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This is the first chapter of my book. Jean chages her future |
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GOOD BYE JEAN The handles of the buckets were causing Jean’s hands to callus. The morning sun beat down hard leaving the ground hard and cracked. Jean felt the sweat trickle down her back. She felt dirty and grimy, yet the buckets needed to be filled with water. Each step brought her closer to the well; it felt like an eternity, although it was only five more steps. Reaching the well Jean placed the old wooden buckets on the ground. Her hands were raw from the early morning scrubbing, and now splinters lay conspicuously underneath her tender raw skin. She slowly raised her hand to her face to brush the runaway strands of hair out her face. Jean needed a break; it would be a long way back to the house, even longer because she would be carrying the dreaded buckets of water. Looking out over the knell she saw the familiar black buggy. It carried the Judge. That meant she would need to get back to the house with the water. The judge would want his breakfast and Cook would want the water to prepare his meal. She bent down and picked up the buckets. Her back ached and the runaway strands of hair returned to cover her face once again. She placed the buckets on the rim of the well. Connecting one bucket to the rope she carefully lowered it to the water. Feeling the weight she reached over and grabbed the lever that would crank the bucket back up. Repeating the process, Jean now had two full buckets of water. Jean untied the rope that held the second bucket and then bent over to lift the first from the ground. Walking down the hill she could feel the water slosh out of the buckets. The heat had increased its intensity, as she made her descent. The sweat was now dripping down her face and between her bosoms. The dust rose has she walked, it landed on her face, and in the trail of sweat that covered her body. The big white house sat in a clearing with trees that surrounded it, providing shade and in some situations, a blind for those who did not need to see the house. Jean always saw the house. She saw it in her sleep, and in her robotic state that she chose to live in. It was easier to not think or feel than to live the nightmare she had found herself in. The backdoor was open. The smell of bacon sizzling on the wood stove, greeted Jean as she came into the yard as well as the dread. She was getting older and soon she would be expected to earn her keep. Not that she didn’t already it was the other kind that she didn’t want to participate in. Looking through the kitchen door she saw the girls in the parlor sitting around in nightclothes and very exotic underwear. To her they looked unreal with the heavy makeup and the black stockings, posturing all over the furniture. Jean shook her head and placed the buckets of water near the sink. Cook turned around and eyed the young dirty girl that was trying oh so hard not to be seen “You know Miss Kate can still see you underneath that dirt. She ain’t goin to let you hide in the kitchen girl. You is almos 15 it’s time you start larnin the waz of a wumon.” “If I leave she won’t know that I am gone. I know I will have to go soon.” Now where do you think you goin honey chile. You ain’t got no place to go honey. No you jus stay here where the peoples you know can take care of you.” Jean had heard this before, she knew she didn’t want this life. Learning the ways of a woman was not her cup of tea. She wanted to learn to read and write, do sums have a husband and children they could raise together. She decided to not say anymore. Looking in the parlor she saw the Judge walk in. Carefully he scanned the scantily clad young women draped across the love seat and hanging on the mantelpiece. They were no longer interesting to him. He wanted something new, fresh, and virginal. Maybe that little piece he keeps seeing in the kitchen would be nice. After breakfast, he thought, he would tell Miss Kate that he would break the girl in. He looked toward the kitchen, Jean knew what he wanted and she ducked so he wouldn’t see her. Behind her the cook was flipping hotcakes in the air. Her tongue poked out of her mouth as she executed the landing of the hotcake. To Jean she had been the mother she had never known. She loved Cook and she didn’t want to leave, but she had no other choice. She had to leave before the Judge finished breakfast. While Cook served the Judge his breakfast, Jean quietly went out of the backdoor, careful not to be heard or seen. When she felt the coast was clear she headed toward the break behind the house. Jean ran as fast as she could. Her life depended on getting away. Being free from all the dirtiness that house made her feel. By mid afternoon Jean had successfully made it to town. The people were busy and not very friendly. She watched them behind the saloon. She was scared but she knew going back to Miss Kate would be a mistake. