The Traherns #1

by Nancy Radke

  “Yes.” Why would that bring her back?

  “So I shot the grouse and boiled me some water, and took off the feathers, just like I do an old hen, and put in in a pot. It’s cooking right now. Should be ready for supper.”

  “Sure smells good,” said Joe.

  I sputtered. “I don’t—”

  “I started to make some dumplings, but that should wait until the grouse is cooked more. I’ll need to pull the meat off the bones, then finish with the dumplings. So I just made some biscuits to go with the beans for lunch. That and a little ham I threw in.”

  “You—” I looked at her and didn’t know what to say. “Thank you. But you can’t stay. It’s not right.”

  “Oh, I know. I’ll have lunch with you.”

  “Then you go.”

  “We’ll have to wait until Bear brings the cows back.”

  “Bear?”

  “When I got back with the grouse, I knew it would take some time to cook, so I sent Bear out with the cattle. They won’t be happy staying in that corral all day, without much to eat.”

  I didn’t even know the cattle were gone.

  “Bear will watch them until evening, then he’ll bring them back in. He was owned by a stockman before I got him.”

  “How did you get him?”

  “He was payment for a toddler, that father saved. It had fallen in a well. The parents got him out, but father brought him back to life. He’d stopped breathing. They lived close to us, or Dad wouldn’t have made it in time.”

  “So they gave you Bear?”

  “He was always over at our house anyway. The young couple didn’t have much money, so they gave us Bear. I don’t think they could afford to feed both him and a child, so we all came out ahead. He’s great for cutting out an animal that Dad has to work on.”

  “And herding cattle by himself.”

  “That too.”

  The men came in, saw her and cheered. “Good food!”

  They grabbed their plates and lined up to be fed. Sam dished up the beans and Joe handed them biscuits. I washed up and joined them. The biscuits and beans with the ham in it just hit the spot, and she’d done something to our pot of coffee to make it taste less bitter.

  “When Bear comes back with the cattle,” I said, “you’ll have to leave.”

  “Of course. As soon as I fix the chicken and dumplings for supper.”

  I left her with the dishes and went back outside with the men. They were casting sidelong glances at me.

  “That Sam, she can be a stubborn woman,” Mickey said.

  “Can’t stop her once she’s set her mind on something,” Pete added.

  “I’d rather have a stubborn woman than a flighty one any day. A stubborn woman won’t change her mind much, and once she decides you’re her man, she won’t leave you,” Joe added.

  “Wonder what she’s got her mind set on,” Alvin said. They all looked at me and grinned.

  “Back to work,” I told them. “We need to get the bunkhouse fixed and start on the barn. We’re burning daylight.”

  A log cabin goes up in no time at all. I’d found a big cedar log that I had split shingles off for my cabin. Joe had used some for his, and I sent him to make some more for the bunkhouse. He took Pete with him to help him saw off some rounds, thick enough to split off shingles. The rest of us put up the cabin and fixed the roof poles.

  It was all done except for the shingles when we went into the house.

  Sam had supper ready. Chicken dumplings and some fresh baked soda bread. The boys spread a little bit of salted grease on it, since we didn’t have butter. It was enough to make a body stand up and salute.

  “What was that,” I asked, bringing my train of thought back to what they were discussing.

  “Why Sam said there’s a beehive less than a mile away. In a hollow log. She found it when she went out to check on Bear. If we take some fire, and make a smoky fire next to it while those bees are asleep tonight, we could get us some honey to go on our biscuits. And our pancakes.”

  “You go,” I said. “If you get stung, you’re going to have to work anyway.”

  I watched Pete and Sam and Alvin put on extra layers of clothing, and a thin shirt under their hats for veils, then they all left.

  I stretched out before the fire, but couldn’t relax. What if Sam got stung, badly?

  I got up, walked three times around in a circle, then set off after them. They had built their fire by the time I got there and were waving hats to force the smoke into the bee tree. A few bees came out, but not many, and they used a small shovel to scoop out some of the honeycomb and drop it into a bucket.

