Curtis, part seventeen

Leta better understood how her new husband's house achieved such a state of disarray and filth. After an unquestionably busy Sunday, in which both worked nearly non-stop, he collapsed into bed right after a late supper with the directive to her to leave the unwashed supper dishes in the kitchen and get some sleep herself.

“Tomorra’s gonna to be a busy day,” he said.

But Leta couldn’t leave the mess. There was even leftover stew that she wanted to serve for lunch the next day. And more than any other type of housecleaning, she detested leaving her kitchen dirty. Besides, it would not take her that long to finish, at least with the dishes and pots that they had used for supper. Cleaning the rest of the kitchen would need to be pushed back another day.

As it had the previous day, Leta’s Monday began at 4:30 a.m., and by six, she had milked the cows, separated the milk, filled the newly cleaned milk canister and started breakfast. While she was cooking, her husband came into the kitchen, after counting the chickens, with two scrawny-looking teenaged boys.

“I hope you made enough for four,” he announced. “These boys is purty hungry, ain’tcha boys?”

“Yes sir,” one of the boys answered in a slow drawl.

Leta grimaced, but stayed silent.

“Give me a sec,” she requested. “I’ll just fry up some more eggs. There’s only a couple-three biscuits left from last night, but you’re welcome to them. And I have some berries in the sink. How does that sound?”

“I sure like me some biscuits,” the other boy grumbled.

“’Course you does, boy,’ her husband agreed. “We all does. Mrs. Curtis will whip some right up, won’t you, Mrs. Curtis?”

“Tell you what, then,” Leta suggested in an even tone that concealed her annoyance. “Get yourselves washed up, and I’ll get them going. Then you can have them fresh from the oven.”

“Alrighty then,” the first boy concurred.

Leta was an efficient cook, so she made a batch of biscuits in less than thirty minutes, and fed the three men. As she suspected, the scrawny boys devoured everything and were still unsatisfied. She had intended to sit with them, but spent her time at the stove, frying more eggs and making more biscuits.

“This breakfast is so tasty,” her husband said between bites, “that I tell you what, Mrs. Curtis. I’m a gonna have these boys slaughter the chickens for ya today.”

“Thank you,” Leta said. “I could also use some assistance hanging a clothesline. It’s Monday…and wash day.”

“A course,” Curtis agreed. “But there’s a girl coming pretty soon. She can help ya.”

“A girl? Really?” Leta questioned.

“She’ll have two little ones with her, but she’ll be helping you out. And they’ll all be here for lunch.”

To be continued.