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there may be over an hour maybe longer. Hunger gripped her stomach, and fear made her heart beat loudly in her ears. A very large hand gripped her shoulder. She stiffened, it was the Judge she knew it. Tears rolled down her face, and mingled with the sweat and dust she had collected during her run from the house. “What are you doing here?” The voice was deep in timber and kind. Jean turned slowly around and stared at what she thought was a giant. He was very tall and large. His head was bald and his eyes were kind. Jean’s fear abated a little. She didn’t know this man, and the apron he wore was covered in blood. Her mind seemed frozen she couldn’t think or speak. “Look I won’t hurt you. Just tell me who you are? I will help you find whoever it is you are looking for. “ “My name is Jean. I don’t know what my last name is. I don’t have anyone. I just thought maybe I could get a job and find a place to live.” “Jean can you follow me? I promise I won’t hurt you in anyway. I think I can help you. Will you trust me?” Jean nodded. She felt that this stranger would help her. Slowly she followed his large back as he walked through the backstreets of town. He kept walking past small stores, the church, the schoolhouse, and small houses. His stride was long and Jean had to trot to keep up with him. On the opposite side of town they stopped in front of a small house that looked like it was connected to another store. The man opened the door and entered inviting Jean to enter. Jean walked into a home that was clean and very homey. An old woman sat in a rocking chair, her knitting needles rhythmically keeping time with the rocker. She stopped looked up and smiled. In a voice that was barely a whisper she spoke. “Is that you Robert? I was hoping you would get back in time for lunch.” “Yes Mama I am home for lunch. How is the prettiest girl in the county?” She giggled, never losing the beat of the needles with the rocker. “I m fine, I am ready for lunch though. Did you bring someone home dear? “Yes Mama I did. This is Jean and she is going to help out around the house. First I want to show her where she can freshen up. I am going to cook lunch and then show Jean where things are in the kitchen, ok?” “Ok dear whatever you say.” Robert’s mother went back to her knitting, humming a song she had learned in childhood. Robert led the way to the back of the house. There he opened a door to what could have been called a maids room. Jean entered the room with curiosity. The room painted white, was clean, the sunlight shone through the windows, and the bed was big enough for one person. Jean’s puzzlement registered across her face. She didn’t understand what this gentle giant was saying to her. Robert seeing her puzzlement chuckled to himself, and then spoke. “Miss Jean with no last name, I know you came from Miss Kate’s house. I also know that she has been wanting you to be one of her girls. The fact that you ran away tells me that you didn’t want that kind of life. My thought is if you will stay here, help out around the house and help my mother, no one will know where you are and you can do the one thing you can’t do at the house. You can live a life of a decent young woman, and no one will ever know about where you came from.” Jean was astounded. How did this man know who she was? “How do you know me?” “Well I was delivering meat at the house this morning. It seems that the Judge was pretty upset when you couldn’t be found. Cook was screaming your name, and Miss Kate was shaking in anger. She had it all planed. You were supposed to get cleaned up and then she was going to introduce you to the Judge. When I got back to town and saw you peeking around the saloon, I knew you ran away. “ “What do you want from me?” Jean began to move toward the window. “Hang on Miss Jean, I am not that kind of man. I just thought that I could protect you for awhile until they forgot who you were and then help you get to a place where you could teach or be a governess or something. You don’t strike me as a soiled dove.” Tears sprang to Jean’s eyes. This man was so kind and he really didn’t want anything from her. He just wanted to help her. “Thank you Mr. uh I don’t know your name.” “That’s an easy remedy. My name is Robert Beckman, the town butcher. I don’t have any clothes your size, but when I come home this evening I should be able to get you something a little better than that thing you are wearing.” Jean nodded. Not sure what to say. Her guardian angel had certainly looked out for her. She watched Robert leave the room. She now took more than a cursory look around the room. The bed had a flowered coverlet on it. It matched the curtains that hung on the window. There was a very small dresser that had a water pitcher and bowl sitting on a stand. Just above the pitcher was a very small mirror. It had a few cracks on the side but it didn’t impair the reflection. There