by Robin Moore
She saw that the McGrews were waiting for an answer.
"Oh, it was just the wind," she said. "I had a washing fire going outside and the wind just took it. Nothing anybody could have done about it. We did all we could."
John breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at the floor between his feet.
A few days later, Maggie got a visitor. It was Jake Logan. When he came into the room, he was shocked at how pale and thin Maggie seemed, but he didn't let it show in his face. He grinned broadly.
"Good to see ya, girl," he said.
"It's all gone, Jake," she said. "All of it—Franny's cabin, the land, the garden."
The old man shook his head sadly.
"I seed it all, girl. But no point dwellin' on what's gone. The question is, what will you do now?"
Maggie laughed sadly. "Only two choices, way I see it. I could stay on with the McGrews and be a bound-out girl again. I suppose they'd allow that. If the McGrews wouldn't take me in, I suppose someone would. I thought about rebuilding the cabin but the ground will be ruined for a few seasons and it's the busy time of year now, so there's no way we could throw a cabin up there before the fall. So that leaves one other choice. Did you hear about John's marriage proposal?"
Jake nodded. "The widda Brown fills me in on the gossip."
"Well, might be time I was married. We could have a new house here on these grounds, have my own place again."
Jake nodded. "The signs seems to point that way. McGrews ain't such bad folks. Although that young fella—what's his name?"
"John."
"Yeah, John, he'd be a real challenge as a husband, now wouldn't he?"
"I'd be marrying the family, not the man," Maggie said.
Jake nodded. "I suppose."
Then Maggie brightened. "So, what about you, Jake, just passing through or are you staying awhile?"
"Think I'll stay some. Permanent, maybe."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, you know, a man gets to be my age he gets tired of haulin' his bones all over the mountains. I believe this winter was the coldest one I ever spent up north. Man gets to feel like he should have something to call his own, you know. So the widda Brown, she's been talking about me taking up with her on her place down the creek. She's a good woman, in her own way. The signs seems to be pointing all in one direction for both of us, girl. It's taking a mate, somewheres along the way, just another part of life, you know."
Maggie nodded. "Maybe so, Jake."
After the old man left, Maggie felt very tired. She lay back and stared at the wooden beams overhead. John came in with a bucket of cool water.
"Wish that old man would stay clear of here," he said. "He gives me the creeps, he does. I brung you some water, Mag."
Maggie lifted her head a little. "Thanks." He held her head while she drank. Then she lay back again.
John sat in the chair and pulled it close to her bedside. "Maggie, you'll be up and around before long, and I think there's plans got to be made. I want to take care of you, Maggie. We all do. And I want us to set up a place here on the grounds and raise kids. All right, Maggie?"
Maggie lay silent. The pain of her burns seared through her.
"All right?" he asked again.
Maggie closed her eyes. "All right," she said. She sighed. She felt very tired.
The news of the coming wedding spread like wildfire. And McGrew was sparing no expense to make it the most grandiose occasion the valley had ever seen. For him, it was more than just the marriage of a nephew. To McGrew, it symbolized a new phase in the wilderness empire he planned to build under the name of McGrew.
McGrew's enthusiasm was infectious. All the month of May and right up until the June wedding, folks in the valley cooked and sewed and readied themselves for the occasion. Mrs. McWilliams and her daughters had even made a special dress for Maggie. McGrew had arranged for a circuit-riding preacher to come into the valley especially for the ceremony.
The morning of the wedding, Maggie put on her new dress and Annie took her down to the pond to fix her hair as she had the first day they'd met.
Maggie's burns had healed well now. She felt her strength returning. She felt as though her body was tingling all over.
"Maggie McGrew . . . Maggie McGrew," she said to herself. She kept saying it over and over. It sounded to her like she was talking about someone else. Even her reflection in the millpond seemed unfamiliar.
Before Annie brushed out her hair, she sat Maggie by the water and began signing to her.
