Guide Me Home (6 page)

Eagerness to tell Daddy about their good fortune propelled her feet into motion. She dashed through the woods for home.

Rebekah

R
ebekah burst from the thick growth behind their small field and half jogged, half stumbled across the uneven ground to her father. “Daddy! Daddy!”

He jerked his gaze in her direction. His body jolted. He brought the hand plow to a stop and gaped at her. “Re—Rebekah? Is that you, gal?”

She'd forgotten about her clothes. With a laugh she popped Great-Granddaddy's hat from her head. Her hair spilled around her shoulders. She threw her arms wide. “It's me!” Her chest ached and her muscles quivered from her run through the woods, but she couldn't resist spinning a circle that made her tangled locks fly out like the skirt on a woman's fancy ball dress.

Daddy caught her arm and gave a firm yank that halted her dance and sent Great-Granddaddy's hat rolling across the ground. He bounced his gaze up and down her frame, his face flushing red and his eyes snapping with fury. “What do you think you're doin' paradin' around like that? Has Nell seen you?”

She'd expected surprise. Maybe even curiosity. But his anger stunned her so thoroughly she lost her ability to think clearly. She stared at him mutely.

“I asked you a question, gal!”

She frantically gathered up her hair and braided it while she answered. “No, Daddy. Nobody's seen me. Well, except for you and Tolly Sandford at the cave estate.”

Daddy's jaw dropped. “You went to the cave dressed like…like that? Where'd you get those clothes?”

Rebekah hung her head and dug one toe in the ground. “From Andy's trunk.”

He grabbed her chin and lifted her face. His fingers bit into her skin and his glare pierced her heart. “Gal, you better start explainin' yourself 'cause I'm about to come undone like I ain't come undone since Cissy went swimmin' in the altogether with the Davis boys.”

Rebekah gulped. She wasn't ten years old like Cissy had been, so it wasn't likely Daddy would cut a switch, but seeing him so angry made her stomach tremble. How she hated displeasing him. “R-remember last night at supper I told you I'd need to go back to the cave today because I didn't get to see the estate manager?”

He nodded.

“Well, Mr. Cooper—he's the cook for the hotel—told me the only job open was for a guide. And that the guides are always men. So I figured to get a job there I'd have to be a”—she gulped again—“man.”

Daddy dropped his hand and took a step back. “So you stole clothes from your brother's trunk an' lit out early this mornin' like some sneaky thief.” His flat voice didn't hide his disapproval. The words stung worse than any switch could.

Tears filled her eyes. “I didn't think of it as stealing.”

He drew his hand down his face. He stared outward, somewhere beyond her shoulder. Suddenly he seemed very old and very, very tired. “Gal, I always thought you was the sensible one o' the lot. Now I'm wonderin' if you got any sense at all.”

She jolted forward and grabbed his arm. “Daddy, listen. Mr. Sandford—you remember him, he found Andy in…in the cave. He saw right off that I'm a girl. But he hired me anyway. He said there's no rule against a girl being a guide, but I'd need to wear britches because it's safer for me when I'm taking people on tours. And he said the guides get paid twelve dollars a month. Twelve whole dollars, Daddy! Why, you'd have the money for Andy's marker in no time at all.”

Daddy's stony expression didn't change.

Rebekah went on as if he'd expressed enthusiasm. “Guess what else? I get to live right there on the estate in my own little cabin and eat my meals at the hotel. So all the money they pay me can go right to you and Mama.” She waited several minutes, but he didn't look at her. Didn't say anything. She wrung her hands. “I'm supposed to go back again tomorrow morning so Mr. Sandford can show me through the cave, get me familiar with the tour. But I won't go if you”—she pulled in a breath, almost afraid to finish her sentence—“tell me I can't.”

Slowly Daddy shifted his gaze until his blue eyes met hers. “How old are you now, gal?”

“Twenty, Daddy.”

He looked down, shaking his head. “A woman growed, for sure.”

For reasons she didn't understand, the statement made her want to cry.

“Old enough to choose to marry up or not. Old enough to decide to take a job…or not.”

He was letting her choose. She dove at him and wrapped her arms around his middle. Despite the chill morning air, the bib of his striped twill overalls was warm beneath her cheek. He already smelled of sweat and soil—better than any dandy's cologne. “Thank you, Daddy.”

He caught her by the arms and set her aside. “But you ain't gonna go to work in your brother's clothes. If your mama sees you comin' up the yard in Andy's shirt an' britches, she'll likely faint dead away. So you change into a dress, gal, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then head over to the preacher's house. Well-meanin' ladies from the city churches are always sendin' barrels o' clothes for us poor folks. Ask to pick through the barrels an' find some shirts an' britches an' such. Leave those things you're wearin' now in the toolshed. I'll see they get put back in Andy's trunk.”

