With the coffee near to boiling, she hummed as she set water on for the oatmeal and brought in ham to slice. She could at least make breakfasts now. She may have to cook three breakfasts a day, but her husband would not starve. Her kitchen skills were definitely improving.
“You sound cheerful.” Mavis tied on her apron as she came through the door.
“I am. Christmas is coming.”
“Yes, it is. We’ll have a busy weekend. With Christmas falling on a Sunday this year, we’ll go to church as usual Sunday morning. And we’ll decorate the tree tomorrow, Christmas Eve. But first we’ve got the party tonight. I plan on taking an elk roast, along with two cakes and probably pickles. I think we’ll make a couple loaves of bread and potato salad too. Have you ever made potato salad?”
“No, but I’m always willing to learn.”
“I know you are, Cassie dear. That is why I have such a wonderful time teaching you. Do you want to do the bread today?”
“What kind?”
“Regular bread.” Mavis measured the oatmeal into the boiling water and threw in several handfuls of raisins. “Lucas went down to the barn?”
“I think so; I think it was he I heard. You know, when spring comes, will we do a garden at the other house too?” Why wasn’t she able to say my house yet? Surely that would change when she and Lucas moved over there.
“Of course. I was thinking we should plant more potatoes there and other root crops. That way I won’t have to make my garden plot bigger. Especially if we are going to feed Easterners. It would be good if beans and some other things were producing by then, but we’ll have to have an early spring for that to happen.”
Cassie slapped the largest cast-iron frying pan on the hot part of the stove, then poured them each a cup of coffee and motioned for Mavis to sit.
“Cassie, you spoil me.” She sat down and inhaled the steam. “There is nothing like the first cup of coffee in the morning.”
“I agree.” Transferring a plate of corn bread from the warming oven to the table, she sat down and passed the syrup. “Would you rather have jelly?”
“I’ll have jelly later. This is perfect. I feel like I’m loafing.” The two smiled at each other and dug into the square of corn bread.
Thank goodness for snow on boots. The stamp of feet on the porch announced the arrival of the men long before Arnett came through the door, with Lucas right behind him.
“Looks like it might snow out there. Nothing like coming into a warm, food-smelling kitchen.” Arnett hung up his coat. “Gretchen’s Biscuit is saddled but still down in the barn.”
Cassie finished her treat and got up to pour more coffee. She turned the ham steaks and set the dish-towel-covered pan of corn bread on the warming shelf.
Just as Cassie heard more boots on the porch, Gretchen wandered into the kitchen and slumped in a chair. “I really don’t feel like doing anything today. I want to stay home.”
“What’s the matter?” Her mother laid the back of her hand against her daughter’s forehead. “No fever. Away you go. You told Jenna you would help the Hendersons today, and they’re counting on you.”
Gretchen grimaced and accepted a mug of hot coffee.
Ransom came stomping in, milk pail in hand, bringing chill air with him. “I opened the fence to that second haystack,” he said as he hung up his things. “We won’t have to take that load out.”
“So we’ll finish up the milling?” Arnett asked over his coffee cup.
“And hopefully get the boards hauled down to the barn. Should be a couple of loads.”
“I was thinking,” Mavis started and stopped when she heard her sons groan. “You could at least let me finish.”
Cassie grinned, down inside of course, or the boys might feel embarrassed.
Lucas snorted. “We could, but every time you use those words, it means more work for us.”
“Every time?”
“Sure seems that way.” Lucas sat down at the table. “You better get a move on, squirt. You wouldn’t want to miss out on any work. I hear they’re butchering two hogs. Two! That’s gonna be so much fun, right?”
Gretchen rolled her eyes.
Cassie slid half a dozen fried eggs onto a platter, piled the ham on another, and set both platters on the table. “Arnett, it’s your turn to say grace.” She could feel her eyes growing round. How could she have said that?! What audacity! Downright rude. All of those at the table stared at her, and then the old man burst out laughing.
