Cinderella and the Devil

By Fred Pruitt

Alicia Montoya, friendless and fatherless, runs away from home to escape a life of brutal abuse at the hands of Gary, the son of the house where her mother works as a maid. After hitchhiking across the country she finally comes to rest in a small Pennsylvania town. She is taken in by the kindly Kellers, meets her Prince Charming -- Richard Whittington and his cat -- and is adopted by her Faery Foster Parents, the slightly eccentric Mister and Mistress Peterson. Working together, Alice and Richard set to work to make their fortune and to conquer the devils pursuing Alice, not only Gary, but also her own feelings of inadequacy and her doubts of her self worth. It's a story involving Faery Foster Parents, opera, Vikings, life in a small town, Pedro the Shetland Pony, and the ultimate triumph of Good over Evil. Plus a bit of petty revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fred Pruitt
• Release date: Sep 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311823472

Fred Pruitt

Fred Pruitt is somebody's grampaw. He's retired from both the Army and from a second career. He has lived in many, though not all, parts of the world. He read Robert Heinlein from about the time he was twelve, starting with his boys' books, through Stranger in a Strange Land. He has read The Virginian three times, and enjoys Raphael Sabatini. He's enjoying retirement by writing his own books about people he's known, putting them in situations they were never in in real life.

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Runaway

Alice felt sweaty, despite the fact that she was dressed in just a light tee-shirt and denim shorts. It was a hot day, and she had walked a long way. She knew that what she had on was a lousy outfit for a job interview, but she didn't own anything better. She had only taken what would fit into her backpack when she left home, and there hadn't been anything classy in her closet to begin with. Besides, she assured herself, it was a farm job. They wouldn't expect too much more.

The farm was a pretty place, she had to admit. It was pretty in an unaccustomed manner, quite different from back home. There were dense woods along either side of the gravel road leading to the stables. The stables themselves were painted red on the outside, with white trim, and the paddocks were enclosed by white fencing. The grass was deep, deep green, almost blue-green, and it was very thick. There were two horses visible grazing in one of the paddocks nearby, one chestnut and one gray. There were four horses in another paddock, more in the distance. It all looked very neat and improbably tidy, like something out of a child's picture book.

The tiny office was located on the end of the building. There was an ancient air conditioner in one of the two windows, but it wasn't turned on. The other window was open and there was a little breeze, enough to move the curtain but not enough to cool Alice down. There was a wall calendar advertising Doctor Pepper that claimed it was still December, 1975. There was a counter made of painted plywood with a marbled green Formica top edged in aluminum.

There was a girl standing behind the counter, reading a print of a computer spreadsheet. She looked like she was two or three years older than Alice. She was pretty, but not the intimidating kind of pretty. She had long brown hair, gathered into a ponytail, with just the faintest reddish highlight, and she had deep brown eyes, almost as dark as Alice's. She wore a light flannel shirt and loose jeans.

Are you Emily? Alice asked, gathering her nerve as she walked in.

'Fraid not, the girl answered, looking up. I'm Cassandra. Emily's off today. Can I help you? Alice thought she looked friendly. She had a nice smile. It was too bad she wasn't Emily; she seemed approachable.

I'm Alice. Ben Keller said for me to come by. He said Emily might give me a job. Guess I made the trip for nothing.

Cassandra looked out the window. How'd you get here without setting off the gate buzzer? Where's your car?

I walked, Alice admitted. She had gone around the gate, hopping the drainage ditch and unintentionally confounding the warning system.

Walked? You walked up from the highway?

From Ben's house, Alice responded.

That's about ten miles from here! How come Ben didn't bring you?

He told me about the job last night, but he had to go to the county seat this morning, for some kind of zoning commission meeting. He said he'd give me a ride when he got back. Then he called and said he wouldn't be back until late this evening. It's a nice day...

So you hoofed it ten miles? You must really want the job!

Yeah, Alice admitted. I do. I didn't realize how far it was. I'm crashing at Ben's house right now...

Gotcha. Cassandra looked at her appraisingly. How old are you? she asked after a moment.

Eighteen, Alice lied, but only slightly.

She could tell Cassandra's belief was merely polite. Alice knew she looked younger than her actual age, which was still a little shy of seventeen and a half. She was skinny and big-eyed, her dark hair caught up in a ponytail. She knew she looked like a waif.

Are you a doper? Cassandra asked, point-blank, taking in her rail-thin figure.

No, Alice denied. I don't do any of that stuff. I'm scared of it. She had actually done it, but she hadn't done it willingly. That was why she was terrified of it, but the story was too long and too involved and too sordid to tell.

