Free Leora: Bride of California (American Mail-Order Bride 31) by Kit Morgan

Leora said, more for herself than Mrs. Pleet.
    “Trust me, she can be. Oh sure, she’s a silly old windbag for the most part, but she can be downright nasty when she wants to be. I still wonder how she got that way.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Folks aren’t born mean – something turns them. Maybe her mother was the same and she doesn’t know any better.”
    “I don’t know, I think some people are born bossy,” Leora said and chopped up a carrot. Mrs. Pleet was teaching her how to make stew.
    “Mark my words, you’re going to get an earful – when she’s not breathing down your neck, that is. Don’t let her push you around.”
    A chill went up Leora’s spine. “I won’t.” At least she hoped she wouldn’t. She’d never had any major confrontations in her life, except for Mr. Egan and that was rather one-sided.
    “I like to add my vegetables after my meat has simmered an hour or so, ‘til it’s nice and tender,” Mrs. Pleet said, blissfully changing the subject. “I’m not one for mushy carrots.”
    Leora nodded, shoved the sliced carrot to one side of the cutting board, then started another one. “Can you teach me how to roast a turkey?”
    “Oh, that’s easy. Pop it in the oven and walk away, for the most part.”
    “How about pies? You can teach me how to make those, can’t you?”
    Mrs. Pleet gave her a quizzical look. “You had my pie the night you were here, remember? I brought you up a slice after lunch.”
    Leora looked up from her slicing. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
    “Are you nervous about something, dear?”
    “No!” Leora blurted. “I mean, not that I know of.”
    Mrs. Pleet narrowed her eyes and nodded to herself. “She’s got to you already, I see. She just can’t help herself.”
    “Mrs. Rutherford?”
    “Who else? I’m afraid she … well, never mind.”
    Leora started slicing again in an attempt at nonchalance. “She what?”
    “I don’t know what’s wrong with the woman. Occasionally she just likes to …” She sighed. “… pick on people.”
    Leora stared at the carrots and thought a moment. Maybe Mrs. Rutherford was more like Mr. Egan than she thought. He was a crotchety man who was never pleased with anything. You could work your fingers to the bone and it would never be good enough. Lottie said he was that way because he was lonely and didn’t have any friends or family to speak of.
    But Mrs. Rutherford was never alone, with the exception of her brief visit to the church office the other day. How could she possibly be lonely with all those people following her around all the time? “She picks on people …”
    “Yes. Why, I don’t know. No one cares for the woman, but they’re too afraid to admit it.”
    “Her ‘followers,’ you mean?”
    “ ‘Lackeys’ is more like it. ‘Yes, Mrs. Rutherford. Anything you want, Mrs. Rutherford.’ ” She shook her head. “I’ll help you if I can.”
    “With the pies?”
    “I meant, with the Christmas play. Trust me, dear, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
    Leora blew some hair out of her face. “After listening to Theron and now you, I don’t doubt it. You made her out like she wasn’t so bad, at first. Why?”
    “I didn’t want to scare you! Starting tomorrow you’re going to have to deal with her day in and day out. Stronger folks than you have tried and failed.”
    “I’m not going up against a dragon!”
    “You might as well be.”
    Leora rolled her eyes, if only to give herself some solace. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
     
    * * *
     
    The next day Leora got up before Theron, went downstairs and started a batch of pancakes. Mrs. Pleet had given her the recipe the day before and she was anxious to try it. She’d done her best to not think about the upcoming play rehearsal – and ended up dreaming about it instead. More of a nightmare, now that she thought about it.
    “Good morning,” Theron said as he came into the kitchen. “What are you