Still House Pond (19 page)

His eyes were wide with surprise. “You little rouser. You stabbed me.”

They stood in the middle of the barn like actors on a stage. It was cool and shadowy and strangely silent. The middling man stood stock-still. The pitchfork dangled where she'd stabbed him. It made an ugly sucking sound when he pulled it out. It clattered to the floor. Blood as red as rose petals dripped from the perfect holes left by the tines.

Manda was rooted to the spot. If the barn caved in, she couldn't move to save herself. Shocked, she couldn't take in what she had just done or what he had tried to do.

He looked around and found his hat. He put it on his head. Pulling a red bandanna from his back pocket, he bandaged his wounds. He walked right up to her and tipped her chin. He kissed her tender as a lover. “I'll see you in hell,” he said, then walked out the back door.

Like a wooden soldier, she moved to the double doors and tried to shove one open. It stuck as it always did. She nearly screamed in frustration, but when it finally slid on its track, she took a minute to compose herself. Nobody had to know what had just happened. There were only two witnesses, and he wasn't dumb enough to tell.

All she had to do was walk across the barnyard to the house, get Lilly, and take her to the coach. It was as simple as that. It was like a bad dream best forgotten. She felt renewed, saved from death—or worse.

“Lilly,” she called when she got to the porch. “Let's start out. You don't want to be late.” Her voice wavered weakly like that of an old woman. Lilly wouldn't notice, though. She was too excited about her trip.

Nobody answered.

Manda went into the kitchen. Frantically, she searched each room. The house was hushed as a funeral parlor. She could hear nothing but the twelve strikes of the mantel clock. Her stomach churned. Oh no. Lilly must have walked to the coach stop alone.

She calmed herself. It would be all right. She would run and catch up. Generally speaking, the coach was late.

She made it to the crossroads in record time. There was no one about. The intersection was as empty as the house had been. Way off, she glimpsed the unmistakable back end of the coach bouncing away on its oversize wheels. She stood in the middle of the dusty lane waving like a fool, seeing Lilly off.

19

Copper held on tightly to her supplies as Mr. Morton hurried the horse along. She hated not taking Lilly to the coach. But what was she to do? Thankfully, Lilly understood and Copper trusted Manda—most of the time, anyway. Lately she seemed distracted, even flighty, and just last week Copper thought she had caught her in a lie.

It was when Manda returned from town after taking some potatoes, eggs, and two tins of cream to market. Before, Manda had always marched right in when she got home, proud as punch of the money she'd made for Copper and for herself. But Friday she took an unusually long time unsaddling Chessie, and then she hung around the porch talking to Lilly before she came inside.

She'd fumbled in the bottom of her linen bag before she brought out some coins and placed them on the kitchen table. “I hope that's right,” she'd stammered. “I think I lost some money somewhere along the way.”

“Didn't you count it as you were paid?” Copper asked.

“No, ma'am, I forgot. I guess I got distracted.”

“You must be more careful. You don't want folks thinking they can easily take advantage of you.” Copper counted the money and handed half back to Manda.

“You keep it,” Manda said. “I shouldn't have been so careless.”

Copper folded Manda's fingers over the money in her palm. “The lesson you learned is more valuable than the few coins you might have lost. Don't you agree?”

“Yes, I guess so,” Manda said, her eyes shifting.

Their interchange left Copper with a disquieted feeling. After supper that day, while Manda was playing yard games with the children, Copper talked to Remy about it, which was probably a mistake. Remy trusted few people. And Copper knew she'd never cottoned to the hired girl. Remy wanted to do everything herself.

Remy'd leaned on her crutch and made one of her pronouncements. “Girl acts like a sheep in the wrong pasture. She bears watching, I suspect.”

“I can't figure it,” Copper said. “She's always been honest with me.”

“All's I'm saying is she's up to something. Market day she took out of here fast as a pullet wanting to lay an egg. And she was all fancied up in a dress that fit her like the bark on a tree. Who fancies up just to carry some eggs to town?”

Copper had to smile. What did Remy know about being fancy? “She's young. Girls like to look pretty and be admired.” She watched Manda run across the yard, dodging Jack's tag. “I think I'll let it pass this time.”

