“And how are Josephine and Phil getting along?”
He stopped eating and looked across at her. Did she know something he didn’t? “They seem to be doing okay. Why?”
She rotated the cup in her hands. “Phil wasn’t too pleased to have to move out of his bedroom.” Hazel watched the liquid swirl in her cup.
“Well, he shouldn’t have ordered me a bride. Now he has to share my room so Josephine can have some privacy.”
“I see.”
Thomas didn’t like where this conversation was going. Even Hazel had known from the beginning that this wasn’t a love match, so why did she sound as if she disapproved of him?
He laid his fork down. “What do you see?”
Hazel placed both hands around her cup and blew on the hot liquid. “I thought you two would give up on this idea of a marriage of convenience.” She held up her hand as if she thought he’d interrupt. “In my day we had arranged marriages and the husband and wife slept in the same room.”
Thomas squirmed. “Well, Josephine and I are different. We agree that this isn’t a marriage of love.”
She huffed. “Arranged marriages weren’t marriages of love, either. But they stuck and some even turned into love.”
He didn’t want to argue with her, so he filled his mouth with pie. Hazel just didn’t understand. Thomas chewed slowly and pretended that the pie still tasted sweet. Her talk of love had ruined the enjoyment of his dessert.
“I should just mind my own business,” Hazel muttered.
Thomas swallowed. He glanced up to see the older woman’s countenance fall; a look of tired sadness passed over her features. In a polite, gentler voice he said, “Look, Hazel, I know you mean well, but Josephine and I just aren’t meant to have a real marriage. It’s not what either of us would have wanted or dreamed of, but it is what it is.”
“That’s too bad. She really is a sweet girl and you are a nice boy. I think if the circumstances were different and you’d met on different terms, you both would have fallen head over heels in love with each other.” She smiled at him to take the sting out of her words.
“Possibly, but I don’t think Josephine trusts men very much and I don’t feel like she could ever stand having romantic notions with a man like me.”
“Why not? What do you mean, ‘a man like me’?”
He ran his finger down the scar on his face, and quicker than a bullet, she caught onto his meaning.
“Because of that little scar on your face?” She grunted in disgust. “You are making more out of that than needs be.”
Was she right? No, he’d caught Josephine staring at his face several times and each time she’d quickly looked away. “Maybe.” He’d agree with Hazel, but only because he respected her.
She shook her head. “Don’t patronize me, Thomas Young.” Hazel smiled at him. “I’m old, not stupid.”
Thomas pushed his empty plate away. “No, ma’am. No one can call you stupid.” He cradled the coffee cup in his hand. “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here? Milk the cow? Chop some wood? Sweep the snow off the porch?”
Hazel reached across the table and patted his hand. “Naw, I can do all that for myself, but thank you for offering.”
“I don’t mind.”
She smiled. “I know, but if I let you do all that, what would I do to entertain myself once you go home?”
“Read? Sew?”
“Oh, there is plenty of time for that.” Hazel picked up the plate and carried it to the washbasin. She poured herself more coffee. “Would you like for me to top you up?”
Thomas looked into the almost empty cup. He should probably get on back to the relay station. “No, I’d better get back to the house before Josephine works Philip to death.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He laughed. “Josephine has decided that since Philip wanted her here so badly, she’d put him to work.”
“Uh-oh. How does he feel about that?” Hazel asked.
“Well, at first he refused, but I straightened him out.”
“You boys didn’t come to blows, did you?”
“No, ma’am. I simply reminded him that he’s the reason she’s here and he needs to do as she asks.” Thomas chuckled. “I even talked him into giving her the money he’d promised to send her to get out here.”
“You’re kidding. That boy can squeeze blood out of a coin, he holds on to it so tight.” Hazel placed her cup in the washbasin. Her chuckle had him grinning from ear to ear.
Thomas handed her his cup. “I just knew he’d buck up and refuse to pay her the fare, but nope, he gave her a hundred dollars.”
Hazel whistled. “Well, I’ll be.” Her brow wrinkled and her eyes took on a faraway expression.
He didn’t know what she was thinking but decided now was a good time to head home. “Thank you, Hazel, for the pie.”
His words seemed to pull her from wherever she’d gone to. “Oh, let me get those extra slices for you.” Hazel quickly scooped the pie onto a plate and covered it with cheesecloth. “You going to be able to get this home safely?”
Thomas grinned. “I believe so.”
She handed him the plate. “Don’t break my dish.”
“I’ll do my best not to.” Thomas walked to the front door. “Josephine said to tell you hello.” He opened the door.
“Tell her I said howdy back and to plan on coming over and helping me with that quilt.”
Thomas set the pie on the porch railing and walked down to his horse. “Will do.” He swung into the saddle and reached down to grab the plate. “Thanks again for the pie.”
“You’re welcome.” She sounded sad.
