Ella: an Everland Ever After Tale
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Authors: Caroline Lee
Copyright
© 2016, Caroline Lee
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First edition: 2016
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Ella
An Everland Ever After Tale
Dedication:
For the Pioneer Hearts readers and authors who have formed the most welcoming group in the Wild Wild Web
The little girl huddled against her mother in the wagon. It wasn’t cold, but as they were ferried across the empty plains, she needed the reassurance her mother’s comforting presence brought. “Will my new papa like me, Mama?”
Mama smiled down at her. “How could he not, Ella? You’re sweet and helpful and will be a good daughter to him. I told him all about you—what a good little seamstress you are—in my letters.”
Just as he’d written all about his daughters. “Will my new sisters like me?”
“Of course they will. Having sisters is the most wonderful bond in the world, and I’m so glad that you’re finally going to have some.” She’d had a baby brother once, but he’d died a long time ago, before her Papa did. But now, Mama was going to remarry, and she was going to have
three
sisters.
It was very exciting. And terrifying.
“Will I like living on a ranch, Mama?”
“I hope so, sweetheart.” This time, Mama’s voice sounded less sure. “Your new Papa is a wealthy man. He has hundreds and hundreds of cattle, and can afford nice things for his daughters.” She gave the girl a little squeeze. “His girls need a Mama, just like we need a new home. I’m excited to meet him.” The quaver in her voice told the girl that Mama was nervous too, so she hugged her back.
Before long, the livery wagon crested a ridge, and the two of them saw their new home; a large house surrounded by outbuildings and gardens and activity. The mountains in the distance lent a sort of stark beauty to the place, and mother and daughter shared a smile.
Those smiles grew when they saw their new family waiting for them in front of the house. The imposing, serious-looking man cradling the curious toddler must be her new Papa. She watched as Mama greeted him awkwardly, and decided that she would reserve judgement on him.
But much more intriguing were the two girls standing haughtily beside him. One was her age, and one a little older. All three girls had the palest blonde hair she ever did see, in sharp contrast to her own dark curls.
“Hello! I’m Ella!” Mama had taught her to be polite, and she was excited to start her friendship with her new sisters.
The older one sniffed haughtily and looked away. “Eunice, she looks like an Indian. Or a Gypsy, maybe. Check to see if she’s wearing any shoes.”
Ella knew that her clothing wasn’t as nice as her new sisters’, but she hadn’t expected insults. At a loss, she watched the other girl bend over to peek at her naked feet, and self-consciously tucked her toes under her skirt.
Eunice, the chubby girl her own age, straightened and smiled good-naturedly. “Nope, Mabel.” But then she nodded at Ella. “That’s okay, though. You can borrow some of mine. We have millions of dresses and shoes.”
“She can borrow some of
yours
, if you think you can
trust
her.”
Ella had to defend herself. “You can trust me! We’re sisters now!”
“Quiet down, girls.” Her new Papa’s harsh censure surprised Ella, and made her blush in embarrassment at being caught losing her temper so early. She peeked up at her new Papa, but he was speaking quietly to Mama, making her blush as well. Ella wondered why.
She didn’t have to wonder long, though, before Papa thrust the littlest blonde sister in her arms. “Here you go, girl. Carry Sibyl while I show your mother around my house.”
As he led Mama away, Eunice and Mabel flouncing in his wake, Mama turned around once to gaze at Ella. The girl forced a smile on her face to reassure her mother, as she struggled to support the beautiful little toddler in arms that were not used to the task.
When Mama turned back to the house, Ella suddenly felt a warm wetness creeping across her tummy. She looked at Sibyl, sucking beatifically on one thumb, and realized what had happened.
Her new sister had peed on her.
Wyoming Territory, 1875
At least no one was kicking her awake.
Ella woke quickly, as was her habit, but took the time to relish that quiet moment before the sun lightened the kitchen enough to justify her getting up. There had been mornings—none recently, thank the Lord—that she’d overslept, and had been woken by angry screeches about breakfast and gowns and hairstyles.
But not today.
After not nearly enough moments enjoying the comfort of her blankets, the sun crested the Wyoming hills and hit the small mirror she’d positioned in the window for just this purpose. The beam of reflected light hit the pillow by her head, and she sighed. Time to get up.
The kitchen had been her home for eight years, since her mother had died and Mabel convinced Papa that she needed her own room. So Eunice moved in with Sibyl, and Ella… well, there weren’t enough beds for Ella, so she made do with the warmth of the fireplace in the kitchen. At least here, she was safe from their cruelty. Mostly.
Folding away her pallet and blankets, Ella slipped on the light slippers Papa insisted that she wear in the house, and listened to the sounds of the birds. They would often come and perch on the windowsill and trill at her early in the morning, no matter how often she tried to shoo them away. In the summer heat, the window was wide open, and it was only a matter of time before that particularly loud lark showed up to sing at her. They had a way of knowing when she was working, and Ella—completely baffled by the whole thing—had long ago resigned herself to their company.