was a knock on the door. Jean opened it. There was Robert with a pitcher of hot water. He walked into the room and poured the water into the bowl. Then he walked back out the room. Jean greedily ran to the bowl, found a bar of homemade soap and a cloth beside the bowl. She dipped the cloth in the bowl and began washing the dust and dirt off her face, neck and arms. How good it felt to be clean. On the corner of the dresser was a brush and comb. It begged to be used and Jean didn’t hesitate to use them. The snarls and tangles in her dark brown hair were many. She brushed and combed until they were all gone and the comb could be pulled through her hair smoothly. Feeling cleaner, her hair braided very tightly in one braid Jean left the room that would be her haven and into the kitchen. Robert was just placing a steaming hot bowl of vegetable soup on the table. Two other bowls were already on the table with large chunks of crusty bread. Her stomach grumbled again, and Robert gestured to the table. He left the kitchen and when he returned he had his mother by the hand very gently leading her to her seat. They all sat down at the table. Robert gave the table a cursory glance and then said grace. Jean began eating. She was starving but she managed to eat slowly. The flavor of the soup lingered after each spoonful enticing her to eat faster. Jean resisted the temptation and listened to Robert tell his mother about his day. She found it interesting that he omitted the trip to Miss Kate’s house. Mrs. Beckman’s blindness didn’t prevent her from eating without her son’s help. She ate like a lady, always dipping her spoon away from the bowl. Her head was cocked to one side as she listened intently to what her son was saying. Jean watched with fascination. These two were so comfortable together, Jean could have been somewhere else and they wouldn’t have noticed. A flash of memory danced across her mind, and left just as quickly. After lunch Robert escorted his mother to her room for her afternoon nap. Then he asked Jean If she would clean the kitchen and maybe get the dinner started. He would be home after six. Jean nodded and wished him good day. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t know how to tell time. Jean watched Robert walk to the porch that was connected to the house by a dividing board. The door opened and he disappeared in side. Jean went back to the kitchen. She was determined that he would never regret helping her. The first thing she noticed was that they had a pump right there by the kitchen sink. She wouldn’t have to go to the well to get water. That was a relief. There was a fireplace in the kitchen with an iron pole that hung over the wire. On the pole was a large black pot filled with water. Jean rejoiced, she had never seen a kitchen this modern. Looking around the store room she found the makings for a dinner. Now all she needed was meat. Venturing outside she found a smoke house. Entering it she saw racks of different kinds of meat smoked and ready for cooking. Grabbing a shank of ham off a rack she went back to the house humming. Robert finished his day and closed the shop around 5:00pm. He headed into to town hoping the general store would still be open. He wanted to find a nice plain dress for Jean. He felt sorry for her. Poor little waif, she had no one to protect her from this ugly world and he was determined that she would be protected at all cost. If he had been honest with himself he would have seen that he was beginning to fall for her. He got to the General Store in time to find a nice practical dress and apron for her. Asking Mary Kate the clerk to keep her mouth shut he paid for his purchase and gave her a little extra. Confident that he would be okay Robert headed back home. When he got back home he expected to see his mother in her rocker. It rather surprised him when he saw the rocker empty. He ran into her bedroom. Thoughts of her not being able to get up propelled his actions. She wasn’t in her bed. Where could she be? He burst through the kitchen door, only to find his mother sitting in a chair chatting with Jean as if they had known each other a long time. Jean was laughing and working. Both women turned when he opened the door, and the chatting ceased. “Robert, why are you running through the house like a bull in a china store?” “Well mother I didn’t know where you were and I was concerned for your welfare. If I had known that you two were having a gab fest in here I would have walked in normal like.” “Your mother was sharing her recipes with me I hope you don’t mind.” Jean’s face was red either from embarrassment or the heat of the kitchen. Her eyes twinkled; she didn’t have that frightened panic look she had earlier that afternoon. Smiling Robert signed to Jean that the package was hers. He didn’t want his mother to know that he had purchased some clothes for the girl. Quietly he went into her room and put the package down on her bed and left the