“What’s his name?”
“Well, his registered name is Diamond Danger. But I’m thinking of calling him Sparky. He’s a live wire, he is. If he turns out as good as I hope, I might keep him at stud here. Train him for cutting competition. Friend of mine would love to show him.”
“You don’t show any longer?” Ragni asked.
“Nope. Takes too much time away and costs an arm and a leg.” He turned back to watch the horses. “There are carrots in that refrigerator in the tackroom. Now that he’s done nursing, his mom’ll be glad for a treat.”
Erika trotted off.
“You’re making her day, you realize.” Mine too. “I’ve never been this close to a foal this young before either.”
“Good. Glad you could come. There’s nothing in this world as peaceful as watching a nursing foal in a big old barn.” He turned to look at her. “Something tells me you need some peace in your life.”
Whatever gave you that idea? She studied the man beside her, who had turned back to the horses as the mare came up to him and sniffed his hands. Slow moving, slow talking, easy on the eyes. She’d read that phrase somewhere, and it fit this man. Strong in the art of being neighborly. He’d come to call not long after they arrived. Was he typical of the people in this area or was he special?
“Here.” Erika carried several big carrots and made to hand them to him.
“You ever fed a horse carrots?”
“Yes, at camp.”
“Then you know to break them into smaller pieces and flat-palm them for her?”
“Yes.”
“Good. She’ll be your friend forever. You might give some to your aunt here too.” He reached up and rubbed the mare’s ears but all she cared about was the carrots. Her ears pricked forward and as soon as Erika held out a chunk, the mare lipped it right up. The crunch of her chewing sounded loud in the stillness. The colt lay sprawled, flat on his side in the straw over in the back corner.
“Fill your belly and sleep. What a life.” Paul nodded toward the baby.
Ragni took the pieces of carrot Erika had broken for her and held her hand out. The horse’s whiskers tickled as she took the treat.
“You sure are a beauty.” Ragni stroked the mare’s face, then palmed the next chunk when the mare nuzzled her hand.
“Should I get more?” Erika asked after she’d fed the last piece.
“No, let’s go and feed ourselves. She’s had enough.” He stepped back, brushing Ragni’s arm as he moved.
She caught her breath. No way, that’s the last thing I need right now, chemistry with a cowboy. But her arm stayed warm on the way back to the house, Paunch frisking at their heels, his raised muzzle inches from Paul’s hand.
One thing’s for sure, the man’s animals think he’s someone special. But then dogs were made to adore humans. She almost laughed thinking of a sign she’d read: “The dog thinks you are God. The cat knows she is.”
“I’ll fire up the grill for the steaks,” Paul said. “Potatoes are in the oven, and the salad is ready in the fridge. So are the drinks, if you want to help yourselves. There’s iced tea and sodas.”
Ragni looked over to see the table all set in front of a bank of windows that looked over a deck shaded by another of the cottonwood trees, this one a twin to the giant between the house and the barn.
Paul paused. “We could eat outside, if you’d rather.”
“This is beautiful. I’ll get the drinks; what do you want?” Ragni offered.
“Iced tea. Straight up. There’s sugar in the cupboard over there if you want.”
“Do you cook on that stove?” Erika nodded toward the cast-iron stove that gleamed against one wall. The chrome dueled with the black for the best shine.
“We could. My mother used to. Nothing beats beans baked in a wood stove, but I use the electric one. Easier and faster.”
“The one in the cabin, could it ever look like this one again?” Ragni studied the stove, even to the dial on the front of the oven door.
“Take a lot of scrubbing and scraping to get rid of the rust. Then you black and polish it. Could if you wanted to work that hard.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.” She knew her answer had a bit of a bite to it, but his statement rankled.
“I’ll start the grill.”
She watched him saunter out the French doors that opened onto the deck, then turned at Erika’s snort. “What?”
“Nothing.” Erika reached into the fridge and brought out a pitcher of iced tea. “You want this or a soda?”
