Shattered Trail

Chapter Seven

My hands tremble as I begin to read. I almost drop the letter twice, but I’m gripping it so hard between my fingers that it stays in my hand. As I read through it as quickly as I can, my stomach twists, and I swallow as hard as I can.

Miss Slate, it reads. We are pleased to offer you the position of caring for our children- among other tasks- along our journey to Oregon. Based on your recent interview, we feel that you have the necessary qualifications and experience to handle the job well. Please meet with us on Thursday, February Twenty-Fourth at Three p.m. to discuss your position in more detail, as well as negotiate cost, among other things.

Mr. and Mrs. Amos Reed

It lists an address, and then it’s done.

I got it.

My stomach leaps again, but this time, I don’t try to contain my excitement. I let out the most un-lady-like whoop I can, and then I jump up and down several times before I force myself to stop and sit down in my chair. But it isn’t long before I have to stand up and leap around a bit more before settling down once again.

After I manage to calm myself down, I re-read the letter. I have a sudden fear that I read it wrong, and it actually says that I didn’t get the job. But no, the letter is the same as before- and in eight months, hopefully, I’ll be starting over in Oregon Territory.

I force myself to swallow some breakfast, and then get on with the day’s work. Today I have to bake most of my food for the week, and I have a quilt that needs mending. The quilt alone will take all afternoon. So I pick up my water bucket and head to the stream, praying for Wednesday to come soon. That’s the day of my dress fitting appointment- and it’s also when I can talk to the Emmersons, and let them know I got the job. But for right now, I have work to do.

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Mrs. Emmerson and I had agreed to meet at the store on Wednesday, so we could walk together to the dress shop, for my appointment at three. But I show up at the store at a little after two-thirty, just so that I can tell them that I got the job and so we can chat about it a bit.

I open the door to the store quietly, but the loud, tinkling bell attached to it greets me merrily anyway. Mr. Emmerson is nowhere to be seen, but Mrs. Emmerson is in the back of the store, arranging hair ribbons on a small shelf. “Antonia1” she cries cheerfully when she sees me. “Come in, dear. You must be excited for your appointment- am I right? You’re a bit early. But that’s perfectly fine, dear,” she adds, when I make a small noise of apology. “I know you must be dying to see your gown.”

I nod, and patiently wait for her to finish her task, even though I’m practically bursting to tell her my news. “I just need to finish arranging these…” she murmurs, concentrating on the ribbons like they’re the most difficult puzzle in the world. “Oh!” she cries, turning around and looking up at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask worriedly. “Are you all right? Should I call for Mr. Emmerson?”

“No, no,” she says dismissively, waving her hand in the air. “I’m plumb fine. But I can’t believe I forgot to ask: Did you get the job?”

 “Maybe,” I tell her, and laugh when she makes a face at me. “I got the job!”

“Oh!” she screams, and practically leaps forward to wrap her arms around me. “Antonia, that’s so wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” She hugs me again, the abruptly lets go of me. “Roy!” she yells through the back door of the store, into the house. “Antonia has some news! Come out here!”

A few moments later, Mr. Emmerson comes wandering out of the house. “Good afternoon,” he says, nodding at me. “What’s this news that's got Faith all wound up?”