"I've got a wedding present for you. Open it now so I can see your face. I wanted it to be special." Annie laid a small package, wrapped in canvas, on the ground between them. Maggie unwrapped it and looked at the treasured gift. She held it up in the morning light. It was a deerskin pouch, like the one she carried the spook yeast in.
"Your old one looked pretty worn," Annie signed, "so I thought you might want to start your new life with a new pouch."
Maggie smiled. "It means a lot. Thanks."
Just then the girls saw someone emerge from the trees on the other side of the pond. It was Jake. He came around to their side of the water quickly.
He made the greeting sign to Annie and nodded to Maggie. He was dressed in full buckskins, complete with hunting pouch and rifle.
"You look like you're going hunting today, Jake," Maggie said.
"That I am, girl."
"Thought you were coming to see me get married off."
"Can't stay for that," he shook his head. "Gotta move."
Maggie shook her head. "What do you mean?" "What I'm sayin', girl, is I'm afraid this is goodbye."
"But why?"
"Had a long talk last night with the widda Brown. She figured that preacher only comes through every now and then and that if he was gonna be here we oughta take this chance to get ourselves married in the eyes of God and all. And Maggie, the thing that scares me about it is that I want to do it.
"But girl, I knowed in my heart of hearts these bones still got some ramblin' left in 'em and I'm gonna light on outa here before I fergit that. The widda Brown's a good woman, but I don't know that I'd make a good husband. So I'm headed out west now. Sorry I can't stay for the weddin'. Jest wanted to come say my good-byes."
"But where will you be?" Maggie asked.
Jake nodded westward. "Somewheres out there, beyond them mountain ranges."
"That's where Franny is," Maggie said. The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"Wal, yes, it is," Jake said.
"Jake, if you see her—tell her about me, will you?" "Surely, girl, but I don't think the chances is too great—"
"Good God," Maggie exclaimed suddenly, "I wish I was going with you!"
"Now, girl, you don't mean that. This marriage thing may not be all that bad fer a young girl like you. Now you take an idee into your head like this, it could ruin a young girl's life."
"I know it, I know it," she said, "but it just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, I'm too young to get married."
Jake laughed. "So am I."
"Well, then. Will you take me with you out west so that I can find Franny?"
Jake smiled. "Girl, yer makin' a serious mistake."
Maggie smiled back. "So are you."
"Well, then," the old man said, "let's make 'er together. Franny will tan my hide when we find her and tell her about this."
Maggie laughed. "I think Franny'd do the same if she were in my shoes."
Jake nodded. "Yeah, girl, I s'pose she would. Well, we better scurry on outa here before they realize the bride is missin'."
Maggie turned to Annie. The younger girl had been reading their lips and was smiling too.
"Here, Annie. I want to give you something." She pulled her old pouch from inside her dress and pinched out half of the spook yeast, put it in the new pouch, and hung the pouch around Annie's neck.
"You'll keep the bread baking alive in this valley now, won't you
?"
Annie nodded, the tears coming up in her eyes.
Maggie smiled. "You know the bread-baking secrets, Annie, and you're the Bread Sister now."
The girls embraced for a long moment there by the millpond. Maggie thought about the first day she had met the girl, almost two years before.
Then she thought of the others: the McGrews, the McWilliamses, and the other families who had stood by her. It occurred to Maggie that even John, with all of his faults, didn't deserve to be deserted without at least a good-bye.
Maggie had an inspiration. Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a white handkerchief and spread it out on a flat rock that lay at her feet. She found a stick of charred wood on the ground where a fire had been.
Using the charred end of the stick, she knelt and neatly lettered a message onto the handkerchief:
folks:
you been kind to me—i dont mean any unkind-ness—i just had to go.
maggie
She tied the handkerchief to a nearby branch, where it was sure to be seen. It fluttered like a tiny flag in the wind.
