Chapter 18 #3
Finally, he managed to grab one, his elbow hitting the ground hard when he landed.
He got to his feet, carrying the chicken back to the coop.
The other one followed, standing beside him as he put the first back over the pen.
Ronan moved quickly, grabbing the second chicken and putting it back in with the first.
When he was done, he went back to the house, finding Etta standing in the kitchen, laughing so hard that tears were flowing down her cheeks. She stopped laughing for a moment when she saw him, before the laughter tore out of her again.
“You…chased…the chickens,” she gasped, clutching her stomach and shaking her head. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she started laughing again. “And…you…have feathers in your hair.”
He reached up, patting around his head, and sure enough, there was a feather there. He started laughing with her, glad there was at least one thing that was going to be able to make her smile today.
“Has she woken up yet?” Ronan asked, glancing toward Cressida’s room.
“Not since she was awake for you, but that’s probably for the best. She’s going to need as much rest as she can get.”
Etta poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of him once she stopped laughing. “Thank you for helping.”
“You make it sound like I’m done helping. I’m sure there is still more that needs to be done around here.”
She looked away from him, her focus on everything outside the window. “No, there’s nothing else that needs to be done.”
“Well, why don’t you try looking at me and telling me that if you want me to believe you,” he said, his tone teasing. “Come on, Etta. I know there are other things to be done. Now, what needs to be done that’s not going to be able to be done until Cressida is back on her feet.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can manage most of the things that need to be done.”
“And how much extra pressure are you going to be putting on your body in the process? I don’t mind helping, and I have more than enough time to do so. So, put me to work. Tell me what needs to be done, no matter how small the task, and I’ll make sure it gets done.”
Etta bit her bottom lip before blowing out a breath.
“All the rugs, except the one in Cressida’s room, since she’s sick, and I don’t want to have to have her get out of bed so we can lift the frame and get the rug from beneath it, need to be taken outside and have the dirt beaten out of them.
She normally does it by the old oak tree near the barn with the weird low branch. ”
“Can do.” Ronan didn’t wait for her to change her mind, walking around the house and collecting the rugs, rolling them up tight and carrying them one by one down to the tree.
Once all the rugs were down at the tree, he draped the first one over the branch and took the rug beater Etta had handed him.
As he beat on the rug, clouds of dust flying everywhere, he worked out some of the anger that had been boiling inside of him, picturing the days in his life that he could mark as days when everything went wrong.
Like when he was a boy, and he went across the river.
The water hadn’t looked high, but his Pa had told him to stay out of the water.
He’d wanted to prove to the older boys that he wasn’t scared, so he followed them across…
until his foot slipped on a rock and he went tumbling into the water.
He had been swept away and nearly drowned before Pa rescued him.
Or there was the time when he nearly burned the barn to the ground back when Pa first started getting sick. He had left a lit oil lamp in the barn. He had barely been able to get the horses out in time.
The more he beat the rugs, the better he felt, and by the time they were all clean, the anger that usually simmered at the back of his mind was gone. It felt like he could inhale a full breath for the first time in a long time.
He heaved the rugs back to the house, spreading them out where they belonged, and arranged the furniture back to the way Etta and Cressida had it before.
Etta hummed as she made lunch in the kitchen, stirring the bacon and beans on the stove, making a thick gravy as he cleaned himself up.
“Help yourself to however much you want. I’m going to try and feed this to Cressida.”
He nodded, waiting until she had left the room before tending to the woodstove fire, making sure it was still burning so she’d be able to cook supper.
After filling himself a bowl of beans and bacon and taking a couple of thick slices of bread, he sat down at the table, dunking the bread, soaking up the gravy.
As he ate, he kept glancing down the hallway, listening for any sounds of Cressida moving.
All he could hear was the soft murmur of Etta’s voice as she told Cressida about him chasing the chickens.
Each time he didn’t hear Cressida’s laugh, his heart sank a little further. What if the fever was more serious than they thought?
It wouldn’t be the first time a fever had swept away someone he cared about, and that thought left a heavy feeling in his body, one he couldn’t shake as he got up and made his way down the hallway, needing to check on her, needing to make sure she was still breathing.
As he eased the door open, his heart stopped.