How'd you end up at Ben's place? Cassandra asked.

Alice hesitated, then said: I bugged out from home and this was where my last ride let me off. I don't have any money and...

And you had nowhere to go. Ben, being Ben, somehow tripped over you and offered a place for you to stay for a few nights. Or maybe it was Sarah who tripped over you.

It was Sarah, Alice admitted. She would never have accepted an offer of a place to stay from a strange man. She was out of that frying pan. It had been hard enough for her to trust Sarah. The fact that her stomach had been growling so loudly at the time had helped.

I'm not surprised, Cassandra said. I've heard that story before, more than once. Where's home?

California, Alice admitted. Look, I don't want to...

The job involves cleaning the horses' stalls, Cassandra said, sensing that Alice didn't want to talk about home. It's hard, sweaty work. It pays ten dollars an hour. It's above-the-table money, which means you have taxes and Social Security and Medicare and all that mess taken out, which will leave you somewhere between five and seven actual dollars an hour to live on, probably closer to five. It's part time, four days a week, to start. We'll have to do the paperwork if you want it, and you've got to show me some kind of identification to prove you're really sixteen or older. If you're not, you need parental permission. There's a form...

I am, Alice replied hastily. She found her wallet in her side pocket and showed her student ID from school. Cassandra carefully compared the picture with Alice, looking it over closely for alterations before handing it back.

Have you ever worked with animals before, Alice? Cassandra asked.

Alice shook her head, afraid the fact was going to get her turned down.

Well, be careful, Cassandra warned. The Arabian in stall number eight is a bad boy. His name's Khaled Major. He'll try to give you a swifty now and then.

What's a 'swifty?'

A swift kick, she explained. Getting kicked by a thousand pounds of horse will leave a bruise. I promise it will, even if he's just playing!

I can do it, Alice said, trying to sound determined, having no idea at all whether she could actually do it. I'll be careful.

I'll show you a little of what to do today. Emily should be back tomorrow and she'll pick up your education then. I started out here shoveling poop when I was fifteen. Best job in the world! Now I just fill in for Emily occasionally when she needs a day off in the summer.

What do you do now? Alice asked, a little curious. Cassandra seemed pretty self-assured for a stable girl.

I go to school. I'm on summer break right now. And on my honeymoon.

Oh! Congratulations! To each her own, Alice thought to herself. She could't imagine herself on a honeymoon. Or ever going back to school for that matter.

Cassandra found several forms that Alice had to fill out, including state working papers, a W4, an immigration questionnaire, and a health insurance waiver. Alice asked about that last one.

We're self-insured, Cassandra replied. There are more places doing that now as group health insurance becomes less cost-effective and government regulations become more complicated. We can negotiate rates with doctors and hospitals ourselves to save money. It gives them more than Medicare or Medicaid will pay them, less than they theoretically charge the insurance companies. The insurance companies negotiate the same way, only with overhead. So if you get sick, go to Dr. Wengert, either one of them. They're Mister and Mistress. They're our company doctors. If you need the emergency room, try and make it Good Samaritan.

Alice said she understood, even though the subject was kind of vague to her. She had been in the emergency room once in her life. She wasn't sure what had paid for it, if anything had. She had been pretty out of it at the time, thanks to Gary. They hadn't said anything to her when she went back for x-rays, but she didn't know what they had said to her mother.

She finished the last of the papers and handed it back across the counter. Cassandra put them all into a brown envelope, labeled it neatly, and then stuck out her hand: Welcome to Peterson-Buckmoyer, LLC, Alicia Montoya, she said.

Alice shook hands, then had the grand tour. There were eighteen stalls, seventeen of which had horses assigned to them. All but four of the horses were boarded. The company owned two of them as rentals. The other two horses belonged to Mr. Peterson personally. They were friends of the family, but occasionally also worked as rentals, filling in when things were brisk. The stalls needed mucked out, the horses needed fed, and they required hay periodically. Each horse had a grooming schedule. There was equipment--saddles, bridles, blankets, and things Alice didn't recognize--to be stowed and maintained in a separate tack room. When she wasn't doing those things she would be expected to keep up the grounds: mowing the grass, tending the flower beds, and dealing with fallen branches and weeds.

When I started here, Cassandra told her, that was all I did. Mr. Peterson taught me to ride, and then my second year I started giving lessons--nothing elaborate, but nobody I taught falls off too often. Emily's much better than I am as a rider and as a teacher. She's a real horse person. I'm more of a horse admirer. Then I picked up the business end, with scheduling the lessons, the vet, and that sort of thing. Now Em's stuck with it all. She needs some help!