She set a pot of water to boil on the stove, knowing that Papa and her stepsisters liked their coffee first thing, and then tied an apron around her dress—she only had the two—and got to work washing and peeling potatoes for breakfast.
The outside door opened and closed, and Ella heard Maisie’s happy humming. The older woman lived with her husband in a little cabin on the far side of the barns, and she joined Ella each morning to cook the food for the ranch hands’ morning meal. The two of them were friends… or as close of friends as Papa would let her be with a former slave.
“You get the eggs from this morning already?”
The other woman held up her basket, her eyes twinkling. “Those chickens listen to me better’n your birds listen to you.” She carefully balanced the basket on the shelf above the counter, and began to roll up her own sleeves.
“
Listen
to me? Those birds don’t even know I’m here.” She moved the potatoes to the board and got out the good knife, careful to keep her fingertips out of the way.
“
Hmmmm.
You think they coming here to visit
me
? Nah, them animals like just you.”
“I don’t see why,” Ella grumbled. “I don’t like them.” From the corner of her eye, she watched a brown shape scurry out from behind one of the stones in the hearth. She’d long ago stopped screaming when the mice scampered across her pillow, but now she glared down at this one’s big beady eyes. It somehow managed to look pleading, and Ella didn’t have the time to chase it away. With an exasperated eye-roll, she flicked a chunk of potato off the counter, and pretended not to hear Maisie’s chuckle when the bothersome little pest took her pity-offering and scampered off.
“I can’t imagine why they’d like you.” Maisie laid on the sarcasm thick enough to chew, and Ella tossed a potato piece at her. It bounced off the center of the dark woman’s forehead, and landed on the floor, where the mouse scooped
it
up too. Neither woman could stifle their giggles when the creature ran back to its den with double the bounty.
Ella cut the bacon while Maisie fried the first batch for the cowboys, and they chatted. “Have you been out to see the puppies?”
“Only one left, now.”
“Oh, no. The mama still hasn’t come back?”
“Nope, but Leonard says this girl’s strong, and she’ll make it fine. He says a few of the other men been acting interested in her too, so maybe he’ll have some help keepin’ her strong.” Ella smiled at the good news. “Of course, she likes you best of all. Just like them birds and mice and—” Maisie screeched when Ella pretended to threaten her with the big knife, and they both dissolved into giggles again.
They fell into companionable silence, each used to the other’s presence during the rush of breakfast preparation. Ella had the coffee done, the potatoes fried, and the eggs cooking in the bacon drippings when the first creaks came from overhead. Both women turned to look at the ceiling, and then at each other.
“Miss Mabel’s up early.”
Ella hummed noncommittedly, hurrying in her tasks. Years ago, it had been her duty—Mabel had
made
it her duty—to get her stepsisters dressed in the morning. Then, when she’d taken over the cooking for the family, Mabel had bullied Sibyl into helping her and Eunice. But they were fast dressers, and if they were up, then Papa was probably already in the dining room.
She pulled off the apron, settled everything on the tray, and turned to find Maisie giving her a sympathetic look. “You want me to help you carry all of that?”
Ella smiled thankfully. “And let you take some of the credit for this fine meal?” Her teasing made the other woman smile, as she’d known it would. “No ma’am. I’ve got to butter them all up.”
“Today’s the day you going into town?”
“Mabel wants a new dress for the July Fourth parade and picnic, so of course the other girls demanded one, too. I’ve got to go find some more white ribbon and lace, if there’s any left. Papa’s got to let me go.”
Maisie smiled sadly and patted her arm. “They worked your mama to death, and now work you too hard too, child.”
That caused a slight laugh. “Of course they do. But if these dresses are pretty enough, maybe they’ll all find beaus—finally!—and get married and go away and leave me alone.”
“Your sisters are ugly inside, and the men ‘round these parts know it.” Ella noticed that Maisie’s voice had dropped to a whisper, lest Edmund Miller hear her insult his precious daughters. “They ain’t getting’ married ‘til they change their ways.”
“Hush that nonsense, Maisie. They’ve
got
to get married; I’m not going to escape them otherwise!”
“You could always find yourself a man. You’re a pretty girl, inside and out. Find a handsome prince and ride away from here.”
Ella burst into laughter, not quite sure if her friend was teasing. “And where would I find a man around here?” She shook her head, still smiling, while she rolled down her sleeves and made sure that her dark curls were contained in a neat bun. Mabel and Eunice gave her enough trouble for not having straight blonde hair like they did; Ella tried her hardest to keep from looking “slovenly,” which always set them off. “And even if I did, why would I want to leave all of this?” She swept one hand around the room in mock seriousness, gesturing at the kitchen’s tight space and inadequate light and vermin-infested hearth.
