by P. Creeden
“Clark tells me that you bake?” Mrs. Harp asked as they were cleaning up after the lunch. “Your family owns a bakery?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Winnie said with a nod as she helped. Her ankle was feeling much better, but she still favored it.
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while. You tried that bread at lunch, right? It’s edible, but it’s neither pretty nor something that makes you want more of it. I’ve never been any good at baking, no matter how hard I try. It’s all about measuring and mixing and waiting and timing. I can let a roast go for an extra twenty minutes when I get busy and it doesn’t ruin it. But if I let bread go an extra five accidentally, well, I may as well throw it in the trash can. And don’t even get me started on sweets. The boys here haven’t had a good desert in ages.”
Winnie blinked at Mrs. Harp in surprise. “You cook so well, though. I didn’t realize you weren’t proficient at the baking too. You’re modest about your bread.”
“Oh no. You’re too kind, I think. I know where my weaknesses are, and I am not afraid to ask for help. If you would like to take over the baking for the ranch, I’d be more than happy to step aside and let you do it. I’m sure the boys would love to have something sweet with their dinners now and then at least if you’re up for making dessert too.”
A small smile played on Winnie’s lips. “If you’re sure I won’t be getting in your way or intruding in your kitchen?”
Laughter filled the kitchen, good solid, belly laughing that made Winnie laugh with the older woman. “No, child. You won’t be getting in the way or intruding at all. Besides, isn’t this really your kitchen? I’m the one who’s the intruder.”
Winnie’s jaw dropped, and she shook her head. “Oh no! I’d never think of you that way. Please tell me that you’re not giving up the full kitchen to me. I’m not a good cook. I can only bake.”
The woman smiled at her. “Then we’ll share. Tonight I’ll prepare dinner, but stay out of your way if you’d like to prepare some rolls or biscuits to go with the roast? And then if you’d like to make something sweet, I’ll show you where the sugar and flour and preserves are... anything you might need!”
Each word the elder woman spoke soothed Winnie’s heart. Even though she’d feared that coming to Oklahoma would be too big a change, too scary a prospect, and that she’d be all alone, just having Mrs. Harp there with her, welcoming her as she was made Winnie feel at ease. They finished cleaning up the kitchen and then Mrs. Harp began to peel root vegetables with her knife.
Winnie took hold of another peeling knife. “I’m happy to help here. I may not be a proficient cook, but I can help with this much.”
“Oh, child,” Mrs. Harp said with a laugh. “You stay here with me long enough and you’ll learn how to cook very well, I’m sure. Like I said, there’s lots of room for mistakes in cooking whereas there are none in baking—it’s going to be a much easier time for me to teach you than the other way around, I assure you.”
“I’ll try to teach you anyway,” Winnie said as she picked up a potato. “I’m willing to bet that you’re better at baking than you let on.”
“We’ll see,” the woman said shaking her head. “We’ll see.”
Winnie just limped and followed along with Mrs. Harp as the woman did her daily duties. Laundry was a big part of her job, since she did it for the entire crew. Winnie made a note that it would go faster if they had a second wash basin, too. The younger boys stayed in a bunkhouse built to accommodate up to six cowboys. Mrs. Harp did a pass through their bunkhouse to make their beds and tidy up a bit. Then they stopped in at the house built for the Harps to stay. The small, four room house was cozy and quaint, and reminded Winnie of the upstairs apartment that her family lived at in Baltimore. The whole house smelled of ginger and spiced tea. Winnie immediately loved the small space.
“Have a seat, dear, and I’ll make us a spot of tea before we get back to the house.” Mrs. Harp gestured toward a chair and then left for the open kitchen.
“Do you ever have meals here, or do you always cook in the main house?” Winnie asked when Mrs. Harp returned with tea and store-bought cookies.
“We have tea and coffee here, and once in a while, I might cook oatmeal or porridge on a day when Mr. Harp is feeling under the weather, but mostly, no, I don’t cook here. I cook in the main house, all three meals for Clark and the cowboys. We all take our meals together as a family. Of course, that could change if you’d prefer. You’re now the matron of the house, after all.”
Winnie was quick to shake her head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to change a thing. I like the feeling of having a big, welcoming family like we had at lunch today.”
Mrs. Harp reached over and squeezed Winnie’s fingers. “I’m happy you feel that way, but if you grow tired of things, don’t be afraid to speak up. We all want you to feel at home here. You do things the way that will make you happy and don’t worry about anyone else. We’re glad to accommodate you in any way. Just say the word.”
Unshed tears stung the backs of Winnie’s eyes. Mrs. Harp, Clark, even Mr. Harp and the cowboys. All of them had been bending over backward to make her feel at home, when the truth was, she’d felt more welcomed here than in her own home in Baltimore, anyway. How was it that a family could feel like a group of strangers, and strangers could feel like family? For the first time in Winnie’s life she was truly feeling accepted. She worried that it might end.
