Free The Anonymous Bride by Vickie Mcdonough Page A

never needed her companionship.
     
    “You two hurry up. The laundry needs to be taken down from the line and folded.”
     
    “But we wanted to walk out to the fields and see Pa.” Molly drew out her words in a whine that made Leah want to cover her ears.
     
    Leah shoved one hand to her hip. “Pa doesn’t need you gettin’ in his way.”
     
    “You’re bossier than Ma.” Molly stuck out her tongue while Mabel looked down, quietly drying the plate in her hand.
     
    Leah turned away, not wanting her sister to see that her pointed words had hit their target. She never wanted to be the boss, but with so many children in the family and her being the oldest, she had to take over whenever Ma was tending to young’uns or something else that constantly demanded her attention.
     
    Ten-year-old Sally shuffled in from the eating room, carrying a bowl of water and a wet rag. She placed it in the dry sink that Leah had just emptied. “The tables and chairs have all been washed down and straightened, and Ida finished sweeping the floor. Can we go out and play now?”
     
    Leah shook her head. “Go weed the carrots first.”
     
    Sally scrunched up her face and leaned against the doorjamb. “Do we hav’ta? All we ever do is work.”
     
    Leah adopted the pose she’d frequently seen her mother use with one hand on her hip and her index finger wagging and echoed her words. “With eleven children in this family, there’s always something that needs doing.”
     
    Sally stuck out her lip, and eight-year-old Ida sidled up beside her, bearing the same expression. “Andy says you’re too bossy for your britches, and I agree.” Sally hiked up her chin.
     
    Leah sighed. Was a little respect too much to hope for? “I don’t wear britches, young lady. You two get outside and weed the carrots. When that’s done, you can play until dark.”
     
    The girls locked arms and marched out the back door, still frowning. Why couldn’t they mind her like they did their mother? Because she wasn’t their ma, and she hoped she never was one. Having children just meant extra work—and heartache if something happened to them. Nope, she never wanted to be a mother.
     
    As long as she could remember, her ma was either pregnant or nursing and sometimes both. Not even forty yet, Alice Bennett looked closer to sixty. Leah washed out the bowl Sally had used and set it in the rinse bucket. Ma had probably finished tucking the youngest of her brood into bed already, but she hadn’t come back downstairs. She’d most likely fallen asleep during the children’s prayers.
     
    Leah checked the bread rising for tomorrow. She punched down the first bowl of dough and then the second one, sending a yeasty odor into the room that reminded her grumbling stomach that she was still hungry. With so many mouths to feed, she never seemed to get enough to eat. Kneading dough always helped relieve her frustrations. She placed the frayed towel back over the bread and fingered a corner. Just one more thing that needed mending.
     
    In the parlor, she sorted through the pile of clothing and picked out everything that needed to be repaired with blue thread. She grabbed the sewing kit and went outside to sit in her favorite rocker—the only one that didn’t creak.
     
    In the field next to the barn, Allan and Andy, her younger brothers, led the two cows toward the barn where they’d be fed and milked. There was plenty of work on a farm the size of the Bennetts’, but there was a soothing rhythm to it. She selected a baby gown and found the place where her youngest brother, still a crawler, had snagged it on a loose floorboard. She cut a tiny patch from some scrap material and quickly stitched it over the tear.
     
    Giggling preceded Mabel and Molly a short while later as they bounced out the front door and flopped down on the steps. “Tell her.” Molly nudged her twin.
     
    “Tell me what?” Leah folded the mended gown and laid it in the rocker next to her.