At least she’d figured out the hot water reservoir. That was a welcome aid to cleaning. A hot bath would be wonderful. She didn’t remember seeing a tub, but she’d look for one.
She scoured the dishes and then started cleaning the house. In a drawer, she found instructions to the kitchen range. She sat down with a cup of coffee and studied the manual. Hadn’t she done everything wrong this morning?
After gathering potatoes from their stores, she boiled them. She saved the water and mixed it with flour, sugar, and salt for sourdough starter that she set aside to brew for a couple of days. Mayhap for dinner, she’d prepare her Irish soda bread recipe. She wasn’t certain how the bread would turn out with only canned milk instead of buttermilk and no butter, but surely it would be a sight better than the rocks she’d cooked this morning.
Her husband appeared to be neat enough, but apparently he hadn’t bothered dusting or sweeping anything but the kitchen. She took great pleasure in cleaning her new home. Sure and the place was like a castle.
How she wished her family could see this place. They’d never believe her if she described her home to them. Instead, they’d say she was twisting the truth to put on airs.
Not that she could blame them. If she still lived in her parents’ small cottage and one of her sisters had written them about a place like this, she wouldn’t have believed her either. Her family had seen nothing to compare to life in Montana or the type of buildings here. How would she even describe the land so they could understand?
Setting aside her cleaning materials, she decided to prepare the rest of their dinner to go with the boiled potatoes. She hoped this meal turned out better than breakfast. Now that she had instructions, she couldn’t help laughing at her mistakes this morning.
By the time Garrett came stomping in at noon, she had fried ham to go with their potatoes and a fresh loaf of bread on the table. She’d set out a can of the peaches. Not understanding whether they were for a pie or to eat by themselves, she left them unopened.
He hung his coat and hat on the pegs and took his chair at the head of the table. “Smells good.”
She passed the platters to him. “Fried ham and more potatoes. This time I boiled them.”
He grinned at her and nodded toward the bread. “And a bigger missile.”
“I hope you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” She prayed this bread would taste as good as it appeared even though she’d had to add vinegar to the canned milk to substitute for buttermilk and use lard instead of butter. After cutting the loaf, she placed a large slice on his plate before cutting one for herself.
He took a bite. “Mmm, this is good. Needs butter, so I’ll be glad when we have a cow. There’s honey in the pantry if you want some on your bread.”
“I’ll fetch it for you, husband.” Eager to please, she found a bucket of honey and one of molasses and brought both.
“Appears you mastered the stove. This is a fine meal.”
Pleasure shot through her. “Thank you for saying so. I cooked sparing quantities because I’ve yet to take stock and gauge the food until spring.”
His gaze went to the window. “There’ll be bad weather soon. There are always breaks, though, where we can go to Morgan’s Crossing. The store there isn’t as large as the one in Sweetwater Springs, but they carry all the staples.”
“How would I go about mailing a letter?”
He pushed back from the table and stood. “Write out all you wish from the paper in my desk. El Davis comes by when I have mail. If he hasn’t shown up by the time we go to Morgan’s Crossing, we can leave letters there for him.”
“Is there no mail delivery nearby?”
He shook his head. “There’s not even regular mail service. Most ranchers and farmers out here pay El to bring mail from Sweetwater Springs. He’s really a freight hauler.”
“Don’t forget you’re going to make me a map. I saved the wrapping from our parcels.” She retrieved a piece.
He unfolded it. “About the right size. Glad you saved that brown paper, as it always comes in handy. This will make a good map.” He strode toward his office.
She followed close behind him, though she had to hurry to keep up with his long stride. He moved the scattered papers on his desk to one corner and set the ledger on top of them. Then, he sat and spread out the wrapping paper.
She took the chair facing his desk. “I’ll be relieved to have the map.”
He drew the river then started filling in names. “You realize this is not to scale. I’m not sure how to create a real map, but you can see who lives where.”
She watched while he worked. He was a handsome man. His dark brown hair was thick but could use a trim where it curled at his collar. His strong body and pleasant features would reassure any woman.
An invisible rope reeled her to him. Any woman would be pleased to have as handsome a man as he, but he was also a good man. She feared he would steal her heart and hoped he would at least become attracted to her.
After about ten minutes, he turned the map towards her. “You see I’ve marked the way to Morgan’s Crossing. Here’s the Henson place, but if the situation is severe enough that you need help, go to the Kincaid ranch. You can trust them to help you in an emergency.”
She folded the map. “I thank you for this. I’m new to such distances without a train or trolley and wouldn’t know which way to go. I’ll put this… ” She tried to think of the best place to keep it handy without danger of it being misplaced.
He scooted several books out of the way. “How about here, in the bookshelves?”
When she’d placed the folded paper on the shelf, he planted a kiss on her lips. “Here’s where I keep the paper for letters. You see the inkwell and pen. If you prefer, pencils are in the center drawer.”
“Thank you. I’ll write to Ma and let her know where I am and that I’m all right. Also that she’s not to believe anything Moira McGowan writes.”
He clasped her shoulders. “I’d better get back to work… unless you’ve a mind to hurry upstairs for me to show you how much I appreciate the dinner you prepared.”