“Tea.” Ragni leaned against the center island and stared out the windows. “What a view.”
“He’s not bad either.”
“Erika Bradford. What a thing to say.”
The girl giggled. “I’ll bet the glasses are over there.” She nodded to the cupboard behind Ragni’s back and set the pitcher on the butcher block top.
The kitchen looked to have been a recent addition, coming off the middle of the long log house in a T shape. Pine cabinets and terra cotta tiles on the counters fit in with the rustic logs of both the original house and the addition. But the wall of windows drew her as if there were no barrier between inside and out.
Paul beckoned them from the deck. “Bring the drinks out here, more comfortable.”
“You take his out, and I’ll fix the cheese and crackers.” Ragni took out a plate from the cupboard next to the glasses. Although she felt a bit uncomfortable pawing through someone else’s kitchen, it obviously didn’t bother Paul, so she ignored the twinge. She unwrapped the Havarti and Gouda cheeses, put them in the center of the plate, and arranged the crackers. In the silverware drawer she found a horn-handled small knife and added that.
Shame she didn’t have parsley or a bit of mint to add class. An herb garden flashed through her mind. She’d seen one set in a circle with a sundial in the middle and painted it—only in her painting, the sundial became a fountain with miniature roses around the pedestal. Forget it, Ragni, you have no time for painting here or anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to paint when you retire.
She carried the plate out to the round table and took one of the weathered wooden Adirondack chairs. “Sure smells good.”
“Nothing beats the steaks we raise right here.”
Erika’s eyes widened. “You mean one of those cows like we saw today?”
“Well, one of the steers. We don’t butcher the cows unless one won’t breed again—she’d be shipped to the auction. We butcher steers for our meat in the freezer.”
“You mean you actually eat them?” Voice and face matched in horror.
Ragni tried to keep from laughing, first at Paul, who stared at Erika as if she’d morphed into an alien right before his eyes, and then at Erika, who had drawn her body into the chair as if touching the floor might bring on contamination, let alone eating one of the cows—uh, steers.
Ragni had learned early on where her food came from; her father delighted in telling stories of growing up on a farm. They’d visited an uncle on the old family farm when Ragni was small, and she’d fed the calves and gathered eggs. But Erika was a true city child, and the farm had been sold long before she came along. She bought meat, milk, and eggs at the store—or rather, her mother did—without questioning where it all came from.
Paul turned the steaks over and closed the lid. Taking a seat at the table, he helped himself to the crackers and cheese. “Thanks for bringing these.”
“You’re welcome. There’s a loaf of French bread in there too. You want me to slice it?”
“In a minute.” He took a swig of tea. “Don’t usually have female company like this. Having you here is a treat.” He looked to Erika. “I was serious about playing with Sparky. When could you come?”
Erika glanced over at Ragni, her face and body one begging mass. “Tomorrow?”
So much for my helper.
“After we finish cleaning that kitchen,” Ragni interjected. “Then I’ll work on the stove while you go
play.”
“You could come too.” He smiled at her as he rose to go check on the meal.
“Thanks, we’ll see.”
Paul forked the steaks onto a serving platter and headed for the house. “Supper’s on.”
“You need to be polite,” Ragni whispered in Erika’s ear as they followed him.
“I will.”
Within minutes they had the rest of the meal on the table and took their places. Paul reached out with both hands. “I’ll say grace.”
Ragni barely hesitated before placing her hand in his and reaching for Erika’s. Why did he have to be one of those hand-holding grace people? Her palm felt on fire. If he felt the same, their hands might burst into flame. Concentrate on the words, woman, not the hands. The slight squeeze he gave her at the “amen,” made her swallow before looking up. Whew.
“Erika, I’d be honored if you’d try at least a few bites of steak.” His smile would be difficult to ignore. “I can cut one of these in half.”
