Chapter 5 #2
Thankfully, the more I move around, each breath and step seem to come easier.
I stop short as I walk back into the cabin, shaking my head at the mess.
I don’t want to witness Grant’s temper already, but he did say I could do things as long as I wasn’t on my feet long or lifting anything heavy.
You can’t take two steps without stepping on a dirty shirt or sock on the floor.
That’s when the huge tub catches my eye again and it’s still full of water.
An idea hits me and I start wandering around the cabin, looking for the things I would need to do this inside.
It takes a little bit, but I finally find a few laundry bars.
Looking up, I smile when I notice several clotheslines hanging above the tub.
Not wanting to get my new clothes dirty, I decide to keep Grant’s shirt on for now. Toeing my new boots off, I put his socks back on, then grab the apron, wrapping it around my waist. I run my fingers down the material, hating to get a single stain on it, but it’s what they’re made for.
It takes me several trips and the pile ends up being larger than I anticipated, but I believe I’ve gathered all his dirty clothes, including a few drying towels, the sheets on his bed, and the blankets.
It’s still early in the day and luckily, the sun has come out.
If I can get his bedding washed first, then most of it should be dry by the evening.
Heading back into the kitchen, I push one of the chairs into the bedroom, setting it as close to the tub as possible.
Then I throw all the blankets and sheets in, letting them soak for a bit while I gather up the other things I need.
It takes me a little bit to find the washtub under all the dirty dishes, but I push that job away for later.
I have a few hours before I need to make something for supper, so I should have most of this done by then. My ribs complain from the weight of the washtub, but I had needed a way to rinse the clothes out since I’m trying to do this inside.
Finally able to sit down, I take a moment to braid my hair so that I’m not fighting with it the entire time I’m leaning over the side of the tub.
Taking the laundry bar, I start rubbing it all over the blankets, knowing this will be the hardest one to wash.
It takes longer than I’d like to get all the dirt out of it and the water is already murky, but it will just have to do for now, as I don’t know how to drain it.
The palm of my hand is burning, and every muscle in my body aches after I get the water wrung out of the blanket.
I try several times to lift it up onto the lines above the tub, but it’s just too heavy.
I end up setting it in the washtub, putting it in the chair and pushing them both all the way across the floor toward the front of the cabin.
I know there’s a railing on the porch that I can reach.
I’m puffing like an old plow horse by the time I get it stretched across the rail, but the colors and intricate details of it shine through now that it’s not covered in dirt.
My determination to get all of this done is rapidly diminishing as my body fights for the rest it needs.
Since no one is around, I allow myself a few minutes simply to sit still before I start back on this massive pile of laundry.
Something that never dawned on me until I had them in my hands is how large a shirt or a pair of socks must be to cover a man the size of Grant.
Every piece is triple the size of what I’m used to.
By the time I finish, there are wet clothes scattered everywhere.
Besides the ones he has on and a few random pieces I found later, thankfully they’re all done.
I’ve never known anyone who owned such an abundance.
Setting the washtub on my hip, I make my way out back to throw the water away, my eyes instantly landing on the grave marker once again. It makes me wonder if he buried her that close on purpose.
My growling stomach has me heading back into the kitchen area. There’s not a single space on the counter that isn’t covered in something dirty. I know I don’t have the strength to conquer all of that before supper, but I can clean up enough so I’ll able to fix a meal.
Except, I have no idea what there is to cook.
Setting the tub down, I start going through the few cupboards, finding spices, flour, and sugar sealed in tins, but nothing else other than a few strips of salt pork.
Curious, I start walking the entire cabin, noticing how a newer section has been artfully seamed into the older one, expanding the original space.
I find myself standing at the back door looking out, wondering if there’s a cellar or a smokehouse that I hadn’t noticed.
Slipping my boots back on, I grab the shawl I had folded neatly on the bed and walk out.
The crisp spring air makes me shiver as it wraps around my bare legs.
I haven’t taken but a few steps when I see stairs leading under the cabin.
A rough, but thick slat door groans as I struggle to pull it open.
The interior is so dark that I can’t see more than a few feet inside, but thankfully, there’s a lantern and a striker sitting at the doorway.
Lighting it, I head in, shocked at how clean and organized this is compared to the main living space.
Walking around, I find a ham hanging in the back, along with what appears to be more bacon, and half of a cow.
I find beans, potatoes, onions, and carrots that have all been stored deep inside a layer of straw.
I almost squeal when I locate a few good apples.
Cutting a large piece of the ham off, I gather up the other things I’ll need, putting them in my apron before blowing the lantern out and closing the door firmly behind me. I never dreamed there would be such an abundance hidden right under my feet.
Suddenly, I feel like I’ve gotten my second wind with the dream of fresh apple pie in my thoughts. Washing just what I need to fix the rest of dinner, it’s not long before the smell of apple pie has permeated the air of the cabin. It must be that smell that’s lured Grant back to the house.