Creative Spanko Wench Blog

Copyright 2004 updated 2007 

When Connie was deep in sleep, Mary took her out for a walk in the snow. They climbed to the top of the hill where Mary and her infant rested for eternity.

“Peaceful here isn’t it?” Mary pointed out the beautiful moonlit vista of the valley beyond the ridge.

“Do you miss being alive?” Connie asked as if it was the most normal question.

“I am alive. Roy keeps me alive, and now you, opening my journals, what was – is again now. I can dance in both of my worlds.” Mary lifted and twirled in the moonlight, the light top layer of snow glistened and sifted around her.

“I like him a lot,” Connie blushed, feeling uneasy with that confession.

“Good. He needs someone Connie. The loneliness has aged him much too soon.” Mary settled down taking Connie’s hand and guiding her so the two women rested on the lee side of the drifted snow by her head stone. They sat cross-legged facing each other. Connie marveled that the snow felt so comfortably cool against her skin, and how the thin gauzy cotton of her nightgown was more than enough protection from the freezing cold air of the night.

“He’s been alone here far too long.”

“Why?”

“He’s obstinate and sentimental. An act of God couldn’t move him off this mountain. Darned fool thinks he’d be leaving me here alone.”

“Oh.” Connie nodded and smiled. Her smile fed off of Mary’s and they both laughed amicably. “Wouldn’t he?”

“What?” Mary tipped her head, confusion crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Wouldn’t he be leaving you here alone if he moved off this mountain?” Connie clarified.

“No silly! He can never do that. I’m not here,” Mary patted the ground under her. “I’m there,” she gently tapped Connie’s temple to emphasize her meaning. “I’m inside his mind. I feel stuck there sometimes too; stuck in his impossible memory.”

“Impossible memory?”

“Very! A woman needs her flaws Connie. Some days he’s resurrected me seeming so perfect I feel stiffer than the dead. I’d like to clobber him! Now I have you to help me do just that.”

Connie laughed. There was a comfortable silence between them for the next several minutes before Mary spoke again.

“Would you let him love you Connie?” Mary’s expression turned wistful.

“Love me?” The question surprised Connie and renewed some of her unease.

“I miss his smile. Roy needs to smile Connie. You’ll like that part of him when he loosens up enough to show it to you. But love is his best thing. He needs someone to love. More than any man alive I think, he needs that. Roy needs someone he can touch and hold and protect. I need that for him.” A single tear trickled down Mary’s gossamer cheek, sparkling in the moonlight like the loose crystals of snow around her.

“He loves you Mary, I could never ruin that,” Connie whispered, closing her eyes against the longing that awareness created in her.

“There is room in his heart for you too! He needs you. I need you for him!” Mary reached for Connie’s chin, but Connie turned her face away.

“How can you need me? How can it be right for me to intrude on what you two share?” It was Connie’s turn to crinkle her eyes with confusion.

Mary sighed. She let Connie’s mind calm for a few minutes and then tried to explain.

“I fear that leaving him alone was my only failure on this earth. I left him so alone, and in so much pain because of it, I can’t rest. I’m in pain because of it. You can help us both Connie, and I sense we can help you too. Please?”

Nothing more was said. Mary disappeared, leaving Connie to her thoughts and the peaceful silence of Christmas night.

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

Royal’s bones ached enough from the past few days’ exertions that it took his mattress almost an hour to help him ease into sleep. Dreams took him almost as soon as sleep did, calming, peaceful and restful dreams. In the wee hours before dawn, he shifted over onto his side and wrapped his arms around Mary who had crawled in under the quilts next to him.

“I missed you here with me,” he crooned tugging her snug next to him.

“Mmmmm,” Mary nodded letting her bottom and torso mold to him the way they always had in life. “I’m here.”

Royal drifted back toward dreams. Mary enjoyed the comfort of his embrace for a while, before using her elbow to nudge him back to the present with her.

“Honey? Do you like my gift?” she whispered.

“Gift?” Royal muttered, still half in and half out of dreams.

“Yes. Company for you, someone you can love again? I’ve prayed for her since the day I had to leave you,” Mary took his arm and pulled it across her breast, stroking the coarse hairs on its back.

Royal smiled indulgently and nuzzled her hair. “You brought that hellion here did you?”

“No, she came on her own, but I wished for her, and when she showed up, I prayed that fate would keep her here, and it’s done a great job don’t you think?” Mary’s soft giggle vibrated and infused into him. Royal stretched and sighed with the pleasant warmth of his long dead wife.

