by Danni Roan
The old blacksmith's stomach rumbled and he decided it must be time for lunch. It would be nice to have a hot meal on such a day. He wondered if he should try to rouse Ray, but decided he'd just carry her lunch to her after he'd eaten. She didn't seem inclined to interact with the other members of the Broken J, and with the scowl that Bianca Leoné shot him, he thought it was better that way.
The sound of Mae's muffled scream from the barn drew his attention, and dropping his hammer with a clatter on his anvil, the old blacksmith turned and hustled out of his shop just in time to see the petite, black-haired girl race across the yard to the house.
With a worried scowl, he shuffled toward the still open barn door, where he could just see the weary form of Clayton Allen's big, black horse. Deeks had just reached the barn when Joshua and the other men came dashing from the house.
As everyone flooded into the barn they could all see the unconscious form of the black-haired Florida boy, the white legs of a small calf peeking out from under his coat. As if of one mind, the other men unbuttoned the young man's coat, pulled the shivering animal into the straw on the floor, then hefted the lean cow hunter and headed to the house.
Deeks looked around him at the weary horse and the forlorn calf, then reached out a hand and patted the big horse. "You did good boy," he said softly, as he picked up the animal’s reins and led “The Duke” to a warm stall. Leaving the big Cracker horse there, he turned back to the calf that was stretched out on the barn floor panting softly.
"Let's get you warm, little fella," the burly blacksmith said, lifting the animal into bulging arms with a grunt. "Dag-um it, Scooter!" the old man cried as he turned and nearly walked into Eric's scraggly mule. The blue roan mule wiggled his long ears and stuck his nose out to sniff the calf. "Well at least the door of the stall's open already now," Deeks grouched as he walked to the big box stall where Callie, Wilson Robinson's pretty colt, and the mule usually resided. It was a wonder any of the animals could ever be found, since the mule simply let himself in and out of an enclosure at will.
Stepping through the gate, he settled the small calf in the thick straw and knelt beside him. The sound of the barn door opening again made him look over his shoulder, where he saw Mae stepping over the threshold.
"Uncle Deeks?" the girl called as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the interior.
"I'm here, darlin'," the man said, calling to her as he lifted a tuft of straw and made a twist of it so he could use it to dry off the calf. "You come on over here and see to this bity critter and I'll see to Clay's horse."
Mae entered the stall followed by Scooter, who began sniffing the new addition to his cozy home. "Nona took Clayton into the sauna. Meg's there too," the girl commented without preamble.
"That's good. I hope that young man's alright, he just ain’t used to this kinda’ cold, but for now these critters need our attention," Deeks replied, smiling and laying a large hand on Mae's shoulder. He couldn't believe how much she'd grown in the past few years. She was nearly fifteen and looked a lot like her mother.
Scooter, growing impatient with the nattering's of his human companions, squeezed into the stall and with a soft groan lowered himself down into the straw next to the calf, nuzzling the small creature with his whiskery gray lips. Both Mae and Deeks laughed.
"Scooter, you just do whatever you want now, don't you," the old man commented, then stepped out of the stall and walked to the tired, black horse.
Chapter 4
As the ranch bustled in preparations of Meg and Clayton's upcoming nuptial celebration, Deeks had other things on his mind. Ray barely stirred from the bed in their small apartment. Each day he would bring her food, leaving it on the battered table before heading back to his work. She refused to come to the house for her meals and seldom, if ever, responded to him in his comings and goings.
Deeks left the house that night with a smile on his face. Things seemed to be moving along at the ranch and joy permeated the Broken J. Meg was getting married, reveling in the opportunity to get to know the young cowhand whom for too long she had despised. Katie and Will were expecting their own special blessing in the fall, and Hank and Fiona, along with Eric's input, were planning a new home. It seemed like everyone was happy. It made going back to the space he shared with Ray even harder.