Rebekah nodded. “I'll do that. And, Daddy?” Unblinking, she gazed into his weary face. “I'm sorry I made you angry. I only wanted to help.”

He grabbed her in a hug so tight it stole her breath. “I know, gal. I know. But when I seen you come runnin' that way, for a minute I thought—” He gulped. His hold tightened briefly, then he patted her shoulders and let her go. “Make sure your mama doesn't see you in that getup. Not so sure her heart could take it.”

Cissy

She couldn't take it! Cissy smacked the plates onto the table. How unfair that Rebekah got to take a job at the cave. Plus, starting tomorrow, she'd be staying at the estate, not even coming home to help ready the little girls for bed or get them up in the morning or help with first-thing and last-thing chores every day. So who'd be stuck with all that? Cissy, that's who. She stomped one bare foot against the floorboards and growled under her breath.

“What's the matter, Cissy?” Tabitha looked up from laying out the spoons and forks. “Your foot go to sleep?”

Cissy scowled at her sister. “What're you talkin' about?”

“You done this.” Tabitha imitated her foot-stomp. “I do that when my foot's gone to sleep. Wakes it up again. Did your—”

“Just shut up, Tabby.”

The little girl's brown eyes flew wide. “You ain't s'posed to say ‘shut up.' Mama'll put lye soap on your tongue when I tell her.”

Cissy rounded the table in a flash and grabbed Tabitha by one of her braids. “You better not tell, you little brat, or I'll put spiders in your nightgown while you're sleepin'.” Tabitha was more scared of spiders than anything. Except maybe of Cissy.

Tabitha wriggled. “Lemme go, Cissy. I won't tell.”

“Good.” Cissy yanked Tabitha's braid, making her sister yelp, before releasing it. “See that you don't.”

The girls continued setting the table, Cissy with tightly crunched lips and Tabitha with her lower lip quivering. Cissy sent glowering looks meant to tell Tabitha to get that quiver under control before everyone else came in from their chores. If Mama asked why Tabby was all a-pucker, and Tabby told, Cissy'd gather up a dozen spiders.

Mama and Little Nellie hurried in as Cissy and Tabitha finished. Tabitha aimed a pathetic look at Mama, but Mama went straight to the fireplace and picked up the stick she used to shift the blackened kettle to and away from the fire, not even looking at Tabby as she went. “Cissy, fetch me a dipperful of water. This's about bubbled itself dry.”

Cissy deliberately bumped Tabitha with her elbow as she moved to the water bucket. She carried the dripping dipper to the fireplace and gave it to Mama, wincing as the heat reached out and singed her. “Here.” She scuttled backward while Mama stirred the cool water into the pot, making steam rise from the boiled greens. How did Mama stay so close to the flame without turning into a melted puddle? Lucky Rebekah, getting to eat in the hotel dining room instead of having to cook over burning logs in an old rock fireplace. The jealousy flared up higher and hotter than the dancing flames.

She eased close again. “Mama, since Rebekah's gonna be workin' at the cave, could I maybe—”

Mama rose and stepped past Cissy. “Gal, I haven't got time to talk right now. Gotta get supper on the table. Your daddy'll be in any minute now, an' them peas ain't even been seasoned yet.”

Black-eyed peas again? Bet Rebekah wouldn't be eating black-eyed peas in the estate dining room. Cissy trailed Mama to the cellar door. “Then can I ask you after supper?”

Mama pulled the door open and stepped onto the ladder leading downward. “After supper I'm gonna be checkin' Rebekah's things, makin' sure they're all mended, then helpin' her pack for her move to the estate. Gonna be a busy evenin'.” She inched down the ladder and disappeared in the shadows below.

Cissy huffed. Mama used to sing ballads while she stitched. She hadn't done it in a long time, but if she could stitch and sing, then she could stitch and talk. If she wanted to. Cissy bent over and called into the gray hole. “We could talk while you're stitchin'.”

Mama reappeared cradling two onions and a small crock with a layer of hardened fat hiding its contents. She handed up the things to Cissy and then climbed the ladder, her face set in a scowl. “Why're you pesterin' me? Can't you see I'm busy? An' don't you got chores to see to?” She dropped the trapdoor into place and planted her fists on her hips. “I gotta tell you, your daddy an' me are plumb fed up with your lazy ways. If you're fixin' to weasel your way out of helpin' take over your big sister's chores, then you best save your breath 'cause—”

Cissy thumped the crock and the onions onto the table. “Never mind. Didn't really wanna talk to you anyway.” She headed for the door.