Was Hazel lonely? Thomas waved and then headed home. Would the old woman like a dog for a companion? Maybe while he and Josephine were in town, he’d see if anyone had a puppy or dog they no longer wanted. The thought of Hazel being lonely saddened him. It would be nice if she and Josephine would become close friends. Perhaps a dog would deepen that friendship.
* * *
Josephine began to fret over Thomas’s absence. Where on earth was he? What was taking so long? Hunger pangs tightened her stomach and she searched the food basket Rebecca had given them.
She found a packet of tenderloin and put it on to fry. There were eggs and cheeses and relishes of all kinds. She cut several slices from a loaf of bread and nibbled at a piece. Its soft, fresh buttery taste had her stomach begging for more. She’d have to ask Rebecca for her bread recipe the next time they went to the Young farm. She hummed happily as she scrambled eggs and dropped pieces of cheese into them.
Josephine had just finished warming the bread slices when she heard a horse ride into the front yard. Josephine hurried to look outside and saw that it was Thomas riding to the barn.
Thinking to finish their dinner, she turned back to the kitchen only to see her reflection in the silver pie plate hanging by the fireplace. Her eyebrows rose in horror. Her hair hung in sweaty strings against her face. There were black smudges on her chin and arms.
He couldn’t see her like this. Josephine started to the bedroom, then stopped. She had no water for her pitcher and she’d not unloaded the washing cloths. Did she have time to get the water and the cloths?
The sound of boots clopping across the front porch filled her with dread. Josephine gulped hard, trying to hold back tears of disappointment. The door opened and he occupied the doorway.
Shock filled his voice as he said, “What in the world has happened to you? You look like you’ve been rolling in the pigpen.”
Seeing herself through his eyes, Josephine knew she looked like she’d been put through the wringer. Dirty and disheveled, she resembled one of the waifs off the streets. She stared wordlessly across at him, her hands clinched against her stomach.
Josephine’s heart felt as if it had just been shattered. He hadn’t noticed the work she’d done at all. All he’d seen was his ugly wife.
“Josephine, may I come in? Please?”
Was that regret in his voice? Even if she’d wanted to, Josephine couldn’t answer him. Tears choked her and then began to flow down her cheeks unbidden.
The sound of the doorknob turning told her he was coming in without her permission. She stood with her back to him. Frantically she wiped at her eyes with the tail of her apron. Josephine didn’t want him to see that his words had hurt her feelings.
“I’m sorry, Josephine. I can see what you’ve been doing. The place looks better now than it did when we moved in.”
Did he mean it? Hope flared.
Thomas gently turned her to face him. “I never dreamed the house could look or smell this nice. I didn’t realize how filthy the place was until I saw what you’ve done.” He took the apron bottom from her and finished wiping the tears from her face. “I really am sorry. Can you forgive me?”
She found herself nodding. His gentleness touched something deep within. A place she’d meant to keep away from him. Her voice trembled. “You really like what I’ve done?”
He tilted her face upward and smiled at her. “I could not be more proud of my new wife.”
Weren’t those the words she’d been longing to hear? Just moments earlier she’d prayed Thomas would like what she’d done to the house. She smiled. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Josephine stepped back but reached for his hand, pulling him along behind her. She pointed to the chair at the head of the table. “Sit there and I’ll dish it up for you. It’s just eggs with cheese, and tenderloin that your family sent, but I didn’t know where to find anything else.”
She handed him the plate and utensils and watched as he studied them quietly. A furrow creased his brow. Josephine held her breath but then couldn’t stand his silence a moment longer and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Thomas held up his fork and swept a hand over the plate. “Are these new?”
Now it was her turn to feel puzzled. “No, they were here already. I just washed them.”
He burst out laughing. “I don’t think I’ve seen these in six or seven months. After all the dishes became dirty, Philip and I just washed what we needed from the top of the pile. These must have been at the bottom.”
Josephine didn’t know whether to laugh with Thomas or shake her head at him. Instead she chose to ask, “Will you say the blessing, Thomas?”
He stared at her for several long moments. She watched his Adam’s apple bob. Then he did as she’d asked and prayed over the meal.
After he’d said amen, Josephine asked, “How was Hazel?” She moved to the stove and dished up her own meal.
“She’s the same as always.” He snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Hazel sent us pie for dessert.” Thomas got up and walked to the mantel over the fireplace. He picked up the plate of pie and returned to the table.
“Hazel makes the best pie.” He scooped up eggs and stuffed them into his mouth.
So now she’d need to get Hazel’s pie recipe. Josephine was beginning to think she’d need to create a cookbook for all the recipes she’d soon be writing down.
Thomas made a satisfied noise, then said, “Josephine, these eggs are wonderful. I love the cheese in them.”
“Well, thank you.”
The front door opened once more and Philip entered the house. “No one called me for dinner,” he protested.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Philip.” Josephine stood up and waved him to a chair. “I’ll make you a plate. It’s not much, just scrambled eggs and tenderloin.”
Thomas chuckled. “That’s what she told me, too, but just wait until you taste these eggs.”
Josephine hurried to get another plate and silverware. How could she have forgotten Philip? “Would you like water or coffee?”