Alice actually felt her level of interest rise. She had simply been looking for a job, something to put eating money in her pocket, so she wouldn't have to rely on Ben and Sarah. This one sounded perfect for her, for all the other reasons she hadn't let herself think about. She would be out in the country, away from noise and bustle, even the noise and bustle of a small town.

And she would be away from boys. And men.

She hoped Emily was as nice as Cassandra seemed. She hoped she was strong enough to do the work expected of her. She hadn't been eating much, especially since the last incident with Gary, and then being without money on the road, crossing the country.

There was an electronic buzz from the office and Alice went with Cassandra to see who it was. A light blue SUV was approaching on the gravel road, leaving a little cloud of dust behind it.

That's Mr. Peterson, Cassandra said. I'm going to lock up early, so I guess we can give you a ride home.

The big boss is your ride? Alice asked.

He's my husband, too. I was going to bring my truck, but he was going right by here so he dropped me off. No sense in burning extra gasoline.

Mr. Peterson turned out to be older than Cassandra by at least ten years. He was broad-shouldered, with the look of a man who spends a lot of time in the gym or outdoors. He had sandy hair and gray eyes and the kind of skin that always burns, never tans. He wore a light polo shirt and khaki pants.

He shook hands with Alice when Cassandra introduced them. Alice is staying at Ben's for awhile, honey, she told Mr. Peterson while he helped them lock up.

He raised an eyebrow at the information, but he didn't comment. There had been two other people sleeping on Ben's floor the night before. One had been a recovering heroin addict and the other a recovered addict. Alice guessed Mr. Peterson assumed she was a doper as well.

Well, if she hadn't fallen in with Ben and Sarah she'd be sleeping under a bush. Or maybe in a bus station if she was lucky, assuming there was a bus station anywhere close.

Lou's decided it's a nice day for steaks on the grill, Mr. Peterson commented. Unless you've got something else planned, Alice, we'd love to have you to dinner.

Oh, I couldn't...

You don't like steak? Are you a vegetarian? We have vegetables, too.

Alice didn't want to admit that she had never actually eaten a steak in her life, so she said she did like it.

There will be the usual baked potatoes and maybe a Caesar salad. I've no idea what else she'll make, but it will be good. Lou's one heck of a cook. If you're staying at Ben's you might as well get to know his Mom. She'll be popping in and out of his house every now and then.

Chapter 2: Steak Dinner

The Petersons' house was on the edge of town, set on four or five thickly wooded acres. There was a For Sale sign at the turn-off. The house wasn't as large as Don Magnífico's, certainly not a mansion, but it was pretty big. Alice was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She felt like she should be sneaking in through the service entrance and keeping out of sight.

Worse, Ben's Mom turned out to be the Petersons' cook. She wasn't just stopping by to make a meal for friends. People who had live-in servants had a lot of money, and Alice was nervous around people with a lot of money. She felt like she was there under false pretenses; when they noticed who she actually was, she would be ordered out. Then she would lose her new job, even if the job did involve shoveling poop.

Ben's Mom's name was Lou and she didn't act much like a servant. Alice's mother was quiet as a mouse around Don Magnífico, Doña Magnífica, and their son and daughter, Gary and Jennifer. Teresa, who was the cook, and her husband, Cesar, who kept the grounds, were just as quiet and maybe even more servile. Servants were expected to be unobtrusive in that social set.

Maybe things were different here in the uncivilized wilds of Pennsylvania. Lou was stocky and gruff-looking, with iron-gray hair. Alice found her even more intimidating than Mr. Peterson, who admittedly tried not to look intimidating and mostly succeeded.

Took your time about gettin' here, didn't you? Lou complained. The charcoal's gonna be burned down too low for the steaks! The potatoes are over-baked and the salad's wilted in the heat!

See if you can't salvage something, would you? Mr. Peterson requested meekly, rather than firing her on the spot. Or just open a couple cans of beans. We're starving! This is Alice, by the way. She's new at the stables.

Lou looked Alice over much more critically than either of the Petersons had. Hello, Alice, she finally said, neither unkindly nor warmly. Hope you last longer than the last one. You should eat more. You're too skinny. How do you like your steak?

Alice was at a loss. Medium? she suggested. That seemed like a good compromise.

Warm and pink in the middle, Lou translated. So now we got rare, medium rare, and medium. She said it like it was an imposition, then bustled out to the deck, looking like she was going to attack the grill.

Cassandra giggled. She's in fine form today, isn't she?

Probably Ben said something out of line. Or they brought Chrissie over. Ben was soft-hearted and kind, but he sounded loud-mouthed and overbearing, even more so than his mother. Chrissie was his five, going on six-year-old daughter. She was the most important person in Ben's universe. That meant that the entire universe existed for Chrissie, and she was the absolute ruler therein. Absolute power did what absolute power always does, and she was totally undisciplined. Such manners as she had were mere tools, edged to get her way. She had been up until after two a.m. the night before, keeping her parents and everyone else in the house awake until then as well, to include the dog and one of the neighbors.

Mr. Peterson got Alice a cold ginger ale, which she accepted gratefully. She felt sweaty and smelly and dry as a bone. Mrs. Peterson had a glass of wine. He opened a beer for himself.

Boy! Cassandra said, leading the way outside to the deck and reclining in one of the chairs. Am I pooped! I'd forgotten how tiring that job can be! You're going to be worn out for the first week or two, Alice.

Alice answered something, afraid she was going to say the wrong thing.

Alice, Mrs. Peterson told her husband after they had arranged themselves, two of them comfortably, is from California. She hitchhiked out here, across the country.

Really? he responded. I wanted to do that myself when I was a teenager, going the other direction. I never got around to it because of school. It's a dangerous thing to do, especially for girls. You came by way of I-80 and then hit I-81? Where were you headed? he asked.

Nowhere, Alice admitted. I just... wanted to get away.

I see, he said, noncommittally. Where in California?

Monterey.

Pretty town. I've actually been there a few times. Twice to the town itself, once to Pebble Beach, and once to Carmel. I've got part of a couple vineyards in Salinas. I enjoyed being awakened in the morning by the sea lions.

I lived in Pebble Beach, Alice said. My Mom's a maid. She hadn't intended to add that bit. It just slipped out. She actually felt better when it did; it didn't seem so much like false pretenses.

And what are you going to do with your own life? he asked, sounding interested. Her Mom being a maid didn't seem to bother him. That was a good sign, she thought.

I don't know, she responded. Clean out stables, if I don't get fired.

Not for the rest of your life, surely?

I don't know. I don't know for now.

What do you do for fun, Alice? Cassandra asked. To relax.

Alice hesitated, then said: I read books and I like old movies. Not violent movies, though. And I like to sing.

You're going to be a singer? Mr. Peterson asked. She thought she heard a hint of disapproval in his voice.

Oh, no! My voice isn't good enough! But I like to sing when there's no one around.

Ahah! said Cassandra. The safe approach! That's the way I sing, too...

Liar! corrected Mr. Peterson.

Usually, she acknowledged, making a face at him. What kind of books do you read?

Novels. Short stories. Detective stories. Science fiction. Westerns. Historical fiction. Anything but politics or stuff like that. It keeps me from... She hesitated. You know. Getting bored.

She had the feeling that Mr. Peterson knew that wasn't what she had intended to say when she started the sentence.

Lou called them and told them dinner was ready. They ate at a wooden table by the swimming pool, under an umbrella. They talked about books and music. Alice revealed that The Three Musketeers was one of her favorite books, but she didn't approve of Madame Bonacieux, much less Milady. Both Petersons devoured anything by Raphael Sabatini. Alice promised to read Scaramouche. They were also classical music lovers and Alice admitted that when she sang it was often The Messiah.

Which parts? Mr. Peterson asked.

Oh, all of them. It depends on my mood.

So one day it's 'Rejoice, rejoice greatly' and the next it's 'He trusted to God that He would deliver Him?' Cassandra suggested.

Alice agreed that was the case, though she had never quite thought of it that way.

Oh, just wait 'til she meets Keri! Cassandra enthused.

The water in the pool looked cool and inviting after Alice's sweaty day. The steak was delicious--she wasn't sure she had ever tasted anything as good. Despite Lou's claims to the contrary, the potato wasn't over-baked and the salad was anything but wilted, nor was it Caesar. There were a couple things in it that she had never tasted before, but she remained too shy to ask what they were. They tasted good, just strange. There was coffee and strawberry ice cream, with chunks of frozen strawberry in it, for dessert. She was able to eat almost half of everything.

Keri's coming, right? Mr. Peterson asked his wife as they ate.

On her way over this very moment, Cassandra admitted.

Bringing her eentsy-weentsy, teeny-weeny yellow striped bikini? And Elwood?

