A Prairie Rose

Chapter 24

"Go on, now," Mrs. Hansen told me, taking my arm and guiding me out of the washtub in the front room. Grace had already had her bath, and she was seated just a few feet away, sitting beside her father. He rose, reaching for the towel Grace had hung up after drying off. He handed it to his wife who wrapped it around my shoulders, and told me to go put on my nice clothes and find my matching ribbons- I would need to look my best, she said, reaching to pull of Hattie's dress for her bath, next. 

So I went to work, and finally set the brush gently back down on the bedside table, just beside Ma's old jewelry box. Though perhaps the prettiest thing in the bedroom, it was towards the back of the bedside table, safely nestled against the wall, where nobody could accidentally knock it over and shatter it. The little table that went between the two beds in the room was sturdy and dependable- just like all of the other furniture Mr. Hansen had built.

The bedroom was almost unrecognizable now. The bedside table held the brush that Grace, Hattie, and I shared, as well as a candleholder and my Ma's handmirror- Grace used that far more often than Hattie or I. There was a narrow desk that the three of us shared towards the end of Grace's bed, leaving her just enough space to open and rummage through the chest that was pushed against her footboard. And there were wooden shelves now, too, that held Grace's books so she did not have to pile them on the floor any longer, as well as the toys that Hattie and I liked to play with. It was quite nice to not have to shove my way through piles of clothes in my chest to find a certain, small toy.

The rest of the house was far different than it had been when it was just me and Pa, too- even outside, where horse stables were now built long to hold both Pa's and the Hansen's horses, along with pens and water tubs for the animals Mr. Hansen wanted to buy that upcoming Spring. Even the chickens had a bigger coop and pen now- a warmer, sturdier one. And the inside of the house felt transformed, as well- from the shelves that held the many spices, to the pantry area that had been set up for all the canned goods and salted meats, to the large bear rug that was now situated just in front of the fire- we had been eating spiced bear stew and rolls and casseroles ever since that bear had gone after Mr. Hansen at the river, and he had downed it with his rifle.

Somehow, Grace still found little things to nag about. She liked the old house better, she said- the one her father had built, with a bigger front room, where she got her very own bedroom, with a real door and walls. But Mr. Hansen just assured her that, come summer, he would build some real walls and attach doors, but that he certainly would not be building up a whole new house just because she wanted her own room when we were all already settled in and comfortable enough. She should be grateful, he said, that she got her own bed- Hattie and I would have to share until Grace was old enough to be married and move out. Another bed certainly would not fit into the narrow little path between the two beds.

I was not bothered at all by sharing, though- sleeping beside Hattie gave me someone to whisper to in the night, until Grace hissed at us to be quiet, or complained to her parents that we were keeping her up. The small, coziness of the house made it so that, even from my room, I could hear the crackling of the fire at night, and feel the warmness as it come in through where the canvas wall was pinned up- Mr. and Mrs. Hansen liked to come and check in on us without the hassle of pushing through it. And the bear rug was so comfortable that Hattie and I almost always chose to sit on that, rather than the benches topped with blankets as cushions that Mr. Hansen had built, and his wife had sewn up.

I went to sit in the frontroom, just in front of Mrs. Hansen, passing by the slate that I had been writing on just a few minutes earlier. My spelling words were written on it, and though my handwriting left much to be desired- the chalk strokes lined up to make very clear words.