Free Dorothy Garlock by Glorious Dawn Page A

voice.
    Old Mack grunted, turned in his chair, and looked off toward the mountains.
    Trying desperately to excuse his rudeness, Johanna introduced her sister to Ben, who smiled, clasped her hand warmly, and bowed gallantly.
    “Two lovely ladies in the house,” he said. “I’m overwhelmed.”
    He led them through the middle door and into a hall that ran the length of the house. There were two doors on each side of the hall and a small, steep stairway at the end. A door to the back of the hall opened onto what appeared to be another porch. The first two doors in the hall were closed, but looking into one of the last doors, Johanna saw a large kitchen with a black iron stove and a long trestle table with two benches. On the other side of the hall was a room with several chairs, a table, and a huge fireplace full of cold ashes. The place was stark and bare and dirty. The floors were stone, the same as those of the porch patio, and were covered with dust so thick it looked as though it had been there for years. She glimpsed several lamps, their chimneys black with soot.
    Ben painfully climbed the steep stairway to a room tucked under the roof. Johanna could walk upright only in the middle of it, because of the sharp slant of the ceiling. It looked larger because its only furnishings were a bed, a table, a ladder-back chair, and an old trunk. Pegs for hanging clothes lined the wall at one end. A faded quilt in what Johanna recognized as the “flower garden” pattern covered the sagging straw mattress on the rope bed. Jacy looked at the ill-kempt room in dismay.
    Forcing a lightness in her voice, Johanna said, “After a good cleaning we’ll be very comfortable here.”
    Ben smiled, but his voice was anxious as he said, “This house needs a woman. I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Thank you,” Johanna said, then asked hesitantly, “Is Mr. Macklin always this difficult, or is this just one of his bad days?”
    Ben’s brows went up. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Johanna, but Mack is always difficult. He’s an unhappy, unfulfilled man, and this is one of his better days. If you can do it, close your mind to his cruel remarks, for he’s to be pitied. He’s never allowed himself to be happy. He cares for no one and nothing but this valley. He feels it’s a sign of weakness to show either mercy or compassion to another human being.”
    *   *   *
    When the sisters were alone, Jacy came to Johanna and rested her head on her shoulder.
    “That old man is horrible, Johanna. I can’t believe he’s Luis’s father.”
    “Neither can I, but Mooney said he was.” She took hold of her sister’s shoulders and held her away from her so that she could look into her face. “We won’t be discouraged, Jacy. Mr. Macklin isn’t used to having women around. He’ll soften up, but in the meantime, we won’t let that mean old man think that he’s smart enough to get our goat!” She laughed, and Jacy couldn’t help but smile.
    “Oh, Johanna, you’re just like Papa. You can paint a silver lining on the blackest cloud.”
    “We can make this dreary, dirty room livable,” Johanna said with determination. “Get out our sheets, towels, dresser set, and mirror. I’ll go down and get a pail of water and a broom.”
    Johanna changed into a faded brown work dress and tied an apron around her slender waist. She secured her blond hair in a knot atop her head, then took her first tentative steps down the stairway. She entered the kitchen and stopped short. She stood in the middle of the room and gazed with despair at the disorder, wrinkling her nose at the offensive odor coming from the spittoon by the hearth. The cooking range and a very long work counter were covered with piles of earthenware plates, pots, and an assortment of cutlery. The floor was constructed of smooth stone slabs and littered with grease and scraps of food embellished with chunks of dried mud that, Johanna assumed, had been tracked in by the men. Soot hung like