Willow

by Norah Hess

  "You're Jimmy, aren't you?" She smiled at him.

  "Yes, miss." Jimmy shyly ducked his head.

  "I'm Willow. I guess we'd better get started cooking up something for that bunch still asleep in the bunkhouse."

  For the next hour Willow didn't move from the stove as she fried pounds of bacon and dozens of eggs. In between she stirred up a batch of biscuit dough and slid a tray into the oven. When the sun was peeping over the horizon, and Jimmy heard the men washing up outside, he set the table and then helped Willow dish up the hot food. To say that the cowboys were surprised to see the beautiful housekeeper at the stove would be an understatement. They could be more aptly described as stunned. They'd had distant glimpses of the new housekeeper, but for most, this was their first up-close view of her, and the blond beauty silenced their tongues and gave them two left feet as they knocked into each other, fumbling for their chairs.

  Unaware of their shy glances, Willow began frying stacks of flapjacks while Jimmy poured coffee around. When the only sound heard was the scraping of knives and forks, Amos called from his quarters, "Jimmy, ain't the men come in for breakfast yet?"

  Jimmy grinned, and picking up a cup of coffee, went through the door and into the room where the cook lay on his narrow cot. He was back in time to place two platters of flapjacks on the table and replenish the coffee cups.

  When everyone's hunger had been sated at last, a few braver cowhands mumbled, "Thank you, miss," as they left the kitchen. When Jimmy started clearing the long table, he said, "Amos would like to speak to you before you leave."

  Willow smiled wryly as she took off the big apron she'd found hanging on a peg beside the stove, and then rolled down her sleeves. She had a pretty good idea what the cook wanted to speak to her about. His chuck wagon. A good cook was always loath to have another poke around his domain.

  "Good morning, Amos," Willow said when she poked her head around the door. "May I come in?"

  "Come on in, miss." Amos scooted up in bed until he leaned against the wall. When she stepped into the room, he gave her an appraising look and then motioned her to sit down in the chair pulled up to his narrow bed. "Jules tells me that you're gonna take over my job while I'm laid up. But if you don't mind my sayin' so, you don't look strong enough to do it."

  "I'm stronger than I look, and Jimmy will be helping me."

  "The men are a rowdy bunch and you'll hear a lot of cussin' goin' on."

  "Yes, I expect so," Willow answered, but didn't add that she hadn't heard any swearing from the men this morning.

  "Now, about my chuck wagon. I have a special spot for everythin' and I don't want you changin' it. When I get back on my feet, I'll expect everything to be the same as I left it. Do you savvy what I'm sayin'?"

  "I understand." Willow nodded. "I'll be very careful not to change anything."

  The cook's tone softened when he realized that Willow wasn't going to give him any trouble. "Most of the men are hogs when it comes to food. You'll have to lock up your supplies between meals. And don't leave anything out that they can get their hands on."

  "I'll remember that. Thank you for the warning."

  "I guess that's about it then. Have a good trip." When he scooted back down in the cot, silently dismissing Willow, she grinned crookedly. Leaving the room, she closed the door quietly behind her.

  "He wanted to warn you not to mess up the chuck wagon, didn't he?" Jimmy asked, in soap suds up to his elbows as he washed dishes, pots and pans. Willow gave a small laugh and said, "I think I'll go inspect it now."

  She climbed into the covered wagon that had been parked behind the cookhouse. As she walked down the center aisle between supplies packed on either side, she found that Amos hadn't forgotten the essentials to make good, hearty meals. He had an ample supply of everything, which should last until they arrived at their destination, where the wagon could be outfitted again. Of course, there was always the danger of the wagon rolling over and supplies being dumped on the ground, or of its being swamped with water in a river crossing.

  But there were a few things of her own she wanted to add. Things she had brought with her from home. There were special herbs for stews and roasts and maple syrup to add to the tomatoes that would go into her special baked beans. And her own cast-iron bean pot in which the beans would simmer slowly all day.

  And one other thing. The cowboys back home had loved the cookies she always brought along. Big cloth bags filled with oatmeal raisin treats.

