Название: His Secondhand Wife
Автор: Cheryl St.John
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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What a strange man.
What a strange predicament.
Removing the clothing she’d slept in, she used the water and a bar of lovely smelling soap she found on the stand. The ceramic bowl was so large, she stood in it and used the pitcher to rinse. The process wasn’t as good as a bath, but getting clean felt heavenly.
From the stand, she gathered toweling that smelled of the sun and dried herself, then rummaged in her bag and donned clean underclothes.
After hanging the towels to dry, she tested the mattress, found it soft and comfortable and stretched out to rest her weary body.
Noah grabbed two full plates from the warming oven in the meal house and carried them to his kitchen. It was his habit to take his meal home and eat alone, and no one questioned the act now.
He didn’t know what to do about Katherine, though. The house was dim and quiet, so he set their meals on the table and climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hall, he tapped.
Tapped again.
“Yes?”
“Supper.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll be down in a moment.”
He struck a match and lit an oil lamp on the wall so she could find her way on the stairs.
True to her word, she showed up in the kitchen almost immediately. The wrinkled dress she wore had two rows of frills at the hem and another around the bodice, like something he imagined a young woman would wear to a summer picnic.
The only light came through the isinglass window on the stove. He pointed to a chair, and she sat.
Noah pushed a plate in front of her.
Katherine picked up her fork. “Thank you.”
He sat at the opposite end of the table.
“Shall I light the lamp?” she asked.
“No.”
“All right.” She took a bite of the stew. “I guess I slept longer than I expected to.”
“You were tired.”
She nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have a chance to look around and meet some of the hands.”
“Most’ll be bringing cows down out of the hills.”
“What for?”
“Branding.”
“I see. I can do laundry, you know. It’s what I do well—best actually. I won’t mind taking over that chore.”
“Marjorie earns extra doin’ laundry. Wouldn’t take her job away.”
“Oh. Of course not. Well, I could make our meals. I’m not a very good cook, truly, but I can learn.”
“That’s Fergie’s job.”
“Oh.” She glanced around the room, perhaps hoping to see something interesting in the shadowy corners.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He got up, poured two tin mugs from the pot on the stove and sat one in front of her.
“I should be doing this for you.” She smiled hesitantly and glanced up, but he turned away and strode to the far side of the table.
“Room all right?” he asked.
“The room is lovely, thank you. I guess it wasn’t Levi’s—I mean, since it’d decorated with flowers.”
“No.”
“Well, it’s very nice. Thank you for the warm water, too.”
He should have thought she’d want a bath and offered to fill the steel tub. “You want a bath, just ask. I’ll fill the tub for you.”
“Perhaps tomorrow morning. I would like to wash my hair.”
He nodded.
“Anything you need. Clothing.” He gestured helplessly, having no idea what women needed. “You can shop in Cedar Creek.”
“I have two nice dresses.” She flattened the ruffles at her bodice with a hand. “I was the smallest at the laundry when the owner didn’t claim them. I suspect they belonged to a much younger girl, because of the ruffles, but nonetheless I was fortunate to receive such fine quality clothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you do here of an evening?”
“Work the stock. Tally the calves and accounts. Go to bed.”
“I see.”
“Books in the parlor. Help yourself.”
She inclined her head in acceptance. Her thoughts traveled to Levi’s body, which she’d overheard Noah telling the hands to carry to the dining room. “Will there be a funeral?”
“Visitation tomorrow. Levi’s mother, Estelle, will be here. We’ll bury him early Thursday.”
“Oughtn’t someone be sitting with the body?”
“Go ahead.”
“I suppose you think it’s odd that I haven’t cried.”
“No.”
“I cried so much when Levi left that I guess I’m all cried out. That was five months ago. Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet that he’s dead.”
Or that he was with another man’s wife, Noah thought. She’d barely fluttered an eyelash at that news. Maybe she was just a lot stronger than she looked.
Katherine stood. “I’ll wash these plates.”
“Set ’em outside the back door. Fergie’ll get ’em.”
She did as instructed.
Noah stood. “I have work to do. Good night.”
“Good night.”
He turned and entered the small room where he kept a desk and his ledgers and closed the door behind him.
Kate lit an oil lamp and carried it to the dining room, where she sat it on a long table that had been pushed to the side to make room for the coffin and an array of chairs.
She seated herself in the chair nearest the closed СКАЧАТЬ