River Queen Rose. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
the cupboards and icebox and found them practically bare. While she was mulling over what she could possibly serve, her sister-in-law appeared. Ordinarily, she looked the picture of health, but now her pale cheeks reflected her grief. “Drucilla, you should be lying down.”
“Nonsense. I might as well grieve standing up as lying down. I’ll help with dinner.”
Rose knew better than to argue. To say Drucilla had a mind of her own was an understatement. To say she was the despair of her mother was also an understatement. Nearly six feet tall, she’d reached the age of thirty with nary a suitor in sight. As Coralee had pointed out perhaps a million times, she possessed a pretty face and nice figure, and if she “applied herself,” she would surely find a suitable husband despite her height.
“Suitable husband, my foot,” would come her daughter’s reply. “I’ve better things to do with my time than sit around simpering over some vapid fool who’s shorter than I am.”
Rose understood. Indeed, her sister-in-law was not one ever to sit around. An avid reader, she devoured books on all subjects, not only books of fiction, but scholarly tomes on mathematics, history, and the classics. She spoke several languages fluently, especially French, which she spoke like a native. The dream of her lifetime was to travel to France where she could study the famous chateaux of the Loire Valley. “An event not likely ever to happen,” she would remark with a typical disdainful sniff.
Drucilla looked in the cupboards. “They’re bare. What are we supposed to eat?”
A knock came at the back door. When Rose answered, she found Deke standing on the stoop. Despite the crutches, he was holding a bag of what looked like greens in one hand, a newly butchered chicken dangling from the other. “Please come in,” she said.
He shook his head. “Bridgett ran off with everything she could get her hands on. I figured you couldn’t give dinner a fair go without food in the cupboard.”
“Why thank you, Deke. How very thoughtful.” A fair go? Another strange term, but she found it rather charming.
Balancing on one crutch, he held up the bag. “Here’s some string beans. Emmet had a garden back of the barn, so I just picked these.” He switched his balance to the other crutch and held up the chicken. “It’s fresh. Do you know how to clean it? Not meaning any disrespect, but there’s some ladies who’d fair faint away before they plucked the first feather.”
She smiled. “I’ve cleaned many a chicken, so no worries there.” And so she had. All the time she’d lived with the Petersons, it was she who was assigned the thankless task of plucking and cleaning the chickens. Before that, she’d done the same. Her parents, both gone now, had owned the Birchwood Inn on the outskirts of Cairo, Illinois. Ever since she could remember, she’d helped with everything from making beds and scrubbing floors to working in the kitchen, and that included the task of cleaning whatever fowl was being served for dinner. She’d done it so often, she never thought twice. Some might think it was an onerous task, but to her it wasn’t unpleasant at all. She took the string beans and chicken. “You’re sure you won’t come in?”
“No, but I’ll be back with some milk for the little girl, soon’s I milk the cow.”
“But how can you do all that when you—?” Uh-oh. There went that glint of resentment in his eyes. Again, she’d said the wrong thing. “I didn’t mean…”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
She watched as he hobbled off. At least his leg was in a cast, so maybe he wouldn’t always be that way. Still, her heart went out to the poor man. She’d like to know how he broke it, but he obviously had his pride, so she’d better not ask.
* * * *
Hobbling back to the barn, Deke could feel her eyes drilling into his back. Damn. He’d seen some disagreeable sights in his life, but nothing worse than the pity in that woman’s eyes. What a pathetic sight she must think he was. A near-helpless cripple. Half a man. Damn these crutches. Damn the boat that sank, and damn Mitch, whose life he’d saved. No, not right. Mitch was a fine fellow whose life deserved to be spared. Only Fate was to blame. Fickle Fate, that traitorous harlot he should never have trusted in the first place. So calm down. Go milk old Bessie, a cow after his own heart. No sympathy there. Every time he milked her, she turned her head and gave him a look that said she’d give him a good kick if she had the chance.
* * * *
That night, thanks to Deke, Rose was pleased with the way dinner turned out. Drucilla had found a few potatoes in the cupboard, so the fried chicken, fresh string beans, and mashed potatoes made up a real feast, especially good after the monotonous diet they’d endured for five months on the trail. The whole family gathered at the table in the dining room. Even Coralee had come down, more quiet than Rose had ever seen her, her strained face still white from shock. Raymond looked lost. Ben seemed greyer somehow. Before today, he’d always stood straight as a rail, but now he was walking with a slow step, his shoulders hunched over. At first the family ate in gloomy silence, but soon they began to speculate on what had happened to Emmet. He fought a duel? Unbelievable. Whoever heard of such a thing? And who was Mason Talbot, the man who had killed him? Ben clenched his jaw in righteous indignation. Tomorrow he would go into town. Talk to the sheriff. Find out why the man who killed his son hadn’t been arrested. Toward the end of the meal, Ben stood up, pushed his chair back, and walked to the cook’s room that opened directly off the kitchen, the room where Lucy had taken her nap. After a quick look inside, he gave a nod of satisfaction and came back to the table. “Here’s what we’ll do about the bedrooms,” he announced. “Upstairs, Coralee and I will of course have the largest room. Raymond gets the middle, and Drucilla, you get the one on the end.”
A numbness started down Rose’s spine. “What about Lucy and me? Where are we going to sleep?”
The slightly annoyed look her father-in-law sent her clearly indicated she should already know. “In that room off the kitchen, of course. It’s small but adequate.”
Coralee spoke up. “That will work out perfectly since we won’t be hiring another cook anytime soon. Think how handy this will be for you, Rose. You’ll be working in the kitchen a lot, and this way you’ll be real close.”
The servant’s room? Is that how she stood? What a slap in the face to be told she was the least important member of the family. She had to admit there were only so many bedrooms upstairs, but why hadn’t Ben put Raymond in the tiny room off the kitchen? His precious son didn’t give a fig where he slept as long as he could joke around and get his three meals a day. So galling! She burned with resentment and longed to speak up, but this was hardly the time for a big, ugly scene. She swallowed hard and managed to put an agreeable expression on her face. “I guess it will have to do.”
The second the words left her mouth, she felt sick inside. So this was how her life would be from now on. Emmet’s family would always be kind, but her place was at the bottom of the heap, the eternal chicken plucker, scrubber of floors, kitchen helper, all of it of under the direction of bossy Coralee.
Chapter 3
That night, Rose had a hard time sleeping in a bed barely wide enough for one, let alone two. Lucy’s constant shifting in itself would have kept her awake, but she probably wouldn’t have slept much anyway, what with the awful events of yesterday stabbing at her heart. She had thought she’d be cooking breakfast in the morning, but not long after the sun rose, she heard noises in the kitchen. She hurriedly dressed, stepped out of her tiny room, and found Coralee busily engaged in preparations for breakfast. She might have known her energetic mother-in-law wouldn’t be down for long. Her face looked pale and haggard, but she moved with her usual quick efficiency.
“Good morning, Rose.” Coralee nodded toward a bowlful of eggs. “See what the hired man brought? Have you met him? His name’s Deke. He talks funny, but he seems nice enough. I want you to go out to the wagons and bring in a bag of flour.” She shook her head with indignation. “I’d like to get my hands on that cook who ran off with the food. I’d surely give her a piece of my mind.”