“Winter’s got her holed up here for a spell, that’s for sure. Hope she settles in better pretty soon though, don’t think my arm will hold out if she doesn’t.”

Mary growled and jabbed her husband with the same exasperated annoyance she would have felt in life. “You should have at least given her some time to get to know you before wailing away on her bottom like that. You’re darned lucky she hasn’t decided to pick up and leave after the way you beat her.”

“Beat her?” Royal chuckled and squeezed Mary tighter to him. “All I did was give the child a good taste of discipline, something you know darned well she needed.”

“Maybe so, but you still could have let her settle in and get comfortable here first, because, if you’ve ruined all my prayers, I’ll do more than just haunt your dreams husband!”

“I like having my dreams haunted,” Royal sighed again, breathing the soft scent of her in from his memory.

“She’s not a child Roy,” Mary pressed on.

“Sure she is. She’s a slip of a girl barely out of her teens if she is even out of her teens.”

“She’s a young woman; full grown and more than ready for life and a husband who will love her. She needs you to be gentle with her, like you were with me all those years ago. And I know you need her too. I want this for you honey. It will give me peace to know you’re not alone here, needing something I can’t give you except like this, an empty ‘I wish’ wayside.”

“This will do me just fine until the good lord calls me too,” Royal was drifting back into sleep and dreams.

“Well it won’t do me! Please honey, you need her, and she needs you. Please make that your Christmas gift to me? That you’ll try to love again? Please?”

“We’ll see,” Royal cuddled Mary closer. “Go to sleep now, it’ll be daylight soon and I have a long day a head.”

“Ok, but I’ll be watching you,” she agreed. “And Roy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Keep that brush in the drawer. Your hand is plenty hard enough.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can I tell you one more thing before you go back to sleep?”

“Hmm? Yes go a head,” Royal answered with a sleepy distracted yawn.

“Happy Christmas husband.”

“Happy Christmas love.” Royal smiled and squeezed his long deceased wife letting sleep take him back for the last hours before the next day woke him up.

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

Her bladder’s urgent need for relief intruded on Connie’s sleep. She woke up feeling more comfortable and safe than she had since she was a small child. It was still dark, but there was enough ambient light from the glowing embers in the wood stove and the stone fireplace, that Connie was able to pick her way down the ladder from the loft without fidgeting for matches to light the lamp.

Before pulling on her boots and coat for the quick dash out to the outhouse, she took a few minutes to stoke the embers in the stove and pile in a few sturdy chunks of wood. She then poured the last of the coffee from the day before into the slop bucket and filled the pot with fresh water, several scoops of new coffee grounds, and set it to brew over the heating burner on the stove.

The first light of dawn painted a pink glow beyond Mary’s ridge. The sight of it filled her with an unexplainable feeling of welcome. That mixed with the lingering sense of warmth she felt from the dreams she could not remember made Connie hug herself and smile. “It is very lovely here. I feel like I’m home.” Instead of the usual sadness and hopelessness she thought she should feel with a thought like that, about something so elusive and impossible for her, Connie felt peace. This was home for now, and if that changed come spring, well she would at least have had one safe, full-filling winter in her life.

After she relieved herself, Connie decided she would go down to the barn and see if she couldn’t convince Bossy to let her try milking again.

There were four eggs to collect so Connie tucked them into her pockets. She tossed five fists full of corn meal for the hens, forked fresh hey for Bossy and then poured a half tin of oats in her feeder, before pulling the stool and a bucket over to the challenge.

“Hey girl?” Connie crooned as she stroked and patted the cow. “Will you let me try again? Hey? I’ll try not to be such a clumsy oaf this time?”

Connie kept up a quiet sing song as she settled down on the stool. The cow offered only minimal objection even when Connie grasped and began tugging on her teats. Much like the night before, Connie had very little luck.

“What’s the secret Bossy? Is it me? Am I doing it wrong or are you just holding out on me huh?” she wondered out loud after many futile minutes passed.

“Need some help?”

Surprised and shocked out of her skin once again, Connie screamed and fell over issuing an involuntary epithet as she did. “Son of a…!”

“Whoa now! What’d we say about foul language?” Royal leaned down to help Connie regain her balance.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! You keep sneaking up on me! It just came out. I won’t do it again I swear.”

“You’re a little too skittish for a gal who’s not up to some mischief,” Royal grinned with an evil tease.

“But I wasn’t!” Connie’s mouth opened with worry. “I was trying to figure this out is all.”