“Well, I guess I really am part of this family now. Let’s pray.” He paused. “Dear Lord, thank you for this family and all the love around this table. Thank you for bringing us together, and thank you for the food that you bless us with. I am so grateful. Amen.”
Cassie slid into her chair. “I . . . I don’t know what got into me.”
Mavis chuckled and patted her hand. “God did, Cassie dear, as a good and gentle reminder.” She slid a slice of ham onto her plate and then finished the last bit of oatmeal. “Sitting and being served like this makes me feel guilty.”
Ransom shook his head. “Don’t waste your time with guilt. That’s what someone I know well always tells me.”
“I wonder who that could be.” Mavis raised her eyebrows, obviously trying to look innocent.
With everyone chuckling, Cassie patted Mavis’s hand. “Mothers are supposed to say things like that. At least that’s what my mother told me.”
Gretchen pushed her chair back. “Guess I’m on my way.” She rose, kissed her mother’s cheek, and headed for the coatrack. “Thanks for getting my horse ready, Mr. Arnett. See you all later. Much later.”
Cassie watched the girl bundle up and head out the back door. The thought of riding in this cold did not sound appealing. She turned to Arnett. “Is it really going to snow today?”
“Sure looks and feels like it.”
“But how do you know?”
“By the clouds and the wind; snow clouds have a look all their own. You’ll come to know that when you been here awhile.”
“So there is a difference between rain clouds and snow clouds?”
“Yep. One’s in winter with the cold air, but you can smell rain coming too.”
“Really?” Cassie glanced around the table to see the others nodding. “More to learn, eh?”
Arnett grinned. “You keep on with the cooking, dear Cassie. You been learning plenty.”
Cassie looked up to catch a wink from Lucas. Funny how that little bitty thing made her feel good.
By the time the men were out the door on their way up the hill, Cassie was kneading more flour into the sourdough starter. She’d already added bacon grease, molasses, and the ground-up oatmeal. Who would think you could grind oatmeal fine in a coffee grinder? “So what other things might you add to the regular bread dough, either sourdough or potato starter?” Sometimes they bought yeast now at the store in town, so now there were more ways to do things.
Mavis put the last of the dishes on the rack. “Sometimes I add cornmeal, rye flour when I can find it, eggs, or more sugar or honey for a sweeter dough. Different grains make different kinds of flour. Now those oatmeal bits will make a chewier bread. You know the shelled corn we feed the chickens? We should bring some of that in and run it through the coffee mill. I’ve not done it, but I heard someone else talking about doing it; might be worth experimenting with.”
“But it all uses the same basic recipe?” There was so much to learn, so much to remember!
“Yep. Oh. Currants or raisins make a sweeter bread too. And cinnamon. Oh, how I love a loaf of cinnamon bread. In fact, let’s take part of this and do just that. But the dough has to rise and be punched down and then after the second rise, when we shape the loaves, we roll one flat out like cinnamon rolls, add cinnamon and sugar, and then roll it up and shape it into a loaf. We’ll have that for breakfast tomorrow morning. Now, if I were going to be really fancy, I could slice that loaf and make it into French toast for something special.”
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nbsp; Mavis got started on the cakes for the party while Cassie kept on kneading. Thump and turn and roll the dough in and push it down again. The rhythm now came automatically, just like Mavis had said it would. And her thoughts could drift elsewhere as she worked. There was something special about baking bread, all right.
Far too quickly that day, Gretchen was back and they were all ready to leave for the party at the church meeting hall. Cassie was having a full-blown butterfly attack. This was worse than before any ring performance. In a performance, she knew exactly what she was going to do. And she knew that almost always she could get her audience oohing and aahing and laughing. Not this time.
