Shattered Trail

Chapter Five

It’s several days before I get a reply from the Reed family. Every day, I check at the post office, but there’s still no letter. I’m starting to get worried. They only live a quarter mile away- it shouldn’t take this long for a letter to arrive.

Finally, eight days after I sent my letter, I finally get a reply. I practically tear it from the postal worker’s hands and rush home. As soon as I enter my doorway, I rip the envelope open. The letter falls to the floor and I stoop over and pick it up, straining to read it.

Miss Slate, it says. We’ve considered you taking the position of caring for our children during our journey on the Oregon Trail. Please come for an interview Wednesday, February 16 at three o’clock, at our home.

Mr. and Mrs. Amos Reed

It lists an address, and then the note is over.

I’m so excited that I can’t breathe for a second. They’re considering me! They want an interview with me on Wednesday!

With a sudden shock, I realize that tomorrow is Wednesday. Good Lord, I only have a day to prepare. I read through the note again. The Reeds sound a little strict. Other people might at least put a “thank you for applying” or some other nice little sentence in there. But…

I let out a little gasp. Maybe they found out about Ada, and the rumors circling about me. Maybe they won’t hire me, and all they want to do is admonish me for applying when I knew I didn’t meet the requirements.

I shake my head. They only moved here last autumn, and they don’t fraternize with anybody in town. When I posted my letter, the worker at the post office looked at the address and shook his head. “The Reeds, eh?” he asked. “Snottiest people you’ll ever meet, girl. Don’t talk to nobody in town. Keep to themselves as much as possible.”

So chances are, they haven’t heard of me, or my actions. Maybe I’m safe, after all. Either way, I’m incredibly nervous for the interview.

*********************

Wednesday morning, I wake up before dawn and start drawing water for a bath. I normally just bathe on Saturday nights, but I know I should before the interview. I pull out a bar of sweet-smelling soap, one that I save for special occasions like this. The rest of the time, I use Mrs. Emmerson’s purple soap, the same soap I use for the laundry.

After bathing, I dress in an old, faded dress, and drag my chair out to the back of the house. I also take the family Bible- the only book that was ever in this house- outside, too. I figure that it can’t hurt to study it a bit. Maybe the Reeds are the religious type that will ask me about it. That’s always a possibility.

I choose the sunniest spot to set my chair, so my hair will dry quickly. Then I settle into it, and open the Bible. I start with the Psalms- it always seems that the Psalms are the ones people care about the most. I should probably read a bit of the Gospels, too, just in case.

I sit there until about noon- until the sun has dried and waved my hair the way I like it. I pick up my Bible and head inside. For dinner, I have a small roll with a glass of water. Then I pull out the gown I’ll be wearing. It’s my second Sunday frock, another one of Rosalind’s. I inspect the forest-green fabric and run my fingers over the black trimmings on it. Flipping it over, I notice that one of the dark ribbons is falling off of it. Cursing myself for not noticing it earlier, I pull out my small sewing kit. I carefully sew the ribbon back on, then check for other loose parts of the dress. I snip a few loose threads off of the bottom of the gown, then put my sewing kit back in the cabinet where I keep it. After the dress passes my inspection, I put it on, careful not to snag it anywhere.