“Do you have coffee made?” Thomas asked around a mouthful of tenderloin.
She shook her head. “No, but I can make some.”
“We’ll just have water. Come eat your dinner.” Thomas waved his large calloused hand toward her chair.
Josephine thought about arguing with him, but her stomach growled. Instead she handed Philip his plate and hurried to fill three glasses from the water bucket. “I’ll make the coffee as soon as I finish eating.”
Philip tucked into his meal as if it were his last supper. Around a mouthful of eggs, he asked, “Got any more of these eggs, Josephine?”
She frowned. “No, but I can make some more.”
Thomas interrupted. “No, you eat yours.” He looked to Philip. “Eat the rest of your dinner, and then we’ll have pie with coffee in a little bit.”
Josephine watched the brothers finish their meal. She chewed slowly.
Where had Philip been all evening, anyway? It didn’t take long for that question to be answered, when he looked at Thomas and said, “Brother, we have meat for the winter.”
Thomas looked up from his plate, his eyes alight with interest. “What did you bag?”
Philip squirmed with excitement, then blurted out, “A deer. It’s huge, Thomas. There should be enough meat for us and to share with Hazel.”
The more they talked about cutting and storing and salting, the more tired Josephine became. There was no way she could hold out long enough to help them. Her spirits drooped as well as her eyelids. She would fail at her first job of providing for her family.
“Did you store it where other animals couldn’t get at it till we can work it up tomorrow?”
She glanced up at Thomas’s question, hope brightening her thoughts. If they weren’t going to work the meat tonight, she’d have new energy in the morning to help.
“Yes, I hung it from a tree limb in back of the barn, covered with a sack full of snow. We’ll pack it again before bedtime.”
“Good. We can start on it first thing in the morning.” Thomas all but clapped his hands.
Half in anticipation, half in dread, Josephine asked, “What can I do to help? I’ve never put up fresh meat before.”
Both men looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Finally, Thomas answered her, “Well, I don’t rightly know what you do. We cut the meat up and put it in the washtub and bring it in the house. I guess you wash it and cut it into smaller-sized pieces. Then Philip and I will salt it down and store it in the smokehouse.”
Josephine swallowed hard. She had to handle fresh raw meat with blood and guts attached? A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. Just how could she get out of this?
Chapter Eleven
Thomas plonked the washtub down on the table, relieved to let go of the weight. “We went ahead and cut the meat down to proper size so you wouldn’t have to do any cutting. If you’ll wash each piece to remove any bone fragments or dirt, we’ll salt it down and hang it in the smokehouse.”
Josephine swallowed and reached a shaking hand toward the tub. She seemed to be gulping air. Her brown eyes wide.
“Josephine?”
“I can do this,” she stated emphatically, then asked weakly, “Can’t I?”
In spite of himself, Thomas chuckled. “There’s not much I’ve seen that you can’t do.”
She was a study in contradictions. Thomas had to admit, he had a growing fascination with her. She stood before him now, her face white beneath her tan. The corners of her mouth turned down into a frown and she clasped her hands together tightly against her apron front. This was the girl who had braved the West as a Pony Express rider amid Indians and bandits.
“Thomas?”
“Yes, Josephine?”
“You might want to stand here with me while I learn how to do this.”
“I’ll be right here.”
Her mouth firmed and the set of her chin suggested a stubborn streak he’d seen the first day he met her. She poured hot water in a basin, then added a bit of cool well water. She washed her hands thoroughly. Earlier that morning he’d had her wash and sterilize all available pots and pans. She readied a pitcher of lukewarm water and, taking a deep unsteady breath, lifted the first hunk of meat.
She gagged.
Thomas could not look away.
She gagged again and almost lost her grip. He took an abrupt step toward her, but she lifted her shoulder in a defensive move, so he backed up. And then the meat was in the water. She rushed to the basin and washed her hands and he wondered if she realized the water was unclean. Apparently it didn’t matter to her, because she dried her hands, shook her head and grabbed the hunk of deer meat. Josephine scrubbed for all she was worth and within moments had that piece of meat drying on the wooden cutting board.
He stood mesmerized. What determination. She imposed an iron control on herself. He’d never seen anything like it. What a woman he had married.
“Well.” Her voice drew him back to the present. “What are you standing there for? Get the rest of the meat, please.”
While he’d been woolgathering, she’d washed all four body portions of the deer. Next would come the leg quarters and he felt confident his new bride would be up to the challenge.
By the time they finished packing the meat in coarse salt and black pepper, she had regained her color and even made a few jokes about the size of the deer’s legs. She helped them hang the meat from the rafters in the smokehouse, then served them leftover ham and beans.
Thomas leaned back on his chair legs, a piece of straw between his teeth. Tired but exhilarated over a job well-done, he rested, enjoying the company. Not only had they gotten the meat put away, but he’d learned a little more about Josephine. And what he’d learned, he liked.
Pony Express Christmas Bride Page 9