If only she could stay home . . . but then Gretchen would feel hurt, and there was no need to cause that to happen. They packed the food in baskets and stowed them in the frigid sleigh. With heavy blankets to snuggle in and heated stones as warm footrests for their feet, the sleigh was quite cozy. Lucas chose to ride, since there really wasn’t room for one more adult in the sleigh. He tucked the robes around them and swung aboard his horse. He was soon out of sight far ahead.
Cassie wriggled in deeper. She found skiing fun and this new world of snow and cold interesting. But her nose felt very cold already, and they’d not yet left the last gate behind. She was beginning to understand better why the show went south for the winter.
Their sleigh jingled cheerfully into town and up to the large hall behind the church, the horses’ bells joining the jangle of other horse bells. Cassie did not feel cheerful. The Engstrom horses looked dark in the flanks and steam rose off their backs. Ransom and Lucas double-blanketed them against the cold. Cassie scooped up two baskets and, with Gretchen right behind her, followed Mavis inside. Mavis marched over to where the women were putting the food tables together.
An older lady whom Cassie had not met called, “Hello, Mavis! If you have something hot, there is still some room in the oven.”
“Not this time. The roast is done.” Mavis waved an arm in several directions. “Gretchen, salads there. Cassie, you put the cakes on that table over there. Make sure you cut them in even pieces or the older boys will start arguing over who gets which piece. Make sure there is a pancake turner in each too. We’ll eat later this evening but we want it all to be ready now.”
Cassie did as she was instructed, smiling at the other women and introducing herself when they did. All the time she was wishing she could go off with the girls like Gretchen did, or better yet, just stay home. She had just finished cutting the second cake, when the musicians quit their discordant tuning and a polka was announced. Lucas appeared at her side.
“Do you know how to polka?” At her nod, he took her hand and swung her out onto the dance floor to join the others whirling to the music. The movements were too fast to talk much, but the joy of the music made her smile and finally laugh. She kicked her heels high.
“That’s my girl,” Lucas said in her ear at the finish. He stayed beside her as the music started again, but Arnett tapped his shoulder and swung her away into a waltz.
“You dance mighty good,” Arnett said.
“My father taught me. He and my mother loved to dance, but when they did the waltz, all the world stopped to watch them.”
“Well, missy, you have their grace, then. You make an old man look good.”
She saw Lucas dancing with Gretchen and Ransom with his mother. All ages were on the floor. She watched a father dancing with his daughter, the child young enough to stand on the tops of his shoes as he danced them both around. A mother held her little son in her arms, and they twirled around the room, the little guy giggling and making those around him laugh too. When that dance finished, the announcer called for a square dance, and Cassie went to get a drink of punch.
Lucas found her. “Do you know how to square dance?”
“Sort of. But I’m not very good at it.”
“Come on, the caller will tell you what to do.” He hustled her back out onto the dance floor, where they joined three other couples to form a square. “Cassie says she’s not used to this, so we’ll all have to make sure she goes the right way.” The others laughed and greeted her.
The caller looked very familiar. Who was he? She realized it was Edgar McDougal, the sheriff. His booming voice rang out with a lilt.
But she immediately forgot about the caller, because keeping up took all her concentration. The allemande left, with which the dance began, was especially vexing. A couple of times one of the men would grab her and guide her into the next step. At the end she wanted nothing more than to simply sit down, for a minute at least.
“You did just fine, Miss Cassie,” one of the men said. “You can dance in our square anytime.”
That stranger’s kind words pleased her more than she would have guessed.
She plopped onto a chair along the wall and just watched. Young and old, good dancers and poor dancers, hefty men and dainty girls, they all danced as if they were the greatest dancers in the world. No, that was not quite it. They were dancing as if making an error did not matter. That was it. Mistakes didn’t matter. Is that what life is all about? Do your best, ignore the mistakes, and move on? Might that make a marriage of friends turn into a lifetime of love for two people?
The music paused and Sheriff McDougal announced another waltz. Ransom appeared in front of her and extended his hand. “I won’t let Arnett steal you this time.” She smiled as he led her out onto the floor. Arnett had led well, but Ransom was even finer.
