American Frontier - Chapter 11

Missy woke up Saturday and prepared a large breakfast. She hadn't seen Father the previous night and knew that the coming confrontation would be easier if she had good food to give him. She usually went into the bakery on Saturdays, but she and Jacob had decided to leave the bakery closed so Emmaline could rest.

Thankfully Emmaline had come to shortly before Jacob got home. She had been tired, but her fever had broken and Missy felt she was on the road to recovery from whatever she had been suffering from.

When Missy got all the food on the table, she was rewarded by the sound of Father's bedroom door creaking open. He came into the kitchen wearing a deep frown, but it eased when he saw the eggs, sausage, and potatoes with some day-old bread laid out on the small table.

"'Bout time you got me a proper meal," he grumbled, taking his seat. Missy said a quiet prayer for herself as Father began filling his plate.

They ate mostly in silence. Father occasionally grumbled and groused about the saloon owner, with whom he was usually on poor terms.

When the meal ended, Missy quickly cleared off the table and began washing the dishes. Father said something about going to check on his tab at the bar and Missy watched him go with a frown. His drinking seemed to be getting worse. She hadn't had to worry about him going to the Saloon this early in the day before. He usually restricted himself to spending evenings there.

Once the dishes were done and the house cleaned, Missy decided to go check on Emmaline. The walk there was refreshing, in spite of the merciless sun.

She knocked on the bakery door and waited patiently for the few minutes it took before Jacob answered. He greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning Missy. Emmaline will be happy to see you." He shook his head. "She's already chafing at having to stay in bed."

Missy laughed. "She's only been confined to her bed for a day and a half. And she was sleeping for most of that!"

He chuckled. "I know, I know. She just wasn't built to sit around."

When Missy reached the bedroom upstairs, Jacob helped her pull a chair up next to Emmaline and then excused himself. "I've got a few things errands I need to run. Are you okay to sit with Emmaline for a bit?" he asked, looking at Missy.

"Of course. I had planned on staying for a while to visit."

"Thank you." He turned to go as Emmaline huffed.

"I'm not a child. I don't need anyone to sit with me and watch me. I'm perfectly capable of lying in bed unattended."

"We never said you were incapable," Missy answered, waving for Jacob to continue on his way. "You know very well that we just don't want you to get sick again and not have someone to take care of you."

Emmaline's frown softened a bit. "I know. But being cooped up like this really hasn't helped my temper. Are you sure you want to visit with a cantankerous old woman like me?"

Missy laughed. "Oh Emmaline, we both know you're neither cantankerous nor old! Now I need your help. I've been to the dressmaker's and ordered that new dress you helped me pick out, but when I stopped by the other day, she wanted to know what kind of trim I wanted for the edges."

Emmaline and Missy discussed dresses and fashion and other very feminine subjects for nearly two hours while Missy combed and re-braided Emmaline's lovely dark hair for her. Finally, Jacob returned. He walked in mopping his sweaty face with a large handkerchief. His blond hair was dripping.

"It's a scorcher out there. Will you be okay getting home on your own, Missy girl?" he asked.

"Oh certainly. It's not a long walk, after all."

He nodded. "Just be careful."

"I will," she promised. She gave Emmaline a quick hug and bid them both farewell, promising to return the next day after church.

As expected, the walk home was quick and uneventful. What Missy didn't expect was to find Father home already and waiting for her in the small living room on the worn sofa.

She walked through the door and quickly hung her bonnet. Looking at Father, she smiled. "Hello Father."

"Where were you?"

"I went to visit Emmaline. She took sick yesterday so I wanted to check on her."

He frowned. "You work at that bakery of hers still?"

"Yes, 6 days a week."

"And you get paid for your work?"

"Of course. She pays me a very good wage."

"Then why haven't I seen a penny of money from you to help with our expenses around here?" His voice had risen until he was yelling, though he thankfully remained seated.

"But. . . I buy all our food!" Missy was sure that Father must have realized by now that he was no longer paying for any food.

"Yes, but what about rent?"

"Rent? I- I thought we owned the house outright. You paid it off years ago." She sank into the nearest seat, an old, creaky rocking chair with a few loose slats.

"Yes, and so I did," he answered. "I meant that you should be paying me rent. You're of age, aren't you?"

"Well, I suppose- yes. I turned 21 last month."

"Then I expect rent. You can't keep living under my roof for free."

Missy felt a piercing pain in the vicinity of her heart. She knew that Father had a temper and that he was not the man he had been when Mother was alive. But she thought, all these years, that he still loved her and appreciated her for taking care of him. Now, knowing that he was willing to kick her out just like that, she had to admit that he didn't care about her at all.

"I suppose I'll get a room at the boardinghouse then," she answered softly.

"And what's wrong with my house!?" he shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Father, I can't afford to feed us and to pay you rent and still have enough for my other needs." She spoke in a soft, conciliating tone.

"Other needs? OTHER NEEDS!? What needs could be more important than taking care of me?"

She didn't understand his anger, but she knew that telling him she needed money for clothing was not the best move. Instead, she kept silent, hoping that he would vent all of his anger verbally.

As he strode towards her, fists clenched, she knew it was not to be. Knowing that running would only inflame his temper, she braced herself for the blows.

When his tirade finally ended with him storming out the front door muttering furiously, Missy slowly relaxed against the worn rug she lay on and closed her eyes. It hurt to breathe and she knew she should seek medical help. But she didn't want to face Parker, not like this.

Parker! Her eyes opened again and landed on the clock. Somehow it was already 8. He was already waiting for her, then. Dragging herself up with the help of the rickety end table, she stumbled to the door. Her head swam and her vision started to close in. She moved as quickly as she could, knowing that if she could just get to Parker, everything would be alright.