Maisie relented, and smiled at her teasing. “All right, go on then. Go serve them bullies you call your sisters, and then go have fun in town.”
“I will!” she called as she backed through the door to corridor, her arms full with the silver tray that had belonged to Papa’s mother back in Boston.
Sure enough, her stepfather was sitting at his spot at the head of the table, reading yesterday’s
Wyoming Tribute
. He ignored her as she poured his coffee, and only glanced up when his own daughters came stampeding into the room, making much to-do about sitting down and serving themselves. Ella served herself last, of course, and settled at the far end of the table, next to her mother’s empty place.
It wasn’t far into the meal before her sisters were bickering with each other over who was wearing whose jewelry. Ella kept her head down, hoping they wouldn’t turn their ire on her. She’d learned soon after coming to the Miller Ranch that her sisters—and even her stepfather—didn’t need an excuse to rail at her. As always, Papa kept his attention on his paper; Ella suspected that it was less out of fascination with the news, and more out of a desire to ignore his daughters.
But by the end of the meal, she couldn’t avoid drawing their attention. “Excuse me, Papa?”
“Hmmmm…?” He frowned a bit when he realized that it was his stepdaughter who’d interrupted his breakfast ritual.
“I was wondering…” Ella swallowed and hurried through her explanation. “Once I’ve completed my chores, may I go into town? I need some new trim for my sister’s dresses.”
As expected, Papa’s frown grew—he never allowed her into town, not even for church services—and her sister protested.
“Absolutely not! Papa, she hasn’t waxed the bannister yet!”
“I wanted her to stitch the holes in my stockings today!”
“You can’t go! You promised you’d finish my curtains!”
Rather than addressing her stepsisters’ whining, Ella kept her expression calm, and faced Papa. He rarely looked right at her, and today was no exception. She felt like he was scowling at a spot on the wall behind her, but she folded her hands in her lap and straightened her spine, as Mama had taught her. “I can’t finish Sibyl’s curtains without the lace I was planning on buying today, and I finished stitching Eunice’s stocking yesterday.” She refused to let herself glance at her spoiled sisters. “And I stayed up late waxing the bannister last night. The house is clean, and I’ll be back before dinner.”
“If all you need is some lace, girl, have Maisie or one of the hands pick some up next time they’re in town.” Her stepfather’s voice was still as strong as it used to be, when he’d call her a stupid, lazy girl. Ella felt the muscles along her jaw tighten, and forced herself to remain calm.
“Your daughters have already picked out their material, and I’m half-complete with the dresses for the big celebration. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust anyone else to choose the right colors of trim that will go with the fabric. I won’t know what to get until I see what is available.”
She held her breath, hoping that he’d say yes, but knowing it was a long shot. “I hardly think that the task is too difficult—”
She played her ace. “I would hate to think of my sisters being forced to wear uncoordinated dresses.”
There was a chorus of slight gasps, and then all three spoke at once.
“You
must
let her go, Papa!”
“Only Ella can choose the right colors. You
know
that she has an eye for such things.”
“Pass the bacon, please.”
Ella hid her smile as Mabel scowled at the middle Miller sister. “
More
bacon? Ella will have to let out your dress before the picnic.”
Eunice shrugged. “Just so long as the trim matches that lovely green silk I picked out.” She took a big bite of bacon and pinned her father with an expectant stare.
When faced with three sets of ice-blue eyes—identical to his own—Edmund Miller sighed, and gestured to his stepdaughter. “Fine. Fine. I’ll tell Heyward that he’s to have one of the men spell him, and he’ll accompany you. But you’ll make sure that all of your work is done before you leave, and you’ll be back by dinner.”
Well, of course I will. No one else will cook it for you
. But Ella just smiled tightly and said “Yes, Papa” and tried not to let her stepsisters see how pleased she was, as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes. She knew that they’d find a way to stop her little excursion, if they knew how badly she wanted to go.
Going to town! When was the last time she’d been? Ella honestly couldn’t remember. Since Mama’s death, Papa had insisted that she stay here on the ranch, and he set guards to make sure that she didn’t leave. Her stepsisters claimed that it was because she was so ugly that he wanted everyone to forget he married her mother, and forget about her. Ella figured that it was more likely because if she stayed out of town and out of the townspeople’s memory, there was no one to keep her from cooking and cleaning and slaving for him and his spoiled daughters. It got lonely, but with no one in town to miss—and no one to miss her—it didn’t much matter.
But Ella hadn’t been lying to her family; she really did need to be the one to pick out the trimmings for these particular dresses. Her sisters had ordered the fashion magazines, and picked out the material themselves on their twice-weekly trips into Everland. She’d been slaving over the three dresses for weeks now.