Ms. Got Rocks by Jacqueline Colt Read Free Book Online Page B

blistering Big Valley heat. She remembered a front and back lawn, of which nothing remained.
    Rocky dug her notebook and pen from her tote bag, and began the list of things to do.
    "The front steps ready to fall in,-replace" she wrote as she said it aloud. She boosted herself onto the porch and inspected the wood there. It looked safe to walk to the front door. Rocky fished the key out of her pocket and pushed the door open.
    There were scurrying noises from every corner. Up here in the mountains, the mice and squirrels were always on the alert to overrun human homes.
    The dogs would take care of the rodent eviction in short order. Everything would have to be cleaned and scrubbed anyway. Rocky did not remember her Father being such a bad housekeeper, but the entire living area was neither clean nor neat.
    "That is the same couch. The mice have been nesting in that, it's going to the dump immediately."
    “Gosh, the place stinks,” she called out to the dogs.
    The carpets were gone, Rocky wondered where they went. The old wood floors look in good condition though needing a through scrubbing. The floors were a plus. She wandered to the window looking out at the river, the once white curtains were hanging in shreds.
    The whole living area looked like a storyboard for a scary movie.
    “Cheer up old girl,” Rocky thought aloud. “The kitchen is probably worst.”
    It was. She could hear a bird scratching in the stovepipe. At minimum, when Dad went into the hospital, Margie washed the dishes and cleaned out the propane-powered refrigerator. There was plenty remaining to be done.
    The kitchen floor was spongy and sticky, the floor tiles lifting on every corner.
    "The roof must be leaking big time." Rocky wrote that down as well.
    There were neat stacks of canned goods and sealed containers of staples in the pantry. Rocky laughed as she remembered her Father and his insistence on a full pantry, his pantry closet lined floor to ceiling with shelves. The shelves held canned fruit, tin upon tin of Irish tea, evaporated milk, corned beef hash, canned chili, soups of all kinds, a row of Margie’s homemade Blackberry jelly and every possible herb from all over the world.
    Rocky ran her finger over the biggest containers Tupperware ever made; three of them filled with Bisquick, her Father’s favorite cooking tool. All the items were lined up in alphabetical order. The screen on the tiny window was in perfect condition. The pantry itself was clean and neat, in such contrast to the mess in the other rooms.
    The repair to do list was getting longer and Rocky was not even further than the kitchen. She walked back through the living room and down the hall to her old bedroom. If she was lucky that would be habitable.
    Her room looked exactly as she left it, but covered in dirt, dust and glass that had been shot out of the windows. None of this would take long to fix. The ceiling seemed to be solid over this room. The two windows faced the river and with no glass panes in them the river sound in the hot morning was soothing.
    Margie had suggested that Rocky should begin a journal to record how and what she did to fix the cabin and get the claim producing again. Margie believed that the journal would be of interest to the local historical society.
    "Margie, I'm not a journal kind of person. I wouldn't know what to say." protested Rocky."This property is not historical; right now it is hysterical. Nobody would want to know about it.
    "Smart Alex, just do it." Margie ordered.
    Rocky would attempt to journal.
    After repairing and dredging all day, Rocky doubted she would be staying awake long enough to journal. Her career as Samuel Pepys looked to be short lived.
    The rest of the afternoon Rocky cleared the glass out of her bed and pulled the mattress out onto the porch where the sunshine could get to it.
    After searching in every room and closet, she found an old broom and dust pan. She added a new broom to the shopping list. The vacuum cleaner