“What’s that wet in your pocket?” Royal pointed to a growing wet patch on Connie’s right side.

“Aw! Now look! It’s the eggs,” Connie whined a complaint.

“How many’d you break? You put them all in there?” Royals’ tone was amused, though he kept some of the evil tease in it.

“No, there’s two in here,” Connie retrieved the eggs from her other pocket and offered them to her host. “I was only trying to help.”

“I see that. Fine job of it too,” Royal chuckled. “Sit back down here and let me show you how to milk this animal.”

The clammy wet of the broken eggs in her pocket had begun to seep through to the thin cotton of the nightgown she was wearing underneath the coat, but Connie let her attention be distracted from that to the milking lesson she needed.

Just a few minor adjustments in the technique she’d stumbled on to get the few drops she’d managed the night before, and Connie had the chore mastered.

“There you go,” Royal gave her an encouraging swat on her back when she finally kneaded the first few solid streams of milk onto the side of the bucket.

“Hey look! I’m doing it!” Connie laughed.

“Good! Now keep doing it until you get that bucket full, then come on back up to the house. We’ll find some more chores for you to wrap your skills around after we have some breakfast.”

Connie nodded and watched as Royal set about cleaning the stalls and laying fresh straw under the animals. He seemed in much better spirits than he had the day before.

Royal finished his chores before Connie finished milking Bossy. Before he left for the house, he issued some more instructions for her.

“When you’re through here, take that fresh milk to the cellar scoop all the cream and half the milk off what’s there into the two large cans that are down there, then add this fresh to what’s left and put the plank back tight over the barrel. After you get through with that bring the cans on up to the house, I’ll show you how we make butter and cheese.”

“I know how to make butter,” Connie offered.

“Good that’ll help. How about cheese?”

“No”

“Well then, today you’ll learn that.”

Royal scrambled up the two fresh eggs with some potato and the turkey Connie left on her plate the night before and timed the task perfectly so that when Connie came in with the milk and cream, breakfast was ready to lay out on the table.

“Mmmm I’m starving!” Connie smiled slipping out of her coat and kicking off her boots.

“Wash up and sit down then,” Royal nodded toward the pump and then the table.

Connie obediently washed her hands and rinsed her face, and had wolfed down half of what was on her plate before there was any further conversation between them.

“Feeling better today I’d say?” Royal was first to speak.

“Yes thank you,” Connie nodded and answered after swallowing what was in her mouth. “This is real good too.”

Royal nodded, accepting her compliment. “You’re sitting mighty easy for a gal who’s had her tail walloped twice in one day?”

Connie blushed. When she couldn’t think of a response that he wouldn’t think was saucy all she could do was shrug.

“Seems the lesson sunk in this time though,” Royal emphasized what seemed like approval with a satisfied nod.

Connie shrugged again. Her blush deepened when Royal made the question more pointed. “You agree then?”

“Yes sir,” she whispered.

“No need to sir me gal. Not unless you’re in trouble. It’s Royal or Roy, which ever suits you, alright?”

Connie looked up and met his eyes. His expression reassured her. “Yes, alright, Roy.” she smiled and nodded and tried his name on for size. It fit fine.

“Good, then we’ll get along fine. How about you get up there and get your self dressed, then we’ll get some work done in here.”

Connie very much enjoyed her first real day living in Royals’ home as more than just a barely tolerated intruder. She churned the butter, and watched with interest while he made cheese.

He explained that Bossy made more milk than he could make use of and the cheese made a good and simple substitute for eggs and meat when he was too busy to cook. The other benefit of it was that it kept well and instead of spoiling with age, it improved.

After skimming all the cream off the milk as he poured the milk in the churn, Royal scooped three or four ladles of it back into the milk. “That’ll help the butter firm up,” he explained. Then he laid gauzy cotton that he called cheese cloth over the top of the churn. He held it and instructed Connie to pour the rest of the cream on the cloth. At first the liquid seemed to pour through the cloth, but quickly the thickest part collected in a huge clot on top of it.

“There,” Royal shifted and stood handing the sides of the cloth to Connie. “Now wrap the ball and wring as much of the whey out of it as you can without pushing the pulp through.” He stood and moved over to the stove and placed a large pot of water up over the hottest burner.

Connie obediently twisted the edges. “Like this?”

“That’s it. Keep it over the churn now, no sense wasting good milk. … Not too hard or you’ll loose some of the pulp. … There that’ll do it.” Royal reached over to take the ball from Connie when it had almost stopped dripping. “You put the lid on that and start churning now alright?”

