by Danni Roan
"Is that right?" she asked, a shiver in her voice.
"Yes, you did that very well," Bruno replied, receiving a bright smile as a reward for his praise. "Now strike the match and light it."
The sound of fire-stick on striker scratched, once, twice, three times with no spark.
"Oh, you stupid, useless thing!" Janine flared, throwing the match tin on the floor, spilling the little sticks in a haphazard heap. "They don't work," she continued, stamping her foot, "how am I supposed to light a fire with one of those?"
Quietly Bruno placed the firewood on the floor and waited out her tirade. He had seen her use this tact repeatedly with her father, who always gave in to her tantrums.
"You do it," she finally snapped, glaring at him with frustrated eyes.
"No." Bruno's simple word was soft but firm and the girl who had wormed her way into his heart as a child gaped at him.
"Pick up the matches," he continued.
"I won't." Janine sounded like the spoiled child she was.
"Then you won't eat. I can't do everything Janine, I'm only one man."
"I'll tell my daddy," she squinted malevolently.
"Your daddy isn't here," he said sensibly, "so if you want to eat you'll have to pick up them matches and try again."
A huge tear rolled over the edge of her lower eye-lid. "I can't do it," she hiccupped.
"You can if you try."
Gently Bruno took her hand, placing it on the matches and offering her the tin.
Bottom lip quivering, Janine Williams ran the match firmly along the striker pad on the top of the tin and a bright flame flared from its tip.
"Place it in the kindling." Bruno's voice was encouraging.
As Janine placed the match to the slivers of wood, they smoked, then sparked, bursting into flame. "I did it! I did it!" Janine cried, jerking her hand and collapsing the delicate pile, snuffing the fire out.
"Oh no," she groaned. "It's useless, I can't do anything." Again, she threw the matches to the floor and prepared to rise, but Bruno's arms around her held her tight.
"You are not useless," he said firmly. "Try again."
Janine wriggled in his arms, but he did not let go.
"Ladies don't make fires, anyways," she sniped with a huff, "my daddy said so."
"Ladies who are in danger of freezing to death build fires," Bruno countered.
With a heavy sigh, Janine lifted a match in her blackened hands and retrieved the tin with the striker strip. This time when she ran the match along the rough bar with a solid sound, it flared into life immediately. Carefully, she extended it to the little pile of wood and waited for it to catch.
"Don't move too fast," Bruno warned, pulling her arms slowly away from the burgeoning flame. "I'll put a stick or two in and let it get started." He moved away from her, lifting the small pieces of dry wood and placing them carefully into the lit kindling.
Janine suddenly felt cold as Bruno's arms left her, as if all the heat in the world had just been snatched away. She studied him, brow furrowed in confusion.
He very carefully laid a few bits of wood on the flame she had started, blowing on it gently and making if flare. Soon the sound of crackling wood had him smiling.
"There, you've built your own fire," he said, his even white smile bright in his dark face.
"I still say ladies don't build fires," she said, crossing her arms and tipping her nose into the air defensively.
Bruno sagged inwardly. Janine was raised to be a lady, that was as sure as rain in April, but he could never seem to convince his heart that she was not the woman for him.
"Let's make some grub," he finally said, pushing himself wearily to his feet.
"But what will we eat?" Janine asked, now distracted from her strange thoughts about Bruno by the very real feeling of hunger.
Without a word, Bruno pulled down a heavy wooden box from the top of a shelf on the wall.
"The shack is usually pretty well stocked," he said, rummaging through the crate. "Several sheep farmers use it in the spring when they’re moving their herds. Here's a tin of flour," he continued, pulling it out and placing it on the small table, "and lard. Salt, soda, tinned milk." He looked up and grinned. “We have all the fixin's for biscuits.”
Janine's belly rumbled and guilt squirmed up Bruno's back for not letting her eat the beans the night before, but Polly's words rang in his ears and he steeled his heart.