Erika nodded. “Thank you. I just never thought… I mean…”
“And I’m so used to kids who grew up ranching, it never entered my mind you’d not know.”
Ragni passed the bowl of baked potatoes—baked in the oven, even. She’d gotten so used to baking potatoes in the microwave she’d forgotten about crispy skins and dry, mealy white insides.
“I didn’t think to ask how you like your steaks, either. Sorry. I try to get them with a bit of pink still in the center.” He passed the platter toward Erika. “Help yourself.”
Ragni stared at the size of the T-bone steaks. She didn’t know they came that big. And there were three of them. When Erika took one small piece Paul had cut, Ragni took the other piece.
“You sure?”
“Paul, I could never eat a steak that big. And this looks perfect, just the way I like mine.” She glanced up at Erika who was fixing her baked potato. Ragni used the salad tongs to fill her salad bowl and passed it on. “Everything looks so good.”
“Probably anything looks good after eating out of a cooler.”
“Sure beats the hot dogs we were going to have.”
Paul chuckled. “Pass the ranch dressing, please.”
“How many horses do you have?” Erika asked while handing it to him.
“Got about ten head. A hundred head of cows, couple hundred steers. Small spread. My dad had this place until he had a heart attack and decided to retire. I’d been ranching with him until then.” He cut into his steak. “Neither of my brothers wanted to stay here, so I took over the family ranch.”
“Do you have sisters?”
“One, she lives in Dickinson. Her husband owns a feed store there. They have a small spread outside of town.” He took a bite of steak and chewed with obvious appreciation. “We have a big do here on the Fourth of July. You’ll have to come—if you’re still here, that is.”
“We head home on the sixth.” Ragni took another bite of steak. “This is so good.” She noticed that Erika’s was nearly gone too. Good kid, I’m proud of you.
“How about if I bring the lawn mower over and knock down that grass for you?”
“That would be wonderful, especially since I didn’t get a weed whacker.”
“Safer that way. Snakes like cover.”
Erika paused and put her fork back down. “A snake wouldn’t burrow under the house, would it?”
“No, why?”
“‘Cause something dug a big hole under the ramp.”
“Really? I wonder what. I’ll look at that when I come by. Anything else you need?”
Erika, don’t say anything. If he thought it was dangerous, he’d come right away. Ragni breathed a sigh of relief when Erika shook her head. Where had that assurance come from? It wasn’t as if she knew the man well. But he would come immediately. There was something about him that said he’d do his best to make sure those around him were as safe and comfortable as he could make them. A fully armored knight on a white horse galloped through her mind, his banner of white with a blue cross on it fluttering in the breeze. Now, that was a surprise.
Ragni thought of the stepladder they had tied to the new luggage rack. Would it be high enough for her to get on the roof to throw off the dead branches and see if it needed repair? She drew the line at roofing. Fixing a window, fine. She’d gotten instructions on that, and she’d picked up the needed putty and brads. Cleaning, no problem, but not roofing.
“If that roof needs to be repaired, could you recommend someone I could hire?”
“That roof needs to be replaced and most likely new sheeting put down. Herb Benton in Medora might be able to fit you in. Easiest way would be to use metal roofing like I have on this place. Long as you keep a good roof on ’em, these old log houses can last forever. Roof goes and it’s not long before the rest does.”
“I see. Is he in the book? We’re staying at the motel tomorrow night, and I could call him then.”
“I’m sure he is. Look under Roofing or Construction. He does most anything.” Paul thought a moment. “Like I wrote your mother, I’d be glad to buy the land anytime you want to sell.”
Ragni glanced over at Erika, who shook her head slightly.
“Well, it’s not my decision to make. I’ll talk with Mom and see what she says. After all, it’s hers.” Why did the thought of selling the old place make her feel like she was losing something precious? She’d only been here two days. Get a grip, woman. It’s just an old dilapidated, ramshackle cabin.
“There it is.”