Stepping carefully down the stairs of the back porch, he shuffled across the fresh, new grass. He'd been making nails and repairing a hinge for the barn door most of the day, and his back was causing him a great deal of pain. Lying flat on his comfortable bed would help a little with that, but what was he supposed to do with Ray?
Davrum Deeks stepped into the right-hand side of the long, low structure of the bunk house to dark silence. For a moment he thought that the place was empty, but then he heard the shuffle of blankets and knew that Ray was in bed again. As far as he could tell, it's all she had done for two weeks. Aside from stepping out to the outhouse at the back of the building and eating the meals he left for her, he wasn't sure she ever stirred from the bed.
The Broken J blacksmith felt old. He was tired, his back hurt, and he was completely out of his depths when dealing with this woman. Moving slowly to the table, he struck a match and lit the oil lamp on the table. The plate from the noon meal was sitting there unwashed, even as he sat another plate on the battered surface next to it.
Walking to the bed, he eased his weight down onto the mattress and began prying his boots off of his feet, placing them neatly under the edge of the bed before pulling his heavy work shirt over his head with a groan. He felt, more than heard, Ray shift next to him.
Reaching a weather darkened hand out to the small bureau near the bed, the old man pulled the blue and white tin of ointment toward him and wrenched open the lid. The pungent odor of eucalyptus and menthol assailed his nostrils in a wave as he scooped out a dollop and began rubbing it on his crooked spine. It was hard twisting his muscle bound arms around to reach the middle of his back, and he jumped as a hand reached out to help.
"Give that stuff to me," Ray’s voice, a sound he'd seldom heard in the whole time she'd lived with him, reached his ears.
Dutifully he handed the round tin to the woman. He could feel her sitting up in the bed as her hands began to rub and knead the medicated ointment into his sore muscles. The warmth and strength of her fingers began to work the stiffness and knots out of the crook in his back, and a soft groan escaped his lips.
Behind him Ray chortled, bringing a smile to his face.
A few minutes later he'd pulled off his dark trousers, and still in his long johns crawled under the covers. "Thank you," he said softly to the woman's back. "I think I'll sleep a little now."
The next morning, Deeks stood with a creak of his joints and picked up his trousers and his last clean work shirt, but instead of dressing, he just sat on the edge of the feather mattress and looked around his small living space. Clothing sat in a pile in one corner of the room, the plate from last night and the day before still stood on the table unwashed, and the little coffee pot on the stove was empty.
Running his hands through his hair, Deeks took a deep breath and pulling on his pants, spoke to the room. "I'll expect this place to be clean when I get back," he stated firmly, stomping into his boots, slapping on his hat and turning toward the door. "I appreciate your help last night, but you've had enough time to recover and I think it's about time you got up outta that bed and made yerself useful." With a quick turn of his wrist he opened the door, stepped out into the gray dawn, and pulled it shut again on his beating heart.
Dusty Ray sat straight up in bed, eyes wide as the door snapped shut. "What is the old coot going on about?" she whispered, blinking into the still dark room. He hadn't even stoked the fire like he usually did. For a long time she sat there looking toward the slightly lighter outline of the window by the door. Her head felt like it was full of cobwebs. She reached for the small, brown bottle sitting on the little table beside her bed. It was empty. She shivered, then taking
a deep breath, placed her bare feet on the cold floor.
A sharp twinge ran up her leg, and she reached for the heavy woolen dress she'd been given by the doctor's wife in Casper. With a physical wave of her hand, she put that place out of her mind and pulled the mud gray gown over her head. It was a simple, serviceable dress for everyday use but itched even with her silk shimmy and pantaloons under it.
As the oversized garment slid down her form she could just see the shadow of her appearance in the mirror of the large dresser that covered the adjoining door of the bunk house. She didn't want to look, so she moved toward the stove and lifted several pieces of wood from the box next to it. How long had she been here? She wasn't sure, perhaps three weeks. She walked to the window and peered out at the brightening sky.
