20
1664 Words
After helping Lukas’s grandmother gather all the bed linens, used towels, and random clothing pieces that were lying around from each room, she left the woman to start the laundry while she swept and mopped the upper level of the house. Passing the task to Marie when she was done with the stairs, she took the basket of freshly-washed linens and quilts out to the line, humming quietly as she worked. The stillness of the morning and the kindness she’d been shown over the last four days had quickly made her relax and lean toward enjoying her new beginning.
Finishing with the laundry, she raised the line with the attached pole until the light morning breeze began pushing the sheets around to dry them. Putting the now-empty basket in the nook by the dryer, she checked on the load of underwear and nightwear that Marie refused to put on the line. Moving with precise, practiced motions, she grabbed the apron Marie described off the wall behind the front door.
Slipping quickly into the chicken coop, she locked the hens and rooster into the main cage before removing all the old hay from the earthen floor. The smell of fresh hay and the clucking of the chickens filled the air as she spread a new layer. She let the animals out to eat after scattering the feed around for them. Watching as they pecked at the food, she giggled when one tried to fight another over a kernel of dried corn. Letting a bit more drop to the earth, she sighed as she returned to the task at hand and gathered the few eggs she could find.
Bringing them inside, she set the small basket in the sink for the older woman to handle. “Oma, I’ve gathered the eggs for you.”
“Thank you, dear,” the woman replied, stooping to grab the laundry from the dryer. The scent of freshly laundered clothes filled the air. “I’ll get to them when I’ve folded the laundry.”
“Why don’t you put them on the line as well?” Johanna asked, curious.
Marie shook her head, breathing a laugh. “It’s not pride, but modesty that stops me from doing such a thing. You see, it would be rather embarrassing for the male neighbors to see our feminine underclothes, Anna. Those unrelated to us must not be privy to seeing our panties, dear.”
The young woman giggled, blushing adorably at the explanation before returning to her next task. “I’m off to milk the goat and get their stall cleaned before I feed them.”
“Do be careful, dear. Sunshine likes to butt now and again, so watch out for that little hussy,” Marie called as she continued folding the laundry into neat piles.
So far, her day was going well. Her hair was already sticking to her forehead from the sweat caused by the physical labor, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. The Roberts family had saved her from death’s door, pulling her out of the soul-sucking cesspool she’d been trapped in.
Johanna sighed as she approached the goat pen, the earthy scent of hay and animals wafting through the crisp morning air. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the ground. She could hear the soft bleats of the goats as they milled about, some eager for their morning meal and some basking
First, she gathered the milking supplies. Entering the pen, the goats greeting her with curious eyes. Sunshine, the alpha goat according to Marie, trotted over, her bell tinkling softly as the light danced through her piebald fur. The browns, blacks, and white shifting with the goat’s movements and that of the blowing breeze.
"Good morning, Sunshine," Johanna said with a smile, gently stroking the goat's soft fur.
She secured the nanny at the milking stand, putting a handful of grain in the muzzle to keep her occupied. Johanna wiped down the goat's udders with the damp cloth, ensuring they were clean. The rhythmic sound of milk hitting the metal pail soon filled the air, a soothing and repetitive melody she often took pride in as the amount slowly edged to the first line.
Once she had finished milking Sunshine, Johanna released her from the stand and let her join the other goats. Noticing that the pail wasn’t nearly as full as it should be, she glanced around at the other goats for another female. Spotting the pure white one with a single brown patch over one eye and one of her front legs sitting in the shade, she smiled. Walking over she pulled the nanny over to the milking spot. After she finished finding and milking all three females, she took the milk into the house for Marie and set it on the bottom shelf of the fridge.
Running back out, she grabbed a pitchfork, yard broom, and wheelbarrow. Methodically removed the soiled bedding, setting it aside to later spread over the overturned plots in the rear of the house. Continuing her humming, Johanna made sure to get all the old hay out before she spread a fresh layer of straw across the pen. The gold-coloured hay was dry and rustled softly as she worked while her hands remained protected by the heavy-duty gloves Marie insisted she wear.
With the pen clean and the milking done, it was time to feed them. Dragging the heavy metal container to the middle of the pen so all of them could eat at the same time, Johanna went to the kitchen to retrieve the vegetable and fruit peelings filled their trough with a mixture of grain and hay that had been the animals eagerly crowding around her. Their soft bleats and the crunching sound of them eating filled the air. The few kids that were running around were still playing with each other while their parents ate their fill. Realizing breakfast had been served, she watched them abandon their game to suckle on the teats that were quickly filling up again.
Leaving the animal barn, she ensured the latch was secure. Turning, she was faced with someone blocking her path. Glancing up, she felt her heart nearly stop in fear. It was a man who she’d once seen with her sister, someone who would do anything for the beautiful girl who had him wrapped around her finger. “Kindly pardon me.”
The man shoved her against the shed, his hand covering her mouth as his beady eyes drank her in appreciatively. He licked his lips, and a whole new fear seized her in its icy grasp. “What have we here? A lost little lamb, perhaps?”
His words held the desired effect as she felt the tears spring to her eyes. Her breathing was short and shallow as she struggled to figure out an escape from the situation.
“If you’re looking for Lukas or Kristoph, they are off working. One at the station, and the other in the fields.” She advised, trying desperately to hold in her fear.
“Oh, no,” the man answered, holding his other hand against her throat while the other was braced against the outer wall of the small barn. "Such a pretty girl. You know you want it."
He grinned lecherously, and she could smell the liquor on his breath. That he’d started drinking already meant he wouldn’t be too much of an actual challenge for her. Lukas did tell her to fight if she had to, after all. Gathering her courage, she screamed against his calloused hand as he released her throat. The hit that followed was sloppier than the ones her father doled out when he was in a similar state.
“Brazen little slut, aren’t you?” The man snarled, pressing his nose to her hair as he inhaled deeply. “That’s all right. I’ll teach you good.”
Dropped one hand, he moved to fist the fabric of her skirts. Fear became desperation, and she started kicking her legs wildly. The man started pulling her dress higher and higher in slow methodical movements.
Her fear was beginning to rise to a whole new level as she realized she had to save herself. This horrible man was trying to take what little dignity she still commanded, but she was done being a victim. For once in her life, she would fight back. Taking a breath, she opened her mouth to scream until the man stupidly stuck his fingers into the teeth-filled chasm. Clamping down as hard as she could, she bit him until she could taste the coppery blood.
His eyes went wide in surprise as he inhaled sharply, letting out a yelp as he wrenched his hand from her mouth. While he was distracted with nursing his newly-injured fingers as they bled out onto the ground, she grabbed for the three-inch thick chunk of wood on the pile next to her. Swinging it as hard as she could, she slammed the log down on his head and back, not caring if she killed him in the process. He cried out as it connected with the side of his head once again, blood spraying from his mouth from the force of it while his face and any other parts left uncovered by clothes were sporting deep scratches.
Turning his narrowed, savage eyes to her, he snarled. "Little b***h! Pretty girls shouldn't know how to fight like that. Now, come here!"
“Leave me alone!” Bringing the wood above her head as he struggled to his feet, she hit him again, and watched him fall to his knees. Taking the opportunity, she slammed the log over the back of his legs in a bid to slow him down while she bolted for the back of the house.
"Get back here," he yelled angrily, clutching his head in one hand while cradling his bloody hand against his chest. Limping, he gave chase.
- Writer