room. Jean wanted to see what he had purchased but dinner was ready and she wanted to show him and his mother how grateful she was. Instead of running to the room she set the table and placed bowls of vegetables and boiled potatoes on the table. She had found a platter so she piled heaps of ham onto it. “Excuse me ladies I must wash up. I am famished.”Robert politely left the room to clean up. He was amazed at the food on the table. He was also relieved that the girl could actually cook. Dinner that evening was filled with laughter as Mrs. Beckman regaled them with Robert’s childhood misdeeds. Robert blushing allowed his mother to talk. It had been so long since he had heard her chat and laugh. They didn’t have guests, the towns people tended to avoid her. She had even stopped going to church because they all avoided talking to her. He was glad Jean didn’t treat her like she had the plague. When the plates were clean Jean brought out a huckleberry pie. Robert almost drooled, the pie looked so good. Cutting him a large slice she set it down in front of him. Then she sliced small slices for his mother and herself. Mrs. Beckman clapped with glee. They hadn’t had dessert since she lost her sight. Jean encouraged Robert to take his mother into the parlor so she could clean the kitchen. Rushing to get the kitchen clean, Jean reflected on her day. The day had promised to be like every day, working hard and never getting a thank you or a pat on the back. Always those nasty men leering at her and smacking their lips, and Miss Kate telling her she would be learning the trade soon. Jean sighed the kitchen was clean and she was safe. She went into her room and their on her bed was a very large package. When Robert came in with the package it looked so much smaller. Jean had never received presents before, so her hands shook as she opened it up. There was a pale blue dress that went up to her throat. It had a small collar trimmed in a lace rick rack. There was a white apron that went with the dress. Underneath the dress was a blue cotton nightdress, and a pair of shoes. Jean tried the clothes on as she cried. For the first time in her very short life she felt like a person and not a thing. No one had ever been this nice to her before, not even Cook. She couldn’t see how the clothes looked on her, but she could imagine that she looked like a real grown up woman; her skirt hem swept the top of shoes as she walked. There was a knock at the door, and Jean rushed to open it. There stood Robert, a little shy but hoping the clothes would be ok. Jean assured him that they were beautiful and thanked him profusely for being so kind. Robert bowed his head and left. The days turned into weeks. Jean cooked cleaned and took care of Carrie Beckman as if she were her mother. Carrie began to blossom under Jean’s care. Robert watched as his mother’s health got better. He also watched Jean become the lady of the house. As the only butcher in town he heard a lot of gossip, some of it was about Jean. No one had seen her and it had been assumed that she either got eaten by coyotes or taken as a slave by the Indians. He pretended to be interested not letting anyone know that she was in his home taking care of his mother. Robert felt that it was important to keep her hidden. He knew how the respectable women in town would treat her; he didn’t want her to be persecuted. Jean on the other hand feared the wrath of the Judge. They both were right. Judge Wilkinson was the main authority in town. He was also bigoted and was known for jailing any man who crossed his path. His wife, the Honorable Mrs. Wilkinson was just as bad. The years she had spent with the Judge had been difficult for her. She was barren, and the wealth she had inherited didn’t help. The judge had taken her away from the high society of Boston and dumped her in this forgotten hell hole with the promise that it would be on the map and they would be the founders. California desert was harsh and she felt out of place all the time. The fact that Bodie had already boomed and died didn’t matter anymore. They were here. Jude Wilkinson had spent a lot of time looking for Jean. He wanted her for himself, and he swore that when he found her she would regret the day that she ran. His wife had not pleasured him a long time. They had separate bedrooms a fact the Judge enjoyed immensely. The whores up at Kate’s were dull and predictable. That girl was fresh untouched that was all he could think of. At night he would pace the floor in his room thinking about her. She became his obsession, the forbidden fruit, the tempting carrot that had been dangled in front of him and then snatched away. Just the thought of her caused him pain. He was used to getting everything and everyone he wanted and now someone had thwarted him. He often wondered if she knew that she was going to be his If she would have run. He wouldn’t rest until she was found. |
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