The piece had scarcely begun when she noticed Ransom looking at something off to the side. She followed his gaze to see Lucas talking with Betsy Hudson. They moved beyond other dancers, and she lost sight of them. Now why had he done that?
“Everyone dances with everyone at these shindigs,” Ransom said when the music stopped. “He was most likely just being polite.” He’d not said a word the entire dance, but Cassie remembered his mother claiming that Ransom didn’t like taking part in social chatter. He was uncomfortable with idle talk. Keeping silent hadn’t been hard for Cassie either, for she felt pretty much the same, but keeping her thoughts away from Lucas and Betsy was another matter.
Cassie nodded. “Thank you.” But when she looked up at Ransom, she saw that his jaw had that same hard look as when he and his brother went out to chop wood.
When the musicians called for a break, the women put the finishing touches to the tables and asked Pastor Brandenburg to say grace.
After the amen, Gretchen came to stand beside Cassie. “Do you want to eat with me and Jenna and some of the other girls? They have been wanting to meet you.”
Cassie nodded, forcing herself to ignore the feeling that Lucas should come to eat with her, but maybe things were different here. She’d been afraid he was going to announce their wedding in spite of her asking him not to, but he didn’t. So that was something to be grateful for. But still . . .
When Arnett and Ransom sat down across the table to eat with them too, she wondered again. But then maybe that was the way things were done out here. She put her thoughts aside, for now Mavis brought her plate over, and it became more like at home. Then all the girls began to bombard Cassie with questions.
“How long did you star in the Wild West Show?” “How old is your horse?” “Did you really raise a bull buffalo?” She added some stories of her show days, but when Gretchen told about her talking horse, that brought down the house. She’d not realized Gretchen was such a good storyteller, but at her description of Wind Dancer flipping Pastor Brandenburg’s hat off, they all laughed and giggled.
So when Reverend Brandenburg stopped at their group and said, “You might not want to believe all that you hear,” they all burst out laughing again.
“Will you do a show like that again so we can all come?” one of the girls asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Gretchen could have a party and—”
“Of course!” Mavis smiled broadly. “And you could all come. I think that could be arranged as soon as the snow is gone
and the land dries up some. The corrals are really slippery sloppy in the early spring. What a fine idea.” Mavis smiled at Cassie. “If it is all right with you, Cassie dear.”
“I would love to do that. And I know Wind Dancer would love to show off for young ladies. He has a special spot in his heart for girls, you know.” At Gretchen’s grin, Cassie leaned over and gave her a hug. “We’ll have fun for sure.”
When the music started again, Cassie looked around for Lucas, but she didn’t see him anywhere. She didn’t see Betsy either. One of the other men asked her to dance, a youngish fellow, and he apologized for his strangely red nose. He said it had gotten too cold when he was out driving stock in from pasture. He was a very good dancer, and she forgot about the twinges of disquiet deep inside her. When she finally saw Lucas again, he was dancing with his mother.
Sometime later, when the sheriff called out that this was the last waltz of the evening, Lucas stopped at her shoulder. “Will you dance this one with me?”
“Of course.” She turned into his arms, and they dipped and swayed with the others. “Is this a typical dance out here?”
“Pretty much, although Santa usually doesn’t visit.”
“Arnett was a good Santa.” Cassie looked at the tree in the corner, now bare of the gifts that had been under it. Every child in the place had received a wrapped present, along with an orange and a candy cane. The little ones were especially delighted and sucked on their candy canes for the rest of the evening.
The music ended and Cassie found herself wishing it would go longer. And to think she hadn’t wanted to come!
Everyone clapped their appreciation to the musicians. Then began the exodus for recovering wraps and finding their own kitchen things.
“This was such fun.”
Lucas laughed. “Haven’t you about danced your shoes out? You only missed one the whole evening.”
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