Читать книгу The Tarnished Necklace - Trish Inc. Duffin - Страница 8

Sunday morning started with the first rays of sunshine spreading down the side of the house and into the window. Peter lay there for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts and coming up with his plans for the day. It was near harvest time which meant he needed to start tackling things. Then he remembered it was also Sunday and he had promised to attend the church service. He grimaced for a second, recollecting the one other time he had gone and how his wife was spurned by the majority of people. Since Chenoa’s death he had encountered most of them either on the road or in the store when he went to fetch his supplies. Some people had been decent enough to express sympathy over his loss. This was the first time though, that he was to face everyone en masse.

After breakfast he got ready for church by pulling on his one good shirt. He had put the rest of his shirts in a bucket to soak. He was fastening the buttons when one popped off, rolled under the bed and promptly fell through the crack in the floor. Peter sighed and headed out the door. Darn, he was going to cut this fine. The next ten minutes were spent under the house crawling through the dust, trying to find the one single button, which was eventually recovered. He re-emerged, the button tucked in his pocket, his bare back and chest now finely covered in dust and cobwebs. His trousers were filthy. Then came the hunt for Chenoa’s sewing gear. Well, he thought she had some. Darn! Perhaps Chenoa had always used Susan’s. Now what? Another glance at the clock confirmed he better make his mind up soon. So he quickly grabbed a clean pair of trousers and bridled his horse before riding bareback and shirtless over to the Scott’s place. He arrived within minutes and frantically knocked on the door. Maria opened it and started laughing. Peter stood there in the door frame, shirt and clean trousers in hand and his body covered in cobwebs and dust. The knees of his pants looked like he had been crawling through dirt and his normally dark hair was peppered with cobwebs.

Susan came to the door, wondering what the laughter was about then ushered him into the kitchen. He sat down, meekly held up his button and muttered, “You don’t want to know,” while eyeing up Maria who was chortling away to herself over at the table.

Susan turned to her. “Maria, once you’ve finished embarrassing our guest fetch some water, then get the soap.”

Maria, immediately chagrined, said, “Yes Ma,” and glanced over to Peter. He quickly stuck his tongue out, causing her to immediately respond in kind.

“Maria!” snapped Susan, shocked that her daughter would be so rude. Maria snapped her mouth shut and glared at Peter who sat in the chair innocently looking over to her. Maria bustled around doing her mother’s bidding. She bit the sides of her cheeks and tried not to look at Peter. He wasn’t helping by attempting to catch her eye and make her laugh again. Honestly, the man was trouble, no wonder he got caned at school. She could well imagine the toad story was true.

He took over the sewing and said that everyone could head off, he would catch up on his horse once he was a little more presentable, his horse obviously being faster than their wagon. Andrew, who had been glancing at the clock, quickly helped his family into the wagon, leaving Peter behind to sew his button on and clean up.

Just before heading out the door a gleam came to his eye. He had been in the house often enough to know which bedroom was Maria’s. Feeling more than a little guilty, he slipped through and deftly whipped the blankets from her bed. He then folded the bottom part of the lower sheet back up the bed and tucked it over the blanket, while hiding the top sheet under the blanket. He hadn’t short-sheeted a bed since boarding school days. The bed was restored to its original tidy condition with no evidence of what he had done. He headed out the door clean, presentable and with a shirt that had all its buttons on. Now to get to church on time. Digging the horse in its ribs, he quickly headed down the road until he caught up with the wagon. He rode the horse alongside them for the remainder of the journey, avoiding looking at Maria and looking the picture of innocence. The nip in the air was a pointed reminder that this was going to be his last day of leisure for a while.