“No, butter will do, thanks. I had meant to tell you to buy some, but I forgot. Lucky you thought of it.”
“Eat up while they’re hot. I’ll have mine from the second batch.”
“Okay, I’m hungry, I had an early breakfast.”
“What did you have?” She brought the coffees over and the last batch of pancakes. She preferred making four small ones in the pan rather than one large one.
“Ham and eggs.” He grinned. “I have plenty of chickens and smoke my own meat. I raise hogs for meat.”
“Hogs, like pigs?”
“Yeah, hogs are castrated male pigs that are slaughtered for meat.”
“You breed your own pigs?” They were an animal she had no fondness for, nor knew little about.
“I’ve got several good breeding sows, and a nasty tempered boar.”
“I thought you would raise beef.”
“I do, but pigs are a sideline and bring in good money for me. I don’t have enough cleared acres to run enough cattle to make a living. Eventually, I hope to be a cattle rancher rather than a hog farmer.”
He grinned. “People like their beef steaks around here, although a lot of them are partial to pig products. I’ve got a standing order at the mercantile in Laramie for my smoked hams.”
They finished their coffee and the rest of the pancakes in silence.
“Right.” He stood. “You will need to wear something on your head, the sun will soon burn your pale skin.”
“I’ve got a bonnet. Maybe I should change out of this dress and into my….”
“The drab brown one you wore when I first saw you.”
“Yes, this is my one and only decent dress now.”
“It looks pretty on you.”
“Thanks. I was so glad when Rusty was able to retrieve my luggage from the stage depot.”
He gnawed his lower lip. “I guess I should have bought you clothes. If there’s stuff you need, you will have to tell me. I don’t know much about women or their needs.”
Even on such short acquaintance she could see he was clueless when it came to females. He’d obviously had little to do with them in the past. She wondered why the thought pleased her. Why should she care how many women he had known?
“I didn’t show you the bedroom.”
She laughed. “I think I can find it. What about you? Are you going to change your clothes?”
“I’ve got my work pants and a shirt hanging out in the washroom. I enclosed part of the back porch. There’s a hip bath, a wash board and a couple of tubs for washing.”
“Where do you get your water from?”
“The creek. Oh, it’s clean. I cart it up in barrels. I’ll show you when we look around.”
She hurried toward the bedroom as he headed out the back. The cabin was starting to grow on her a little more now. She had got used to seeing wooden shingles, exposed beams across the roof, and the large poles holding up the structure.
Pushing open the bedroom door, she entered. The ceilings here were virtually of normal height. It contained a double bed covered by a blue and white patchwork quilt. There was a dresser with a mirror and a large built-in closet.
Quickly she changed into the dull brown dress, before pulling out the matching bonnet from her bag. It was still a little crushed, but she pushed her fist inside it to get it back into shape. Once she knew her way around this place, she could work out ways to make it more comfortable.
She could not resist a quick peek inside the closet. It was practically empty except for a black duster, a buckskin coat and a couple of shirts hanging up. Shelves along one side were mostly empty, except for one containing socks and drawers. It was obvious Zane didn’t bother too much about clothes, unless he had emptied it out for her.
Suddenly, she wondered what this Betsy woman, had she been genuine, would have thought about the place.
She left the room, tying on her bonnet as she did so. Zane was busy and it was unfair to take up too much of his time.
He was waiting on the back porch, his fingers tapping impatiently against one of the posts.
“Sorry if I took too long.”
He shrugged. He had changed into a blue work shirt, and brown pants, both in need of washing if she was any judge.
She had thought the house was in a valley and it was, sort of. It was on a plateau that sloped down toward a deep valley where she could see the meandering outline of the creek with cattle and horses grazing close by. The land here had been cleared.
“You have to go all the way down there for water?”
He grinned. “Just behind the barn is a place where the water drops down from the top of the hills into a rock pool, before ending up in the creek. I get the water first before it’s fouled by any animals.”
The barn, when they got to it, was large, similarly built to the cabin, but more than twice the size. An area packed with hay was sealed off by a wall from another area holding the buckboard and farming equipment, and there were a couple of stalls for horses, by the looks of it. Not to mention an area for milking. Everything being under the one roof did make it compact.
Outside, and not far away, was a small enclosed building with a vent, a single entrance, and no windows.
“That’s my smokehouse,” he said. “I use warm, dry air from a slow burning hardwood fire to dry the meat out.”
“Really? How?”
“Have a quick look. I can explain it in more detail later.” He opened the door, and she peaked in. On the lower interior walls, the wood appeared furred, probably by the salt she surmised. The upper areas were blackened with smoke. In the middle of the floor was a brick fire pit.
He ushered her out and locked the door behind her. “Where are your pigs?” She thought she could smell them.
“I built a large pen for them just behind the line of trees. The boar has his own quarters to keep him away from his lady friends unless it’s breeding time.” He grinned. “He isn’t too happy about it, although he makes up for it when I let him loose amongst them. Would you like to see him?”
“No, I bet he’s an ugly brute.”