Connie nodded and pulled a chair over to the butter churn and positioned herself so she could watch the rest of the cheese making procedure while her arms worked the churn.

When the water was boiling vigorously, Royal poured some yellowish liquid from a crock pot into the water then set the wrapped curd of clotted cream into it and put the lid down.

“What’s that that you added?” Connie wrinkled her nose when she caught a whiff of the strong somewhat sour smell.

“Turned cider, some folks call it vinegar. Makes good cheese and even better sour dough. See that?” Royal handed Connie the crock and indicated she should lift the lid.

“Oh God! That’s evil!” she wrinkled her face and turned away.

“Take a good look now; we’ll have none of that girly complaining. See that film on the top?” Royals’ tone of voice was firm enough that Connie understood what he wanted her to look at was important. She obediently returned her attention to the foul smelling container. “You’d likely get sick if you ate that, but that mixed with four, yeast and skimmed milk, left to set a few days, makes a good culture for sour dough. The liquid adds a nice twang to greens and biscuits, and without it we couldn’t have cheese. Least wise not cheese worth eating.”

“How long do you leave it cooking in there?” Connie asked putting the top back on the crock and turning her attention to the pot on the stove.

“Maybe five, ten minutes; not long,” Royal answered, taking the crock back and placing it back up on the shelf above the stove.

For the next few hours, they worked quietly side by side, Connie churned and Royal finished forming the cheese. He gave her a taste of the fresh curd when he took it out of the water. “We’ll keep this fresh ball to eat now and put these two bigger ones down in the cellar to cure. When they get a nice crust on them they take on a nice sharp taste I think you’ll like.

Connie smiled. “That’s all there is to it?”

“That’s it,” Royal smiled.

“I think I could do that,” she laughed.

“That’s the idea.” Royal acknowledged with a matter of fact nod. “You finish up there, and when it’s firm you’ll find the forms on the bottom shelf over by the pump. Alright?”

Connie nodded and smiled, and Royal left her to the work while he settled down with a book by the fire. He dozed off quickly succumbing to the lure of the unaccustomed inactivity in the middle of his day. It was a nice and welcome change. When he woke up a little more than an hour later, it was to the aroma of fresh coffee and pan biscuits.

“Hungry?” Connie piped up when she heard him groan and stir awake.

“Smells good!” Royal grimaced against the complaints of his sore muscles and forced his limbs and muscles to stretch and comply with his desire to get up.

“There’s more cakes up here, can we have some with lunch?” Connie asked hopefully.

“How may are there?” Royal frowned, realizing that Lilia’s sweets were not going to go as far as he’d hoped.

“Four or five.”

“That’s all?” his disappointment was impossible to hide.

“If you have sugar and vanilla or cinnamon, I’ll make you more. I saw you had apples, jellies and lemons in the cellar. If you want to keep these for yourself that’s OK too, I can do without” Connie felt a twinge of disappointment and embarrassment that she was eating his treats.

“You know how to make cakes?” Royal raised his eyebrow hopefully.

“I can make sweet cookies out of oats and a few kinds of sweet bread from carrots and apples. My mother made fritters and I helped her so I think I can do those too if you’ll put up with a mistake or two till I get it right.”

“Now that’s a pleasant development if ever there was one,” Royals’ face shone with a wide smile for the first time since Connie had been there. It made her heart soar. “Heat up the cakes.”

Connie smiled back and relaxed. Her host had a child’s sweet tooth. All it took to make him smile was the promise of desserts.

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

“Where’d you put the butter?” Royal asked when they sat down to lunch.

“There with your cheese,” Connie pointed to the shelf by the pump. “I’ll take it out to the cellar after we eat.”

“No you go up in the loft. You’ll find yourself some clothes you should be able to make fit you in the large black chest. There is a needle and some thread in the basket by the fire. Pick out enough to last you a few days so you have something clean to wear when you wash the others. I expect that should keep you busy while I go out and see about filling the rest of the chinks in the barn. I’ll put the butter and cheese away when I go out.”

Connie agreed happily. The idea that she could have the house to herself for even a few hours brought Mary and her journals to mind. The secret excitement made her blush with guilt, but Royal did not seem to notice. He went out about the work he wanted to get done, and as soon as Connie had the dishes washed and put to dry she climbed the ladder to her loft and Mary’s journal.

Connie kept enough presence of mind to rummage through the black chest so that she had a small pile of garments she could begin to alter to fit ready. That way she could make a show of having done at least some work should Royal come in early.

