Amendment

{Four} It All Started with a War

I had nothing to do but wait; which was fine for about five seconds. After the kitchen was cleaned up, I helped with some other womanly chores—it was made very clear Levicy would no longer protest to my offers of help; it was now required. It would be rude if I asked to leave for a walk or something, I guessed. Besides, I wasn’t all that sure they’d even let me. The times I had been out of the house, I’d been with at least one Hatfield. They didn’t trust me not to run off in search of my brother. I didn’t blame them. With all my heart, I wanted to burst through that house and out the door, not caring about the dangers. Only my brother.

It was still weird, getting used to this time travel thing. I still couldn’t believe it. How had it happened? A scientist would surely know. If I were to ask anyone here they’d lock me up in the loony bin. In fact, if my history was correct, I was pretty sure Sally McCoy ended up in a mental hospital after some specific incident. Yeah. I’m a real historian.

For the thousandth time I wished Russ and I hadn’t gotten separated. It would have really benefitted our survival. He was probably doing great, wherever he was. Me? I probably could have fibbed my way through most of it. But, no. I had to get stuck with the Hatfields; the most suspicious family ever to live in West Virginia. That’s just how my luck runs.

It was midevening on my second official day in 1882 when the girls approached me. I wasn’t doing anything in particular, just taking much too long to wash some dishes. No one claimed I was good at this womanly chores bit. I was pretty sure they were better off without my help. There was a system the Hatfield women had that I knew I’d never get the hang of.

Betty and her thirteen year old sister—Nancy, but preferred to be called Nanny, I learned early on—marched into the kitchen, determined looks on their faces.

“We’re going to pick some flowers from the meadow,” Betty announced excitedly. “Will you come with us?”

For a minute, I just stared at her, not believing it. They were actually going to let me out of the house. Granted, to pick flowers with the little girls, but actually didn’t mind their company.

So, with a broad smile on my face, I quickly agreed to go out with them, much to their delight. Well, Betty’s, anyway. Nanny looked indifferent to the whole thing. I didn’t care. A chance to go out was a chance to get out. I’d be damned if I wasn’t gonna take it.

Since my hoop skirt was out dated—it wasn’t, really, I was later told by Levicy; Betty just wasn’t used to them because her family had no need for them—I went out in my same grimy blouse and stifling skirt. How did they manage it all the time? Two days in and already it was all I could do to not steal a pair of britches from one of the men.

The bottom of my skirt dragged against the dirt, already a nice little layer of house dust covering the hem. I was in too high of spirits to care, though. Outside never felt so good! Of course, I’d gone out occasionally when we did laundry, but that was about it. And for a girl who’s used to almost never being home that was like being in lock down.

“What’re we picking flowers for?” I asked as we continued to walk. Apparently it was a long trek to this so called meadow. I wasn’t complaining.

“To make the house smell better,” Betty answered. “Mama says it’s getting pretty bad.”

I hadn’t noticed, actually. Sure, it had all the natural scents a house should have. Mostly I had just been focused on the stifling heat and being basically locked in. You tend to complain less when you’ve just been transported back in time and are waiting to be reunited with your brother. Just saying.

“What kind of flowers do y’all normally pick?” What I wanted to do was walk in complete silence, basking in the warmth of the sun and the smell of nature. But I figured I ought to contribute to the non-existent conversation. Wasn’t that what people did then?