She gasped. “The sun’s shining for ‘tis the middle of the day, Garrett McDonald. What are you thinking? Get out of here and get your work done while I do the same.”
He grinned at her, though she saw regret in his eyes. “I took care of your chickens this morning. There were no eggs, so either I didn’t find them or the hens were too upset to lay after being moved and in this cold weather. I’m working on their pen now, so you can take care of them this evening.”
“Aye, and I thank you. When they calm down, we’ll have eggs a plenty.” She should have purchased a rooster so they could have baby chicks for the future. Perhaps she’d find one for sale in Morgan’s Crossing.
She thought about his request to go up to bed. Did people couple in the day? She meant normal people, not those she’d lived with and near in New York? She was positive her parents never did, though thinking of her own parents coming together was off putting and she quickly forced her mind elsewhere.
Chapter Six
The next day, Gormlaith sat with her husband eating the noon meal when someone rode into the yard.
“Hello. Anyone home?”
Garrett hopped up and hurried to the door. “Glad to see you. Come in and meet my wife.”
She heard someone say, “Didn’t know you was a gettin’ hitched.”
A young man probably in his late teens stood on the porch stomping snow from his boots before he came inside.
“Gormlaith, meet Billy Hensen.”
Billy took off his hat to reveal copper-colored hair. Shyly, he approached Gormlaith. “How do, Miz McDonald. I’m real pleased to meet you.”
“Aye, and ‘tis pleased I am to meet the man who took such good care of the horses while my husband was away. Please take off your coat and let me make you something to eat.”
He hung his hat and coat on pegs by the door. “Did I hear chickens?”
Garrett chuckled. “My wife insisted on fresh eggs. Only six hens, but come spring we can buy chicks and a rooster.”
“We need milk cows and pigs.” She set a mug of coffee in front of the young man and refilled those of her husband and her. After taking down another plate and gathering cutlery, she placed those in front of the young man.
“Thank you, Ma’am. Didn’t realize I was coming at meal time, but this sure smells good.”
“Only stew, but hearty and we have peach cobbler for dessert.”
Billy’s eyes sparkled when he looked at Garrett. “You did all right for yourself. A pretty woman who can cook sure is a treasure.”
“She is that and more.” Her husband smiled at her, his brown eyes darkening and reminding her of their previous night.
Gormlaith sensed the heat of a blush and concentrated on her stew. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Now that I know you’re here, I won’t be back by for several days.” Billy reached for another slice of bread. “Wolves killed one of our yearlings yesterday. From the tracks, looked to be four or five in the pack.
Concern shaded Garrett’s handsome face. “You kill them?”
“We didn’t see them, only the remains of the yearling. You’ll need to be on the lookout.”
Gormlaith ladled more stew into their guest’s bowl. She’d forgotten how much young men ate. Her brothers and cousins ate like a meal was a contest between them.
After their guest had eaten, Garrett stood. “Let me show you how I did the chickens’ coop.”
“You get the hens in Sweetwater Springs?”
“From Mrs. Murphy. Only let us have six, though, and no rooster.”
“I heard she wouldn’t sell to anyone, except she parted with a few for Mrs. Flanigan. You know, she married Seth Flanigan who lives over closer to Sweetwater Springs?”
The men closed the door behind them and she gathered up the dishes. At least now she’d met a neighbor and served him a meal. The knowledge made her hum to herself as she washed dishes in her very own kitchen with hot water from her fancy range. Life was grand.
***
Snow struck with a vengeance the following day while they ate their noon meal. The storm battered the eaves and rattled the windows. The next morning they awoke to the howling wind still pushing against the sturdy house. She wished they’d had a fire in their bedroom fireplace because she could see her breath in the cold air.
Her husband nuzzled her neck. “Tempting to snuggle with you all day, but I have to see to the horses. Wait in bed while I start a blaze to warm the room.”
“No need to waste the wood. I’ll be downstairs as soon as I’ve dressed and straightened the covers.”
Hurrying into her clothes, Gormlaith was grateful for her longhandles, flannel shirt, and overalls. She’d knit her husband and herself warm sweaters as soon as possible to help keep out the cold.
After racing downstairs, she peered out the kitchen window but could barely make out the barn’s shape. Until today she hadn’t noticed the rope strung from the house to the barn, but now she understood the purpose. Getting lost so close to the house would be as fatal as if a person were miles away.
Garrett came to stand behind her, tucking her head under his chin. “You stay inside and I’ll take care of your hens.”
She turned to face him and shook her head. “You’ll do no such of a thing, though ’tis kind you are to offer. I asked for the hens and they’re my responsibility. I’ll not make more work for you.”
He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “If you insist, stay right with me. Between here and the barn, hold that rope, even if you think you don’t need to.”
Smoothing her braid, she wished she had taken time to brush out her hair and twist the strands into a bun. “I will for I’ve no wish to be lost in the storm.”
She and her husband donned their coats and gloves. Garrett grabbed his hat while she wrapped her blue scarf around her head. He made certain she held to the rope as they walked to the barn, her following in his footsteps. Lucky for her she was tall enough to reach the rope. Mayhap Mr. Pickens had strung it and wasn’t as tall as Garrett.