Remy had nodded. “Bears watching, though.”

Now the buckboard hit a rock, and Copper nearly bounced off the seat. “Mr. Morton, it won't do your wife any good if you turn this vehicle over.”

“Sorry, but I'm that worked up over Miz Tierney and all. I'm telling you she's sick enough to die.”

“Who?”

“Miz Tierney, Emerald's mother. She's real bad off. She won't let Emerald even open the door to her room. She says she don't want to mark the baby with her pain.” He flicked the reins again. “And you can see why I can't go in there—me being her son-in-law and that. Miz Tierney is real modest.”

The horse and buggy splashed through the small pond Chessie had faltered over. Copper was surprised Mr. Morton could get a buckboard over this precarious trail. She knew she couldn't have.

Ruby. It was Ruby who was ill. Copper had a momentary feeling of relief. Emerald wasn't in danger of losing her baby. “When did Ruby take sick?”

“I reckon I heered her about three o'clock this morning. I got up real careful-like so as not to disturb Emerald's sleep and found her mother pacing on the porch. Soon as Emerald woke, Miz Tierney went in her room and ain't come out since. Finally she hollered through the door, ‘Ernie, go see if Miz Pelfrey can come.'”

Ernie Morton pulled the reins sharply when they passed the bent sycamore. “Gee!” he hollered to the horse. “Gee.”

Copper steadied herself with one hand against the side of the buckboard. “Can you tell me what her symptoms are?”

“Symptoms?”

“Did she say what she thinks is causing her pain?”

“'Course Miz Tierney wouldn't say nothing to me, but Emerald told me her ma's got plumbing problems. Rocks in her pipes.”

“Ah, kidney stones. That explains the pain. They say it's worse than labor.”

Ernie took off his hat before swiping his arm across his forehead. “I don't know how women stand their plight. It's just one thing after another.”

Emerald was waiting on the porch, still dressed in her nightgown. She was crying and wringing her hands. As soon as Ernie helped Copper down from the buckboard, Emerald ran across the yard and grabbed Copper's hands. Her face was red as a beet. “You're here. Oh, thank You, Lord, for bringing Miz Pelfrey.”

Ernie retrieved the doctor's bag and Copper's valise and followed them to the house.

“Emerald,” Copper said, “splash some water on your face and calm down. You're not helping your mother this way.”

Ernie poured some water from the bucket on the wash bench into a small basin. He held it like an offering in front of his wife.

Standing in the middle of the porch, Emerald scooped up handfuls and dashed them in her face.

“Now,” Copper said, “I want you to sit down and put your feet up. Your pressure's probably sky-high. I'll take care of your mother.”

There were two doors off the kitchen of the house. It wasn't hard to tell which one led to Ruby's bedroom. It was the one from which long moans came. Copper cracked the door. “Ruby, whatever is the matter?”

Ruby was on her back on the floor with her knees drawn up. Her fingernails clawed at the thin piece of carpet underneath her. She turned her head to look at Copper with the pleading eyes of an animal caught in a trap.

Copper knelt at her side and brushed strands of sweat-soaked hair from her face. “I'm here to help.”

Ruby caught Copper's hand with the clasp of a drowning person. “I think my innards are falling out.”

“May I examine you? Would that be all right?”

Ruby arched her back and pushed her heels against the floor as a powerful contraction seized her.

Copper had seen this move before. She placed one hand on Ruby's abdomen. “I believe you're in labor.”

Ruby rode the wave of the contraction, then looked at Copper as if she'd lost her mind. “That can't be. I'm too old.”

“Evidently not,” Copper said with a smile.

“I can't figure it,” Ruby said, rolling her head from side to side. “I've been through the change.”

“Look at it this way. It's much better than your innards falling out.”

When she began to check her patient, she saw an alarming sight. A loop of navel cord protruded from between Ruby's thighs. It could easily be mistaken for an intestine.

