coal. I pulled myself up. Coal clunked down the chute that ran along the side of the kitchen.
“Likely not,” I said to Isaac about Lydia Prather. “But you’ll want a woman out there. In South Dakota.”
Isaac stared at me.
I looked him right in the eye. “One to cook for you, do up your laundry.” I smiled. “One to help in the fields.”
“No,” he said. “Not me. I’m doing this alone. I don’t need Lydia Prather. I don’t need anybody.”
“I—”
“You’re as bad as my mother.”
I’d made him angry; his muscles pulled at his mouth. Before I could make it right, he was gone, leaving nothing but his footsteps on the wood floors as he went through the dining room and then the parlor. The front door opened and closed. My ears rang and my heart flopped around in a strange way high in my chest. I hoped it meant to kill me quick.
I stumbled into a corner, knocking over the kitchen stool. Holding my apron to my face, I tried to cry. I wanted to cry from the shame and the disgrace and the misery of having thrown myself at a man what didn’t want me. I tried, I gave a little wail, but I couldn’t cry. The hurt was too big.
Somebody coughed. I spun around. Isaac. Heat flooded my cheeks. He’d come back to humiliate me even more. “Please,” I said, putting my apron up to my face again. “Go away.”
He cleared his throat.
“Go away.”
“Now this is why women are such a mystery.”
I didn’t say anything.
“God made women just to keep us a little off balance.”
I looked at him over my apron.
He was leaning against the pie safe, a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but there was a hardness in his eyes. He said, “You might have something. The right kind of woman could come in handy. Another pair of hands. You do know your way around a kitchen, and like you said before, you grew up on a farm.” Isaac paused. “You were talking about yourself, weren’t you?”
My heart skipped.
He said, “A single woman can stake a claim.”
My mind stumbled over the words.
“That’d give me three hundred and twenty acres.”
I put a hand on the counter.
“I’ll have you write out a statement saying you intend to homestead. That way I’ll get the claim now. Land’s going fast. The agent’ll expect a little extra; you’re supposed to be there in person. But there’s ways around that.”
His face blurred.
“It’ll be hard work. You’ll have to pull your share. It’ll wear you thin. There’ll be days you’ll curse me, you’ll curse yourself for leaving Chicago.”
“No,” I said.
“You say that now, but it’s not Chicago. There’s no electric lights out there, or running water, not where I’m going.”
Everything was suddenly very clear.
“Three hundred and twenty acres,” he was saying. “I can raise a fair number of cattle on that, wheat too. It’ll get me off to a quicker start.”
I said, “I expect to be married.”
Surprise flashed across his face. “You can’t be. A woman has to be single to stake a claim.”
“Then stake it now,” I said. “Like you said. In my name. Then come back and marry me. If you want that land.”
His lips disappeared into a thin line. He hadn’t expected this, not from me, the kitchen help. I hadn’t expected it either; I didn’t know where the words came from. But now that I had said them, I made myself stand square to Isaac.
He said, “What’s in it for you?”
A chance to be in your arms. A chance to have something that counted. I said, “My own home.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
He turned away and looked out the back door, and I guessed that he wasn’t seeing Mr. Jackson driving his coal wagon out of the yard. He wasn’t seeing the alley and he wasn’t seeing the back sides of the next row of houses. Isaac was seeing, I believed, three hundred and twenty acres of land filled up with cattle and wheat.
“I wasn’t looking to get married,” he said, still looking out the door.
“Three
“Likely not,” I said to Isaac about Lydia Prather. “But you’ll want a woman out there. In South Dakota.”
Isaac stared at me.
I looked him right in the eye. “One to cook for you, do up your laundry.” I smiled. “One to help in the fields.”
“No,” he said. “Not me. I’m doing this alone. I don’t need Lydia Prather. I don’t need anybody.”
“I—”
“You’re as bad as my mother.”
I’d made him angry; his muscles pulled at his mouth. Before I could make it right, he was gone, leaving nothing but his footsteps on the wood floors as he went through the dining room and then the parlor. The front door opened and closed. My ears rang and my heart flopped around in a strange way high in my chest. I hoped it meant to kill me quick.
I stumbled into a corner, knocking over the kitchen stool. Holding my apron to my face, I tried to cry. I wanted to cry from the shame and the disgrace and the misery of having thrown myself at a man what didn’t want me. I tried, I gave a little wail, but I couldn’t cry. The hurt was too big.
Somebody coughed. I spun around. Isaac. Heat flooded my cheeks. He’d come back to humiliate me even more. “Please,” I said, putting my apron up to my face again. “Go away.”
He cleared his throat.
“Go away.”
“Now this is why women are such a mystery.”
I didn’t say anything.
“God made women just to keep us a little off balance.”
I looked at him over my apron.
He was leaning against the pie safe, a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but there was a hardness in his eyes. He said, “You might have something. The right kind of woman could come in handy. Another pair of hands. You do know your way around a kitchen, and like you said before, you grew up on a farm.” Isaac paused. “You were talking about yourself, weren’t you?”
My heart skipped.
He said, “A single woman can stake a claim.”
My mind stumbled over the words.
“That’d give me three hundred and twenty acres.”
I put a hand on the counter.
“I’ll have you write out a statement saying you intend to homestead. That way I’ll get the claim now. Land’s going fast. The agent’ll expect a little extra; you’re supposed to be there in person. But there’s ways around that.”
His face blurred.
“It’ll be hard work. You’ll have to pull your share. It’ll wear you thin. There’ll be days you’ll curse me, you’ll curse yourself for leaving Chicago.”
“No,” I said.
“You say that now, but it’s not Chicago. There’s no electric lights out there, or running water, not where I’m going.”
Everything was suddenly very clear.
“Three hundred and twenty acres,” he was saying. “I can raise a fair number of cattle on that, wheat too. It’ll get me off to a quicker start.”
I said, “I expect to be married.”
Surprise flashed across his face. “You can’t be. A woman has to be single to stake a claim.”
“Then stake it now,” I said. “Like you said. In my name. Then come back and marry me. If you want that land.”
His lips disappeared into a thin line. He hadn’t expected this, not from me, the kitchen help. I hadn’t expected it either; I didn’t know where the words came from. But now that I had said them, I made myself stand square to Isaac.
He said, “What’s in it for you?”
A chance to be in your arms. A chance to have something that counted. I said, “My own home.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
He turned away and looked out the back door, and I guessed that he wasn’t seeing Mr. Jackson driving his coal wagon out of the yard. He wasn’t seeing the alley and he wasn’t seeing the back sides of the next row of houses. Isaac was seeing, I believed, three hundred and twenty acres of land filled up with cattle and wheat.
“I wasn’t looking to get married,” he said, still looking out the door.
“Three
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