by Kit Morgan
“We’ll take care of everything,” Mrs. Tisdale assured. “Then you’ll feel like a part of our little community.”
“You two have already made me feel so welcome,” Zadie said.
“Yes, but there are others you haven’t met – this will take care of that,” Mrs. Tisdale assured her.
Zadie nodded and wondered how many other women there were in the area. She suspected it wasn’t many, though.
After another hour full of conversation, a knock sounded at the door. “I’ll just bet that’s your handsome husband,” Mrs. Tisdale told Zadie. “Why don’t you answer it, dear?”
Zadie got up, went to the door and answered it. Sure enough, Anson stood on the other side, a huge grin on his face. “What’s this?” she asked, taking in his beaming smile.
“Congratulate me,” he said.
“On what?”
“We are now the proud owner of three chickens.”
Zadie giggled. “Well, if a few chickens can put a look like that on your face, what would a cow do?”
He chuckled. “You’d be amazed. I need to find a crate or a box to take them home in. Maybe Mrs. Tisdale has something?”
“We can ask.” She let him in and, as luck would have it, the matron did have an old crate he could use.
They said their goodbyes, and Anson walked Zadie to the boarding house. “You wait here – this won’t take long. As soon as I’m back, we’ll see what Bertha made today.”
“All right.”
She watched him carry the crate down the street and disappear behind a cabin. It didn’t take long before he reappeared with his prize, three fat hens. He set the crate in the back of the wagon, then gave her a hug. “Let’s celebrate.”
“Chickens? Heavens, if I’d know a few hens would make you so happy I’d start clucking.” He laughed, kissed her on the nose, then ushered her into the boarding house.
Zadie sighed in contentment as they sat down to eat. She was beginning to enjoy her new life in the West – and her husband even more.
* * *
“How long will it take to build a chicken coop?” Zadie asked on the drive home.
“Not long – I’ll start on it tomorrow. The chickens can stay in the barn tonight.”
“Between the three of them, how many eggs do you think we’ll get each day?” She’d never owned chickens before, so she was curious.
“We won’t know until they start laying for us. I’m sure we’ll get a couple every day. Next on my list is a milk cow, but it might be a while before we can get one of those.”
“What will we do in the meantime?”
“Ralph at the store told me there’s a woman, Mrs. Tuccio, who owns a cow. I’m sure she’d sell us some milk now and then. I’ve gotten along without it because … well, because I’ve just been eating canned beans, really.”
“I hear it comes in handy for a lot of recipes, none of which I know how to make yet, so I think we’re all right for now.”
Anson laughed at her joke. “Yes, but in time you’ll be making all sorts of delicious meals and goodies. Myself, I can’t wait. How did the sewing lesson go?”
Zadie blushed as she recalled her crooked stitches. “As well as could be expected for my first try. I just need to practice.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. I talked to Freddy when I took him his harness. He’s agreed to help me with a few things around the place.”
“That’s a relief. I can’t picture myself helping you mend fences.”
“I admit I was thinking about it. But it’s heavy work, too much for even a woman as strong as you. He and I will fix the fencing – you can fix up the house.”
“I have the easier job,” she teased. “There’s hardly any house to fix.”
“You’ll have to decide where you want to put the bedroom.”
“Wait, what?” she asked, confused.
“I said, you’ll have to decide where you want the bedroom. Freddy is going to help me add one on.”
Zadie could only stare. “You mean you’re going to build us a separate bedroom?”
“I have to. Once we get a new stove and bed, then it’ll be just as you said – there won’t be any room in the place for us. I have to add on.”
A flicker ignited within Zadie. Every woman dreamed of having her own home – and having a separate bedroom would help turn the little cabin into one. “Are you planning anything else?”
“That’s enough to start. I can’t spend all my time working on the house – I have a ranch to run. I need to go to the stockyards in the next couple of weeks and see Mr. Reiner. If the horses are selling well, then I’ll need to let my father and uncle know.”
“Will they send more horses?”
“I don’t know. They may want to leave things up to Julius Caesar.”
“Oh, I’m sure Julius Caesar won’t mind going to work.”
“He never does,” Anson said with a laugh.
They spent the rest of the trip laughing and joking. Anson talked about building them a house like the Morgans’, and Zadie’s heart leapt in her chest at the mere thought. She’d lived in larger homes than that in Boston and Denver. But out here such a place was a mansion compared to the miners’ tents or the simple cabins in town. When Anson drove the wagon into the barnyard, she could envision her own two-story Queen Anne with a pretty wraparound porch.
She had to shake herself out of that daydream. First, get a stove and a bed …
They unloaded the wagon and unhitched the horses. Anson brought the crate of hens into the barn, closed the door and let them out. The chickens ran in circles for a moment or two, then began to scratch and peck at the ground, making themselves at home.
“They won’t to get out – will they?” Zadie asked.
“Not if we keep the barn door closed. They should be fine for tonight. Once they figure out their food comes from us, they won’t wander off too far.”
“You mean you’ll just let them run around outside the barn?”