Chapter 8
That evening, Clark stepped out of the house after a very filling dinner. The bread was so exquisite, he’d never known that the simple staple could taste so good whether alone, with butter, or dipped in the gravy of his roast’s juices. And then those sweet hot cross buns that Winnie had made were divine It was no wonder they were popular back in Baltimore, and it was no wonder that his new wife had the slightest scent of sugar and cinnamon to her. He gazed up at the stars and thought about how Mary often liked to point to a few of the constellations, like Orion or the big bear and talk about what those things meant to the ancients who named them. She liked to study history when she was in school and often read any book she could get a hold of.
Winnie was different from Mary. They didn’t look much alike—Winnie was dark where Mary was fair. But everything about them was different. Maybe that was good. He wouldn’t spend much time comparing them to each other because there weren’t many things alike about them. But each of them had spunk and a spark in them that attracted Clark to them, that much was for sure. Even though Winnie looked and behaved nothing like Mary, Clark found that he had the same kind of connection to her as he’d had with Mary. It was strange because after all this time, in all his life, he’d never felt this kind of feeling with any other woman than Mary... and now Winnie.
He swallowed hard and leaned against the wooden chair that sat out on in the backyard. Steers mewled in the distance and the breeze picked up a bit. The wool shirt he wore kept out the chill. How long he stood there alone, he was uncertain, but when he heard a shuffle behind him, he didn’t turn around. He smelled her before he saw her. Cinnamon and sugar.
Winnie cleared her throat. “Mrs. Harp would like to know if you’d like a cup of coffee or tea while you’re standing out here? She’s worried you’ll catch your death of cold.”
With a chuckle, he peered down at her as she stood next to him. “I’m not much in the mood for either. And though there’s a breeze out here, it’s hardly cold enough to catch my death, don’t you think?”
She lifted her face and closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A smile stretched across her lips. “The breeze feels good out here. Refreshing.”
His heart fluttered in his chest. That innocence about her was more refreshing than the breeze, and a bit of heat rushed to his cheeks as he wondered what her lips might taste like. Would they taste as sweet as she smelled? He cleared his throat and pulled his gaze from her lips. “The clear sky makes it perfect for looking at stars too.”
“Yes. I’ve not seen this many
stars in the sky since I was a young child. Baltimore has to many lamps that are on in the night, it washes out the stars.”
“Well then that’s one more thing that’s better about Oklahoma.”
“Are you keeping count?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice.
He couldn’t help but be playful in return. “Maybe. But I’m already losing track of the number. There are so many things...”
She huffed and then rolled her eyes. “I’d almost get offended by your words, Mr. Masterson, if I didn’t know for a fact that you’d never been to Baltimore yourself. So, you can’t really compare my hometown to yours.”
“Clark,” he said again, “When you call me Mr. Masterson, it makes you sound like a stranger to me. We’re family.”
“Family,” she whispered and leaned against the back of the chair that sat next to the one Clark leaned upon.
Just then, a shooting star darted across the sky leaving behind it a momentary red trail before all of it fizzled out as fast as it had appeared.
An excited squeal escaped Winnie’s lips as she jumped up and down and pointed in the direction. In her excitement, she drew closer to him so that their shoulders touched. “Did you see that? That was amazing!”
“Did you make a wish?” he asked quietly as he nodded. His heart raced wildly in his chest at her nearness.
She stopped and looked at him seriously. “I forgot.”
“I’m sure it’s not too late if you wanted to make a wish now,” he whispered. When she started to pull away from him, he wrapped a hand around her shoulder and pulled her back against him and then dropped his hand again. “It’s warmer if we stay like this.”
She nodded and swallowed, her eyes going wide as she looked up at the sky. The moonlight sparkled in her eyes and made them seem even more like they held magic and innocence and wishes. Even as she leaned against him, she seemed to be holding her breath.
Clark had not had this kind of feeling in a long time. Even before Mary had passed on, she’d been sick for a long while before that. And Mary wasn’t the affectionate kind. She made him chase after her every step of the way. Somehow the affection that he found growing for Winnie was easier than it had been for Mary. He admonished himself inwardly. He’d promised not to compare the two of them, and yet he couldn’t help but see all the differences. After another moment, he felt her begin to pull away again, and again he set a hand on her shoulder, drawing her close again, more gently this time.
“Please, stay,” he whispered without looking down at her. Something about the feel of her warmth against him was healing a part of him deep down that he’d hardly known was wounded. And if he could just stay a little longer like this, he felt that maybe he could find the comfort he’d desired for such a long time.
Winnie couldn’t help but hold her breath again. He was so close. The warmth of Clark’s shoulder against hers was making her heart beat so fast she feared it would break her breastbone and spill out of her. Was it possible for someone to die like this? They’d barely spent a full day together, and already, her feelings for her husband were growing. Did he feel the same way? He kept pulling her close to him but did it in a way that was asking her to stay rather than forcing her to. There was a part of her that felt sorry for the man. He seemed so sad. Maybe he was thinking about his wife who died... Mary, Mrs. Harp had said her name was. Though Winnie was tempted to ask about Mary, she held her tongue. It would be something that Clark would bring up in his own time, she was certain. And until then, Winnie would be patient.
Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress. She wanted to pull her nails to her teeth, but she couldn’t allow that right now. It would ruin the moment. And besides, Ms. Buckland, the matchmaker, had said that she needed to quit the habit. It was a nasty one. Everyone else had said as much too.
She let a small sigh escape her lips as she let out the breath she’d been holding. Another star shot across the sky and the excitement and wonder filled her just as it did before, but it was subdued by Clark’s warmth and nearness to her body. Her breath caught as she let out a small squeal and pointed. “Did you see that one?”
“I did,” he said with a smile down at her. “I made a wish. Did you?”
She nodded, even though she hadn’t. She had so many wishes in her heart. So many hopes. All she wanted in life was for things to work out well here in Oklahoma, and it seemed that they were. She liked it here. Even though it felt like a betrayal to her family and her hometown. She genuinely liked the people and was finding herself agreeing with Clark that Oklahoma might indeed be better than Baltimore... at least to her. Instead of wishing on stars, her heart prayed for her. Her wordless prayers were sent up and she knew that God would understand them without her needing to elaborate.
Then she realized that she was still looking in Clark’s eyes. And he was still looking in hers. Their breath intermingled between them as their shoulders still touched. She’d never been this close to any man before. She could hardly remember being this close to Justin or her father. They’d just never been a very affectionate family. She swallowed hard. Was he going to kiss her? It would be her first time. Fear made a shiver run through her. She wasn’t sure if she was ready. She was afraid she’d do something wrong, say something stupid. She was afraid he’d kiss her. She was afraid he wouldn’t.
His eyes searched hers and then they became half-moons as he smiled down at her and turned away, the moment gone. “You smell really good. Did you know that?
She blinked, not knowing how to respond with the moment gone. “How do I smell?”
“Just like your Christmas buns. Sweet and like cinnamon. It makes my mouth water.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wasn’t sure how to take that. Was it a compliment? She didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you,” was all she could think to say.
He chuckled lightly, pulled his shoulder away and then set his hands upon both of her shoulders, turning toward her so that their eyes met again. “I am already growing to like you, Winnie. But I’m in no hurry; so let’s take things slowly, all right. Let’s consider this courting. If that will appease your sensibilities?”
“Courting?” she asked as she searched his eyes to see if he was teasing her.
“Yes. I’m courting my wife. I’m a hunter by nature, Winnie. I don’t like to get things I didn’t earn. So, I will earn your heart. Does that sound acceptable to you?”
Her eyes went wide, and she didn’t know what to say. So, she nodded.
He squeezed her shoulders and then let her go again. Taking a step back and toward the house, he said, “Goodnight,” but he continued to walk backwards, keeping eye contact with her until he finally slipped through the door and left her standing alone in the back yard. Her breath suddenly came out in pants and she gripped her stomach as it twisted. She didn’t feel sick, just incredibly nervous, but for the first time in a long while, the urge to chew her fingernails had fled. A husband courting his wife? Who had heard of such a thing? Somehow the thought made her happy, and she couldn’t wait to see what it meant for her and Clark.
Chapter 9
Winnie spent the next several days just settling into the routine. Her ankle fully healed, she followed Mrs. Harp around and helped with daily chores while baking for the whole family. She’d even begun to think of the two cowboys, Billy and Jesse, as being younger brothers. They were playful and their banter made the mood in the house upbeat during meals.
Friday morning, she and Mrs. Harp went to the general store to gather supplies that they would need. Mrs. Harp introduced Winnie to everyone as the new Mrs. Masterson, and many of the town folk looked on her with curiosity and scrutiny. She’d overheard a bit of gossip that made her stomach sink when one younger woman had whispered to another in the store, “She’s not quite as pretty as the former Mrs. Masterson, is she?”
It was the first time she’d heard anyone compare her to Mary. Though her heart squeezed in her chest, she consoled herself with the fact that it was only n
atural for it to happen. After all, Clark was a widower, so people were likely to compare them. After letting out a slow breath, she plastered a smile on her face when Mrs. Harp looked her way. But it seemed Mrs. Harp hadn’t heard anything, as she said with a smile, “We’re going to get twice as much flour as I usually do so that we have plenty to bake with. I was going to ask. Do you want to make more of your Christmas buns for the choir tomorrow? They are preparing to go about town caroling on Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition.”
It sounded like a good way to introduce herself to more town folk and make a good impression, so Winnie swallowed hard and nodded. “I’d love to.”
They got their supplies and then Joe helped load it all into the back of the wagon with the boards and other ranch supplies he had gathered from the hardware store. On the ride back to the ranch, Mrs. Harp told Winnie that there were usually about a dozen carolers and then the pastor and his family at practice, so two dozen or so buns would be more than enough for the group. Just to be safe, Winnie decided to bake three dozen.
When they got closer to the ranch, they spotted Clark and the two cowboys up on the hill in the main part of the pasture. Joe whistled to them and waved. The other two cowboys waved back, but Clark set his horse at a lope to the bottom of the hill and then galloped the rest of the way down to meet them as they turned down the lane toward the main house. Winnie’s heart fluttered at the smile and wink that he gave her as he pulled up and said his greetings to everyone.