“Yes, a good sire, though. My sows have two litters of piglets a year, usually at least ten at a time, so it quickly adds up. There are a couple of ranchers I sell weaners to. They like to raise their own meat without the hassle of breeding. Doesn’t make much sense to me.” He shrugged. “Still, who am I to complain. It’s extra money in my pocket.”
“Horses and cattle were what I was brought up with, poultry, too, of course.”
“I can show you my chickens,” he said indicating the chicken coop.
“I can see where they are.”
“The nesting boxes have their own door at the back, so you don’t need to enter the cage to collect the eggs. They’re good layers.”
“Why don’t you concentrate on breeding pigs instead of cattle?”
His eyes widened in shock. “I don’t want to be known as a hog farmer.” His lips curled with derision. “I’m a rancher.”
“Everything looks good to me,” she said, trying to change what was obviously a prickly point with him. “Show me where you get your water.”
He collected a trolley with two large wooden barrels on it and they headed along a track leading to the creek.
“I’ll collect some water now; save me going back tomorrow. I’ll probably use more now you’re here.” She could not decide whether to be insulted or not.
“When I get the time and the money, I want to bring water directly into the house. Having this permanent water is a blessing and a curse.”
He pushed the wooden trolley along.
“Why?”
“A permanent fresh water supply makes my place valuable to larger ranchers. The Vasey’s, the most ruthless lot of all, grab up every place the Land Agency takes back if it is any good. I reckon someone at the Agency office is on their payroll, and tips them off when something comes up.”
“Are you sure?” They were heading toward a rocky outc
rop now.
“No, I’m not absolutely sure. It stands to reason as Vasey gets to hear of men being pushed off their land before anyone else does, and he jumps in and buys it up cheap. He knows the creek runs through here, giving me a permanent water supply. What he doesn’t know is where it comes from, and that’s the way I want to keep it. If he finds out he will….”
“Force you off the place,” she said.
“Yeah. Or kill me. That’s why I’m desperate to get the paperwork signed so the place is mine, free and clear.”
Hidden behind the trees was a gap between two massive boulders, overgrown with grass and small bushes. “Is that a cave?”
He shrugged. “I guess you could call it that.”
The cool, damp air rushed out to greet her as they entered. It was dingy, although not dark, as daylight was coming in from somewhere.
Water ran down a shiny wall of rock. Zane had positioned a barrel against the rock face, the water overflowing from it ran into a second barrel positioned at a lower level, and eventually, a little further down, the water disappeared. It had to be a freak of nature. If any unscrupulous person got hold of this property and somehow blocked the flow of water, ranchers further along would receive little or no water from the creek in summer, and would be forced to abandon their properties.
“If I had the money,” Zane interrupted her musing. “I would sink a well near the house. I reckon there would be plenty of underground water to be had. One day I might get a geologist or an engineer to check the place over.”
“I suppose it would cost a lot.”
“Yeah, and I can’t afford it yet.”
“How did you find this place?” She scooped up a handful of water, reveling in the fresh, cold taste of it.
“Purely by accident. Tastes good, doesn’t it?” He filled a tin mug she had failed to notice and drank from it.
Without speaking, she watched as he exchanged the full barrels for the empty ones.
“It can’t be easy pushing them all the way back to the cabin.”
“It isn’t, although much easier than carrying them individually. I’ve still got a few chores to complete before supper, so we best go.”
CHAPTER TEN
They headed back to the house, and by the time they got there Zane was sweating profusely.
“I usually wait until later to do this, but it was silly having to go back a second time.”
“It was foolish doing it in this heat.”
He grinned. “Don’t be a nagging wife.”
“Would you like coffee before you go back outside?”
“No, thanks.” He drank a couple of mouthfuls of water, sketched her a salute and strode off. “I’ll be back at sunset for supper.” He threw the words over one shoulder.
“All right,” she yelled out. “Do you want me to collect the eggs?”
He stopped and swung around to face her. “Thanks.”
“I could do the milking, too.”
“Not on your first day. I’ll make time to do it.”
“All right, maybe over supper we can discuss what chores you want me to do.”
He waved and strode off. Considering he worked alone, he had done a good job. How much better if he had received some help?
He deserved to get his land grant and she would do everything in her power to see he did. A garden out the front, even a small one, would enhance the entrance. She definitely intended doing it.
Curtains on the windows would be a nice touch, if only she could get material to make them. I can sacrifice one of my lace trimmed petticoats. What about scissors, needles and thread. Would a man living alone have them?
Inside the cabin, she decided to bake biscuits for supper. He would have plenty of smoked meat she could use, if only she knew where he kept it. She could not recall seeing any hanging in his smokehouse. His root cellar, maybe. Pa and her had always eaten fresh meat in Virginia, and at Esmeralda’s mansion in St. Louis, the cook went to the butcher’s shop to purchase all the choicest cuts of meat.
Her musings were interrupted by Zane. “I forgot. This is the last of my fresh beef.” He handed over a canvas bag. “There is a small root cellar at the side of the house.”
