Sweetbriar Read online

  “I don’t need to sleep. These blisters are already beginning to run again.”

  “And they’ll be cryin’ for days, and you’ll need to wash ’em, but now you’re gonna sleep. You gonna cooperate or fight me?”

  Linnet gave a weary smile and pulled a mattress from where it rested against the wall. Nettie had brought it earlier. “You take the mattress, and I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”

  “No,” Phetna said sternly. “I’ll stay here in the chair. One of us has to watch him.”

  “Then I’ll—” Phetna’s look stopped her. “All right, you can sleep tomorrow.” Linnet put the mattress very close to Devon and stretched out. She was asleep instantly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  WHEN LINNET AWOKE SUNLIGHT FILTERED IN through the oiled paper over the windows and it was a moment before she remembered the events of the past night. Phetna’s face looked worse in the daylight, the taut, misplaced skin giving her a grotesque look, and Linnet realized why she lived so far from other people. The inhabitants of Spring Lick would never be so generous as to include someone who did not fit with their idea of what a person should be. Miranda still slept peacefully, the effects of the smoke still drugging her somewhat.

  She turned her head to Devon and smiled at his innocent nakedness, the smooth firm buttocks lighter than the rest of him. The blisters on his back were encrusted again, and she stood, picked up the buckets and quietly went outside for fresh water.

  “Linnet.”

  She looked up to smile at the Squire. “Good morning.”

  He smiled back. “I don’t know if it is so good. It feels like we’re in for some rain. How is…he?”

  “Devon is holding his own.” She looked down at her skirt. “I don’t really know. Phetna says we’ll know in a few days, whether he’ll…whether he’ll be all right or not.”

  “You are getting along with Phetna? I know she can be cantankerous at times.”

  Linnet frowned. “I find her to be pleasant. We talked a good deal.”

  “The people of Spring Lick don’t really care for her, they…”

  Linnet glared at him, her distaste obvious.

  “It’s not me, of course, although I will admit her face isn’t something I’d like to look at every day, but the people of the town have some beliefs about her. There was another fire a few years back, a whole family burned, but we got them out. Phetna came but the family still died.”

  Linnet lifted one eyebrow. “You mean they blamed Phetna for the deaths?”

  “I don’t know if they blamed her or not, but they were pretty unhappy about her. It’s her ways as well as her looks. She kept ordering everyone to help her. If she’d just asked—”

  “Asked!” Linnet said angrily. “As I asked four of the men to carry Devon to my cabin? I asked and they refused.”

  “Refused!” the Squire exclaimed. “Who were they? Who refused to help you?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Nettie’s family helped me, but I just don’t want to hear any more about Phetna. She has been good to me and helped me with Devon.”

  The Squire took the full buckets of water from her, and they began walking. “I’m sorry to have upset you, Linnet. I just wanted to prepare you if you find her difficult to deal with.”

  “Quite the contrary,” Linnet snapped. “Now I must go, his burns need washing.”

  The Squire opened the door for her and then stopped at the sight of Devon’s nude form. His face drained of color.

  Linnet could hardly control her smile. “Phetna says we must let the burns get air.”

  “Yes, I am sure she’s right.” He could not bring himself to look at the scarred woman. “But couldn’t you cover, ah, part of him?”

  Phetna gave her cracked laugh, causing the Squire to turn toward her, and even prepared for the sight, he still felt his stomach roll over.

  Linnet saw his look and took the buckets from him. “I have work to do,” she said coldly; “so if you’d excuse me.”

  The Squire couldn’t let his problem alone. “Linnet, I really think you should cover him somewhat. Think of Miranda.”

  Linnet met his eyes. “Devon’s welfare is much more important than Miranda’s delicate sensibilities, if she has any at her age. I will not rear a fragile flower who is upset at the sight of a sick man’s bare behind. Now, please, I must wash him.”

  The Squire glared at her, turned and slammed the door behind him.

  Phetna’s sustained cackle and the slamming door woke Miranda. The baby rolled over and looked about her, somewhat dazed by the transformation of her home.

  Linnet saw Phetna’s immediate reaction to Miranda—she turned her face away, not wanting the child to see her. Linnet took a deep breath and knew it was now or never. “Phetna, I need to tend to Devon. Would you please take care of Miranda? She will need to be taken to the outhouse right away, if she isn’t already wet.”

  “No, I can’t,” Phetna said, desperation in her voice.

  Linnet kept washing, going slowly and tenderly around the blisters on Devon’s back. “I can’t do this and take her, too, and I have enough of a mess to clean up now.”

  “But I can’t take her outside. They’re outside.”

  Linnet turned to her. “I am sure you mean the people of Spring Lick and I am just as sure that you are right, but there are more important things than a person’s scarred face.”

  Phetna blinked, the one eyelid pulling tightly. “What about her, your young’un?” She still refused to look at the little girl.

  “Miranda,” Linnet called and held out her arms. “Come here. Miranda, I’m afraid, has been in the care of several other people in her short life. Until she was a year old she didn’t know who her mother was. I came to Kentucky with several wagons and when there was sickness, which there always seemed to be, I acted as nurse while someone else cared for Miranda. In Spring Lick Nettie has always cared for her while I taught school. Miranda is one of those people who never meets a stranger. Miranda.” She turned the baby to face Phetna. “This is—I don’t know your last name.”

  “Been so long, I forgot it myself.” She reluctantly looked at the smooth, perfect face of the baby.

  “Miranda, this is Aunt Phetna. She’s come to stay with us. Will you go to her now, and she’ll take you outside?” Much to Linnet’s chagrin, Miranda did not like Phetna’s face. It scared her, as when some of the boys made faces at her, and she turned back to her mother and began to whimper.

  “I told you not to do that. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me but there’s no reason for you to make that child look.” She stopped talking when Linnet put Miranda in Phetna’s bony lap.

  “Miranda, look at me.” The child looked at her mother, afraid to again look at Phetna. “Now, Miranda, Aunt Phetna looks different, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Linnet touched her own eye. “See, eye. Now, Miranda’s eye.” She took the child’s hand and Miranda touched her own eye.

  “Where’s Mama’s eye?” Miranda smiled and kicked her bare feet. She liked the game. “Now Miranda’s eye.” The child touched her own eye. “Now Aunt Phetna’s eye.”

  Phetna was startled when the child stuck a little finger into the scarred eye.

  “See, Miranda,” Linnet said. “Mama’s nose, Miranda’s nose, Aunt Phetna’s nose.” The baby laughed and Linnet turned to Phetna. “It may take a few minutes, but she’ll get over her shyness. Why don’t you let her touch your face and let her see you’re not trying to frighten her?”

  Phetna was overwhelmed by all of it. Not since she had been burned, twelve years before, had she let anyone touch her face. The truth was, she hardly even touched her own body, refusing to acknowledge the missing ear, the heavy cords across her cheek and neck, the scarred lips. Miranda was too young yet to form opinions of what was really hideous. Phetna took the child outside, and Linnet was alone with Devon.

  She washed him tenderly and, as she came close to his face, she bent and kissed his warm cheek. “You’