Thursday, August 4, 2011

Hope And A Future, 1B

The house was at least twice the size of my cabin, two stories with a covered porch and flanked by a large kitchen garden. Inside was warm and bright. Three people gathered around the table, two women and a boy. Relief flooded through me, making my legs a little weak. Mother Mary, thank you for sending me to a place with women.

Mr. Vance led me inside and hung his hat on a peg near the door. "You can put your things there," he said, pointing to a settle nearby. I put my bundle and cloak down and followed him to the table, keeping my eyes downcast and my hands folded in front of my belly.

"It's about time," said the young woman seated at the foot of the table. A prim white cap covered her hair, and her brown eyes passed over me as if I wasn't there. "I was about to bless it before it got cold."

Mr. Vance took the seat at the head, motioned for me to take the seat to his left, and bowed his head. Everyone else did, too, so I followed suit.

"Lord, we thank thee for thy bounty and providence. Bless this food to our bodies that we may continue to do thy work."

Everyone said, "Amen" and the younger ones reached for food.

"Now, now," said the woman. "Can you not see that we have a guest?"

The boy, an impish looking redhead with freckles, nodded. "Yup, and I'll bet she's hungry, too."

I suppressed a grin and the woman frowned at him. "Ben, would you care to make an introduction?"

"This is Sadie LaSalle, who until a few minutes ago was an Indian captive. Mrs. LaSalle, my sisters Charlotte and Eleanor, and my brother, Frank."

My mouth was dry but I managed to say, "I'm pleased to meet you all. Thank you for your hospitality."

Charlotte smiled stiffly. "You are welcome."

We served ourselves and for several minutes no one talked much.

Finally, Eleanor, also a redhead, said, "Mrs. LaSalle, did you escape from the Indians?"

I shook my head. "I was released. The family who adopted me didn't want me anymore."

"Why?" asked Frank.

"My adopted mother died yesterday. Her husband wanted to kill me, but the medicine man stopped him."

"How did you end up there?"

"They killed my husband and captured me."

"You were married?"

Eleanor snorted. "Why do you think we're calling her Mrs. LaSalle?"

Charlotte shot her a warning look.

"I'd rather you call me Sadie, if it's all the same."

Charlotte's look transferred to me, and I got the feeling she'd rather not call me anything. "Where are you from, Mrs. LaSalle?"

Her formality felt like a gut punch but I let it pass. "I grew up in the Virginia back country, somewhere south of here. My father and husband were fur trappers."

"You father is dead, too?" asked Frank.

"Francis!" hissed Charlotte.

"Well she said he 'was', not he 'is'."

"That's not your concern," she hissed back.

"Actually, maybe it is," said Ben. "Sadie, since you are a widow, I assume you would like to go back to your family."

My stomach clenched and I began to tremble so much that I had to lay down my fork and clasp my hands in my lap. "No. I don't want to go back there."

They all looked at each other and back at me. I could feel my face flaming and I focused on a scar on my wrist, stark white against my tan, where I had burned myself as a child.

Tension built around me until Ben said, "Well, we could use the extra help here if you'd like to stay on."

"I don't want to be any trouble." I met his eyes for a second before focusing again on his collar, a tiny bit of hope blooming.

"It's no trouble. We have an extra room upstairs and with harvest in a couple of months we'll have more than enough work. I can't pay you wages, but I can provide room and board and clothing."

"Thank you." Tears pricked my eyes and I swallowed hard. "I promise you won't regret it."

Charlotte put down her fork. "Ben, could I speak to you outside for a moment?"

He looked up, surprised, but put his fork on his plate and led her out the front door.

Eleanor and Frank looked across the table at each other, eyes wide.

"Should I go listen?" asked Frank.

Eleanor shook her head, her long red braid swishing against her back. "She's asking him what he thinks he's doing, taking in a complete stranger."

"I'm sure it's not without reason," I said. "After all, I showed up out of nowhere in an Indian dress. She has a right to be concerned for the safety of her family."

Eleanor grinned. "It's not our safety she's worried about. We don't have many neighbors but Charlotte's worried about keeping up appearances. We keep waiting for her to give up her city ways but she won't. Don’t worry, she's getting married in the spring and moving to her husband’s farm."

That piqued my curiosity. "You lived in a city?"

"They did," said Frank.

Eleanor grinned. "So did you; you just don't remember it." She turned to me. "We were born in Richmond. Our father got this land for his service in the war, and he moved us out here about seven years ago."

"You've build all this in seven years?"

"Not just us. Our other sister and her family have helped, and some of the men from our father's regiment helped us." She glanced up as Ben and Charlotte came back in. "We had regular barn raising and house raising parties for the first three years."

"Yes," said Charlotte, resuming her seat. "I'll be married to one of those neighbors soon. In fact, he was the regiment vice commander, second only to our father. Did you have any kin fight in the war?"

"I don't know; if I did, it was someone from my mother's side, but I never met anyone from her family."

"Oh," she crooned with fake sympathy. "What a shame."

"Why not from your father's side?" asked Frank.

"My father is a French fur trapper. His family lives in France."

Charlotte smiled. "He's French, is he? So you speak French?"

Again I felt the color rise in my cheeks. "Oui."

Eleanor's face brightened. "Really? So you could teach Frank and me?"

"Of course, if you want to learn."

Charlotte stood and picked up her plate and took it to the worktable under one of the two windows in the room. "Only polite language, if you please. None of the coarse fur trapper phrases." She swept from the room without a backward glance.

4 comments:

Jean said...

Oh, ho! I sense just a little hostility. Very interesting! You're going to get some good things going with this!

Settle? Is that a period name for a piece of furniture?

Wendy said...

Yeah, a settle is more or less a wooden couch. Think high backed church pew with arms.

Jean said...

Ahhhh. Got it.

SBB said...

Charlotte is a witch, right? Or something that rhymes with that?

Post a Comment