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Authors: The Bartered Bride
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The dazed question only fueled his anger.
“The sun is up! There is work to do! Where is Eli?”
Her hair was coming down, and it suddenly penetrated that his new wife was fully dressed and still wearing her shawl and that the bed had been slept on, not in. She sat up slowly and stared at him. Her eyes were big and afraid like a child’s, like Mary Louise’s when Beata scared her with witch stories about the cruel Eisenbertha.
But she took her own time about answering. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
“I’ve said I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since—” She broke off, and looked away, as if she had to shore up her courage. “Since yesterday,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes again. “He didn’t spend the night here, if that’s what you think.”
Taken aback by her bluntness, Frederich stood for a moment, then abruptly left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Now what? he thought as he clambered down the stairs.Where could Eli be? He wasn’t in the barn—none of the animals had been tended. The cows hadn’t been milked. The kitchen fire hadn’t been lit. Between Eli’s disappearance and Beata’s sulking, nothing had been done this morning. The north field had to be plowed and his children hadn’t been fed—and wouldn’t be at this rate.
He crossed the cold kitchen and opened the back door.
“Eli!” he yelled into the backyard, as if he hadn’t already looked. He listened for a reply, but he could only hear the crows in the pine tops at the edge of the field and the lowing of miserable, unmilked cows.
He turned and went back into the kitchen, and was startled to find Caroline Holt standing there.
“Are the children still asleep?” she asked.
He didn’t answer her.
“Why, yes, Caroline,” she answered for him. “The children are still asleep. Why don’t you build a fire so the kitchen will be warm when they come down? Perhaps you could even cook them a little Frühstück since they’ve only had milk and corn bread since yesterday.
“What a fine idea, Frederich,” she continued, her sarcasm the kind born of years of practice. “I understand it may be some time before Beata decides to participate in the household again. But you see, I don’t quite know what to do with such a huge fireplace. Perhaps if you would deign to instruct me—for the sake of your children—I could accomplish—”
“You find this amusing?” Frederich cut in. By God, she was a sharp-tongued woman, whether she was afraid of him or not. No wonder her brother had beaten her—except he was certain Avery Holt hadn’t beaten her for her sarcasm. He’d beaten her for the child she carried. For ruining his dream of finally owning the acre of land with a spring he’d begged the use of these past eight years.
“Oh, no, Frederich,” she said. “I don’t find this amusing. I find this a living hell. “
Frederich turned abruptly and went outside before he laid hands on her in spite of his promise. He was angry enough to do it, to grab her and shake her until all that superiority and arrogance dropped away. She was not his better, regardless of her fine education and her airs. He knew that she had never considered him a fit husband for Ann—but Caroline Holt had been tumbled by a man she was clearly too ashamed to name. She was like any other briar patch whore in the county, and she’d do well to remember that.
The horses rumbled a greeting when he flung open the barn door, blowing heavily and leaning out over their stalls to nudge him as he passed by. But he left them standing. He had to put the cows out of their misery first.
The milking rapidly grew into yet another aggravation, because his barely controlled anger made the cows as testy and uncooperative as he felt. The wind the past few days would have dried the ground, making it just right for plowing—and here he was doing Beata’s job. Caroline Holt had been right about one thing. This was going to
“The sun is up! There is work to do! Where is Eli?”
Her hair was coming down, and it suddenly penetrated that his new wife was fully dressed and still wearing her shawl and that the bed had been slept on, not in. She sat up slowly and stared at him. Her eyes were big and afraid like a child’s, like Mary Louise’s when Beata scared her with witch stories about the cruel Eisenbertha.
But she took her own time about answering. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
“I’ve said I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since—” She broke off, and looked away, as if she had to shore up her courage. “Since yesterday,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes again. “He didn’t spend the night here, if that’s what you think.”
Taken aback by her bluntness, Frederich stood for a moment, then abruptly left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Now what? he thought as he clambered down the stairs.Where could Eli be? He wasn’t in the barn—none of the animals had been tended. The cows hadn’t been milked. The kitchen fire hadn’t been lit. Between Eli’s disappearance and Beata’s sulking, nothing had been done this morning. The north field had to be plowed and his children hadn’t been fed—and wouldn’t be at this rate.
He crossed the cold kitchen and opened the back door.
“Eli!” he yelled into the backyard, as if he hadn’t already looked. He listened for a reply, but he could only hear the crows in the pine tops at the edge of the field and the lowing of miserable, unmilked cows.
He turned and went back into the kitchen, and was startled to find Caroline Holt standing there.
“Are the children still asleep?” she asked.
He didn’t answer her.
“Why, yes, Caroline,” she answered for him. “The children are still asleep. Why don’t you build a fire so the kitchen will be warm when they come down? Perhaps you could even cook them a little Frühstück since they’ve only had milk and corn bread since yesterday.
“What a fine idea, Frederich,” she continued, her sarcasm the kind born of years of practice. “I understand it may be some time before Beata decides to participate in the household again. But you see, I don’t quite know what to do with such a huge fireplace. Perhaps if you would deign to instruct me—for the sake of your children—I could accomplish—”
“You find this amusing?” Frederich cut in. By God, she was a sharp-tongued woman, whether she was afraid of him or not. No wonder her brother had beaten her—except he was certain Avery Holt hadn’t beaten her for her sarcasm. He’d beaten her for the child she carried. For ruining his dream of finally owning the acre of land with a spring he’d begged the use of these past eight years.
“Oh, no, Frederich,” she said. “I don’t find this amusing. I find this a living hell. “
Frederich turned abruptly and went outside before he laid hands on her in spite of his promise. He was angry enough to do it, to grab her and shake her until all that superiority and arrogance dropped away. She was not his better, regardless of her fine education and her airs. He knew that she had never considered him a fit husband for Ann—but Caroline Holt had been tumbled by a man she was clearly too ashamed to name. She was like any other briar patch whore in the county, and she’d do well to remember that.
The horses rumbled a greeting when he flung open the barn door, blowing heavily and leaning out over their stalls to nudge him as he passed by. But he left them standing. He had to put the cows out of their misery first.
The milking rapidly grew into yet another aggravation, because his barely controlled anger made the cows as testy and uncooperative as he felt. The wind the past few days would have dried the ground, making it just right for plowing—and here he was doing Beata’s job. Caroline Holt had been right about one thing. This was going to
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