Aloud she said, "Now, Annie, you'll have to stall them a little to give us time to get up over the mountain. Tell them you haven't seen me. That way they'll figure I just ran off and you won't be to blame, understand?"
Annie nodded. "Godspeed to you, Maggie. You, too, Jake." She made the signs with her quick hands.
"No matter what, don't tell them where I went," Maggie said.
Annie shook her head and began signing. "I won't say a word." She smiled broadly.
Jake took Maggie by the arm. "Let's move now. I think some folks are coming down this way." They ducked into the trees and were gone.
They climbed fast up the trail until they came to a place where they could stand and look out over the valley. Down below, they could see wagons, horseback riders, folks from all over, converging on the mill grounds.
Maggie could pick out the preacher in his dark coat and she could see John strutting, proud as a peacock, as people began to gather for the ceremony. And above it all, carrying up from the depths of the valley, she could hear McGrew's voice, rising theatrically above the crowd.
"Gather 'round, friends, gather 'round," he was saying, "and you will witness one of the most unforgettable spectacles this community has ever seen. ..."
Maggie turned to Jake, "You can say that again," she said.
Then they laughed, their hearts light as birds, and turned up the mountain trail, toward Franny and the wild westward country.
The End
About the Bread
The bread that Maggie Callahan and countless other frontier women baked was something we've come to call sourdough. Sourdough bread gets its name from the pungent yeasty smell given off by a well-aged sourdough starter, or "spook yeast," as Franny would call it.
Sourdough bread has a long and glorious history, dating back to ancient times. But this bread really came into its own on the American frontier. Pioneering families, far from the usual domestic comforts, wanted to bring along the goodness of home-baked bread.
Sourdough bread, in particular, became the choice of the frontier cook. Besides the fact that there are few things on earth equaling the downright delecta-bility of sourdough bread, hot and fragrant from the oven, there are some practical reasons for this choice.
In order to make truly good bread, some form of leavening or rising is necessary. Leavened bread is generally more tasty and rides easier in the stomach.
Today we rise most of our breads with dry packaged yeast, a modern-day version of the ancient sourdough. But in Maggie's day packaged yeast hadn't been invented yet.
One method available was baking soda, or "sody saleratus." But many cooks frowned on its use because folk belief had it that baking soda was harmful, causing sterility in those who used it. Today we know this isn't true, but it was a common notion then. A further drawback of baking soda was that it wasn't always available in remote wilderness communities such as Sinking Creek.
That left sourdough, or "spook yeast," as the most logical choice. It was simply made. All a frontier cook needed was flour and water to whip up a sourdough starter. Sourdough was transportable, stora-ble, durable, and cheap—tailor-made for the American frontier.
Sourdough is really nothing more than flour and water allowed to ferment in a warm place. Yeast spores from the air collect and begin to thrive in the water-flour mixture, converting the starch in the flour into sugar. The resulting fermentation creates a buildup of gases, which puff the loaf up to twice its size.
You can carry on the legacy of the Bread Sister today by baking your own sourdough bread at home.
Our family has tested and developed the following recipes, adapting them to modern-day kitchens.
Sourdough bakery starts with something called a "starter." This is the "sponge" or "spook yeast" that Maggie carried around her neck. It is from this starter that all sourdough loaves are born.
THE STARTER
To make the starter, place one cup of milk in a non-metal container. (A glass jar, a plastic bowl, or a ceramic crock works fine.) Allow milk to stand at room temperature for 24 hours. Stir in 1 cup flour. (White, unbleached flour is best.)
Leave uncovered in a warm place (80°F is ideal, but anywhere between 70° and 90°F is good) for two to five days, depending on how long it takes to begin souring and bubbling. Chillier temperatures slow down the growth of the yeast, while too much heat (over HOT) kills the "yeasties" outright. If the starter starts to dry out, stir in some tepid water. Once it has a good, sour smell and is full of bubbles, it is ready to use.
