like that. Women wouldn’t be so eager to get married if it were such a frightful ordeal. And some people, Eulie knew, just looked at everything as if they expected it to turn out badly. She could never understand those people.

For Eulie, the world was a wonderful place where, if they just put their hearts and minds to it, people could always find good reasons to be happy. It didn’t matter where you lived or what you had; it was deliberately embracing your happenstance and finding what was best about it, that made you content.

At that moment, the husband-man stepped out of the trees behind her. He seemed very large and powerful and didn’t appear to be in the best of moods as he forcefully set a small bucket beside her.

“Good morning to you,” she said sweetly.

“Were you thinking to wash without a towel and soap?” he asked her.

Both items were sitting in the pail that he brought her.

“Oh, how thoughtful you are!” she told him.

He blushed as if he was embarrassed. Her praise seemed to worsen his already grumpy mood.

“I didn’t ask for a wife and family, but if I’m going to have to have one, I insist that they at least be clean,” he said unkindly.

Eulie allowed the insult to pass as if it were never said. She had lied about him, she reminded herself. And he had shared his peaches with the children.

“I was just looking at the beauty of the morning. The river and the ducks and … and look at that sky, all pink and blue.” She pointed toward the eastern horizon. “Have you ever seen anything more pleasing to the eye?”

He surveyed the loveliness that had so warmed her and made a disgusted sound in his throat.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he replied unhappily. “I wanted to get some things straightened out between us this morning, but I’ll need to get the rest of the plowing done right away.”

Eulie glanced up at him, almost disbelieving. They had both gazed at the same sunrise. All he saw was that it looked like rain? Could the husband-man not appreciate what was in front of him?

“Your place is as pretty as any on the mountain,” she told him, hoping to lighten his mood.

“Pretty? It’s pretty all right, a pretty prison.” He nearly snarled his words.

“A prison?” Eulie was completely taken aback.

He turned to look her directly in the eyes, his brow furrowed with plain displeasure and accusation.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to get away from this place,” he said. “Now with you and your youngers I probably never will. And don’t you think that I will ever let you forget it.”

She was stunned to silence.

“If you’re thinking to soften me up with sweet words and kissing, don’t waste your time,” he continued. “I done kissed plenty of women and it don’t mean a dadblamed thing to me. And I’m not about to get you with a baby in your belly, so that all the lies you told about me will come true.”

“I … it was you that kissed me,” she defended herself.

“Well don’t expect to have it happening again,” he told her. “Get done here and get back to the kitchen. Those ill-bred youngers of yours will be whining for feed any minute. Coffee’s brewing in the coals.”

“All right,” she said.

“The preacher says you’re my wife and helpmate,” he told her. “Well, you will danged well help, but don’t expect to mate.”

He stomped off in obvious fury. Eulie could only watch him go, shocked and speechless.

As far as Ransom Toby could tell, his sister’s happily-ever-after plans were not working out all that well. But then, he hadn’t expected much. He never expected much from anything. His father used to say that when the Good Lord was handing out temperament, Eulie had gotten all the sunshine and Rans nothing but rain.

He guessed that it was true, at least partly. But he
figured that if something could just go right for him once in a while, then he would appreciate life maybe a whole lot better.

He had appreciated life pretty good at Mr. Leight’s place. Mr. Leight didn’t talk down to him, like he was nothing but a boy. Mr. Leight appreciated all the hard work that he did.

Moss Collier didn’t appreciate him at all.

Rans had agreed to tend the big red horse like the old legless man had told him. And he was doing a pretty dadblamed good job, he thought. The animal was big and half-spooky, and Rans was not that familiar with saddle horses of any kind But he’d gone into the barn and warily measured out some hay as the disdainful brute watched him.