Ray could just make out the form of the large, gray ranch house with its wrap-around porches. She knew the whole family and crew would be having breakfast soon. Some afternoons she'd been able to find enough energy to watch them scurrying around the property at different jobs. She had no wish to be out in the wide expanse of prairie, though. She felt exposed, as if the whole thing might swallow her up and no one would ever know.
With a shudder, she slipped into her soft slippers and opening the door, headed to the outhouse.
"Bianca?" Deeks stood before the matron of the Broken J, feeling like a small boy. "You reckon you can put tagether a box of things for my apartment? Some grub and stuff in case we...ah, we decide to cook somethin'?" He looked at her pleadingly, seeing the play of emotions flicker across her dark-featured face.
"I suppose, if that's what you want,” she replied tersely.
"I'll just fix a plate to take down now, then carry it all along when I go," he stated quietly, then turned away.
A few minutes later the Broken J blacksmith hefted a small wooden box in one arm while he balanced a plate in the other, and walked toward the bunk house. He was just about to put the box down on the step when the door opened and Ray let him in.
"I brought ya some grub," he said, feeling like a fool at the obvious statement.
"Hm," Ray grunted but took the box from him. "What am I supposed to do about the laundry here?" she asked. "It's not like I've had much practice with such things." Her voice was cultured, even if her words were not.
"You can take 'em up to the bath house and warsh 'em there," Deeks said. "It’s that small place along behind the house. There’s a gunny sack in the cupboard you can put ever ‘thing in." He stood watching her for a few minutes, wanting to say more, but feeling he shouldn't push too hard. "I'll be back at lunch time," he added, then turned and walked back out into a bright morning.
Ray watched confused as the simple man she'd been sharing a bed with seemed to have changed overnight. Until now he'd crept around her on tip-toes, but suddenly he was making demands. She shook her head, her mouth dry and wishing her bottle hadn't run out of laudanum that would dull her senses. Then for just a moment she froze, wondering what would happen if she didn't do as Deeks had asked. "Would he throw me out?" she asked the four walls. She had nowhere to go and no way to survive. She'd gotten used to having three meals a day and a warm bed.
"I suppose I can wash his drawers if that keeps him happys" she mused. "I can't promise to do it well, but I can do it." Putting the words to actions, she rummaged around and found the sack the old man had told her about and gathered up their clothes. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of her own clothing, then stepped outside.
The woman known as Dusty Ray scurried across the back yard and into the small building set behind the ranch house near a clump of trees. She hated being that far from the place she shared with the ranch hand. The wide open space made her skin crawl. On the other side of a fence behind the building, she could see the new house that was being built.
With a sigh of relief, she stepped through the door of what Deeks had said was the bath house, only to stop short at the sight of a wiry Chinese man carefully ironing clothes.
Lifting his head from his work the small man with the long white pig tail smiled at her, making his eyes crinkle in his parchment face.
"You Ray, I Chen Lou," he offered cheerfully, first pointing at her then at himself. "You come wash?" he asked.
Ray blinked at the frail looking man, not sure what to say.
"You wash," he repeated, standing the iron upright on the stove, then walking to where she stood and taking her hand. With more strength than she would have expected, he pulled her awkwardly across the floor past three big copper tubs to the little pot-bellied stove where two buckets of water sat on the glowing hob.
Letting go of her hand, he lifted a bucket and scurried to a galvanized tub, pouring the water into it with a low nod. "You wash for Deeks," he said, his eyes still sparkling.
Finally understanding what he was going on about, Ray grunted. "Yes, I wash." Her voice was flat. Still now that she understood what she was to do, she dropped the sack of dirty laundry on the floor and began plunking them one by one into the galvanized tub. She could feel the old man's eyes on her and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
"You no wash before?" The old man finally spoke, a slight scowl on his face.
"No, I no wash before," she said mockingly.