Emerald was so overwrought, Copper was averse to involving her. She didn't need two deliveries today. Ernie would do. Still kneeling, Copper cracked the door behind her. “Ernie, bring me water—hot, if you have it—lye soap, a basin, and clean linen. Hurry!” With her foot she pushed the door closed. Copper helped Ruby into the knee-chest position. That should buy a little time by easing the compression of the cord. She jerked a quilt off the bed and draped Ruby for modesty.

There was a light knock at the door. “Here's your stuff,” Ernie said.

“Just set it down out there. I can get it. Stay close by, though, so you can hear me if I need you.”

Copper gave Ernie a few seconds to get away. Ruby would die of mortification if she was seen in such a position. As Copper retrieved the things, she saw him sitting in a kitchen chair just a few feet away. His back was to his mother-in-law's bedroom. “Thank you, Ernie,” she said.

“You're welcome and all.”

There was no time for her usual antiseptic technique. Lye-soap scrubbing of hands and tools would have to suffice. From her kit she took her ankle-length apron, her hair covering, the ligatures, and the scissors. Poor Ruby seemed to doze a minute with her face twisted sideways on the rug.

Copper touched her back. “Let's get that baby out of there.”

20

Manda staggered back to the house. She made it nearly to the porch before she collapsed, trembling and crying. She lay there for the longest time trying to get ahold of herself before someone came home.

She got to her knees and crawled to the steps. She sat on the top one with her head in her hands. Considering that Mr. John was off logging with just about every other man on Troublesome and Miz Copper was gone on a mission, the first one back would likely be Miss Remy. No way was she going to let Miss Remy see her like this. She'd die first.

She shook herself.
Think!
What should she do? Her mind clicked with reasoning. First go to the barn and see if there was any little thing out of place, anything that someone might question. It took all her courage to walk back to that barn. Dread accompanied each step, souring in her stomach like green apples.

The closer Manda got to the door, the sicker she felt. Her head whirled like a child's top until she emptied her stomach in the grass. Now she'd have to clean that up too, as well as the slop bucket. It seemed like years ago since she'd blithely set it in the shade of the barn.

The door was standing open. Was it supposed to be? Her mind spun backward. She recalled thinking she was glad it was closed so Lilly couldn't see her with the middling man. That was right, so when she finished checking the barn, she should close it tight again.

The most obvious thing out of place in the barn was the pitchfork. She was nearly sick again when she picked it up and saw blood drying on the tines. Had she really stabbed a man? How could that be? She had never intentionally hurt another living being. What if he went to the sheriff with some made-up story? She could be in jail before nightfall.

“Think!” she said out loud this time. She took the fork outside and thrust it into the ground over and over. It came out clean as ever. Back inside, she tried to figure exactly where the tool had been in the haystack. She stuck it far into the base so it wouldn't fall over.

“What else?” Manda asked as she looked around. The feed box—she'd have to check the feed box. It loomed like a beast in the shadows, but she forced herself to go to it. Her heart nearly stopped when she spied a piece of white muslin caught in the splintery grain on top of the bin. She checked her petticoat and saw the jagged tear. It was nearly her undoing. Her head whirled again and she saw, as if through his eyes, herself sitting atop the grain bin.

A flash of white-hot anger fueled her. She wished he would come back. This time she'd stab him through the heart! Her shoulders slumped. No, she wouldn't. The Bible said vengeance belonged to the Lord. The middling man would get his eventually. What she needed to do was protect herself and her reputation and figure out how she let this thing come about in the first place.

Carefully, she removed the small piece of fabric and stuck it in her pocket. She walked around the inside of the barn but couldn't find another thing worth her attention. She closed the double doors and took the slop bucket to the well and filled it. Tipping the bucket, she splashed water over the place where she had lost her breakfast, then went to the well again, filled the bucket, and left it to soak.

Back at the house she stood and looked across the yard to the barn. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Tucking her blouse into her skirt, she went inside. It was only one o'clock—such a little bit of time had passed, but in that little bit her life was changed, nearly ruined. What that man had almost done to her was the thing every woman dreaded. It would have marked her for life. No other man would want to touch her if that had happened. She would have been branded a fallen woman—no matter the circumstance.