  I went closer to watch. This looked like it was going to work. We could come back ever so often and get fresh honey.

  They put out the fire, carefully, so as not to start a forest fire, then carried the bucket home. I followed along, enjoying the moment. The men acted like young college kids out for a prank. I had to admit, it had been fun.

  That was, until I went to take my shirt off and found a bee in it. I’d gone too close without the right layers of clothing on, and got stung. I grabbed some soda, got it wet, and smoothed it over the sting. Stupid bee.

  I went out to check on Sam that night, to make sure she was settled into Joe’s house, and that Bear was with her. It was too late by now for her to go home tonight. “You can’t stay,” I said. “You need to leave tomorrow.”

  The next morning we had biscuits and honey, along with apple fritters for breakfast. That honey was some of the best I’d ever tasted

  “It’s the fireweed,” Sam said. “It gives it that special flavor.”

  “Where did you get the apples?” I had to ask.

  “Oh, I found an old apple tree alongside the road and was busy picking them when I saw the grouse. I just grabbed enough to make fritters. But there are plenty there. We could have some pies. And dry some apples for the winter.”

  “You’re going to have to leave,” I said. “You can’t stay here. It isn’t right.” I wanted the men to hear it too, so that they would stop encouraging her to stay.

  “Of course,” she said. “As soon as I make a chicken coop. Wouldn’t you fellows like some chicken and dumplings again?”

  They all nodded.

  “And eggs for breakfast? Fresh eggs every morning?”

  They all nodded again.

  It sounded awfully good to me, for I’d been cooking for myself for some time now, and couldn’t make a pie, or dumplings, or biscuits. I’d need to hire a man to come out and cook for us, I decided. One who didn’t have violet eyes that challenged me. And lips as red as the sunsets.

  “No coop,” I said.

  The men all looked at me like I’d killed Santa Clause.

  “Joe can build one,” I added.

  “Don’t know how, boss,” he said.

  I looked at the others, all shaking their heads.

  “Fresh eggs,” Samantha said.

  “All right, a coop,” I said. “Then you’re gone.”

  The men nodded happily and wisely left the room.

  “You can’t stay, you know,” I told her.

  “I know. How’s the bee sting?”

  “How did you know…?”

  “You keep scratching it. Did you put anything on it?”

  “Yes. Baking soda.”

  “Mud works fastest. Also the membrane off a chicken egg. If you had chickens. But soda is good. Put on some more so you stop scratching. Did you pull out the stinger?”

  “No.”

  “A bee leaves its stinger. It dies afterwards, but you need to pull out the stinger. It could get infected.”

  I pulled my shirt up and she looked at it.

  “It looks like you scratched the stinger out.” She made some more soda paste and put it on. “Watch it. You don’t want it to get infected.”

  “I will.”

  I left her to the dishes and went out to join the men. Two of them were putting up the shingles while the other was
splitting them.

  Joe walked up to me. “I think we should put the chicken coop over there,” he said, pointing to a spot where I was going to put the barn. “They can go into the barn in the winter if it gets real cold, nest in the hay. You need to fix it so no coyotes can get to them.”

  “You mean Sam will. Next thing she’ll want is a milk cow.”

  “Now that’s a good idea. Fresh butter. And cream in our coffee.”

  It did sound good.

  This time I spotted Sam as she sent Bear off with the cattle. She sure was a good-looking woman.

  Like Becky. I wished Becky were here. She’d be able to do all the things Sam did. I think.

  I watched Sam start the chicken coop. She used small willow branches and slender saplings, weaving them into a small hutch. She built a log base that she put up on legs, getting it off the ground. After a lunch of beans and more biscuits and honey, she built nests, like baskets, and put dry grass in them. “In the winter you can move it into the barn,” she told me.

  My parents had always had milk cows, with butter and cheese and cream. Now that I thought about it, I decided I’d get a milk cow, and put a milking area in the barn. It didn’t need to be very big. Just one cow should do my small crew. And it would give the cook I hired more to cook with.