She took the bag and peered inside at two large steaks. Out of his pockets he produced four potatoes. “I remembered I had these.”
“Thanks. Do you have onions?”
“I think so, but all that stuff is in the root cellar. Check it out and take what you need.” Giving her a half-salute, he left.
Steak, potatoes, biscuits and gravy was not such a bad meal. Something quick and easy would give her time to get her plants in the ground. At either end of the porch would be ideal. She should just about have enough to cover the whole area, better to leave gaps at either end than near the pathway where people came to the door.
She wandered out the front. The area badly needed weeding. To save time she would only do it in the places where she wanted to plant, and the rest of it could be a chore for tomorrow when she had the whole day.
By the time Jasmine had planted and watered her flowers, her back ached. Fortunately, the ground had not been too hard. The porch roof overhang obviously kept the worst of the hot sun off it.
Tomorrow she would weed it properly, and perhaps do a stone border, as there were plenty of small rocks scattered around. She returned inside, well pleased with her handiwork.
The sun was setting like a huge orange ball behind the distant mountains when she heard Zane’s booted feet on the back porch. She had placed a dish of water, a piece of soap and a towel on a wooden crate for him to wash up before supper.
A few minutes later when he stepped inside, his face and hands were clean, his hair damp. “Thanks for leaving everything out for me. Am I clean enough?” He held out his hands.
“Yes.”
“Something smells good.” He stared at the biscuits on the table.
“Sit down. You can have one while you wait, everything is nearly ready. I went for quick and easy because I wanted to plant the flowers Olive gave me.”
“I could have done it.”
“No, I wanted the garden and I’m capable of doing it myself. I enjoyed it. I have a few other projects in mind, too.”
“Oh? What?”
She laughed. “My secret. I’m sure no self-respecting man would have a sewing basket, but…”
“What kind of man would have one of those?” he sneered. “I do have scissors, needles and black and white thread.”
“Oh!”
“In case my buttons need sewing back on.”
“What you’ve got will have to do me for the time being.”
She dished up the meal and he grinned on seeing the steak, eggs and fried potatoes covered with gravy.
“Thanks, Jasmine, this looks good. I’m starving.”
“Coffee now or after we’ve eaten?” she asked.
“Now, thanks.”
They ate in a companionable silence and by the time the meal was finished, the sun had completely disappeared behind the mountains and night was falling.
“It gets dark out here quickly. I light a lamp in here, and one each in the sitting room and the bedroom. Don’t attempt to go outside without one. Oh, there are clean sheets on the bed, too.”
“I was wondering about that. The quilt is quite nice, too.”
“Olive bought me a few household things at a clearance sale, when I knew I was getting married. She told me a woman would never want to live as rough as me.”
“She’s a kind lady, I liked her. Um, I’ve been thinking. I feel bad about taking your bed.”
“Are you offering to share?” His eyebrows peaked in query. “I don’t mind sleeping in the loft, it’s better than the alternative.”
“What alternative?” she asked.
“Sharing a bed with you and trying to keep my hands off you. You’re real pretty, Jasmine, and I’m a man and…. I gave my word this would be a marriage in name only and I intend to keep it.”
&n
bsp; What if I don’t want it to be? She bit back the words hovering on her lips, wondering what was wrong with her. Yes, she was attracted to Zane who was a hard-working, decent man, and she had agreed to a marriage in name only. Had embraced it at the time.
In a few months, once he had his ranch and she felt safe, they could go their separate ways and get on with their lives. Why did the life stretching out in front of her suddenly seem so bleak? What was wrong with her?
She washed the dishes and surprisingly he got up from the chair and dried them.
“You don’t have to worry. I can do them.”
“It’s the least I can do after you cooked me such a nice meal.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two weeks after their marriage.
Jasmine lay in the comfortable bed staring into the darkness. What an eventful fourteen days it had been. As always, it was silent outside, not a sound could be heard.
Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. She had made curtains from her petticoat and thought they added a hominess to the room. Zane had been shocked when he found out where the material had come from. “If you’re happy, I can live with them,” he had finally said.
He was still sleeping in the loft and had shown no interest in making her his wife. Had he asked her to, she would have willingly agreed as she had developed feelings for him, which were obviously not reciprocated. Her eyes grew heavy and she drifted into sleep.
A loud bang, followed by several curses, woke her and she shot up in the bed. Jumping up she turned on the lamp and dashed out of the room.
Zane sat on the floor groaning and holding his head with one hand. He wore only his drawers. His bare chest was muscular. The whorls of brown hair scattered over it could not hide the numerous scars on his skin.
“What happened?” She squatted beside him.
“I heard you cry out and I went to stand up and forgot about the beam over my head. I banged it so hard I saw stars, lost my balance and fell out. Of all the stupid….”
“Sorry. I must have cried out in my sleep.” She removed his hand from his head and gently touched it. “You’ve got a lump on it, but there doesn’t appear to be any skin broken. What’s wrong with your hand?”
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