One Snowy Night

by Patience Griffin

  When they walked outside, she glanced around. “No limo?” she joked.

  “Not where we’re going, princess,” Jesse replied without a hint of humor. “Four-wheel drive will work better.”

  A dark cloud settled over Victoria. And so my year of misery has begun. Yippee.

  * * *

  • • •

  “CHEER UP.” JESSE felt sorry for Victoria. She clearly didn’t belong in the wilds of Alaska; she looked more suited for the concrete jungle of New York, L.A., or some other big city. He’d bet his hard-earned money that she wouldn’t make it a week in the little cabin outside Sweet Home.

  Victoria straightened her shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes, which was a little unnerving since her eyes were a vivid green. “I’m fine,” she declared.

  “Wonderful. I just hope you have some good utility clothes in these suitcases.” He glanced at her cute black dress, tights, and silly short boots one more time. When they arrived at the homestead, she should soak her sophisticated clothing in kerosene, light a match, and incinerate them to a crisp in the burn barrel. “What you’re wearing isn’t going to work for homesteading.”

  “McKenna packed some of her jeans and a couple of chambray shirts in my suitcase.”

  “Good. Would you like to stop at Walmart on our way out of Anchorage, just in case? If not, the hardware store in Sweet Home might have your size.”

  She huffed. “No, thanks. Neiman Marcus is more my style.”

  “Then you’re out of luck.” For his peace of mind, he hoped the other clothes in her suitcase didn’t hug her body the way this dress outlined her curves.

  He pointed to his new red Ford F-150. He glanced over at Tori, but she didn’t seem keen to climb up into the cab. “Meet Ruby.”

  “Hm?” she answered distractedly.

  “My truck. Her name is Ruby.” He opened Tori’s door and pointed out the running board. “Use the step to climb up.” She was tiny enough for him to lift her into the cab, and for a second he wondered if he shouldn’t speed up the process with a boost. She was probably hesitant because her dress was so short. He looked away as she maneuvered her way up and inside.

  He went to the driver’s side and climbed in, trying to put himself in her place. Displaced. Piney had recommended Jesse for the job, and he appreciated it. But he hadn’t known, until he’d talked to Luke, what his new employer—Montgomery St. James—was up to. Jesse actually felt bad for both Tori and McKenna. And he was worried for himself. This was going to be one tough job. Maybe he should ask the old man for a raise now!

  He put the vehicle in gear and drove out of the parking lot, deciding to give Tori the three-cent tour before taking her to the boonies. “Hey, look at that.” He pointed to the moose in a crop of trees as they left the airport. “I bet you don’t see that in Texas.”

  Her mouth formed into a surprised O, making him glad that he’d taken this route. She was more suited to delight than sadness. He began a running commentary on the highlights of Anchorage, starting with a drive by Lake Hood as two seaplanes took off. She looked at everything with interest, and he was glad to see her so animated.

  “I’ve been working on your homestead this past week,” he told her. Trying to make it livable. “The old place has been empty for as long as I can remember.” But he was proud of the headway he’d made and wished he’d taken before pictures. “I had Piney, the owner of the Hungry Bear, stock your shelves with some staples.”

  She gaped as if he were speaking a foreign language. “Oh, I don’t cook,” she finally said. “I usually order in or eat out.”

  He was definitely in over his head. “You do know what a homesteader does, don’t you?”

  She gave him her stubborn stone-face. Was it really up to him to make her understand?

  He sighed but continued anyway. “Homesteaders live off the land. Grow their own food in the garden and either hunt for meat or raise cattle, goats, and chickens. Then they preserve their food for when it’s not in season. As a homesteader, you don’t necessarily earn money; your job is to keep you and your family alive. That’s it.” He glanced over at her astonished face. “So you see, eating out or ordering in isn’t part of the deal.”

  She was frowning now, and looked like she might be about to cry.

  “Your uncle’s homestead is eight miles outside Sweet Home, so it’s not conducive to eating out at the diner every day anyway.” Especially since she wouldn’t have a vehicle, but he decided not to mention that tidbit. “You really don’t know how to cook?”

  “I know how to work the coffeemaker, if that counts as cooking,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

  What could he say to that? He went silent then, deciding to not explain anything more. Soon enough, she’d see what she was up against.

  * * *

  • • •

  VICTORIA SHOVED JESSE’S comments aside and enjoyed the scenery. Everywhere she looked, there seemed to be mountains. She’d traveled plenty, though mostly to warm climates with beaches and lots of parties. But this view was breathtaking, and she could see why people might want to live in Alaska.

  They drove for several hours, going through many small towns until finally they passed the city limits sign for Sweet Home, population 573.

  “Sweet Home has the basics,” Jesse said. “As I mentioned, it has the Hungry Bear. And here’s the newly reopened A Stone’s Throw Hardware and Haberdashery, where you can find just about anything you’ll need . . . like sturdy clothing. At each end of the town, we have our churches—Baptist and Catholic. The schools sit behind the old medical clinic, which is shut down now. The bank is over there, but it closed for good last month.”

  By the time he finished saying these words, they had passed through Sweet Home and were looking at the wilderness again. Who in their right mind would want to live in such a tiny village? But she kept the sentiment to herself, especially since he seemed proud of his small town.

  After a few minutes, Jesse made a right turn down a gravel road, and after another mile, he turned again and pulled between two trees, drove another two hundred yards over grass, and then stopped the vehicle.

  “Well, we’re here,” Jesse said cheerily.

  Victoria’s stomach dropped. The log cabin looked smaller than the walk-in closet at her condo. If you could call it a cabin; it was as ratty as a shack. “You can’t expect me to live here!” she cried in a high-pitched voice.