“Of course. But they’re better off in their coop at night. I haven’t seen any coyotes around here, but now that we have a few chickens I’ve no doubt one or two will show up.”
“Coyotes?” she said, eyes wide. “They don’t bother people, do they?”
Anson chuckled and drew her into his arms. “Very rarely, but they’re a nuisance if you have small livestock, chickens or sheep.”
Zadie looked at their new hens and cringed. “I hope nothing happens to the girls.”
“The girls?”
“That’s what they are. Have you ever seen a rooster lay an egg?”
Anson paused. “No, I can’t say I have.”
She thought a moment. “Do we need a rooster too?”
“No, these are fine for now. Maybe we’ll get one later.”
They left the barn, making sure to close the door behind them, and went to the house. He took her by the hand and pointed to where he thought the bedroom would go. “If Freddy and I make it the same size as the rest of the cabin, we’d have enough room for a dresser and a small desk.”
“And an armoire?” she asked, hopeful. “It would be nice to have some place to hang my dresses.”
“Yes, one of those. So long as it’s large enough to get us by until we build a bigger house.”
“When will that be?” she asked, curious.
“Well, Mrs. Jones, that depends on when we get down to the business of there being more than the two of us.”
She blushed. “I see.” She tried to imagine a child playing near the cabin and smiled. But at the rate Anson was going, a bigger house was a long way off indeed.
Fourteen
The next morning Zadie got up, dressed and made a pot of coffee. She was getting pretty good at that, but wished she knew how to make cinnamon rolls the way Mrs. Dundee had for she and her father. There were so many things Mrs. Dundee could have taught her, but Zadie hadn’t thought to ask. She never dreamed she’d be living in a one-room cabin, trying to he
lp her new husband establish a horse ranch.
Speaking of which, where was Anson?
She went out to the front porch and heard hammering off to the left. He must have started building the chicken coop. She walked around to the side of the house and there he was. “How’s it coming?”
“With a little good fortune, I’ll have it done today. I’m working on the frame right now. I’d like to put it over there.” He waved the hammer at a spot near the barn.
“How are the girls this morning? Have you checked on them?”
“Happy and fed. I’d like you to feed them from now on, let them be your job.”
“My job?” she asked. But she didn’t object – surely she could handle a few chickens. “All right. The girls and I will get along fine. Did they lay any eggs?”
“Not that I could see, but then I didn’t look.”
“Why not?” she asked, setting her hands on her hips.
He noticed her stance and laughed. “I was too eager to part with their company this morning for one. Chickens make poor roommates. And, because I’ve been busy building them a house. Why don’t you? Maybe we’ll get lucky and have something to go with our biscuits this morning.”
“All right, I will. Do you want me to bring you a cup of coffee first?”
“Go see about the eggs first – I’ll worry about the coffee later.”
“Very well,” she said with a smile and set off for the barn. Who would have thought a few chickens could be so exciting? If her friends from Boston could see her now, what would they do? “Laugh at me, in all likelihood.” But that world was far behind her now – the only thing that mattered was the man hammering together a few pieces of wood a half-dozen yards away.
She turned to look at him … no, to admire him. A pleasant warmth pooled in her belly at the sight of Anson working on their chicken coop. He wasn’t dressed in fine evening clothes strolling down the street to an opera, wasn’t rich, had no claim to fame. But he was kind, gentle, strong, protective and, most importantly, hers.
With a renewed smile, Zadie went into the barn, where the “girls” were scratching and pecking at the ground, looking for … well, their own breakfast, presumably. “Good morning, ladies. Do any of you have anything for me?”
One of the hens looked at her, then went back to pecking at the straw on the ground. “You’re not being very cooperative,” she commented, scanning the straw-laden nooks and crannies nearby. “If I were one of you, where would I lay an egg?” She poked and prodded at different piles of hay and straw but found nothing. “I hope this is because you girls are still getting used to things around here,” she told the hens.
The hens ignored her.
“Fine, don’t listen to me,” she said, making her way to a dark corner. “This is your last chance – if I don’t find anything here, I’m telling Anson to send you back to Mrs. Tuccio.” She smiled when one of the chickens looked up at her as if in alarm.
Zadie extended her hand toward the corner … and froze.
Shhhhhktktktkt.
The sound was faint at first and she wondered if she’d heard anything at all. But when it came again … shhktktktkt… it was not only louder, but unmistakable. She’d been born and raised in cities, but she’d heard enough stories from her father and uncle to recognize the sound of a rattlesnake.
“Oh my Lord,” she whispered. She didn’t know what to do. She could barely make out the snake’s coiled form in the darkness, and only because she was looking for it now. If it hadn’t made its telltale rattling, she’d have put her hand right on it.
Her hand! It was still extended toward the snake. She was frozen, bent forward only a few feet away, her mind buzzing with panic. She couldn’t get herself to move - every limb was frozen with fear, her eyes fixed on the corner.
