(OOC: The following diary entry is poorly written in an unsteady hand, with multiple misspellings, corrections, and inconsistent grammar.)
This be This has been the oddest day I can remember in a long while. (Missus Hopmead told me that I need to write proper and speak proper if I ever hope to have folk take me for more than a dunce. I don't know how well I'll do, but I'll try).
I were was driving over to Bree this morning with the pony cart. Everything was just fine and dandy, it were was a beu beua fine looking day, with a blue sky and just a few puffy clouds here and there. I weren't wasn't paying much attention (?) to the road, as it hasn't rained lately. But right in the middle of the drive, what do you think happened, but we hit a pot hole as big as a barrel! The cart nearly went over and Pilgrim (that's the pony, he's a funny little fellow) were was bellowing like someone were was whipping his rear.
I got down to look, and the wheel had come right off. It wasn't broke, though, so I knew it could be fixed, but it would take more than one pair of hands. And there weren't !wasn't! weren't (?) any other hands around but mine. And Pilgrim's hoofs, ha ha. I just stood there for a bit, not knowing what to do. I didn't want to leave Pilgrim there alone, someone might steal him. But I didn't want to walk him a mile to town on my own, either.
I thought help was coming when I heard another wagon rolling along. But what do I see coming around the bend? Emory. Emory! My own brother! I daresay he couldn't have looked any more surprised than I probably looked myself. My heart felt like it dropped into my feet. I felt so alone all of a sudden. So small and scared.
He were was quiet at first. Asked where I'd been. I didn't tell him where. I don't want him following me back to Knotwood and causing trouble. I told him I were was all right and I was taken care of and had a job and all. I guess he believed me when he saw Pilgrim and the cart. He could see that we'd met with trouble, and he climbed down without asking if I wanted his help at all. I could hardly look at him. I felt like crying and I didn't know why. I guess I realized all at once how much I've missed him. And to have him there, just talking to me like a normal person instead of being drunk and throwing punches, my heart just didn't know what to do with it. He looked well enough, he were solid and well fed and his clothes were mended. I managed (?) to ask him how he was doing, and he said he'd gotten new work and moved out of that drab little shack we used to share. I felt so happy for him! But there was something still about his eyes that made me nervous.
I didn't think we'd be able to manage (?) it between just ourselves, but he was able to lift the cart just enough for me to push the wheel back on. I admit, I was proud of myself in that moment. Bad leg or not, I've always been a sturdy girl with good arms and a good back. It felt good to do it. Of course, he pointed out that I didn't have my walking stick. I showed him the shoe the cobbler made, and he were was impressed, I think. I didn't tell him about the doctor helping me. I had to be careful, not to give him anything that would lead him to Knotwood. I could tell by all his questions that he were getting close to his old self again, angry at me for leaving. Ready to blame everyone and everything for all that ails him. No one else had come by on the road all that time, and I didn't want to be out there alone if he decided to start hollering or swinging his fists.
I told him I would be going on my way, and he tried to stop me, tried to ask again where I was staying. I couldn't get around it, what were was I going to tell him? I know he's been worrying about me, he is my brother, even with all his faults.
Then he did something I still can't believe. And I can't forgive it, neither. He grabbed my coin purse right off my belt, snatched it so hard the strap broke! He held it up over his head and said he wouldn't give it back until I told him where I'd been. I got furious and even though he's bigger and stronger than I am, I tried to grab it back and I yelled and fussed while he just stood there and smirked. Then I remembered something awful. I remembered that I had put the bottle of the doctor's oil inside with my coin. I leave the tea at home, because I can't very well drink a bag of tea leaves while I'm out and about, but sometimes my leg gets to hurting while I'm in town or riding in the cart, and I just put a bit of the oil on the sore spot when nobody's looking. I told him to give the purse back to me. I demanded it. I shouted it. But it was no good. "Tell me where you've been" he just kept repeating, over and over and over.
It took all I had not to fall into crying, but I got up in the wagon and told him I hoped he'd be well and he ought be ashamed for stealing his own sister's purse, and that was that. He went so far as to grab Pilgrim's bridle, and I thought I might die of the panik panick fear in my chest.
But then (and I thank whatever gods be are (?) watching over me), a horse came along, and when we heard the sound still far off, he looked up at me and frowned and then let go of Pilgrim. I didn't wait to see who was coming, I slapped the reins hard and Pilgrim fair ran forward like he were as happy to get out of that spot as I was.
When I got back to the boarding house, it was dark, and I would have run inside if I were able to run at all. I kept looking back over my shoulder all the way, and I know Emory didn't follow me, I'd have seen him in that big wagon he was driving, but my mind kept imagining it anyway. I almost toppled over Missus Holbrook in the dark. She whispered that we had a new boarder, but I couldn't see who it might be as all the candles were out. I just came here to my room and shut myself in.
I don't know how I'm going to tell the doctor that I lost the oil he made for me. Or how I'll pay for more with my purse stolen. I swore I wasn't going to cry but I think now would be a good time for it.
