The Green Lace Corset, стр. 24

17

At dawn, mourning doves cooed a sorrowful refrain outside. Sally Sue rolled over, ready to fall back to sleep, but then remembered where she was and sat up with a start. Through the window, dark clouds hovered in the sky.

The relit fire sent a soft glow throughout the cabin, and she smelled coffee. Her rumpled clothes were piled next to her boots on the floor. She must have escaped her corset, blouse, and bustled skirt and tossed them there sometime in the night. At home, much to her ma’s dismay, Sally Sue slept bare. She’d go to bed in her nightgown, but it would twist around her body and she’d end up pulling it off. Ma told her sleeping without nightclothes was a sin, but Sally Sue knew it wasn’t one of Moses’s Ten Commandments, and she couldn’t find a Bible passage that said so either. She had been too embarrassed to ask Pastor Grimes if there was any truth to it.

She quickly pulled the quilt around her and stared at the door.

Invisible the night before, a silver-spindled spiderweb hung above her, between the beams. A fly buzzed in it. She knew how it felt. Just like that fly, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, without a way to break free. The insect quieted to a low hum and grew silent. She could die like that too.

A baby’s crib stood in a corner. On the wall, a framed piece of embroidery said TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE. Blue-and-white willow plates like her ma’s were displayed on shelves above the sideboard. Sally Sue remembered the star-crossed lovers’ story that the plates’ pattern depicted. The two had tried to elope, but the girl’s father didn’t want her to marry a commoner. He was about to kill them, but instead the gods transformed the lovers into a pair of doves. On the plate, they were stretching their wings and flying toward heaven, where the lovers’ spirits lived together happily for eternity.

Sally Sue realized now that she’d never have an eternal love like she’d dreamed of. This ruffian would kill her before that could ever happen. But wait—if he had planned to kill her, wouldn’t he have done it by now, before they’d journeyed all this way? Out here, though, covering up the crime would be easier.

“Morning glory.” Cliff stomped into the cabin. “Rise and shine.”

She curled up like the fly and tugged the quilt over her head. If she played dead, would he leave her alone? She wished it could be that simple.

He tossed some garments on the foot of the bed. “Sleep well?”

She peeked out from under the covers and sat up, pulling the quilt up to her chin. Her hands went to her scalp. She must look a fright with her squished bouffant and quickly braided strands on either side of her head, like she’d worn when she was a girl. But how could she be worried about her appearance when she was in such a dire situation?

“Breakfast?” He handed her an apple from a bowl he’d filled and placed on the table.

She was hungry but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her eat.

He poured coffee from a pot into a willow cup and carried it to her. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

She accepted the cup. “Nothing.”

He picked up an apple and bit it. “I’ll be in the barn.”

She listened for the squeal of the barn door’s hinges before she shimmied out of bed, the quilt still around her, and devoured the apple.

What in the world? She examined the clothes he’d brought her: long johns, a plaid flannel shirt, dungarees, and clean socks. They were so big, she’d swim in them.

She scrambled into the long johns, slid on the shirt, buttoned it, and rolled up the sleeves. She stepped into the pants and rolled up the legs also. For goodness’ sake.

If only Mama could see her now: “Tighten that corset”; “button your top button”; “floof those bows.” In spite of it all, Sally Sue had to smile. She’d never liked all those clothing-etiquette constraints anyway.

She put on her boots, made her way out to the porch, and sat on the swing. The silent beauty made her heart tremble. Snow-covered peaks soared in the distance. Oaks dotted the meadow. A frozen pond the size of a rodeo roundup ring glistened in the morning sunlight through a smattering of clouds.

A solo doe wandered across the meadow, stopped, and stared at Sally Sue. What a beauty. She didn’t see many in Kansas City, only sometimes in the park. The hustle and bustle probably scared them away.

Dark clouds began to roll in from behind the mountain peaks, and the air grew cold. She went inside and got her mittens and shawl, wishing she had a coat too. She made her way to the side of the cabin, toward the privy. As she exited, a sharp noise emanated and she spied Cliff using a pickax to dig a hole under a giant oak. She put her hand on her chest. He must be planning to hide the money—or maybe he was going to kill her and bury her body there.

Heart banging against her ribs, she tiptoed back to the cabin. Through