It was at least a half hour before Ol’ Mose came back into the cabin. Leah had put her appearance back together, brewed another pot of coffee, steeped a cup of chamomile tea for herself, and was about to come looking for her friend, afraid the drifter might have found a way to get the upper hand.
As Ol’ Mose entered, Leah rose from her chair, and hobbled with her crutch to take his hat. He must have read the expression on her face, for he gave her a wink as he handed off the felt piece.
“Don’t you worry, missy. He won’t be causin’ you no more trouble.”
She tried to offer a smile, but it was weak, at best. “Please come have a seat. I have fresh coffee and can offer you what cinnamon rolls he didn’t eat.”
“Can’t say as I could pass up an offer like that.” He pulled out a chair at the table and collapsed into it. “Where’s Gideon and the li’l gal?”
Leah filled his mug as she spoke. “They’re branding today.” She tried to say it as if branding were the most natural thing in the world, spoken in all the society parties in Richmond—not something she’d heard of for the first time that morning. “I expect them back around dark, but I hope you’ll stay until they get here. I know they’ll want to see you.” And the thought of being left alone was crippling.
“Wouldn’t dream of missin’ em.” He leaned back in his chair, cradling the warm cup in both hands. “You sure are a sight fer sore eyes, Miz Townsend. When I left here a few weeks ago I weren’t sure you’d be stayin’ longer than it’d take ya to hike out. Meant to come back through in a couple days, but ol’ Slip come down with the fever an’ I had to git him to Helena lickety-split. I didn’t want you takin’ ill, neither.”
A sober expression took over his face. “I hope it ain’t been a hardship for ya to stay. The Bryants is good folk or I wouldn’ta left you so long.”
His concern eased some of the tension in her shoulders. “It’s not been a hardship at all, except for this little episode today.”
His face took on such a grandfatherly warmth she wanted to crawl into his lap. “I’m awful sorry.”
It took the rest of the afternoon, but Leah’s nerves finally settled from the incident with the drifter. He was safely tied to Ol’ Mose’s wagon wheel in the barn, where he would stay until her friend drove him to the sheriff’s office in Butte City the next morning.
While she finished final preparations for dinner, Leah kept an eye out for Gideon and Miriam’s arrival. She had to catch them before they made it to the barn and saw the man tied to the wagon. But the sound of boots thumping on the front porch was her first alert of the Bryants’ return.
Leah was at the cook stove and Ol’ Mose sitting at the table, when the cabin door flung open. Gideon stood in the doorway, his hand clasping Miriam’s elbow, while she peered around his large frame. His eyes scanned the room, stopping briefly on the old freighter, but finally settling on Leah.
“What’s going on here?” Gideon growled the question.
She met his gaze with a calm that surprised her. “We had a visitor today. But Ol’ Mose was nice enough to stop by and help me with him. I’m assuming you met in the barn?”
“Who is he?” Gideon directed this question to Ol’ Mose, his voice still a growl. He kept his grip on Miriam’s arm, as though he wouldn’t release her until he had the situation under control.
“Some ol’ varmint that stopped in fer a meal. Yer Miz Townsend had him prayin’ fer mercy by the time I showed up, though. A feisty one, she is. No need to worry none ‘bout her.” His face split into the toothy grin Leah had come to love.
Gideon stepped into the cabin then, and released Miriam’s arm. His face still held a wary look, like he was expecting a bobcat to spring from the loft or a man with a rifle to jump from the bedroom.
“Come on in and have a seat. Supper’s nice and warm for you.” Leah infused her voice with calm and the sweet Southern drawl she’d spent years perfecting.
“Sounds good to me,” Miriam spoke for the first time, as she headed for the kitchen. “I’ll pour the coffee.”
The dinner table that night saw the liveliest conversation it had witnessed in many moons. Gideon’s shoulders finally relaxed, and Leah’s cheeks began to ache halfway through the meal from her continuous laughter at Ol’ Mose’s tales. He was a master storyteller to be sure, describing even the most commonplace account in a way that kept them on the edge of their hard oak seats.
“Did ya hear about Cap’n La Barge bein’ arrested?”