  She hopped down from the wagon and strode to the house. She would start baking as soon as she straightened up the house.

  "My, somethin' sure smells good in here." Jess sniffed the air as she came into the kitchen. "What are you bakin', Willow?"

  "Cookies. I'm going to take them with me on the cattle drive. Taste one." Willow motioned to the rows of cookies lined up on the table, cooling.

  "Land's sake, how many are you gonna bake? You've baked near to a hundred already."

  "Before I'm finished I'll have triple that amount. I'll give them to the men when I can't bake them a dessert for some reason. The cowboys back home loved them."

  "I can see how they would," Jess said after dipping one of the sweets in her coffee to soften it up. Her eight teeth didn't allow too much chewing on anything so crisp.

  As she watched Willow dropping spoonsful of cookie dough onto a flat pan, she remarked, "You're a hard worker, Willow. I don't understand why some man hasn't snapped you up before now. Ain't there any single men where you come from?"

  "Oh, there's plenty of them. The thing is, my father never allowed any of them to come around. I think he was afraid of losing his workhorse. Anyway, that's what Ma always said."

  "From your tone, I'd say you ain't overly fond of your paw."

  "That's putting it mildly." Willow slammed the oven door on the pan of cookies she had just shoved inside it. "He's a cruel, unfeeling man. He has always hated the fact that I was born a girl instead of the boy he wanted. He has the nerve to blame my poor mother and has made her life a living hell."

  It was quiet in the kitchen for a while as Willow prepared another pan of dough and Jess studied her angry, flushed face. Finally the old lady spoke. "Is that why you came here, Willow… to get away from your father?"

  "Yes." Tears suddenly gathered in Willow's eyes, and as they ran down her cheeks, she sobbed, "I feel so guilty, leaving Ma alone with him. He browbeats her so. She's so frail and helpless."

  "Don't blame yourself for that, honey," Jess implored her. "Your mother is the one who wrote Jules, asking him if he could find a job for you here on the ranch."

  Before Jess finished speaking, Willow realized that she had just contradicted what her mother had written in her letter. She was supposed to be heartbroken because the man she had expected to many had changed his mind. Should she try to explain everything to the old lady who had treated her so kindly, or keep silent, hoping that she hadn't noticed the difference between the letter and what she had just heard?

  "Nevertheless"—Willow swiped a hand across her wet eyes—"it is my dream to bring my mother out of New Mexico."

  "I'm sure you'll work something out. We'll talk about it when you get back from the cattle drive. In the meantime, try to concentrate on the hard work that lies ahead of you."

  Jess was right, of course, Willow thought later as she pulled the last batch of cookies from the oven. She was in no position to help her mother now. She would be better off financially when the drive was over. A good trail cook was paid more than a top cowhand. Her shoulders sagged. She still wouldn't have nearly enough money to provide a home for her mother.

  Chapter Seven

  Don't forget to take along a jacket, Willow," Jess said as she shuffled into the kitchen wearing her ratty old robe and a pair of heavy socks on her feet. It's right cool on the plains in the early morning hours."

  "I remembered."

  Willow jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the door. "It's over there hanging on the pe
g."

  Jess poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. After appraising Willow by the lamplight, she nodded and said, "I see you know how to dress for the trail. Where did you get them britches?"

  "Jimmy loaned them to me."

  "I must say you look better in them than he does. He ain't got no butt to fill them out the way you do."

  "They are snug against my rear, but it was either Jimmy's or borrow a pair of Jules's. You can imagine how they would fit me."

  Jess grinned as she filled her pipe. "The way the men are gonna ogle you, my nephew will probably wish that you were wearing a pair of his pants."

  "If that does happen, I doubt that he will even notice."

  Jess gave Willow a look that said she was simple, but let the subject drop. Instead, she said, "Whenever you come near some town, drop me a line, will you? I'd like to know how you're gettin' along."

  "I will, Aunt Jess. If I'm not too tired, I'll try to write something every night—a kind of journal to send to you."

  "Oh, you're gonna be tired, honey. You're gonna be draggin' at the end of the day."

