Redeye by Clyde Edgerton Read Free Book Online

And how it is that the dry, the expansive, the cracked, the dusty, and the bright all work in a positive way I do not yet understand.
    Also about the West I must say this: a new place makes a new person—if one but follows the lead of God. Somehow I feel that out west I am able to be more honest than I was at home, more open to the new. And I feel that as Aunt Sallie promised, adventure awaits. And it is a good place to heal from the sorrow and sadness brought by Mama’s passing.
    Above the fireplace we hung a beautiful Indian headdress from the plains, and on the wall nearby we placed a match holder formed into the heads of two eagles.
    In one corner is a washstand, and behind it hangs fishing tackle. Above the back door is a rifle on a gun rack and over the front door is a pair of antlers from a buck shot by Bumpy. Uncle P.J. insisted I have a rifle here, as I learned to shoot back home. I agreed without hesitation, and have already seen in these few short days that some activities considered unladylike in North Carolina are accepted without reservation in the West. What a relief, in a way. The greatest relief is that a corset is not mandatory daily wear, a relief I never dreamed I would live to experience. And women out here are not bound to riding sidesaddle.
    In the bedroom is a narrow pine plank bed. We first scrubbed it, then filled it with fresh, soft pine boughs fetched by Bumpy, and over them spread canvas from a wagon sheet that Aunt Ann had washed and boiled and pounded until clean and sweet.Against the wall beside the bed is my dresser, and above that, my mirror, made of course by Uncle P.J.
    Doesn’t it sound grand?
    Aunt Ann had two spare rolls of light yellow wallpaper with a peacock pattern, and with that I have made a border about eighteen inches from the ceiling. This brightens the room considerably.
    I have a set of shelves on which my china and glass treasures will be arranged, and a cabinet bookcase made from an old walnut bedstead that was a relic of the Mountain Meadow Massacre—or maybe it was the Mountain
Meadows
Massacre. In any case it was a horrid event in which wild Indians murdered people from a wagon train. It happened many years ago.
    Uncle P.J. made the bookcase just for me. In it I have the few books I brought, but as I order more, it will fill up. And yesterday, after a long day of her own work, Aunt Ann brought me a set of dishes, a supply of coffee and tea, a cured ham, and two dozen ears of corn for hominy. The tea is for special occasions—it’s called “Afternoon Delight,” and is from
England.
    And just out back is a sturdy new outhouse. The old one was in need of repair, so Uncle P.J. simply hooked two mules to it, pulled it away, and constructed a new one.
    I have written Aunt Sallie about all of this, much as I just described. I related to her Aunt Ann’s story about their early hardships on the trip out, hardships we had never heard about—the stillbirth of a child, and Grandma Copeland’s illness. Aunt Ann told me all about it while we set up the cabin. At first she was reluctant to talk about those hardships, but I persisted, and shetold me these few details. I think Aunt Ann may be like Mama was. Mama never saw me as grown up, even after I got grown—that is, to talk to me straight on like a woman.
    Uncle P.J. has procured for me an absolutely grand employment, as promised, on the Merriwether Ranch nearby—caring for Mr. and Mrs. Merriwether’s two little girls, Melinda and Elisabeth, ages four and eight. My care for the children will be in exchange for meals while I’m there, clothing made by a Mexican woman who works for them, and a small wage. No one has used the word “governess,” but that is almost what I will be.
    â€”——
    This morning after chores around the cabin, I waited on my little porch for Bumpy. Although the Merriwether Ranch is within walking distance, Bumpy was to deliver me by wagon