A gasp escaped her at the familiar name. “What happened?”
Ol’ Mose’s face took on an I-knew-it-would-happen look. “He got caught sellin’ whiskey to the Injuns. Seems he brought a bunch o’ the stuff on the boat you were on, Miz Townsend.”
Leah’s heart fell in her chest at the news. “But he seemed like a respectable man.”
Ol’ Mose shrugged. “He’s a business man. Prob’ly thought he’d found a way to earn some extra dollars. That reminds me of the time ol’ Joe Meek was tryin’ to save his woman from the Crow.” And he was off on another one of his wild stories.
She even heard a soft chuckle come from Gideon’s direction a few times through the evening. Especially when Ol’ Mose told about the time he’d been traveling with a man named Marsh who continually bragged about his skills as a horseman. “We passed through a bit o’ prickly pear an’ a sticker musta got under the tail of Marsh’s horse. Afore you could say ron-de-vu’, Marsh was layin’ spread out on top of a whole bed o’ those prickles. It took us more’n a bit to git him out.”
After adding his own grin to the general laughter that followed, Mose leaned forward to shove the last of his cinnamon roll through his whiskers. After swallowing the bite and licking his lips, Ol’ Mose leaned back in his chair. “Miz Townsend, I do believe you’re becomin’ quite the cook. These sweet rolls are better’n I’ve tasted in a month o’ Wednesdays.”
Leah managed a “thank you” despite the heat flooding her face.
“Are you plannin’ to stick around these parts then?” He jutted his chin toward the crutch leaning against the table. “Once yer healed up, that is.”
“No, sir,” Leah responded, making sure she kept her voice strong. She didn’t want Miriam and Gideon to think she planned to sponge off of them indefinitely. “I’ll be moving to Helena to find work as soon as my leg is healed.”
A soft chuckle floated from the man. “Seems to me, ya won’t be workin’ long. Those young bucks in Helena ain’t gonna let a pretty li’l gal like you go unmarried.” He gave Gideon’s forearm a friendly shove. “I’ll bet any red-blooded man in that town’d give his eye teeth to get a bride purty as her that can cook suppers like this.” He waved a hand around the dirty dishes on the table.
Leah’s defenses flared at the comment. “Sir, I can assure you, I am not planning to marry any time soon. All the men in Helena may rest assured their eye teeth will remain securely within their possession.”
Silence met her declaration. Even Miriam’s wide green eyes revealed shock. Leah kept her shoulders squared, though, and her chin raised. She meant every word.
Then a high cackle came from the direction of Ol’ Mose, as he slapped the table hard enough to make his tin plate bounce. “Yer all right, girlie. I think yer gonna do just fine.”
~
Gideon matched his steps to the old trapper’s as they made their way to the barn. Drifter had been curled at Leah’s feet when they’d left the cabin, enjoying a good ear scratch. He’d just as soon the dog stay with her anyway, to keep an eye on things. Besides, it seemed the animal was partial to their pretty visitor, too.
While they ambled, his eyes drifted upward to the stars glittering in the wide Montana sky. They carpeted the dark background, each competing to outshine the lights around it.
“It’s awful nice tonight, ain’t it?” The sky must have caught Ol’ Mose’s attention, too.
Gideon nodded, keeping his focus on the heavens, not caring if the man saw his response
.
Finally, he spoke the question that had his mind bound tight. “You gonna tell me what happened?”
The old trapper released a sigh. “When I got here, the girl was holdin’ her own.” A pause. “I don’t know how things woulda ended, but I know fer a fact the Maker does. And I trust what He decides.”
Gideon didn’t have an answer for that. Wasn’t ready to open himself to the idea that God had any plan at all, much less a better plan. So he held his silence.
A moment later, the old man spoke again. “You’ve got a real nice piece o’ land here, Bryant. Prettiest in these parts. God’s given ya quite a blessing.”
Something burned the back of Gideon’s throat, but he swallowed it back down. “It’s a lot of hard work.” He felt Mose’s shrewd gaze on him.
“How are things goin’ for ya, son?”
