Changeling Encounter: So Fair a House

Encounter: So Fair a House (Tales from the Margin)

Mikala Ash

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Copyright ©2016 Mikala Ash

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So Fair a House

The Hubton House for Orphans stood apart from the town and survived on the efforts of one woman. With hands on hips Marianna stood on the porch and surveyed the filthy prospector with disdain, considering his request with a jaundiced eye. “Only the good may dwell here, Sly Jones, as well you know.”

“I can be good.”

“Talk around town tells me otherwise.”

“I’ve changed.”

She screwed up her nose at the rank human stench that wafted her way. “We’d all be blessed if you changed your apparel more than once a year.”

He laughed. “A needless expense if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask. What’s wrong with your own digs?”

“Swallowed! Gritworm came from the deep, and sucked down everything I had.”

She shook her head. “Saving power on thumpers again? I warned you that was the surest way to invite trouble.”

He raised downcast eyes. “That you did.”

“You tried in town?”

“Yes, Ma’am. None will have me.”

She wasn’t surprised. She noticed his bright blue eyed gaze was fixed on her chest. No man had looked at her like that in many a year. She felt a stirring.

“I just need a roof for a few days, Miss Marianna. I can do chores.”

She shifted self-consciously beneath his unabashed gaze. “Don’t you be blinking those guffpuppy eyes at me, Sly Jones. There’s plenty here already to do chores. The House don’t need more.”

He picked up the subtle shift in her tone. “If there’s nothing to do for the House, is there anything else I can do for you?”

The emphasis on the last word did not go unnoticed. “The first chore you can do is go downwind of me and take a bath.”

“Then can I stay?”

“We’ll see. I don’t know what you do out there in the wasteland all by your lonesome, but bathing isn’t one of them.”

He bobbed his head in appreciation. “It’s lonesome, Miss Marianna, and there ain’t no water for a hundred klicks anyways you look.”

“No ore either, by the sounds of it.”

“One day, Miss Marianna, I’ll hit it big. One day.”

She led him past the barn down to the windmill, which fed cool artesian water to the series of troughs that in turn fed the ponds where she and the children farmed fish. She’d dug them out herself with a pick and shovel. Everyone had laughed at the silly widow wanting to look after the growing number of street children. But she showed them what pride and determination could do.

It was now a little oasis in the desert. Trees grew thickly around her ponds, providing shade and the gumball fruit delicacies which the townsfolk craved.

“I hear you did all this yourself,” he said. “A mighty fine…”

He didn’t finish, because she’d shoved him in. He came up spluttering. “It’s cold!”

“Now start scrubbing yourself with sand,” she said, barely stifling her laughter.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said and then squealed. “There’s something in here!”

“Several hundred things, I reckon. They won’t bite if you move around.”

He screamed. “There’s something in my shirt!”

“Well get it off and start sanding!”