The Willard by LeAnne Burnett Morse Read Free Book Online

her face.
    “Miss, would you like to go back to the hotel?”
    Catherine didn’t answer. She turned without a word and began walking down the street, leaving the driver to wonder if the young lady had seen a ghost.

    The rutted streets made for a difficult crossing. As if it hadn’t been hard enough maneuvering into the old-fashioned clothes and fastening the tiny buttons on the shoes that were in the closet of her hotel room, now Catherine had to dodge the tripping hazards of the dirt roads while trying to keep her skirt out of the muddy pits that seemed to be everywhere. It was too much for her mind to take in to figure out how all this was happening. One thing she had been sure of right away: the corset hanging in the closet wasn’t going to get any use if she had her way.
    After reading the name on the house she had taken off walking aimlessly. She’d been walking for some time and just taking in what she saw. She walked to the White House and was surprised at how small it looked without the east and west wing additions. Even more shocking was the casual way people came and went from the mansion with no discernible security to stop them. She got a closer look at the Washington Monument and found that her eyes had not deceived her when she had looked out her hotel window. It was short and stubby and there werehundreds, if not thousands, of cattle grazing in the field around it. The smell was terribly unpleasant and Catherine used the white handkerchief she had found in the tiny purse that had also been in her closet. She vaguely remembered that purses like this were called reticules.
    What a random and utterly useless fact to recall. I have no idea what’s going on with the world or my own life but I know this thing is called a reticule. Perfect
.
    Catherine walked and walked until her feet were sore and she was no closer to understanding anything that was happening. She thought perhaps she’d had a medical crisis and was in a coma. Maybe it was a long and detailed dream like Bobby Ewing had on
Dallas
. There weren’t any good explanations and she was about to give up and head back to the hotel when she heard a commotion coming from an alley.
    “Well, I don’t care for your attitude either, missy, and I was just doing this as a favor for Minnie Maxwell anyway. I can’t for the life of me figure what she sees in you, but she got it in her head that you were somebody worth knowing. Well, Minnie can just find something else to brag about to those gossipy, bandage-rolling biddies!”
    The screaming woman laid the whip on her horse’s back and her carriage raced out of the alley and nearly over the top of Catherine, splashing her with muddy water.
    The woman who had been on the receiving end of the screaming diatribe saw what happened and disappeared into a doorway in the alley. A moment later she came running out with towels and did her best to clean up the mess that Catherine had become.
    “I’m awfully sorry you were caught up in our little drama.” The woman spoke with a lilting voice. It was a captivating sound. She was dressed in a fine gown of heavy emerald green fabric that might be better suited for evening, but she carried off the look with ease.
    She looks a little like Scarlett O’Hara after she made a dress of her mother’s drapes. Excellent, another useless recollection. Reticules and drapes
.
    Catherine could see faint lines around the woman’s eyes, which were deep pools of amber-flecked brown. There was a quiet maturity about her that was strangely soothing. She looked at Catherine and saw the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “There, there dear; it’s just a little dirt and grime. A girl can’t spend time in a city like this and not get her pantaloons a little muddy, now can she?”
    Catherine was taken with her kindness, but the ordeal of the afternoon had caught up with her and she was at a loss for words. The woman seemed to take her silence as proof that some delicate