Gideon swallowed again, debating on how honest he should be. He really didn’t have anyone to confide in. Miriam maybe, but his sister carried so much burden already with the house and gardens. And she was just a kid still. It was good she had Leah to help with things now. For a little while, anyway. He released a breath and ran a hand through his hair. The short locks still felt strange, but kept him cooler in this hot weather.
“Well…” He paused, his mind working to string together the right words. “I’m short-handed with the stock. Not sure how things’ll go through the winter.”
Ol’ Mose nodded. “You thinkin’ to hire someone on?”
“Maybe.” He’d been struggling with that idea for a while, actually. He just couldn’t bring himself to replace Abel. Not until he had to. It didn’t seem right for a stranger to be working alongside him where his brother should be.
The older man was quiet for a few moments, as they both stood in the middle of the yard, staring into the night sky. Gideon found his mind drifting back toward the house. For some reason, he didn’t think of Leah as a stranger working on the ranch. He’d gotten used to her presence around the house, had come to enjoy it really. She seemed to fit right in. And she acted like she didn’t mind the work or the remote life. She was a bit of a mystery, the way she’d come from such a wealthy background, but jumped right into work with the rest of them.
“So how’re things going with your pretty houseguest?”
Had his thoughts been so transparent? Gideon kicked at a clump of oatgrass, his gaze no longer turned upward.
“Fine, I reckon.”
“I see she’s turnin’ out to be quite a cook.”
Gideon shrugged, trying to keep his manner as casual as possible. “She does all right for a city girl.”
A snort erupted from the man at his side. “She might be a city gal, but she’s got more gumption than most men I’ve seed raised in the back-country.”
Gideon didn’t respond and Ol’ Mose allowed the silence to settle again. He knew the words were true. Leah’d shown gumption in the way she’d handled the pain of her broken leg, the way she’d pushed herself to help with every chore she could, the way she’d learned how to cook better than Miriam in just four weeks. She didn’t fear this mountain life the way Jane had. No, Leah embraced it. Thinking back to his impression of Leah when he first saw her in the kitchen of their little cabin, he never would have expected it.
“Ya know,” Ol’ Mose’s shaky voice broke through Gideon’s thoughts. “A wise ole trapper I knowd once used to say ‘Don’t ever judge a book by its cover’. I reckon he meant to always give a person a fair chance to prove their mettle. No makin’ an opinion ‘cause of something that happened to you awhile back.”
How exactly did this man do it? Were Gideon’s thoughts that evident? He stared into the blackness in the direction of the road. He had assumed Leah’s background would make her just as frightened of the mountain as his deceased wife had been. After one look at her in that little hat and the fancy dress with all the ruffles, he’d formed an opinion. But she was starting to convince him he may have been wrong.
He turned and pulled a hand from his pocket to clap the old man on the shoulder. “Sounds like your trapper friend was a smart man.”
Ol’ Mose gave him a grin that seemed to say “I’m glad you saw the light”, then he nodded. “He was, at that. Now it’s time for me to git these ol’ bones bedded down. I’ll be headed out again in the mornin’.”
Chapter Twenty
Leah dried her water-pruned hands on her apron and turned away from the work counter as Miriam strode into the cabin. “Lunch dishes are done,” she announced. “What’s on our schedule for this afternoon?”
Miriam stepped into the kitchen, a grimace on her face, and reached for the large pot with caster feet from under the counter. “It’s time to kill a chicken.”
That caught Leah’s attention. “Kill a chicken? You mean to eat?”
“Yes.” Miriam’s voice was full of reluctance. “The young roosters are old enough now, so we’ll fry one for dinner tonight.”
“All right.” Leah had never really considered how the meat had gotten to their kitchen in Richmond, or even in Montana. Now she realized the birds she’d been helping to feed for the last few weeks were intended for more than producing eggs. She swallowed. How hard could it be? “What can I do to help?”
Miriam carried the pot toward the door. “I have everything set up beside the barn. Put on an old dress and apron and come on out. I’ll show you what to do.”