  "I know I'll be beat the first few days, but I'll toughen up."

  Both women looked at the door when they heard the jingle of spurs on the tiled patio floor.

  "Are you ready to go, Willow?" Jules walked into the kitchen, then stopped to stare at her hip-hugging trousers. Where dresses and riding skirts had only hinted at the gentle curves of her hips and long legs, the tight male attire left nothing to the imagination. His men would fight over her all the way to Kansas.

  He was about to order her to get back into a dress, but two pairs of female eyes dared him to say it. In the end he walked around the table and, dropping a kiss on his relative's wrinkled cheek, said softly, "You take care of yourself, Aunt Jess, and don't try to do too much while I'm gone. In case you need me, send a letter to one of the small towns I've written down here." He fished a piece of paper out of his vest pocket. "I'll check in each one to see if there's a letter waiting for me."

  "You take care, too, Jules, and make sure you look after Willow. We don't want to lose the best cook and housekeeper in all of Texas." Jules didn't say that he would or that he wouldn't as he left the kitchen and stepped out into the early dawn.

  "I don't think he likes your outfit, Willow." Jess cackled her glee. "He's gonna be worse than a mother hen with one chick, keepin' an eye on you around his men."

  "You're wrong, Aunt Jess," Willow scolded. "The men aren't going to approach me—and if they did, Jules wouldn't notice it."

  Before Jess could respond to Willow's remark, Willow bent over and she, too, kissed her wrinkled cheek. "Be careful not to do too much, and take your nap every afternoon."

  Taking her jacket off the wall peg, Willow stepped outside into pandemonium. Horses were neighing and Sammy, the wrangler, was yelling and swearing. At least a dozen horses had gotten away from him and were running through the yard, trampling flower beds and knocking over pots of bright red geraniums. When the horses headed for the barnyard, Jules, swearing as loudly as Sammy, sprang into the saddle and raced away to head the animals off.

  From the high seat of the chuck wagon, Jimmy grinned down at Willow. "Ole Sammy is gonna get his butt chewed out. The boss don't let a feller make too many mistakes, and a wrangler ain't allowed to make but one. The remuda is too important on a cattle drive. Our cowpokes change their mounts sis or seven times a day."

  "I'm glad it's not us at the receiving end of his anger." Willow said, climbing up onto the wagon and taking the reins from Jimmy when she sat down.

  "Yeah, he can be pretty mean when he gets riled up." Jimmy grinned and sat back as Willow snapped the long reins over the horses's backs. They had started to move out when Willow heard her name shouted. She yelled, ""Whoa," when she saw Thad Wilson racing his horse toward the wagon.

  "I was afraid I'd miss you," Thad said, a little out of breath as he pulled up alongside the wagon and smiled at her. "I wanted to say good-bye and to give you this." He took a bag from the saddle horn and handed it to her. "It's apples from last fall. I thought you might enjoy eating them as you ride along."

  "I will, Thad. Thank you very much." She laid the bag down at her feet.

  "I'm going to miss you." Thad gave her a woeful look.

  "I'll be back before you know it."

  "I'd like to come calling on you then… maybe on a regular basis?"

  Before Willow could answer him, Jules raced his horse up to the wagon, his face as dark as a thunder-cloud. "Why are you still here, Willow?" he shouted, ignoring the farmer. "You're holding us up. If you know so much about cattle drives, you should know that the cook always leads off."

  Willow did know this, and she was embarrassed and angry at herself And put out at Thad too. He had caused her delay. She said a short good-bye to him and whipped up the horses.

  As the wagon bounced and rattled across the plain, Jimmy said with a laugh, "You just got a rear-chewin' too."

  "It probably won't be the last one either," Willow muttered, snapping the reins and calling on the team to move faster.

  After about fifteen minutes of driving the team as fast as she thought was safe, Willow looked back and saw that the long line of cattle was about a quarter of a mile behind her. She pulled the team in to a brisk walk.

  Jimmy, who had braced his feet on the floorboard and was clinging desperately to his seat, let out a whoosh of relief "Boy, Willow, there was a couple times when I thought I was going to be bounced to the ground."

