The Five Dollar Mail (Book 1: The Green & Book 2: Lynch's Boys)

Chapter 4:The Fine Art of Being Subtle

Lily carefully set the oil lamp on the long, bench-flanked table that dominated the room. The sun hadn’t risen yet and the kitchen was silent and dark. She quickly lit the other lamps that variously hung and stood around the room as Fiona grabbed the large ewer from the stand by the door. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest and she self-consciously smoothed back the strands of hair that always seemed to find their way out of her long braid just when she wanted to look nice. Today, she was to meet the men and boys she’d been hired to care for. Today, they would be sizing her up, making their opinions of her. Most likely, they’d end up talking about how her biscuits were dry or how worn out her clothes were. Fiona had been chattering away at her, and she could barely hear her over the roar of nerves in her own ears.

“How did you sleep?” Fiona inquired, picking up a pitcher and peering inside for vermin. “Your first night in a new place, you know. Were you comfortable?”

“Uh, I was fine. I’ve never slept in such a fine bed before, but I think I can get used to it.” She smoothed her apron and shivered in the pre-dawn chill, thinking about how the whole main house was intimidating, far finer than what she was used to. She was used to living in a rough, two-room cabin with a grizzled, middle-aged bachelor. “I was probably more comfortable than I have been in a long time. I still can’t believe I’m gonna be staying here.” She smiled happily at her new friend.

Fiona’s red curls were a gleaming, fiery mass as she leaned toward the nearest lantern, tilting the ewer forward. “You know, I think there’s a crawly in here. Well,” she looked up at Lily and gave her an affectionate look that partially soothed Lily’s jangled nerves. “I can scarcely believe my luck either. We shall be wonderful friends, Lily, and I am so glad my uncle finally hired a girl my own age to talk to! Do you have any idea how utterly desolate it can be out here? Oh, dear.” She turned the ewer out onto the floor and made a face of disgust as a large brown centipede crawled across the rough-hewn planks of the floor.

“I reckon it’s a good thing that isn’t going to end up in Mister Lynch’s coffee.” Lily lifted her skirts gracefully and stepped on the offending insect with an unsettling crunch. “Well, Fiona, I get the feeling Mr. Lynch had less to do with hiring me than you did.”

“Now, now, you were perfectly qualified....”

Lily set about lining up flour bins and tins of lard on the wide worktable that lined one wall, desperate to start doing something familiar. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess we’ll find out by and by.” Seein’ as how you talked Mr. Lynch into hiring me and all, and right there on the spot, I sure hope I don’t let you down. She mused grimly. I get the feeling Mr. Lynch didn’t get much say in it.

Fiona had to the sink with the now insect-free pitcher, and was working the pump handle to wash it out. Lily was cutting the flour with lard by the time Fiona got the water going and came back to the table, bearing the now-heavy pitcher on her hip like a toddler. She set the vessel down on the table, then went over to the wood rack, choosing some likely pieces to use as kindling.

“So, “ Lily said, roughly mixing the crumbly biscuit dough on the workbench. “How many folks in all work here?”

“Well, let’s see...” Fiona struck a match inside the firebox and blew on it carefully, watching the fire catch and tentatively creep over the kindling. “There’s Uncle Erastus, and my Aunt Genevieve, who is away right now, Luis Santana....”