Free Adela's Prairie Suitor (The Annex Mail-Order Brides Book 1) by Elaine Manders Page A

fifty years.”
    Adela took a step back. “I washed it, but I didn’t have any wax.”
    “What did you wash it with?”
    “Just soap and water.”
    Ma nodded slowly. “You washed it with lye soap.”
    “Maybe if I buff it.” Adela looked around as if she was trying to spot something to rub with.
    “It’s not a calamity, Ma. Maybe with some linseed oil, it’ll be good as new—better, since it’ll be clean.” Byron laughed, trying to ease the tension.
    Ma pressed a hand to her forehead. “I have a headache. I think I’ll go to bed. Good-night to you both.”
    “I’m sorry,” Adela said with a little quiver of her bottom lip.
    He took her hand and led her back to the sofa. “Now, don’t you worry none. Ma gets het up about the silliest things. Go back to sewing your dress, and I’ll read to you.” He retrieved a leather-bound book from the low bookshelf. “Have you read Great Expectations? ”
    “I have, but I’d like to hear you read it.” She gave him the prettiest smile.
    Desire to kiss her flared in him again, as it had out on the porch, but the pain in her velvet brown eyes told him she wasn’t in a kissing mood. If he couldn’t find a way to bring peace between Ma and Adela, he might as well forget about kissing, much less a wedding.

Chapter 12
    After the disaster of yesterday, Adela didn’t know whether she should get up or just stay in bed the next day. But that wasn’t the stuff she was made of. She’d find some way to please Mrs. Calhoun if it killed her. Might be better to let the woman let off her steam, though. Adela worked on her dress all morning until her eyes began to cross.
    She decided to help Mrs. Calhoun with lunch. When she asked if she could help, instead of rejecting the offer outright, Mrs. Calhoun put her fists on her hips and faced her. “Nothing to be done for lunch, but I’ll be canning pumpkin and making apple butter this afternoon. Byron favors crabapple jelly. You can make that while I’m doing the wash. You know how to make jelly?”
    “I do. I used to help my uncle’s cook. We made grape and blackberry, but I’m sure crabapple must be done the same way.”
    “I’ll write down the instructions for you. That boy is in the barn, mucking out the stalls, go tell him to collect a basket of crabapples down at the cow pond. He knows where that is.”
    “Are there many crabapple trees around here?” Adela wondered how the town had gotten its name.
    “Used to be a whole orchard of them. Wife of the man who first settled here sent off for apple seedlings, and they sent her crabapple.” Mrs. Calhoun laughed, the first full-hearted laugh Adela had heard from her. “Used to find them all over town. Not many survived the grasshoppers and draughts, but there’s enough to get some fruit for jelly.”
    “Then I’ll go tell Dick to gather them now.”
    “Basket’s on the back porch,” Mrs. Calhoun called after her.
    Dick didn’t dawdle, but brought her a whole bucket of fruit.
    As soon as the men had gone back to the fields after lunch, Adela peeled and chopped the knotty crabapples. They didn’t taste good to her, but she figured with enough sugar anything would taste good.
    She measured out the sugar and water and got the fruit to cooking. She’d have to strain it before it thickened, but that would take some time, so she sauntered outside where Mrs. Calhoun was stirring the wash pot.
    “May I help you while the jelly is cooking?”
    “No, but you can hang out those sheets.”
    Adela took one sheet at the time to the line. Because she was so short, she had a time getting the sheets over the line, but she managed. When she’d finished with the last one, she returned to the wash pot and noticed Mrs. Calhoun had wrung out some articles of clothing.
    She started to reach down to get another piece of the wash, but Mrs. Calhoun jerked out her hand, then pulled the basket out of Adela’s reach. “I’ll hang these. They’re long johns and a young lady