Chapter 3
Peeta sets the bucket on the floor and the rags on a nearby chair. He pulls out the biggest one and comes closer, attempting to wrap the slippery infant while he's resting in my arms. It's an awkward maneuver. I nearly drop the babe in the process, and end up shoving him into Peeta's arms.
He holds the child, rocking him for a few minutes. His gentleness surprises me. It's plain to see he'll be a fine father someday.
He kisses his nephew's forehead before handing him over to Delly and leaving the room.
Eventually I get everything righted. Delly rests on fresh bedding. She wears a dressing gown, and holds her son who has been wiped clean of his waxy coating and diapered. He nurses from his mother's ample breasts.
I am hot, drenched in perspiration, and desperately in need of a bath.
Distracted as she is, Delly notices my plight and tells me to leave. "Rye put your things in the room down the hall. You can clean up."
Leaving the door open in case she needs assistance, I go down the hall. The spare room is small. It has a bed covered with a patchwork quilt, a nightstand, and a wooden chair. Hooks hang along one wall for clothing. My bag sits on the floor next to my trunk.
I carry the bucket downstairs, empty the dirty water outside, and refill it with fresh water from a covered barrel that sits in the kitchen. I bring it upstairs to my room so I can wash.
My dress is dirty as well, sprayed by the body fluids of attending a birth. I strip, wash up, and put on a clean dress. It's wrinkled, but I feel fresh. I redo my hair, which has not been touched in days, and is in a terrible state.
Although I do not know how long I will be here, I unpack my bag and hang my gowns on the hooks to shake out the wrinkles.
After checking in with Delly, I go downstairs. I'm an awful cook, but I am hungry and assume Delly is as well. Someone will need to make dinner in this house.
However when I get to the kitchen, Peeta has already taken charge. A heavenly smell fills the air. There are platters of food already set on the table, boiled potatoes, a green salad, thick slices of brown bread and a big slab of butter.
He is pulling a pan of roasted beef from the oven when I enter.
I clear my throat so he won't startle at my arrival. "I'll make a plate for Delly."
His eyes flit up my form and stop at my face as he takes in my tidy appearance. He gives me a small smile, pulls a plate from the shelf and hands it to me. "All right."
I wish I could eat my meal with Delly and stay away from Peeta. But after bringing a plate up to her, I return to the kitchen to find that Peeta has waited for me and has not yet begun to eat.
We sit across from each other at the table. We both keep our faces down and focus on our food, but after a few minutes of silence he speaks.
"Katniss, I didn't know about the letters. I'm sorry."
He catches my eyes as I lift my head. I see sympathy in them, or maybe it's pity. Quickly I look back down at my plate.
An awkward silence follows as we resume eating. "How far away does the doctor live?" I blurt out in an attempt to dissolve the tension in the room. It's a fair question. Rye has been gone for over three hours. His son has already been born and fed.
"Dr. Beetee is an hour away by horseback."
I think how lucky they are that I arrived today.
We are finishing up when we hear the sound of boots on the porch outside. The front door to the Mercantile bangs opens and Peeta springs to his feet and leaves me at the table. I hear him tell his brother that Delly has already given birth. There is a sound of quick footsteps on the stairs. I am alone in the kitchen for several minutes before Peeta and another man with dark hair and spectacles enter.
"This is Katniss," Peeta tells the man.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Beetee." I stand to greet him, and he shakes my hand. "That was a remarkably quick birth. Have you much experience delivering babies?"
"None. But my sister had a son a few weeks ago and I was present at the delivery."
"Well, it's good you were here." He looks at me curiously. "Are you kin to Delly?"
I shake my head, wondering how I should describe our relationship to the doctor. But I don't have to because Peeta answers for me.
"She is Delly's pen pal."
The words may be true, but coming from Peeta's mouth makes them all the more cutting. I excuse myself from the table to return to my room.
Rye stands at the top of the stairs, grinning deliriously. He reaches for my hands, pulls them together and squeezes them.
"Thank you so much," he gushes. "It's a miracle that you arrived today."
I nod politely and ask him about the train schedule.
He lets go of my hands to run his fingers through his hair. "I'm not sure. But you can't leave now. Please stay. I'll pay you. I need help in the house and the store with Delly laid up."
I bite my lip. I have no choice. I need money to buy a return ticket. But I don't tell him that.
"I'll think it over," I say before returning to my room.
Lying on the bed, which smells comfortingly of cinnamon and dill, I consider my plight. The elation of delivering Delly's son has faded, leaving me with a surplus of sour feelings. Anger that I was lured to Wyoming under false pretenses. Sadness that the fairy-tale I'd concocted about a marriage to Peeta is not to be. Frustration that I'm stuck here until I can raise the funds to return to my sister's home. Humiliation at Peeta's insults about my appearance. All my life I have been compared to my fair-haired sister and have been found lacking. I guess it's true.
Too heartsick to even weep, I curl up and fall asleep thinking how different this day would have been if Peeta had written those letters instead of Delly.
After my first solid night's sleep in days, likely because I'm too exhausted to even dream, I wake up resolved to see this situation through. I refuse to cry about it. I wipe my face clean of emotions and tell Rye that I'll work for him until Delly is able to resume her regular duties. I assume it will be a couple of weeks, a month at most until she is able to get back to her usual routine.