  That evening Sam made five apple pies to go with our food. We ate three of them.

  “Good thing I cooked a few, or you wouldn’t have any for tomorrow,” she said.

  The next morning she finished the coop, adding a door we could shut the hens in with at night and a small ramp they could walk up, to get inside.

  I paid her for the days she’d worked. Then she got on her horse and rode away again. I hated to see her go, and I could tell the men did, too. She sure could take the sunshine with her.

  The bunkhouse was finished. I had brought a small stove out from town, and we put it up right in the middle, with a tin collar circling the smokestack to keep out the rain. We built the bunks around the walls, but each was close enough to the stove to get heat in the winter. There was a small table for the men to play cards, and some shelves and pegs for their clothes.

  Each man took a length of the small rope I’d got for the purpose, and wove themselves enough of a bottom on their bunk to hold a mattress stuffed with straw. They tossed their blankets on top and were all set up.

  We started the barn. Two hours later, Mickey was helping to lift a beam into place, when it slipped and knocked him flat. The others grabbed the log and lifted it off him. For a moment I thought he was dead, but then he opened his eyes and groaned.

  “My ribs.”

  They looked caved in. “Get the doctor,” I told Pete. “Take the blue, he’s our fastest horse.”

  Mickey tried to move. “Stay where you are,” I told him, worried that if he moved he would puncture a lung, if he hadn’t already. It was a good fifty miles to town. Under normal conditions I could do it in five hours. Five hours in and five hours back. I wished we had a telephone, but it was very expensive to run it out to rural homes, even when you got your neighbors to go in with you on a party line.

  “Boys, build a shelter for Mickey, to keep some of the sun off him. It’s going to be a long wait for the doctor.”

  They cut the top off some poles and used the narrow tops to form a teepee shape, set it over where he lay and then fastened some empty burlap grain sacks on it. He lay right where we were putting up the barn, so I told the men to go get some more poles we could use to make the walls, while we waited for the doctor.

  I gave him some water, trickling it into his mouth. I couldn’t tell how hurt he was, but I did know better than to move him.

  I heard a horse running in, and looked up. It was way too soon for the doctor.

  It was Sam. She pulled that horse into a sliding stop, jumped off, and hurried over to where I stood.

  “Pete is on his way to the doctor,” she said. “I’ve had experience with busted ribs, so came back to check on Mickey.” She walked over and knelt down beside him.

  Opening his shirt she felt of his rib cage. “Busted. Busted. This one might be cracked. Okay from here on up.” She stood up. “It looks like two badly busted ribs and a cracked one. We’ll need to strap the busted ones so they won’t poke his lungs. And he won’t be able to work until they heal. Also, I think he cracked both bones in his arm. I can’t tell, but they feel that way. He should avoid using it for a month. Give it time to heal.”

  “How can you tell he hasn’t already punctured his lungs?”

  “Listen to him breathe. It’s a normal sound. There’s no blood in his nose or mouth. What saved him was that you all had been digging here, leveling the ground. The soil was soft.”

  She looked at Mickey’s ribs. “I’ll bind those up, then you wait for the doctor to come check you over. You’re going to be mighty bruised, come tomorrow, and useless for a few weeks.”

  I helped hold him while she wrapped up his ribs, and put a light splint on his arm. Then we got him into the bunkhouse where he could lie down comfortable.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Glad to help. Just make sure he doesn’t try to work too soon. He’ll feel good, and want to get going, but heed the doctor’s advice. He’ll heal quicker in the long run.”

  She led her horse over to the water trough, which I’d hewn out of a large log, and let him drink. Then she checked her cinch.

  I realized she was getting ready to leave. "Aren't you going to stay and finish with Mickey?"

  "Not this time. The regular doctor can check him out. I expect he will be here shortly. If he can't, send for me. I'll come back.”

  “Wait. You should stay for lunch,” I said. “That’s a long way to town on an empty stomach.”