A wave of shame washed over her when she pulled the leather bound book out from under her mattress and shuffled over to sit on a small box by the window that let light into the space. She’d made a promise to Roy that was barely out of her mouth when she’d set about to break it, and here she was tainting what had so far been her first good day by furthering her betrayal. Her shame was not as compelling as the desire to know more of Mary and Royals’ life together though, and it held no power to keep her from opening the leather bound book.

Connie flipped forward to the last entry she’d read. Mary, Royal, Lilia and Caleb were still in the recently restored State of Texas. ‘Lost to Mexico, retaken and lost again, annexed to the US, succeeded and re-entered again, the young state had a history that was as large as its size.’ Mary lamented the history lesson her husband seemed bent on teaching her, and it was clear from the journal that Mary was tired and ready to put Texas behind her. Snow and cold weather had given them enough respite that they were making westward progress again.

January 9, 1867

Oh laws, Lilia will be whipped and it is all my fault. She has sworn me to secrecy, but I fear it is wrong to keep it. Roy will despise me if I let my friend take my punishment and my friend will disown me if I break my promise to her. I do not know what to do. This has been the most horrible day of my life. Damned that evil gossip Clarissa Meets! She is the devil incarnate. I swear she planned the whole thing. She knows how my husband dislikes cunning. She made me do it. She made me, and now Lilia is on the outs with Caleb for my crime. I am a poor friend. I am an unworthy wife. How was I to know Mr. Meets would be the one to drink the tainted coffee? Poor Lilia! If only she hadn’t worn that red dress. How could he help but see her sneaking around the wagon?

January 10, 1867

My cowardice disgusts me. My dear sweet Lilia embraced me this morning and all I could see in her eyes was pain. I have disgraced her friendship. Caleb has ordered her to sit the seat of their wagon and I can see this is agony for her. The whipping must have been supreme. It was mine. By rights it was mine and I have destroyed my marriage and my dearest friendship by allowing it to happen. Could I live with my sin if she were allowed to walk with me instead of having to sit up there on that hard wood plank of torture? No. I cannot live with myself at all. In time my dishonor will poison everything of worth that I posses. Yet I cannot speak up. Now that Lilia has taken my due how can I? If I do I will dishonor my promise to her and I will devalue the sacrifice she made for me. If I don’t I will forever hate myself and never again deserve the trust of a descent soul on earth.

January 10, 1867, dusk approaches, the dark is welcome.

Oh Roy you have cursed me with the gift of these pages. Now I must read and re-read my own failings written by my own hand. You are cruel beyond words my husband. And I am most unworthy of even that.

January 12, 1867

I have been crying all day, and Roy is loosing patience. I begged Lilia to free me from my promise, but she refuses. Does she not understand that I must honor my love to my husband, that he must be told the truth about the evil vixen he has wed? She laughs at me when I beg her, and she demands I keep my word. She is brazen enough to suggest that what would cleans me now might only serve to place her in more trouble. These days have been torture. It would be merciful if God would send me to Hades now.

If he does it will please me greatly if he could take that Meets woman first. I swear if she leers at me again I will slap her face soundly for her.

January 15, 1867

He laughed at me. Lilia and Caleb stood back and laughed with him. If I was not a Christian woman I would happily murder them all. These passed many days have been torture for me and when the truth of it comes out they laugh.

My only consolation is that evil woman has been caught in her own web. I almost feel sorry for her. If Roy knew the quiet pleasure I found hearing her cries when her husband took the leather to her, I swear he would not be wont to laugh. But thank you My God, though you know she deserved much worse. My terrible pain is that I deserve worse than she. Though I fear my Roy does not have the heart and my friends work against my everlasting soul convincing him to trust it.

I am doomed to be a shrew worse than Clarissa Meets.

January 16, 1867

Oh my sweet God, how perfect Roy is and how wonderfully forgiving Lilia and Caleb are too. Lilia’s embrace last night freed me from all of my fears. Caleb spanked me so hard I thought he might break me. He made clear a message I will try never to forget. No matter what, he trusts his wife. Like Roy listens to me, he listens to her. My silence carried no weight in the punishment he meted out to his wife. The burden wrought by my silence and my complicity belonged to Roy. Lilia was punished only for not speaking up before there was trouble. Caleb made me smile. He said he had no doubt Lilia would be guilty of this again.

All these days I have lamented under the mistaken notion that Lilia was punished for my evil act when the truth was Lilia told Caleb all of it right from the start. And Caleb, the sweet pure man that he is left the question of my confession to my own conscience.

