Where the water isn’t warm enough, but that’s the least of Mary’s problems..

Catch up with chapter 45…

Start the adventure from the beginning.

Mary lost count of how many buckets she pumped,

or how many pots of boiling hot water Cookie dumped into the tub for her. She didn’t care, all she cared about was sinking into the water and washing the stink of sweat and travel from her person.

She huddled into herself behind the folding partition. “Are you certain no one can see me?” she called out.

“No one can you see you, Mary. And I’m standing guard at the door, so no one comes in.” Marshall yelled back.

Reluctantly, Mary prepared to drop her last bit of clothing and climb into the tub. “Might as well kill two birds,” she muttered. Her shift and bloomers needed a good washing too. Might as well get some laundry done.

Of course, as a proper lady, who hadn’t even so much as visited the kitchens in her grandfather’s or sister’s homes, Mary only had a passing concept of washing clothes.

She dipped her toe in first. The water wasn’t exactly hot. But it wasn’t cold either. With a sigh, she climbed the rest of the way in and sank to the bottom. The water barely covered her knees. It was plenty enough to get wet and clean. She lay back and let water do what it would with her hair.

She was already in desperate need of a comb or a brush, the water couldn’t mess it up any further. Besides, she didn’t want to think of how much dirt and dust were tangled with the strands. Of course the storm the previous night had drenched her plenty, maybe her hair and person were cleaner than she realized.

She scrubbed at her legs with the hard bar of soap Cookie had pointed out. She refused to think about who else had used it in her need for achieving cleanliness.

Pleased with her current state she began humming to herself and blocked the rest of the world out for a moment.

She should have known better. There was no rest from peril on this journey. She blamed her grandfather for all of it.

Her ablutions were interrupted by raucous shouting and laughter. And what sounded like bodies falling to the floor. Men yelled, but she felt secure knowing Marshall would keep the nonsense at bay. And away from the kitchen.

She could only imagine that living on a ranch with only men lended itself to constant fisticuffs, and much yelling. But that other noise, what was it? Squealing and grunting.

And why was it so close?

“There she is, grab her boys!”

Mary screamed.

There was a sudden and loud scrabbling sound as something careened into the folding divider.

“That’s it!” Bart Wheelwright’s booming voice sounded from near by. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Get that sow out of there. And get yourself out of the kitchen immediately!”

There were me in the kitchen!

With a crash the screen fell on top of the tub. Mary screamed again.

“Don’t worry lady, I’ll help you,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said.

“The hell you will” Marshall barked. “All of you get the hell out of this kitchen now! Leave the damned pig! Mary, Mary are you all right?”

“I am unhurt,” she replied. She was safely cocooned in the top, with the folding screen acting as a lid. “Did you say there was a pig in the kitchen?”

“Some fool set a pig loose in the house as a distraction,” Marshall said.

“A distraction?”

“They wanted to catch a peep of you in the tub.”

Mary chortled. “I dare say I would disappoint. Is it safe to remove this from atop me? I’m beginning to feel a tad closed in.” She tried to push the screen up, it simply fell right back on top of her.

“Give me a moment.” Marshall said right before the room went quiet.

“Okay, it’s just me. I’ll keep my eyes closed. I promise,” Marshall said

“Oh pish, I’m fully dressed,” she replied.

Light came back to her as the protective folding screen was dragged away from the tub.

“I dare say I’d be a bit of a spectacle, bathing in my clothes.” She stood and presented herself to Marshall.

He dropped the screen with a clatter and spun around. “You would not disappoint. You need to get yourself wrapped up in a dressing gown.”  His voice sounded thick and funny to Mary.

She looked down at herself, and screamed again. Her shift had turned practically transparent and clung to her almost as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. She threw her arms over herself and dropped back down into the tub.

Without another word, Marshal managed to set the screen to rights. “I’ll… I’ll be right outside the door,” he stammered.

Will Mary expire from embarrassment, or will she rally and survive the night? Tune in next time…

© 2026 Lulu M. Sylvian