The Bachelor (Plain City Peace) by Stephanie Reed

Author:Stephanie Reed
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780825464065
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2014-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“A woman is perturbed by what a man forgets,

a man by what a woman remembers.”

—FANNIE TROYER, QUOTED IN BETSIE’S JOURNAL

BETSIE WATCHED CHARLEY swing the buggy wider than usual because he had a flat wagon hitched to the back. A patchwork of squawking hens in a makeshift crate protested every jolt of the buggy. Behind the crate, she spied a stack of nesting boxes and another crate that housed an indignant rooster, all glossy feathers and fuss. A large roll of tied-down chicken wire and a toolbox glinted in the hazy sunlight. Last but not least, she noticed a couple of sacks of chicken feed.

The romantic and somehow consoling notion of a blanket chest vanished. These squawking chickens were her present, commonplace yet practical. For the merest instant, she regretted his choice. Then she straightened her shoulders and skipped lightly down the front steps to meet Charley and Sadie.

“Oh, Charley! We will have our own eggs again. It is very thoughtful of you, ain’t so, Sadie? Sadie?” she repeated.

“Out of my way.” Sadie groaned. She held one hand over her mouth and clutched her stomach as she rushed past Betsie to the outhouse.

“What is it, Sadie? Are you sick?” Charley fretted.

He started after her but Betsie stopped him, the reason for Sadie’s excessive crankiness belatedly dawning on her.

“She will be fine in a day or two, Charley.”

“But what is it? What’s wrong? She was not sick when we left the bakery.”

Betsie sized him up, choosing her words carefully. True, he didn’t have any sisters, but surely with Mattie around, he would have some understanding. “It’s maybe woman troubles,” she hinted delicately.

Charley turned beet red. “Ach.”

She nearly giggled at his consternation. Who had the upper hand now? “Don’t be embarrassed, Charley. It’s natural.”

The outhouse door creaked and Sadie emerged, pale and beaded with perspiration as she mopped her mouth with her handkerchief. She took one look at their sympathetic expressions, burst into tears, and hurried inside.

“Poor girl,” Betsie said tenderly. “Well, I don’t believe she will be eating with us. In fact, she will most likely be in her room for the rest of the night, but don’t worry. I will put on some water and make her a cup of something that will soothe her miseries. Also, I will fill up a hot water bottle for her. Come and wash up after you’ve tended to the chickens.”

Feeling very womanly and knowing, Betsie headed for the house. The instant she opened the door, a patchwork blur streaked into the yard.

“Amelia! Charley, the chickens!” Betsie screeched.

In the nick of time, he snatched up the crate and lifted it above the bed of the wagon, but the frantic kitten merely hooked her claws in Charley’s broadfalls and ascended his leg in an attempt to get at the birds, mewing all the while. Flustered, Charley tried to shake her off and almost lost his grip on the crate as the hens squawked and flapped for their lives.

Betsie laughed until she had to lean against the side of the house, wiping her eyes at Charley’s clumsy dance to chicken music and caterwauls.

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