Always keep about one and one half cups of starter on hand. Each time you use a portion of the starter, replenish it with equal amounts of milk and flour. Cover and store in the refrigerator. It's best if you use the spook yeast at least once a week. If you don't plan to use it for two or three weeks, it's a good idea to spoon out about half, discard it, then replenish what remains with flour and milk. If you don't plan to do any baking for several weeks, you can freeze it. Since the low temperature slows down the growth of the yeasties, allow it to stand at room temperature for 24 hours before using again.
RECIPES
Now you're ready to begin baking. Here's a simple basic recipe, adapted for modern kitchens:
Ingredients:
1 package dehydrated yeast
One half cup lukewarm water
1 teaspoon sugar or honey
1 cup sourdough starter
6 cups all-purpose unsifted flour
1 teaspoon salt
One half teaspoon baking soda
1 egg or oil for glazing (optional)
Begin with all ingredients at room temperature. In a non-metal bowl, mix 1 package of yeast and 1/2 cup of lukewarm water. Stir in the sugar or honey until dissolved. Set aside for 10 minutes or until yeast becomes foamy. Add 1 cup sourdough starter.
Sift flour. Add 4 cups to yeast mixture, leaving 2 cups to be added later on. Stir in salt and baking soda. Mix with a nonmetal spoon. Turn the resulting dough into a large oiled bowl, cover it with a damp towel, and let it rise until doubled in size, about 2 hours.
Add 1 cup flour to the risen dough. Use the remaining cup to flour the kneading board. Knead well. The dough should feel elastic and satiny. Knead for about 10 minutes, until the dough can no longer absorb more flour.
Shape the loaves by forming the dough into round, plump circles. You can make one large loaf or two smaller ones. Set aside on a greased cookie sheet for the second rising. Cover with a damp towel. Let rise for two hours or until the dough doubles in size.
When the second rising is completed, use a sharp knife to score a cross on the top of each loaf. Decide which type of crust you'd prefer, tender or crusty. For tender crusts, brush the surfaces of the loaves with a beaten egg or oil. For crusty bread, place a pan filled with water in the oven with the bread, or simply brush the surface with water.
Bake at 375°F. For two loaves, bake
for 50 minutes. For one, bake between 60 and 70 minutes.
The loaves are done when they turn a medium brown and sound hollow when you tap them on the underside.
Enjoy!
TRADITIONAL RECIPE
Once you've mastered this recipe, you might want to try a more traditional, and more difficult, one, similar to the kind Maggie and Franny might have followed.
Note: This recipe requires about 18 hours.
Ingredients:
1 cup starter
6 cups all-purpose unsifted flour ½ cups warm water
2 teaspoons sugar, honey, or molasses 2 teaspoons salt
1 pinch baking soda
1 egg or oil for glazing (optional)
Begin with all ingredients at room temperature. In a nonmetal bowl, combine starter, flour, water, sugar (or honey or molasses), and salt. Mix with a non-metal spoon and set aside, uncovered, for 12 hours.
After first rising, add 1 cup flour and use the remaining cup to flour the kneading board. Add baking soda and knead well. Form into loaves and let rise on a greased cookie sheet for 4 hours.
When second rising is completed, prepare the loaves for the oven and bake them in the same fashion as in the first recipe.
This recipe requires more work but you’ll be rewarded with a finer bread. Enjoy it! You earned it!
Once you’ve become an old hand at these bread recipes, it will be a simple matter to start turning out biscuits, flapjacks, doughnuts, and cakes—all from your own perking sourdough pot.
FOLKLORE
Folklore also provides us with other uses for sourdough. Some took a spoonful of raw starter as a bacteria-fighting medicine. Others used the remarkable stuff to chink the spaces between the logs in their cabins or plug up holes in their shoes.
Shoe and house repairs aside, sourdough is great stuff. After you’ve tasted the joys of sourdough cookery, and after your kitchen has been filled with the heavenly smells of fresh-baked bread, you’ll understand why Jake would say: