‘‘Forsaking Lust.’’
————
Rachel set boiled ham, potatoes, and onions on the table. Johnnie had left right after breakfast saying he wouldn’t be back for the noon meal. He hadn’t said where he was going, but he took her list of groceries with him. She hoped he picked some of them up today. There were only so many ways to cook pork.
Michael and Lissa filed into the kitchen and the three of them sat down at the table. Soda had eaten earlier, then opened the hotel for business as soon as Rachel and Lissa had finished their chores. He’d eyed the Mexican blanket she had draped over the statue but said nothing about it. Nor did he remove it.
But the men were not so discreet. Of course, they had no way of knowing the ladies sat on the other side of the wall with nothing but a curtained doorway separating them.
‘‘Looks like the missy done covered up Johnnie’s naked ladykin again.’’
‘‘Hoo, I cain’t wait to see his expression. He shore is sensitive about that there statue.’’
‘‘I’m bettin’ that’s one piece a furniture in this hotel that won’t never get scrubbed.’’
The men exchanged hearty laughs.
Rachel cut a bite of meat and jabbed it with her fork. ‘‘What are your plans for the rest of the day, Michael?’’
‘‘Well, I heard you could earn as much as twenty dollars for digging a grave,’’ he said. ‘‘So I was going to head over to Cemetery Hill and see if they needed an extra hand.’’
She nodded and took a sip of tea. Grave digging was a worthy occupation and would perhaps give Michael firsthand knowledge of the consequences caused by hard drinking and hard living.
‘‘What about you, Lissa?’’
‘‘All this cleaning has simply ruined my hands and feet. I’m going to brew up some very strong peppermint tea to soak them in and then take a nice long nap.’’
Rachel sighed. ‘‘I’m afraid our days of soft hands and feet are long over. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to ride out to Mr. Parker’s property with me today?’’
‘‘And dig around in the dirt? No, thank you.’’
Before Rachel could respond, a woman in a white, blousy scoop-necked bodice and full colorful skirt entered in the back door of the kitchen.
‘‘I sorry I late.’’ She smiled and pulled a plate from the shelf.
Michael jumped to his feet and gave up his chair.
‘‘Gracias, señor .’’
Rachel stiffened. ‘‘What are you doing?’’
‘‘I am Carmelita.’’ She sat down, spooned ham and potatoes onto her plate, then began to eat. ‘‘I work tables for Mr. Johnnie. I live in room above hotel. He say la comida is ready at noon.’’
‘‘You live here?’’ Rachel put down her knife and fork.
‘‘Sí.’’
‘‘And Mr. Parker told you to take your meals here with us?’’
‘‘Sí.’’
Rachel dabbed her mouth with her napkin. ‘‘Then where were you at breakfast? Why have I not seen you before?’’
‘‘I sleep in morning and now I eat noontime with you, sí?’’
Rachel glanced at Lissa. The girl had her gaze pinned to the large expanse of bare flesh exposed above Carmelita’s low-cut bodice. Michael’s attention had been snared by the same.
Rachel knew what she was supposed to do. Knew what society dictated she do. But never had she been required to perform such an unpleasant task. How could this girl not know it was highly improper for her to sit at the same table as ladies?
‘‘You work in the hotel?’’ Lissa asked.
‘‘Sí. The men, they like the women. So they play at Carmelita’s table and they pay no attention to cards. They pay attention to Carmelita. So Carmelita win much gold.’’
Whatever reservations Rachel had before, they vanished with this bit of table conversation.
She would not, could not, expose her young and impressionable siblings to the kind of decadence Carmelita would introduce into their everyday lives. No, it was best to nip this in the bud right this very
————
Rachel set boiled ham, potatoes, and onions on the table. Johnnie had left right after breakfast saying he wouldn’t be back for the noon meal. He hadn’t said where he was going, but he took her list of groceries with him. She hoped he picked some of them up today. There were only so many ways to cook pork.
Michael and Lissa filed into the kitchen and the three of them sat down at the table. Soda had eaten earlier, then opened the hotel for business as soon as Rachel and Lissa had finished their chores. He’d eyed the Mexican blanket she had draped over the statue but said nothing about it. Nor did he remove it.
But the men were not so discreet. Of course, they had no way of knowing the ladies sat on the other side of the wall with nothing but a curtained doorway separating them.
‘‘Looks like the missy done covered up Johnnie’s naked ladykin again.’’
‘‘Hoo, I cain’t wait to see his expression. He shore is sensitive about that there statue.’’
‘‘I’m bettin’ that’s one piece a furniture in this hotel that won’t never get scrubbed.’’
The men exchanged hearty laughs.
Rachel cut a bite of meat and jabbed it with her fork. ‘‘What are your plans for the rest of the day, Michael?’’
‘‘Well, I heard you could earn as much as twenty dollars for digging a grave,’’ he said. ‘‘So I was going to head over to Cemetery Hill and see if they needed an extra hand.’’
She nodded and took a sip of tea. Grave digging was a worthy occupation and would perhaps give Michael firsthand knowledge of the consequences caused by hard drinking and hard living.
‘‘What about you, Lissa?’’
‘‘All this cleaning has simply ruined my hands and feet. I’m going to brew up some very strong peppermint tea to soak them in and then take a nice long nap.’’
Rachel sighed. ‘‘I’m afraid our days of soft hands and feet are long over. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to ride out to Mr. Parker’s property with me today?’’
‘‘And dig around in the dirt? No, thank you.’’
Before Rachel could respond, a woman in a white, blousy scoop-necked bodice and full colorful skirt entered in the back door of the kitchen.
‘‘I sorry I late.’’ She smiled and pulled a plate from the shelf.
Michael jumped to his feet and gave up his chair.
‘‘Gracias, señor .’’
Rachel stiffened. ‘‘What are you doing?’’
‘‘I am Carmelita.’’ She sat down, spooned ham and potatoes onto her plate, then began to eat. ‘‘I work tables for Mr. Johnnie. I live in room above hotel. He say la comida is ready at noon.’’
‘‘You live here?’’ Rachel put down her knife and fork.
‘‘Sí.’’
‘‘And Mr. Parker told you to take your meals here with us?’’
‘‘Sí.’’
Rachel dabbed her mouth with her napkin. ‘‘Then where were you at breakfast? Why have I not seen you before?’’
‘‘I sleep in morning and now I eat noontime with you, sí?’’
Rachel glanced at Lissa. The girl had her gaze pinned to the large expanse of bare flesh exposed above Carmelita’s low-cut bodice. Michael’s attention had been snared by the same.
Rachel knew what she was supposed to do. Knew what society dictated she do. But never had she been required to perform such an unpleasant task. How could this girl not know it was highly improper for her to sit at the same table as ladies?
‘‘You work in the hotel?’’ Lissa asked.
‘‘Sí. The men, they like the women. So they play at Carmelita’s table and they pay no attention to cards. They pay attention to Carmelita. So Carmelita win much gold.’’
Whatever reservations Rachel had before, they vanished with this bit of table conversation.
She would not, could not, expose her young and impressionable siblings to the kind of decadence Carmelita would introduce into their everyday lives. No, it was best to nip this in the bud right this very
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