The wizened Chinese man shook his head making his long braid swing across his strange blue jacket. "I show you," he finally added with a smile.
Smiling, Ray looked at the old man innocently. "Alright," she agreed, "you show me." Maybe this would work to her advantage and she could get the old man to do the wash for her. Maybe that was why he was here on the ranch anyway.
Chen Lou smiled reassuringly at the scruffy-looking woman in the baggy dress. He was confused that a woman of her age wouldn't know how to wash clothes, but he was sure she could learn. Still smiling, he lifted the other bucket of water and poured it into another wash tub, then he handed a bucket to her and gestured for her to follow him to the pump in the front section of the hut. Lifting the handle of the pump he began filling his bucket then helped her fill hers, before moving back to the wash tubs.
Little by little the old man helped Ray sort the clothes, then showed her how to scrub them on a wash board with a piece of soap before placing them in the other tub to rinse. The work was back breaking and more than once she skinned her knuckles. Her hopes of getting the Chinese man to do the work for her ended almost immediately as again and again he handed her the clothing items and helped her scour them.
"You do good," he said, smiling at her as she bent over the dark soapy water. "I iron, you wash. It is good."
Despite her irritation at doing this kind of work, she had to laugh. The old crank seemed to think she was doing something important.
From the corner of her eye she noticed him hefting the buckets again and filling them at the pump before placing them back on the stove. The room was already warm and the physical aspect of the work had her over heated and feeling sticky in no time, but before she knew it she realized that the washing was done and all of the clothes sat in the less soapy tub of rinse water.
"Good, good," the old man said, standing over her. "Now we ring." His wide toothy grin made him look like a caricature out of a newspaper, but as long as he helped she didn't' care.
Lifting each item from the tub, he gave her one end and together they twisted the clothes until most of the excess water was out of it. Then to her surprise, he placed the clothes on a bench and uncovered a mangle. Carefully they dragged the rinse tub over to where the mangle sat, and began to run each freshly washed item through it, turning the handle of the two rollers and squeezing the rest of the water from each garment.
At long last they hung the clothes from lines stretched across the ceiling of the small building.
Chen Lou bobbed his head at her as if they'd done something remarkable, before wrinkling his nose. "Now you wash," he said, looking at her seriously.
"I just did," she replied.
The old man shook his head. "No, you wash." He pointed at
her in the ugly gray dress and she realized what he meant, but before she could react, he had turned to the stove, hefted the buckets of hot water, and pouring them into one of the big copper tubs, topped them up with a bucket from the pump and walked out the door without another word.
Ray lifted the limp folds of the wool dress and noted the stains. She guessed she could wash it out and maybe take a bath. Moving stiffly to the stove, she placed a bucket there to heat, then stripped out of her clothes and wrapped a rough towel around her before scrubbing the garments. Once they were washed, rinsed, wrung and hung she dropped the towel and climbed into the bathtub with the bar of lye soap she'd used on the clothes.
How long had it been since she'd had a real bath? She couldn't remember, and deep down she didn't care, but if it kept her fed and a roof over her head, she'd do it.
The warm water engulfed her body, wrapping it in a familiar calm. With a sigh, she slipped beneath the surface of the water and only lifted her head enough to breath.
As the water began to lose its heat, she took up the bar of soap and began to scrub. It took three times to work a lather up in her greasy, matted hair. For a fleeting second she thought perhaps she should go through the rinse tub and the wringer next herself.
The click of the latch on the door made Ray turn her head toward the entrance, bracing herself for whatever might come. To her surprise a slip of a girl with long black hair stepped through the door carrying a pale green dress.
"Yeye said to bring this to you," the girl said, averting her eyes as the older woman wrapped a towel around her bony figure.
"Yeye?" she asked, suddenly curious.
"My great-grandfather, Chen Lou," the girl said with a smile, then hung the dress over the ironing board and slipped back out the door.
Chapter 5