  Willow's lips twisted wryly. "There were a few times when I thought I might too."

  The sun was fully risen now, and Jimmy said, "It looks like we're gonna have a nice day."

  "It would seem so. Is the hoodlum wagon behind us?"

  Jimmy craned his neck to look behind them, and said, "Yeah, about a hundred yards behind us."

  A pair of strong mules pulled the hoodlum wagon, which was filled to capacity with wood for the many campfires that would be made. There would be no fuel to be found on the plains, except for cow chips. If she could help it, Willow wouldn't cook a meal on dried cow dung.

  "Who is driving the wagon?" she asked Jimmy.

  "My pard, Brian Winterspoon. We've been workin on the Asher ranch since we was fourteen."

  "Don't you fellows have any family?"

  "I don't. Not that I know of My folks died from influenza one winter when I was thirteen and I was sent to live in an orphanage. Me and Brian got tired of bein' hungry and cold all the time, so one night we lit out, headin' west. Brian has an older sister somewhere in Texas. He thinks she's workin' in some saloon. His ma and pa are dead too."

  Willow's heart went out to the two boys, who were on the edge of manhood. Nothing but hard work lay ahead of them. They would eventually become cowhands and punch cattle the rest of their lives.

  But she knew better than to express any sympathy to Jimmy. He would resent it, she knew. So she only said, "I guess the two of you are kind of like family then."

  "Yeah." Jimmy grinned. "I guess we are. Kinda like brothers."

  When the talkative teenager had not spoken for several minutes, Willow glanced at him and she smiled slightly. His head lolled to one side; he was sound asleep. She imagined that being excited about the cattle drive, he had probably slept little last night.

  Feeling a hunger pain, Willow dug into the cloth sack at her feet and pulled out an apple. When she bit into it, she found it crunchy and juicy. What was she going to do about the young man who had given her the fruit? she wondered. He had more or less come right out and said that he wanted to court her.

  Was she ready for that? She chewed thoughtfully. She didn't think so. Although he was handsome and thoughtful and very sweet, she didn't really know him. But he had a house and a farm. A place to take her mother. It was something to think about.

  Willow glanced up at the sky and saw by the sun that it was nearing eleven o'clock. "When on a long cattle drive, the cowhands had their fi
rst meal of the day around that time. They would start getting hungry now, since the only thing that had hit their stomachs that morning was coffee on arising.

  She started looking for a likely place to make camp and before long spotted an ideal site.

  A quarter mile or so away there was a line of willows. Where willows grew there was water. She turned the horse's head in that direction, at the same time telling Jimmy to wake up.

  Pulling the team up beside the hanging foliage of the trees, close to a shallow, swiftly running stream, Willow began taking from the wagon the items she needed to prepare the late morning meal.

  Then, as she cut up a whole slab of salt pork and opened several cans of beans, dumping them into a large pot, Jimmy went about building a fire.

  He began by digging a wide hole in the gravelly soil at the river's edge and lining it with rocks. In the center of it he then laid two large, flat rocks to support a pot, skillet and coffee pot. Brian arrived with the hoodlum wagon just as he finished and together they built a fire in the cooking pit.

  Willow smiled a greeting at Jimmy's friend, and then took over the cookfire. Half an hour later, when the cowboys came straggling in, she had crisp salt pork and a pot of beans sitting on the tailgate of the wagon. Along with the steaming food were two loaves of sliced sourdough bread and a stack of tin plates and cups. Flatware stuck out from the top of a tall jar. The large pot of coffee was warming on some hot ashes.

  For the next several minutes Willow filled plates and handed them to the men, while Jimmy poured coffee.

  The men were shy and polite, as they had been the morning before. Each one mumbled a "Thank you, miss," when she handed him a heaping plate of meat and beans.

  Willow shook her head. These men were rough souls, unafraid of anything, yet a decent woman could freeze their tongues and turn them into awkward boys.

  When the cowhands' hunger was sated and they had gone back to the grazing herd, Willow wondered why Jules hadn't come in to eat. Was he still put out at her for holding up the start of the drive?