I write a short note to Prim to tell her I've arrived safely and that Delly has given birth, but no other detail. I'm too ashamed.
The days quickly fall into a pattern. I awake to find warm bread with marmalade and tea on the kitchen table every morning. I eat quickly before making up a plate for Delly. Usually I hold her boy William, while she eats. He is pale with fine, scraggly hair and bright blue eyes. I hand him back when she is done. Delly latches him to her breast, and then assigns my tasks for the day. Laundry. House cleaning. Helping Rye in the store.
Never cooking. Peeta is in charge of the kitchen.
I want to be angry with someone for my predicament. Delly is my obvious target. But it is impossible to stay enraged with her because she's so genuinely friendly, and right now I desperately need a friend.
In the evenings after dinner with Rye and Peeta, I spend my time with Delly. She sits in bed nursing her son, whose appetite seems insatiable, while I read to her from Godey's Lady's Book. The magazine is filled with all sorts of articles. We spend much time discussing each of them. While I enjoy the practical tips, like the best ways to run a household, Delly favors the made-up stories about love. I think Delly is a romantic.
"How did you meet Rye?" I ask after reading a tale that leaves her mooney-eyed.
"He was one of the workers on the Union Pacific railroad alongside my father." She explains that the railroad workers would form a temporary town. But the progress of laying the tracks for the railroad was so fast that towns moved every few weeks. Everything would be packed on a freight car and transported fifty or sixty miles to the end of the track.
"I stayed behind with a few others when everyone left Panem," she explained. "My father was dying." She says that she and Rye were merely acquaintances. "But after a few weeks he came back because he missed me. He said he couldn't stop thinking about me.
"That is why you must stay in Panem," she implores. "Peeta will grow to love you just like Rye came to love me."
"He won't," I protest. "I heard what Peeta said about me when I arrived. He called me…"
"No Katniss," Delly interrupts before I can repeat the insults. "He was angry with me, not you. I was going to tell him everything before you arrived, but I never received your last letter."
I am sure Delly is wrong about Peeta but I don't argue with her. I'm too proud to ask her how Peeta even ended up in Panem, but she volunteers the information. "Peeta joined us last year after Rye and I married. Their mother had died and Peeta had no reason to stay in Illinois with his older brother inheriting the family bakery."
The next evening, Rye complains to Peeta over the meal. "Not beans and bread again."
"I haven't had time to go hunting," Peeta says.
Usually I stay quiet during these meals, while the two brothers discuss the latest happenings in Panem, but I can't help myself. "I can go hunting tomorrow."
Both look at me like I'm crazy.
"Did you bring a gun?" Rye asks curiously.
"No, but I brought my bow and arrows."
Rye laughs heartily. Peeta attempts to suppress a grin. My cheeks turn pink and I push my dinner plate away.
"Katniss," Rye calls as I storm out of the room and rush up the stairs. But I ignore his comments.
I am so angry that I don't even visit Delly. I go straight to my room and fume.
The next morning I wake while it is still dark. I dress by candlelight and sneak out of the house, my game bag and quiver slung over my shoulder, my bow in my hand.
The air is chill as I make my way down the tiny main street of Panem. I have not seen anything of this small town ever since I arrived a week earlier. I have been tied to the house and the Mercantile.
In my haste to meet Peeta, I paid scant attention to the surroundings. Now I see that the town is very small. Nothing like Omaha with its population of 16,000.
Crossing the tracks beyond the train station, I walk a short distance, and then stand very still waiting for the landscape to come alive. It isn't long before a jackrabbit hops past. I ready my arrow and shoot the creature cleanly through the eye. Within a short time, I have shot two more.
It is light now. I hear a rooster crow and birds chatter as I return to the Mercantile. I enter the back door. Peeta is kneading dough at the table.
I pull one of the jackrabbits from my game bag and hold it up proudly. "I got some meat for dinner."
He startles at my voice. He lifts his head, his eyes wide in astonishment as he takes in the jackrabbit, and my bow and quiver of arrows.
He walks closer to inspect my kill.
"You got it right through the eye." He is surprised.
"I have two more just like it."
His eyebrows rise.
"If you have a knife, I can skin and gut them." I plan to save the fur to make something for Baby William.
He hands me a carving knife from the shelf. I carry my catch outside. It will be messy and I do not want to dirty the kitchen where Peeta holds court.
When I return with the meat, warm bread is sitting on the table. Peeta is seated and drinking tea.
I wrap the meat in a clean cloth and put it on the counter.
"I'll set it to roast for our dinner," Peeta says. He gives me a lopsided grin, and a look that immediately reminds me of the way Gale stared at me years ago.
Instead of being pleased at this turn of events, though, I'm angry. It may be childish, but Peeta hurt me and I want to wound him back. I conceive a plan, something that might come straight from a fanciful tale in Godey's Lady's Book - I will allow Peeta to fall in love with me, and then I'll break his heart so he'll know exactly how it feels.
Author's Note: Godey's Lady's Book was a popular woman's monthly magazine that was published from 1830 to 1898. The publication featured short fiction stories, poetry, and fashion illustrations. It also included interesting facts as fillers.
Census records for Wyoming Territory in 1870 indicate a population of only 9,118. For every woman over the age of 21, there were six men.