Read Online The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) by Vikki Kestell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vikki Kestell
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They gathered in the house’s great room and stared
about them in awe and something else, what Rose could only characterize as trepidation .
Wallpaper hung in faded tatters from the walls. Heavy drapes
sagged under the weight of thick dust. Fragments of carpets littered the
floors.
Breona asked Marit and Corrine to pull back the draperies
from the windows. “Hev a care,” she warned, but the sound of rending fabric
interrupted her.
“Rotten,” Marit stated flatly.
Breona nodded and gestured at the remaining window hangings.
“We mus’ be takin’ th’m doon.”
The women covered their hair with kerchiefs and then removed
tattered drapes from three windows and piled them in the center of the room.
They coughed and choked as dust filled the air.
“We can’t clean all of this,” Flora blurted. Her words were
tinged with panic. No one responded.
Breona ignored her and pursed her lips. “Aye then. Miss Joy,
will ye please t’ be foindin’ us a burnin’ pit in th’ back?”
Joy nodded. She and Sarah wandered down the dark halls in
search of a door to the back of the house.
Throughout the morning the women removed and burned dozens
of rotted drapes, mildewed curtains, and ragged carpets. Breona set Marit and
Gretl to clean the kitchen and its pantries and assigned Joy and Rose to the
great room and dining room.
Corrine and Nancy tackled the parlor, library, and the
butler’s pantry and office. The rest of the women she assigned to the first
three bedrooms on the second floor.
“’Tis here we’ll be a-sleepin’ t’night,” Breona decided
before they began. Shudders ran down several spines as they viewed the
condition of the rooms and the work before them.
Marit and Gretl found two stoves in the massive kitchen, one
wood-burning, the other gas fueled. Grant had firmly instructed all of them not
to attempt to light any gas appliance until the gas company had inspected the
house’s gas lines and approved each fixture.
After asking the men to supply them with some fire wood, the
two women bent their efforts on cleaning the wood-burning stove and its pipe so
they could get a fire going. An hour later they announced that they had hot
water for cleaning.
Rose and Joy set about their task by sweeping dust and
cobwebs from the ceilings, walls, floors, windows, and two fireplaces. After
repeated passes, they still had full dustpans to empty. The tall ceilings were
hardest—Joy stood on a sturdy box and swept the ceiling in sections, the dust
falling on her kerchiefed head and into her eyes. After two full passes, her
arms and shoulders burned and ached.
“We cannot even think to wash the windows until this dust is
tamed,” Rose lamented.
“Perhaps we should wash them and the walls and floors
regardless,” Joy suggested. “It is the only way to tame this dust. No doubt
we’ll have to do so at least twice or three times.” And again tomorrow ,
she thought with dogged determination.
“You are right. We may as well wash the windows even if they
run with grime,” Rose replied. “We need the light to work by.” She studied the
walls, frowning. “This wallpaper will dissolve when we wash it.”
Joy nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I will ask the
men to empty our rubbish bin into the burning pit and keep the fire going.”
The men were not without their challenges. Billy and Grant
chopped and sawed their way through wildly overgrown climber roses and
pyracantha until their arms bled from the thorny branches.
“Marit will not be pleased with the tears in my shirt,”
Billy remarked with a reckless grin. Grant, not having considered Joy’s
reaction to a torn shirt, looked askance when he realized his shirt was
shredded beyond repair.
Mr. Wheatley pulled up his suspenders and went to work hacking
Virginia creeper from the porch posts and wild trumpet vines from the window
casings. His hair stood wildly on end, but he worked with a determined set to
his jaw. What the others cut up and
about them in awe and something else, what Rose could only characterize as trepidation .
Wallpaper hung in faded tatters from the walls. Heavy drapes
sagged under the weight of thick dust. Fragments of carpets littered the
floors.
Breona asked Marit and Corrine to pull back the draperies
from the windows. “Hev a care,” she warned, but the sound of rending fabric
interrupted her.
“Rotten,” Marit stated flatly.
Breona nodded and gestured at the remaining window hangings.
“We mus’ be takin’ th’m doon.”
The women covered their hair with kerchiefs and then removed
tattered drapes from three windows and piled them in the center of the room.
They coughed and choked as dust filled the air.
“We can’t clean all of this,” Flora blurted. Her words were
tinged with panic. No one responded.
Breona ignored her and pursed her lips. “Aye then. Miss Joy,
will ye please t’ be foindin’ us a burnin’ pit in th’ back?”
Joy nodded. She and Sarah wandered down the dark halls in
search of a door to the back of the house.
Throughout the morning the women removed and burned dozens
of rotted drapes, mildewed curtains, and ragged carpets. Breona set Marit and
Gretl to clean the kitchen and its pantries and assigned Joy and Rose to the
great room and dining room.
Corrine and Nancy tackled the parlor, library, and the
butler’s pantry and office. The rest of the women she assigned to the first
three bedrooms on the second floor.
“’Tis here we’ll be a-sleepin’ t’night,” Breona decided
before they began. Shudders ran down several spines as they viewed the
condition of the rooms and the work before them.
Marit and Gretl found two stoves in the massive kitchen, one
wood-burning, the other gas fueled. Grant had firmly instructed all of them not
to attempt to light any gas appliance until the gas company had inspected the
house’s gas lines and approved each fixture.
After asking the men to supply them with some fire wood, the
two women bent their efforts on cleaning the wood-burning stove and its pipe so
they could get a fire going. An hour later they announced that they had hot
water for cleaning.
Rose and Joy set about their task by sweeping dust and
cobwebs from the ceilings, walls, floors, windows, and two fireplaces. After
repeated passes, they still had full dustpans to empty. The tall ceilings were
hardest—Joy stood on a sturdy box and swept the ceiling in sections, the dust
falling on her kerchiefed head and into her eyes. After two full passes, her
arms and shoulders burned and ached.
“We cannot even think to wash the windows until this dust is
tamed,” Rose lamented.
“Perhaps we should wash them and the walls and floors
regardless,” Joy suggested. “It is the only way to tame this dust. No doubt
we’ll have to do so at least twice or three times.” And again tomorrow ,
she thought with dogged determination.
“You are right. We may as well wash the windows even if they
run with grime,” Rose replied. “We need the light to work by.” She studied the
walls, frowning. “This wallpaper will dissolve when we wash it.”
Joy nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. “I will ask the
men to empty our rubbish bin into the burning pit and keep the fire going.”
The men were not without their challenges. Billy and Grant
chopped and sawed their way through wildly overgrown climber roses and
pyracantha until their arms bled from the thorny branches.
“Marit will not be pleased with the tears in my shirt,”
Billy remarked with a reckless grin. Grant, not having considered Joy’s
reaction to a torn shirt, looked askance when he realized his shirt was
shredded beyond repair.
Mr. Wheatley pulled up his suspenders and went to work hacking
Virginia creeper from the porch posts and wild trumpet vines from the window
casings. His hair stood wildly on end, but he worked with a determined set to
his jaw. What the others cut up and
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