Page 42 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse

The next day I woke with a spring in my step, even though my feet had ‘sprung’ a couple of blisters during the night. I consoled myself, as I was looking forward to the end of the day and having a dinner date with Sofie. I wondered if she really felt the same as I did. I believed John Tirrell had to give permission to Sofie on whether she could date a guy, or not. I’m sure I would need to pass some kind of test.
Firstly, I had to seek work for the day around the Homestead, so, I was very interested in getting to know Margarete O’ Neilson. I sauntered over to her cabin, tipping my hat as I went, at the folks who bid me good morning. Mrs. O’ Neilson was busy sorting out laundry on the steps of her cabin. Her job was housekeeping for the Tirrell’s and a couple of other families, as not all cabins had the extra space required for the tasks she performed.
“Good day Ma’am,” I called politely.
“Good day Mr. O’Neill, what brings you to my door.”
“I’m at a loose end and was wondering if I may be of some help to you. As you can see, I’m quite strong,” I made a ‘thinker’ stance, to show my muscles. She was amused.
“Well Mr. O’Neill I do have a strong lad of my own, but he seems to be missing at present,” she exclaimed irritated. “Come take a coffee with me, maybe I do have an errand for you,” she added.
I rushed to pick up the heavy laundry basket, as I saw her bend to retrieve it. She nodded with approval as I followed her into a large open plan room. It contained everything from a large kitchen, a dining area, a wood burner in one corner and two large sofas. Unlike Sofie’s, or indeed mine, there were four doors off the main room. Two bedrooms behind the doors to the left, a bathroom, and the large work/laundry room behind the right-hand doors. This cabin seemed a luxury home compared to most of the others I had seen. To have private bedrooms was unusual.
“You have a beautiful cabin,” I complimented her. “Thank you, Mr. O’Neill.”
“Please Ma’am call me Ned.”
“Mitch has told me a lot about you, he seems to have made a good friend.”
“I’ve had the pleasure of spending some time socialising with Mitch and have also found a friend in him,” I assured her. I began to feel a little guilty as I had an alternative motive for being there.
Mrs. O’ Neilson was a very pleasant woman, but she was not to be taken for a push over. She had a very strong manner but a good heart. She spoke of her late husband with respect rather than love, I thought. She told me he had died suddenly. She only spoke about arriving with John Tirrell and his