You weren't supposed to see that! And her Dad's not supposed to know it exists, so keep your lip buttoned, sir. More likely she'll bring the blue flowered one, so's not to offend our delicate sensibilities. I have no idea whether Elwood is coming with her. She didn't say. Alice, would you like to go for a swim after dinner? I always make it a point to go in right after I've eaten so I get cramps and drown.

I'll pull you out if you go under more than twice, dear, Mr. Peterson promised indulgently.

Hah! You're eating, too! What if I have to pull you out?

Alice felt a surge of panic. I don't have a bathing suit with me, she pointed out.

I've got lots of them, Cassandra said. For some reason I never throw them away. Who buys bathing suits at the Goodwill? One or two of the older ones might fit you.

Alice wanted to say no but the water was sparkling clean and cool-looking. The day was still uncomfortably warm...

Okay, her lips said, even while her mind was trying to frame a polite refusal. Thanks.

Keri turned out to be about Alice's age. She was very blond and very blue-eyed, a couple inches shorter than Mrs. Peterson's five foot eight, and very pretty. She had an eye-catching figure. There was no Elwood with her. The bathing suit she had brought was modest enough that Mr. Peterson wouldn't appear shocked.

I've been swimming here since I was fifteen, Cassandra told Alice, searching through the drawer of a light green painted antique dresser in a pretty pink and light green bedroom. Every once in awhile Mr. Peterson notices that I've grown six or seven inches since he met me. That usually happens when I try to wear something I should have tossed long ago. He always looks surprised.

Cassandra found what she was looking for: a two-piece bathing suit that she had owned when she was fifteen. It almost fit Alice. Both she and Keri made a point of not noticing the scars on Alice's chest and belly when she changed.

This is your room? Alice asked, looking around. The room was considerably larger than her mother's room back in Don Magnífico's house, nearly as large as Jennifer's had been. Alice had never had a room of her own, only a cot in the corner of her mother's room.

Used to be my room, Cassandra admitted. I've moved into the master bedroom now.

She almost lived here! Keri laughed. When she wasn't working, Caz was here until curfew. Her Mom used to call to see how she was doing!

I was usually studying or working out in the pool, or training for track, or doing something like that, Cassandra explained. Mr. Peterson was my coach and my mentor.

Among other things, Keri agreed.

Among other things, Mrs. Peterson admitted. He's my ideal man, so he was busy being everything a girl could want. I'm going to miss the place when it's sold.

Why are you selling it? Alice asked.

I don't want to get rid of it, but we're having a new one built further out in the country. We don't need two houses, at least not both of them in the same place. We want a bigger place because we're going to start our family as soon as I'm out of school and we want our kids to grow up with lots of space, with lots of fresh air.

Keri made a rude noise. You want to live where you can see The Hill!

That, too, Cassandra admitted.

What's The Hill? Alice asked.

Mr. Peterson took me there for a picnic shortly after we met. It's our favorite spot. It's where I fell in love with him, I think. One of the places, anyway. We've been going there regularly ever since, for picnics and such. It's beautiful! It's a little clearing under maple trees. Looking one way, you can see all the way down the valley. Looking the other way you see rolling hills dotted with sheep and cows and horses.

You should sell post cards, Keri agreed. You'd make a fortune.

Ahah! Riches lie in our future! Mrs. Peterson enthused.

Mr. Peterson was waiting for them, already in the pool. Back home, Don Magníifico's family had spent a lot of time lolling around the swimming pool, drinking iced tea or stronger drinks. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson and Keri spent a lot of time actually in the pool. All three of them were good swimmers--and the Petersons were very good swimmers, both of them graceful as seals. By the time they came out again, Alice was breathing hard just from trying to look like she was trying to keep up with them. She wanted to lie down.

She enjoyed herself, though. They talked about books, and they talked about the horse farm and riding. Keri seemed to know most of The Messiah by heart, and the three did a very good Hallelujah chorus, and an even better Who is this King of Glory. Keri went and got snacks, raiding the refrigerator like she lived there, which she may as well have. For the first time since she had been eight years old, Alice found herself relaxing.

She kept warning herself mentally not to do that.

Chapter 3: Katherine

Richard was grouchy and he was tired and he was frustrated. He had spent most of the morning trying to get hold of his project partner, Dave Humphries, with no luck. Not a single one of his phone calls had been returned. Not too long after he had begun calling, he began getting The voice mail box of the party you are calling is full messages. There had been no response to his text messages. His emails had seemingly been fired off into