"Bruno?" Janine sounded plaintive. "I... I need." She faltered as she crossed her ankles and did a little jig.
"You need the privy?" Bruno interpreted, biting his lip to keep from chuckling.
The bright red head bobbed.
Buttoning his jacket tight, Bruno turned toward the door pulled it open and kicked the piled snow away. The sun had crested the peak of the mountain now, and a golden glare reflected on the crystal air.
Steadily kicking his way along, Bruno cleared a path for Janine, who 'oohed, and aahed' her way behind him delicately until they came to the small shed under a large pine.
Bruno pried the door open over the heaped snow, exposing the dark interior. "There don't seem to be any critters inside, so you'll be alright." He smiled, tucking his bare hands under his arms.
"I can't," Janine said, eyes wide at the age-blackened building.
"What do you mean? It's perfectly safe." Bruno turned puzzled eyes on her.
"But," she wrinkled her nose, not wanting to discuss this delicate matter with him. "I mean I never, it's so dirty."
"Janine, it's no different than the one we had at school." Bruno was feeling the cold creep through his clothing and wanted nothing more than to go tend the fire.
Janine's eyes dropped.
"You don't mean to tell me you never used the outhouse at school?" Bruno's voice was incredulous. "What did you do?"
"I waited until I got home," she admitted blushing.
"It's up to you, Janine," Bruno replied, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. "I'm going in to tend the fire and melt some snow for water.” Without hesitating, he turned on his heel and trudged back along the snowy grooves he had already cut through the white world.
Inside the line shack, Bruno placed a bucket of snow on the little stove with a plink and shook his head. He was the world's biggest fool for being head over heels in love with Janine Williams.
Year after year, he had pursued her, practically begging her father to let him court her and each time he was rebuffed, it only seemed to make his determination grow.
Underneath all that bluster, and boil, under the trappings of wealth, was a woman who needed to find out who she really was. Over the years, he had seen glimpses of who Janine could be and his heart had been hers from the first day he had laid eyes on her.
She’s been standing in the play yard, and had knocked one of the bigger boys down who had tried to take away the sticks she and her friend had be riding like a pony. Her face had been nearly as red as her hair as she had unleashed her temper on the miscreant.
The door behind him creaked slowly open and the sound of delicate boots on the floor announced Janine's return.
"I'll pour some water in the basin by the door for ya to wash with," he said, hiding his grin, “then we'll make some biscuits if you can help."
A long silence greeted him and he almost gave in to the urge to look over his shoulder at her, but instead poured some of the melted snow into a small pan, making it hiss and sizzle.
"Can't you do it?" her voice held a tired whine.
"I'm gonna fry up the tinned meat I found," he replied. "I can't do everything." He paused, waiting and giving her time to think. "Course if you only want a belly full of tinned meat, that's up to you."
"I'll help," she groaned and his grin widened. Tamping down on his smile, Bruno carried the little pan of warm water to the basin and poured it in, handing her the rough cloth hanging on a peg.
Chapter 5
“Watch your step, now,” Harlan spoke, escorting Maud down the steps f
rom the doctor’s house. “Don’t fall.”
“Harlan, stop fussing,” Maud said. “I’m not a China doll, and you are not going to make up for harsh words with fussing over me now.”
Harlan Dixon stiffened but peeked over at her. She smiled slightly, still holding to his elbow. Her right arm was in a sling and she walked stiffly, leaning on him for support.
When he had offered to take her home in his carriage she had hesitated at first, but as stiff as she still was from being run down by those bad men, she decided that a comfortable ride to the ranch would be appreciated.
“I’m sorry for bein’ an old mother hen, Maudlee,” Harlan said, “but I don’t really know how to put things right.” He looked like an awkward boy and it made her smile broadly.
“Harlan, it’s been twenty years of feuding for nothing. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time.” Her voice was soft and she squeezed his arm a little, as he helped her into the soft leather seat of the buggy. “So, stop your fussing, you old goat.”