Fortunately (for Zadie, at least), one of the chickens moved for her. Whether it sensed the danger nearby or not, the thing started squawking and flapping its wings before it flew up to land on top of a stall door. The motion threw Zadie off balance and she fell backwards. Something hit the bottom of her shoe, and she scrambled away like a crab as fast as she could.
Then fear gripped her all over again as the snake slithered out from its corner toward her. She had no other recourse other than what came naturally: scoot backwards as fast as she could and scream her head off. She hit a wall – the wrong one, as now she’d put the snake between her and the door – but kept on screaming.
Anson burst through the door. “What in the name of –!” he yelled, then saw the snake coiling again, this time focused on him. He looked at her and gave a small shake of his head, indicating for her to stay still. She nodded back. He didn’t have a gun on him, or any other weapon to use against the reptile, and Zadie wondered how they were going to get out of this.
Anson did have room, however, and could put enough space between him and the snake to stay safe. But she didn’t – if the snake turned his attention on her, she was within striking range. He’d already hit her shoe - what else could that have been?
Anson slowly stepped toward the barn door again and reached for something out of Zadie’s line of vision. He pulled back a pitchfork. “Don’t move, honey,” he said softly, “I’m going to draw it out.”
Zadie was so frozen with fear she couldn’t move even if she’d wanted to.
The snake began to uncoil again … but Anson was getting it to focus on the tines of the pitchfork. The snake tried to strike at it, missed, but wasn’t about to give up so easily. It kept trying as Anson slowly backed away, leading it out of the barn. It seemed to be working, albeit slowly.
Zadie began to cautiously relax, at the same time wondering where the chickens had gone. Her heart still thundered in her chest. She knew Anson wasn’t going to leave her – but she wished he’d brought a better weapon with him …
To her horror, he began to strike at the snake with the farm implement! That got it moving, right out the barn door and after him! Or … maybe not. From what she could see, Anson went one way, the snake another. She scrambled to her feet, still pressed against the wall, just hoping and praying the thing didn’t come back into the barn.
She saw one of the chickens run out the door – no! With an effort of will she followed, as the other two hens darted ahead of her.
She reached the door to find a sight that would’ve been funny if she wasn’t so scared. Anson was still battling the snake, but she couldn’t tell who was chasing who. The hens were running all over the place, not sure which way to go. She heard Anson growl, then hold the pitchfork like a spear and throw it at the snake …
Direct hit! She saw the rattler pinned to the ground, writhing its last. Anson leaned over, hands on his knees and sucked in a lungful of air. Finally he got his breath back, straightened and went to her. “Zadie, sweetheart! Are you all right? Did it bite you?”
She shook her head, still unable to speak.
Anson drew her into his arms and held her close. “You’re safe now, it’s dead. It can’t hurt you.”
Without warning, she began to weep softly against his chest.
“It’s all right, honey, I’m here.” He pulled away, tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
“How?” she asked through the tears.
“I should have checked the barn better. I figured it was still too cold for a varmint like that to be out and about. I guess I was wrong.”
She wiped her eyes. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“Maybe so, but from now on I’m going to check every inch of this barn. We’ll both have to be more careful.”
“I’ve never been so scared in my life!” she said and wrapped her arms around him.
“You and me both.”
That got her attention. She raised her eyes to his. “At least it didn’t strike you.”
“I wasn’t worried about that – I was worried about you. Thank the Lord you screamed, or who knows what could have ha
ppened.”
“I think it did strike me, but it got the bottom of my shoe.”
“What?” Anson said in alarm. “Let me see.”
Zadie lifted her skirt and held up one leg in an attempt to see the bottom of her shoe. There was a tiny scratch mark, nothing more. A rock might have done the same thing. “I felt something when one of the hens started to make a scene. I fell over and as I was backing away, I felt something hit my shoe.”
Anson whistled. “I’ll bet you that’s what it was. Maybe it’s a good thing you fell over. Where was it?”
“In the far corner, near King Lear’s stall. I was searching for eggs and the corner was dark. I didn’t see it at first, only heard it.”
Anson released a long breath and held her to him again. “Let’s get you into the house. I’m going to pour you a cup of coffee and I want you to drink it. Then I’ll check the barn and see if there are any more of those slithery devils. The weather must be getting warm enough for a few of them to venture out, and one must’ve decided the barn was warmer than outside.”
“They can’t get into the house, can they?”
“Not if the door is closed. Besides, the place is so small, it’s not like we wouldn’t see it.”
Zadie felt herself smile, despite still trembling with fear. Anson noticed it too and, rather than wait for her to walk to the house, swept her into his arms and carried her there. He didn’t put her down until they were inside with the door closed behind them, then steered her to the cot and motioned for her to sit.
She did, and watched as her poured her a cup of the coffee she’d made. “Here, honey, drink this.” He sat next to her and watched her take a sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened.”
She stared at him in wonder. “You?”
“Yes, me,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s one thing to go up against another man in an argument, especially if he has bigger fists. It’s another to go up against one of God’s nastier creations. Sometimes I don’t know which is worse.”