Roy tried so hard to be firm today. I could shoot him for failing with this task. My heart needed him to be firm with me. How cruel of my husband to tell me how I must be punished, yet tease me so by not doing it right. He spanked me without mercy with his hand and a barrel stave, yet all the while he laughed. How am I to take this? I could not find release from my shame. I could not find enough respite from his humor to even find a reason for tears. No matter how much it hurt when he spanked me, I couldn’t even escape the tawdry lust my wanton body produced.

After he whipped me, I embraced him in lust. All the while knowing I did not deserved the pleasures of intimacy after all I am guilty of. So help me, wanton jezebel that I am, I feel more free today than I have in weeks. I cannot understand it, though Lilia says I am a fool to bother to try. What am I to do?

January 20, 1867

We are trapped again by cold. So far there has been no sign of snow, but the smell of it is in the air. The men invoke their authority. They are so pompous. Roy is the worst of them. A bossier more obstinate man never lived. What fools they are making us lay up like this. The animals have no fear of cold. They are invigorated by it. Lilia agrees with me. Tonight we will show everyone. We will show them all.

January 24, 1867

I am lucky to be alive. Such a fool I have been. Roy cannot even look at me. I fear I may have destroyed my marriage. I have certainly shamed my husband. The fury in Caleb’s eyes when he found us; my God, I will never forget it. Nothing has ever affected me more save the pain Roy’s own gaze offered me not even an hour later.

January 26, 1867

I fear I will never sit my seat with comfort again. My Roy has never been so stern with me, though I prefer his begrudging harshness to the cruel silence of yesterday. We did survive after all. My laws, I swear half my hide must adorn that strop. That is how raw I feel today. The whole camp must have heard my cries. I am sure of it. Though there is no question I had it coming, I still fear the shame of showing my face.

Poor Lilia, I fear she may abandon me as a friend, and so she should. Caleb is a cad. He would not even hear me explain it to him, even though I begged him to. He refused to understand that it was my idea to take the wagon a head of the train. Lilia only came along because she is my friend. Why doesn’t he care that she offered her voice for temperance and reason against my foolish plan. He should praise her, not punish her for standing by her friend fool hardy and unworthy though I am.

My sweet Lord, why have you made men so infernal stubborn?

February 20, 1867

San Marcos. What kind of name is this for a town? The wagon master has been gone for a week. Push south and we will miss any more of the snows. We’ll lose no more time he said. Yet here we wait. Three days. Scouts have gone to Austin the Wagon master is gone to San Antonio. The evil wicked Clarissa has set her sights on my sanity. I have been spanked more since entering this great state of Texas than ever before in my life, and we have barely reached the half way mark. I fear I will do the woman bodily harm if we are cooped up much longer.

February 20, 1867, mid day.

I fell in the Guadalupe River. I don’t think I have ever been so afraid nor felt so cold in all of my life. Roy saved me and though he told me he loved me with all his heart, he shook me so hard and took down my trousers and spanked me so hard I fear he must surely hate me.

But I got her good. That is my perfect consolation. That evil woman had to wear that horse manure all the way through camp. I’ll bet everyone appreciated the irony. That’ll teach her to walk around me with her almighty nose in the air, the old high and mighty biddy. Just how does it feel reeking as high as your nose can reach miss perfect busy body know it all Clarissa Meets?

February 21, 1867

Roy loves me. How could I question this? His mouth, his hands, all of him; he possesses me. This bliss God gives to me, it is both cruel and generous. I have made him a promise to curb my temper where that woman is concerned. I will try, I swear on all I hold dear that I will try. But if it pleases you to help me My God, I will be very grateful.

March 19, 1867

Please God, don’t let Roy or Caleb ever find out what we have done. We cannot even hide behind Clarissa’s rotten soul. Please God!

~~~~~oooOOOooo~~~~~

The sound of Royals’ feet on the stoop startled Connie into the present. “Oh shit!” she flushed with mild panic. At first unable to think of the excuse she’d laid out. Her heart pounded with the guilt of Mary’s newest crime and her own. As it turned out, Royal had no problem believing or accepting that Connie fell asleep after choosing the clothes she would tailor to fit. He’d fallen asleep himself earlier that day.

Not even an eight of the way through the diary and completely entranced by it, Connie vowed nothing would get in the way of finishing it, not even Roy. She could barely contain her anxiety, not knowing what the dire deed was that had Mary so afraid. It preoccupied her all through the evening chores. Tonight she would be sure the lamp was well filled with oil.

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