Leah obeyed, exchanging her apron for one from the bottom of the stack on the hook. She was already wearing the grey wool work gown she’d worn on the train from Richmond. She grabbed her crutch and followed her friend outside. Her steps were quicker now, almost as fast as before her fall.
When Leah hobbled around the corner of the barn, she found the pot sitting over a small campfire. Nearby, an ax lay on a stump. Miriam was nowhere in sight, but a sudden ruckus from the direction of the chicken coop gave Leah an idea as to her whereabouts.
Soon, Miriam rounded the barn with a determined set to her jaw and a rooster dangling by its legs in her left hand. She threw a glance in Leah’s direction. “You may want to step back for this part, it gets kind of messy.”
Very curious, but wanting to follow directions, Leah took a step away from the tools laid out. Miriam never hesitated, but strode right up to the sawed-off tree base, picked up the ax in her right hand, dangled the chicken over the stump so its head lay on the wood, and brought the ax down hard.
The ensuing scene was not pretty. Wings flapped and blood sprayed. Leah spun away, leaving Miriam to control the chaos. When the scuffling noises settled down, she finally worked up the nerve to look again. It’s a good thing she’d never been squeamish at the sight of blood, for there was plenty of it around the chopping block. Miriam held the chicken with both hands away from her body, her face turned to the side to avoid splatters from the red that continued to pour from the carcass in her hands. She gave Leah a sympathetic look, but Leah wasn’t sure if the look was really intended for her or for the poor chicken.
The next few steps were not as sad or gory, as they dipped the carcass in boiling water for a short time, then removed the feathers. After that was complete, Miriam sent another sympathetic look in Leah’s direction. That expression launched a sinking feeling in Leah’s gut, but surely whatever lay ahead couldn’t be half as bad as killing the chicken had been.
She was wrong. The cleaning out of the bird was arguably the worst part of the whole nasty job. But she managed to keep her own lunch in her stomach, sometimes only by looking away as Miriam continued to work.
By the time they were back in the kitchen with a chicken body in the basin next to the work counter, Leah didn’t think she would ever eat again. She really wanted to lie down, but one glance at Miriam’s blood-covered apron and her own slightly-spattered covering brought necessity to the forefront.
“Miri, let me have your apron and I’ll put it to soak. Do you have blood on your dress, too?”
Miriam examined her arms and skirt, then scrunched her n
ose at Leah. “I’m a mess.”
And she was. From her mussed hair to her stained clothing. Love welled in Leah’s chest for her vivacious friend who had the courage to do whatever was necessary. She slipped an arm around Miriam’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go change into something clean while I get things ready? Then you can read from Pride and Prejudice while I do the washing.”
When Miriam turned a thankful look to her, Leah could see exhaustion tugging at the corners of her friend’s eyes.
By the time Gideon came in for dinner that night, Miriam’s enthusiasm seemed to have returned.
“Hello, big brother,” she chirped, while Gideon hung his hat on a peg. Leah couldn’t help but notice how his brown cotton shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He resonated strength with every movement.
“Hello, Gideon.” She offered a tentative, welcoming smile as she carried the plate of fried chicken to the table. Her greeting earned a nod, as his gaze snagged on hers before traveling to the plate of chicken.
“Food looks good.”
Leah couldn’t keep her grin inside. That was high praise from the man who didn’t understand a need for words during daily interaction.
Miriam poured coffee while Leah brought the last of the food. When they were all seated, Gideon offered his typical succinct blessing, and Leah found herself adding her own silent entreaty. Lord, please help the chicken to be good.
The meal began in comfortable silence, with only the sounds of eating utensils scraping tin plates. Leah wanted to sample her cooking, but just a glance at the chicken brought images to mind that turned her stomach. So, she settled for an extra biscuit and green beans. Maybe she would sneak a slice of ham later.
Gideon didn’t seem to hold the same reluctance toward the meat. He piled two large pieces on his plate and dove in with gusto. In a matter of minutes, both sections were reduced to mere bones. As he loaded another wing and both legs onto his plate, Gideon’s focus drifted to Leah. When their eyes met, heat rose to her cheeks, but didn’t drop her gaze.
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 14