  His pitying look really ticked her off. “It’s not that bad. Don’t worry. My job is to teach you everything you need to know about homesteading.”

  He got out and went to the back to retrieve her luggage while she sat there trying to absorb this fresh hell her uncle had banished her to. Jesse came to her side of the truck and opened the door. He might as well have dragged her out of the vehicle, for the look he was giving her.

  He must’ve seen her gaze go to two buckets of water sitting by the front door. “I brought those from the spring this morning so you wouldn’t have to schlep them yourself your first day here. Firewood is by the stove, too, so you’ll be warm tonight.” He set the luggage down on the porch and opened the door.

  Toto, we’re not in Dallas anymore.

  Victoria felt like she was having an out-of-body experience but managed to say, “Water? Firewood?” She’d never given a faucet a second thought, but apparently here in Nowheresville, Alaska, running water was a luxury. And warmth? She’d been wearing shorts since early March, but with the temperature dropping, April here in Alaska felt like it could start snowing any second.

  He held the door wide, and she walked into the eighteenth century, and not some English ballroom either. This place was Daniel Boone’s cabin. There was no refrigerator, no cooktop, only two shelves with an iron skillet, a Dutch oven like she’d seen in Julie and Julia, and cans of food from this person Piney he’d mentioned. And wasn’t Piney a strange
name?

  She spun on him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She was in shock. “If I could cook, there’s no place to even do it.”

  He set her luggage by the bed and put his hands up defensively. “You’ll use the woodstove.”

  That must be the cast-iron contraption in the corner.

  He continued. “There’s a small oven area and two burners on top. It should be plenty for you.”

  She choked back a sob. What a nightmare! “Uncle Monty can’t expect me to live here. You have to take me back to Anchorage. To McKenna!” Now!

  His face fell into a frown, as if he were concerned she might start wailing. Which she was trying really hard not to do.

  “Let’s get you settled in. I’ll show you how to get a fire going.” He pulled the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her.

  She hadn’t realized she was shaking. She grabbed the edges and tightened them around her neck, burying her chin into the cotton blanket, seeking comfort. But this homestead had none.

  Jesse went into action over at the woodstove, crumpling newspaper and shoving it inside. “You’ll be an old pro at making a fire in no time. I’m using newspaper for tinder, but I’ll show you how to find good tinder in the woods so you can make a fire by yourself anywhere.” He pulled open a coffee can, retrieved a matchstick, and struck the match, lighting the paper in the bottom of the stove. “Next, you’ll set a little kindling on the fire.” He blew on the paper and twigs until the larger bit of wood caught fire.

  “I hope there’s a smoke detector,” she said to herself, wondering just how safe it was to have a fire going when the place was made of logs!

  “I’ll let that sit for a second, then I’ll set one of your logs on there.” He pointed to the stack of wood.

  And how sanitary was it to have part of the forest in your house? What about bugs? Spiders? And other creepy crawlers?

  She was paralyzed. He was acting like she was really going to stay.

  He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I promise it’s going to be all right.”

  Maybe, she couldn’t help thinking, if you’d take me in your arms and give me a mountain man hug! But his body language said she was screwed.

  She didn’t have faith that she could survive here ten minutes by herself, but his lack of faith in her was making her mad—mad enough that she decided she’d have to prove him wrong! “Where’s the restroom? I want to freshen up.” She scanned the room for a second door but didn’t see one.

  He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward the door. “The outhouse is east of the cabin.”

  She was horrified but managed to square her shoulders. “Thank you.” She walked toward the door, but his words stopped her.

  “Keep an eye out for moose, wolves, and you gotta know this is bear country, too.”

  She sucked in a breath and spun around to see if he was kidding.

  “Just be careful,” he said. He might as well have said, Have you had enough?

  She gripped her hefty Louis Vuitton handbag, deciding it would make a good weapon, if it came to that. “I’ll be back shortly.” She marched out the door, her eyes darting this way and that, making sure some grizzly wasn’t ready to pounce.

  Once she was off the porch, she wanted to make a run for the outhouse, but first she turned back to make sure Jesse wasn’t looking. But he was, standing there in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. She gave a little wave and then proceeded toward the toilet, forcing herself to walk with slow, even steps. But then something occurred to her and she turned back around.

  “If there’s no running water in the cabin, how am I supposed to take a shower?”

  Jesse shrugged like it was no big deal. “There’s a basin under your bed. You’ll get water from the spring or the river and wash up that way.”

  She glanced down at her long hair, holding some up for him to see. “How am I supposed to wash this in a basin?”

  “Oh,” he said, as if only just noticing she had blond curly locks almost to her waist. “There is an option.”

  “I’m not cutting my hair!” Victoria said. Her hair was her best feature.

  “You don’t have to. Piney rents out showers at the Hungry Bear to homesteaders and truckers. I’ll take you into town once a week, if you like.”

  “This just gets better and better,” she groaned. Was this part of Uncle Monty’s plan? Did he want her to reek like an animal by the time she got her weekly shower?

  She stomped the rest of the way to the outhouse, not caring in the least if some wildlife did surprise her on the way there. Maybe it would put her out of her misery.

  About the Author

  Patience Griffin is the award-winning author of the Kilts and Quilts series of contemporary romances. She grew up in a small town along the Mississippi River, enjoying life in a close-knit community. She loves to quilt and has gained national recognition with her September 11 Story Quilt, which has toured the country as the property of the Pentagon, and her extensive collection of commercially available quilting fabrics.

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