With the new pen, the hens had settled down. The cold didn’t encourage egg production. From six hens, she collected only three eggs.
She set her basket by the door and went to help her husband. He was mucking out a stall. It looked as if he was on the second one, but he’d not yet put down fresh hay in the first one.
“Where would I find another shovel and rake?”
Surprise showed on his face. “This is a nasty job and I don’t expect you to take part.”
She laughed. “If you think this is dirty, wait until we have pigs. Nothing is filthier than cleaning a swine pen, which I’ve done more times than I can count.”
He paused to lean on his shovel. “Gormlaith, take your eggs and go back inside.” He resumed shoveling. “As soon as I’ve finished with the stalls, I’ll come in for breakfast and I’ll be hungry. Remember to hold the rope.”
She looked down at overalls. “Why am I dressed like this if you’ve no notion of letting me help you?”
“For warmth. You can help when I take the hay to the cattle. Sure is easier with two people.”
She didn’t want him to think her a shirker, but she did need to start breakfast. “All right. And how long will you be at finishing the stalls?”
“Another hour should do the trick. I hope you’ll have a hearty meal ready to eat then.”
“Aye, and the kitchen nice and warm to take away the chill.” She picked up the basket and slid open the barn door only wide enough to squeeze through then closed it behind her. Holding the rope, she stepped in the footprints they’d made earlier. Already, snow was filling the depressions their boots had made.
She didn’t mind the cold now that she had warm clothing. Back in New York, her thin cloak had done little to shield her from the weather. Remembering her former life resurrected the fear that her in-laws’ vicious threats were even now endangering her newfound happiness.
Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer that no harm would come to her or Garrett. Her husband deserved none of her trouble when all he’d done was rescue her. But then, she was not guilty of Conor’s death yet faced the accusations from her in-laws.
Should she prepare Garrett? Was she beyond the McGowan’s reach? Denis was a bully who had thought she would marry him once Conor was gone. She’d put up with his leers and suggestive remarks while she was married to his brother, but she wasn’t idiot enough to let him put his hands on her.
Moira, her mother-in-law, was a selfish and vindictive woman who thought Gormlaith was indeed fortunate to be in their family. Many times Moira had made a snide comment blaming Gormlaith for the lack of a child. Mayhap it was her fault there had been no baby, but she was glad none had been born in that pitiful flat where four people shared three rooms.
The walls had been so thin there was no privacy. She’d known what the neighbors were having for supper as well as what they discussed. Knowing they also heard everything in her flat made Conor’s beatings and temper all the more embarrassing. With a shrug, she threw off thoughts of New York and her in-laws.
She had a fine husband now who needed a nourishing breakfast. When he stomped into the house and stepped out of his boots, she was pleased to have a hot meal waiting for him of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee. She’d set the honey and molasses on the table along with a jar of jam she’d found in the pantry.
Wearing a wide smile, he took his seat at the table. “Looks like a fine breakfast you’ve prepared.”
She returned his grin. “This should fill you up until noon. And these biscuits turned out as food instead of ammunition.”
They laughed together, and the sensation of companionship washed over her. This was what she’d hoped for. Even if love never came to them, she could live knowing she belonged in this home with this man.
***
Garrett couldn’t work out
side in a blizzard, so he worked on his ranch records, which he had long neglected.
His wife tidied the kitchen and then stuck her head around the door jamb. “I’ll be knitting in the parlor by the fire. Let me know if I need to do anything else.”
Having her nearby even if they were in separate rooms gave him a sense of well being. Until they’d been together the past few days, he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been since Lisa’s passing. Of course, intimacy had relieved one type of tension in him, but his feelings were more than sating his lust. He enjoyed the companionship, the knowledge that he was no longer alone.
He spent an hour entering expenses in his ledger. He’d been spending as if the well were bottomless. From now on, he’d best conserve money until fall. Thinking of his wife’s justifiable request for more animals, his mood lightened.
She was one who watched her pennies. So far all she’d asked for were things to help the ranch. Smiling, he figured there’d be enough for a couple of cows and a few pigs.
“Aye, and ‘tis a good mood you’re in, sitting there with a smile on your handsome face. Do you want your dinner in here or in the kitchen?”
He glanced up to find his wife standing in the doorway. After closing the ledger, he stood. “I’ll come to the table and eat with my beautiful wife.”
***
Two mornings later, Garrett gazed out the bedroom window. “The snow’s stopped, at least temporarily.”
Her bright blue eyes held expectation. “Will we be feeding the cattle then?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of the horses while you make breakfast.” He held up a hand to stay her protest. “I’ll take care of the hens. We have a full and tiring day ahead.”
Once outside, he pulled the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes from the snow’s startling brightness in the sunshine. No need to hold on to the rope today, as the air was clear. He went into the barn and started his chores.
He’d already added skids and parked so he could easily toss hay from the loft into the wagon. Now the hay piled high and all he needed was to hitch the horses. Sure would be easier with his wife driving while he forked hay from the back.
Montana Sky: The Rancher And The Shepherdess (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Loving A Rancher Book 2) Page 5