The Green Lace Corset, стр. 34
He heated up last night’s stew, ladled some into cups, and handed one to her, along with a spoon. “Eat up, now,” he said.
She’d decided to quit arguing with him about eating and swallowed a bite. The stew was even tastier than it had been the day before.
He sat across from her, holding his own cup. “Been snowing all day.”
She took another bite. They each had a second helping and continued to eat in silence. Darkness began to hover as the storm brewed, and he lit the lamp. When they finished their food, she yawned, picked up her cup, and tried to take his, but he held it tight. “I’ll do the cleanup. After all that laundry, you must be tuckered out.”
“I’m not really that tired.”
He smiled at her, his brown hair slicked back, blue eyes reflecting the firelight, cleft chin a wonder. “Close your eyes, and soon you’ll be in the arms of Morpheus.” With that, he washed the dishes, and left her alone in the cabin, taking the lantern with him.
She climbed into bed. How could he stand it out there in the cold? Did he sleep up in the hayloft or down with the horses? Did he have plenty of blankets? Her eyes soon drooped, and before she knew it, she was asleep.
The sound of rattling dishes in the cupboard woke her in the night, and a scratching noise ensued. The fire had gone out, and the room was pitch black. She was too cold and afraid to investigate. Even if she got out of bed, she wouldn’t be able to see anything. The noise continued off and on all night. She didn’t get another wink of sleep.
At daybreak she followed the dark droppings, probably mice, to the cupboard. Darn it. She knew how they could take over. She’d had them in Missouri too.
Inside the cupboard, a nest of straw and thread had been made in the bottom shelf. She reached for it, and a mouse skittered out and across the dirt floor. Sally Sue jumped back with a scream and grabbed the broom. She shouldn’t be afraid of a little mouse.
Cliff came running in. “What is it?”
She stood up with the nest in hand. “Just a little mouse is all.” She kept her voice even; leaned over to make sure there weren’t any more; and checked the flour, cornstarch, and other supplies.
“That’s to be expected.” He opened all the cupboard doors, and together they took everything out. “Fortunately, no more droppings here. I’ll see what we’ve got in the barn to take care of it,” he said.
She swept up the droppings from the floor, poured water and soap flakes in a bowl, dunked a rag, and cleaned out the cupboard.
Cliff carried a small bottle inside, pulled out the cork, and shook some powder along the bottom of the cupboard. “This should do the trick. A little bit goes a long way.”
“Let’s hope so,” Sally Sue said.
He put the bottle on the cupboard’s top shelf and climbed up to finish cleaning the chandelier.
“I’ll do that.” Sally Sue reached out to pull him back but quickly felt her face turn red and sat down.
“No, I’ll do it. I don’t want you falling and breaking a leg. Then you’d be no help to me.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. She knew she wasn’t much help to him anyway.
24
The next morning, the weather had warmed. Outside, as she filled a bucket with snow before it all melted, Sally Sue’s spirits lifted and she waved when she spied a wagon coming down the trail toward the cabin. This might be her chance to escape.
She glanced over at the barn. The door was open, but there was no sign of Cliff. She hadn’t seen him yet that morning.
Pots and pans clanged on the makeshift shed in the wagon’s back. The man’s nag made his way toward her and stopped.
“Yes, girlie!” The driver doffed his bowler hat, revealing dark hair speckled with gray. His voice was high and squeaky. “I’ve got anything you could ever want. I’ve got ribbons and laces to set off faces of pretty young sweethearts and wives.” He held up a handful of brightly colored remnants.
What an odd little man. Sally Sue tried not to laugh as she recognized the lyrics from Gilbert and Sullivan’s H.M.S. Pinafore, which she’d seen in Kansas City with her aunt. “Sir, I—”
He interrupted her and held up a jar. “Yes, I have Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Purgative Pellets.”
“Sir.” She waved him farther away from the barn.
He followed her and jumped down out of the wagon. His patchwork jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, and his pants had holes in the knees.
Speaking fast, he said, “Cures bilious headaches, dizziness, constipation, indigestion.”
She shook her head. “Sir.”
He eyed her and held up some lace. “You could sure use something pretty.”
She looked around for Cliff.
“How about Blackwell’s Durham Smoking Tobacco for your husband?” He held up a pouch with a bull on its side.
Sally Sue waved her arms above her head, but the peddler just kept on talking.
He showed her a small vial. “Price’s Special Flavoring Extract? Great for that home cooking of yours. Or perhaps this potion to cure what ails you?” Sally Sue recognized the medicine she’d had to give her aunt, along with strict directions not to give her too much or it could kill her.
He finally stopped to catch his breath.
“Sir, I’m ever so glad to see you.” She finally got some words in edgewise. “I’ve been kidnapped by an outlaw.”
“You have, have you?” He raised his bushy eyebrows and grinned. She could tell he didn’t believe her.
“Please take me to town.”
The man’s smile fell. “You’re not gonna buy some of my goods?”
“I told you, I’m captive here. I don’t have any money. This man is wanted. You could collect the bounty.”
“Ma’am, I’ve heard that one before. Your man’s not taking care of you the way