  She looked at me, her dark eyes flashing. “I’ve no need to eat. I make do on little.” She gave me a nod and swung into the saddle. Bear jumped up, ready to go.

  “What if the doctor doesn’t make it?” I asked, wanting her to stay.

  “Keep Mickey quiet. He’ll heal. And he’ll live. He just had all the stuffin’ knocked out of him.”

  She nudged her horse and rode away. I stood there wondering why I’d fired her. Was it for her, or for me? Or was it that I didn’t want anyone taking Becky’s place?

  I felt empty as I watched Sam ride away. I was now like the men. I wanted to keep her.

  The doctor came back with Pete the next day, explaining he had been on the far side of the valley, delivering a baby. He checked Mickey over, asked me why I’d sent for him, charged me ten dollars and left. He didn’t even remove the bandages Sam had put on.

  I wove Mickey’s bed for him, mainly to get him out of mine.

  “The barn’s next,” I told Joe.

  “We need to get those cattle moved further away. They’re eating all the grass close by.”

  “Yes, but with Mickey laid up, I hardly have enough hands to put up the barn, much less herd the cows.”

  “Bear could do it by himself. You need to get Sam back here. Why’d you let her leave?”

  “She got on her horse and rode away. Besides, I won’t have a single woman out here, bunking with the men.”

  “I’ll move into the bunk house.”

  “It still don’t look right.”

  “Then marry her. We need her.”

  I looked at Joe. “I hardly know her.”

  “That hasn’t stopped a lot of people from tying the knot. What more do you need to know? She doesn’t clobber you when you yell at her, she’s good with people and animals. And she cooks a mean batch of flapjacks. And apple pies. She’s got the respect of the whole valley and can doctor you up when you’re hurt. I’d grab her myself, but I’m too old. It’s you she looks at with those liquid eyes.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You don’t think she tried to stay here on my account, do you?”

  “It’s too soon. I’ve just lost Becky.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else.” />
  I stared at him. “I don’t want to forget Becky.”

  “A man with a passel of kids loves each one. He doesn’t not love the others, just because he loves the first one born. Nor does he forget one he’s lost. Love grows, Barnabas. Sam won’t ever take Becky’s place in your heart, she’ll just build herself a place of her own.”

  “What makes you the expert?”

  “I lost three wives. The first one soon after we were married. The second one in childbirth. And the third to Cholera. I had a small ranch of my own, but after I lost my third wife, I drifted. I had no children. No one to build for. Ended up here.”

  “You never told me any of this.”

  “You never asked. But that gal isn’t going to stay single very long.”

  I thought about it all night and into the next morning. I could get out the buckboard and drive Mickey back to his home in town, if he had one. Then I’d go courting.

  Maybe.

  I looked at what I was building. I had built the house for Becky. I had put in a loft, so our kids could have a warm place to sleep.

  Now I was without her. No chance for kids unless I took a different wife. I’d end up lonely like Joe.

  After breakfast, I walked in to where Mickey rested in the bunkhouse.

  “Do you have any family in the valley? Anywhere you’d like to go while you get well?”

  “Not really. Just living in a boarding house, boss. This is a lot better than there.”

  “You stay here, then. Tell Joe I’m going to town for more supplies.”

  I hitched the team to the buckboard and drove to town. The closer I got, the more I wanted to see Sam.

  I didn’t know where she lived, but the storekeeper knew. I pulled up, hopped down, and walked inside.

  Old Wylie Gunther looked up from dusting a shelf, and smiled.

  “Hello, Barnabas. Needing something?”

  “Yes. I need more flour. And bandages. Butter. Here’s my list.”

  “Heard Mickey got hurt. Good thing Sam was there to wrap him up. Doc said he couldn’t have done better.”

  “Why did you send a woman out to my place, Wylie? You knew there were just men there. You trying to ruin her reputation?”

  “Couldn’t ruin it. She’s gold. Had suitors lined up for years and sent them all away.”