The stocky man with the salt and pepper hair chuckled as he walked around the carriage and climbed up next to her. “I see you still have that wicked tongue,” he chortled.
It had barely been a day since the bank robbery and his confession, but already he felt like a different man. It was good to hope that he and Maud could be friends once again, and with their two children very much in love, he thought it was all for the best.
He had been scared half to death when he saw the gang of bank robbers riding down the woman who had once been his closest friend. Icy fear, dread and regret had charged through him at the thought that he would lose her forever.
Clicking to the horse, Harlan started down the street toward the end of town and the snug cabin nestled at the edge of the mountains.
“What are you doing?” A man’s loud voice drifted toward them as they approached the Sheriff’s office. “Just standing around doin’ nothing’s what it looks like to me.”
Maud looked at Harlan as they drew close and could clearly make out the agitated voice of Jasper Williams.
“You should be out there hunting down those men who took my little Janine!” His voice was on the edge of panic.
“Jasper, I’ve got four scouts out there now, and me and the boys only came in to get fresh horses.” Sherriff Pike was an older man, his white hair close-cropped under his bent-brimmed hat.
“Pike!” Jasper screamed, leaning heavily on his cane, his bandaged leg sticking out of a split pant leg. “My girl’s up there in the mountains! Who knows what those men have done to her!” He tugged at his collar, his face growing redder by the second.
Sheriff Pike filled his thick chest with air trying to stay calm. “Jasper, go home. Calm down and let me do my job,” he said evenly. “We’re heading right back out now.” Turning away from the irate man, he called in a booming voice, “Saddle up, boys!”
Jasper Williams turned toward the street, stumbled and nearly collided with the horse and carriage, which Harlan pulled up short.
“Can you wait for a minute?” Harlan asked Maud as he pulled the horse to a stop and wrapped the reins around the hand brake.
“You go on.”
“Jasper!” Harlan called, stepping out of the buggy, making it sway, “I think you’d better come along with me.” He wrapped a beefy arm around the portly banker, half pulling, half leading him in the direction of the saloon.
“I can’t go get a sarsaparilla with you right now,” Jasper Williams blustered. “I’ve got to get to them mountains and find my daughter.”
“Yes, yes,” Harlan agreed, “but first let us get things organized so she’ll be safe when she gets home. I’ve got some fella’s here in town who can help. We’ll go see them.”
“Thank you, Harlan. More men will be just the ticket. We’ll find my little Janine and bring her home.”
***
“That’s right; cut the lard into the flour with the knives.” Bruno said, watching as Janine crisscrossed the two utensils through the flour, salt and soda. It was a chore, trying to fry the potted beef and keep an eye on Janine.
Part of him wanted nothing more than to finish the whole thing himself, but he stuck to it.
“It looks funny,” Janine said, “like sand or something. I think I cut it too much.”
Moving to her side, Bruno looked over her shoulder. “That looks fine,” he said. “I don’t think you can cut lard too much.”
Janine looked at him suspiciously, but did not say anything. “What do I do next?”
“Now you have to add the milk,” he said. “Mix it in, but only ‘til it comes together.”
“What does that mean?” Janine placed a hand on her hip, getting flour all along her skirt and making him smile.
“You stir it in until it all sticks together like a ball.”
“Oh.” She looked at the bowl of coarse-looking pastry.
“You start while I take this off the stove,” he said, using a fork to lift the crispy slices of canned beef from a tiny skillet.
Janine poured the milk into the bowl and stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon. It looked sticky and unappetizing.
“It looks funny,” she said, flopping the spoon around a little more.
“Noh that’s about right,” Bruno said, surprising her.
“Really?”
“Janine, food doesn’t just appear from the kitchen perfectly cooked all on its own, you know,” he said, lifting down a small Dutch oven, pouring the fat from his frying pan into the pot and swirling it around.
“Scrape the dough in here,” he said, holding the pan for her.
“What do we do now?”
Instead of answering, the young man placed the Dutch oven on the top of the stove and opened the door of the firebox. Using a set of metal pinchers, he pulled several coals from the burning logs and placed them on top of the lid.
“Now we wait.”
Janine’s stomach rumbled again and she looked at him pathetically.
“Have a piece of beef,” he said, “Biscuits don’t take long.”
“Do you think we can go home today?” Janine asked a half an hour later, licking the fat from her fingers and picking at the last crumbs of biscuit on her plate.
Bruno smiled at the crumbs on her chin and her bedraggled hair. She looked lovelier than she ever had in his eyes. She was a complete mess.
“I’ll get Smoke out and see if we can get through the snow to the lower part of the mountain.”
“I really want to see my daddy,” Janine said in a small voice.
Bruno reached across the table and took her hand. He was surprised when she gripped it tightly.
“I’m sure your pa is fine, darlin’,” he offered. “Right now, we need to make sure that you’re alright.”
Bruno saw her bottom lip quiver and he moved around the table, pulling her into his arms.
Janine wrapped her arms around the young man who had been such a large part of her life. He had been underfoot as long as she could remember and she had never been so happy to have him with her. She was sure if her father could see Bruno now, he would see him in a whole new light.
“You wash up the dishes and I’ll take a turn around and see if we can start down the mountain,” Bruno’s voice vibrated through her, his breath ruffling her hair.
“I’ll try,” she snuffled into his coat.
Twenty minutes later Bruno swung a leg over Smoke’s saddle and turned the rugged mountain horse toward home. The snow was thick and high, rising half way up the gray horse’s legs, but the gelding slogged through, headed toward the trees facing downhill.
It did not take long before the depth of the snow began to shrink. Pushing in under the trees and away from the small clearing with the sheep-pens, the going got easier and Bruno was starting to feel like heading back to Biders Clump would be an easy possibility.
He did not like leaving Janine alone in the cabin, but he needed to see if travel was viable. He smiled, thinking of all she had
done to help him around the little shack. She even seemed to have enjoyed doing things for herself.
A light skiff of snow blew across an almost clear path that wound deep into the pinewoods. “I think we can make it home,” he said to his old companion. “What do you think, Smoke?” The little mustang snorted as if in agreement.
Bruno pulled rein and wheeled back toward the line shack.
"I think we can make it down the mountain," Bruno said, arriving at the shack and stomping the snow off of his boots as he pushed the door open.
Janine looked up from where she had stacked the mostly clean dishes on a shelf.
"Thank goodness. I don't think I could stand another day in this little hut." She shivered dramatically. "And look at my hands," she said, pushing them under Bruno’s nose. "They look like prunes."
Bruno took her hands, examining them carefully, enjoying the soft feel of them in his own. "You did a wonderful job cleaning up," he said, kissing each shriveled palm.
Janine's eyes were bright with hope at the idea of heading home and perhaps a little pleased with his praise as Bruno gazed into the golden depths, the color of raw honey.
"You sure are pretty." Bruno did not mean to say the words aloud but they just popped out.
Janine smiled. "You always tell me I'm pretty, Bruno." She half laughed, but this time there was no mocking in her tone. "I guess I'm not much use for anything else, though," she added, turning away.
"You've been very brave," Bruno corrected gently. "Now let’s get you home."
"Why do I have to walk?" Janine asked again as they set out into the deep snow in front of the cabin, leading Smoke.
"The snow is too heavy here for Smoke to carry us. He'll be wore out before we even get started."
"Oh." Janine didn't argue, which surprised Bruno as he led the gray horse, breaking a trail back toward the trees.
“When we get under the trees and the snow isn’t so deep, we’ll ride,” he smiled at the young woman. Her startling red hair was mussed and a streak of soot ran across one cheek, but she was prettier than ever in his eyes.