“That house up there?” Nilda stared across the flat river valley to see where Mr. Peterson pointed. From this distance as they came down the last grade, the house looked like it might sink into the ground at a loud clap of thunder. Long and low, half dark logs and half light, it fit her idea of cabin more than house. She’d seen pictures of cabins in books; before he’d added on to it, it must have been all one room.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills… The verse floated through her mind. The hills and buttes around the valley more than fulfilled the Scriptures. Surely God had brought her here, and here she would make the best of it. Please, Lord, let this become home.
When the wagon wheels bounced across more ruts, she felt as if her bones had been shaken to the point of turning to mush. Joseph Peterson had not uttered one word all the way from town. Miles across these hills and valleys were surely longer than miles on city streets.
The acid odor of urine rose from her sleeping daughter in waves. They’d not stopped at a necessary before their ride from town, and now Nilda needed one too. That must be what the small building was for. She laid her cheek against Eloise’s forehead. Warm. Was it just from the weather, or was she getting sick again? At least she’d weathered the long train ride.
“Is there a doctor in Medora?” She hated to break the silence with a question like that, but the enormity of the distance from what she called civilization nearly swamped her. What had she done?
Mr. Peterson shook his head. “Closest is Dickinson.”
But then what has the doctor ever been able to do for her that you haven’t learned how to do yourself? The question calmed her fear. That was true. She knew how to make a steam tent and if this weather was the usual, there would be plenty of sunshine. If she couldn’t buy the cough medicine, she would make her own. The doctor had given her a recipe, and she had bought laudanum to use in an emergency.
When they came out on level ground, she saw a house with barn and corrals off to the right. So they had neighbors, even though they weren’t close. Not that she’d ever had time to be a neighbor, but the thought brought comfort.
“Little Missouri River over there.” Joseph again extended his hand.
“Your house is near to the river.”
“Ja.”
“You have a garden?”
“Nei. But if you want one, we dig it.”
A garden. I’ve always wanted a garden. The first house where she had worked had flower gardens and kitchen g
ardens. Her mother always had a garden. Nilda’s memories were of planting seeds and waiting for the leaves to poke through the soil, of picking peas and digging carrots, eating sweet corn right from the garden without even cooking it. Could those things grow here?
“Where would I get seeds?”
“At the store in Medora.”
“Good.”
“Shoulda said something.”
“I didn’t think of it.” I don’t want to cause trouble, but what will we eat all winter if we don’t have potatoes and vegetables put by?
He waved his arm, indicating the fields off to their left. “We cut for hay.”
“I see.”
“Can you milk a cow?”
“I vill learn.” There came her accent again, and she sounded like her mother. Milk a cow! He never said I’d have to milk a cow. Her heart stuttered at the thought.
“I bought a cow for her.” He nodded to the sleeping child. “She needs milk. We have chickens.”
The enormity of what he said burst like a sunrise in her mind. He bought a cow so Eloise could have milk! He might be a man of fierce demeanor and few words, but the heart beating in that broad chest could recognize the needs of a frail little girl.
Nilda smiled at him. “Mange tusen takk”. Many, many thanks. Why did it sound friendlier in Norwegian?
As they drew nearer the cabin, she noticed the corrals and a squatty barn on the other side of it. The road rolled past, snaking on along the river and up the hill not half a mile away. Tall trees bordered sections of the river, but none shaded the cabin. Cattle lay in the shade of the trees; some stood, tails swishing against the flies.
He pulled the team to a halt near the one step stoop, wrapped the reins around the brake handle, and climbed down. Then he came around the wagon and held up his hands to take the child.
If she wakes in his arms, she will be terrified. But I can’t climb down over that wheel with her in my arms. What to do? “Come.”
With a sigh and a prayer, she handed him her daughter and nearly leaped out of the wagon. “Here, I’ll take her. Thank you.”
Eloise rubbed her eyes and leaned closer to her mother, one glimpse of the man making her whimper.
The Brushstroke Legacy Page 11