"Linnea McConaughy," she replied, and then knowing she needed to add some identification as the other woman had, she added, "I'm the cook at the Double T. Will Tucker's ranch."
"You're the widow woman I heard was working for him?" Mavis asked with raised brows.
Linnea nodded.
"You aren't quite what I imagined."
"I don't think I was what he imagined either," she replied.
Mavis chuckled. Linnea liked her right off. "I don't suppose," she said. "You're so young to be a widow, dear, and a baby on the way, too? You poor thing!"
Mavis had a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks from the sun, and her hands were tanned, telling Linnea she did a good share of ranch work, unlike some of the other, more fancifully dressed ladies whose hands were soft and white.
Linnea wasn't good at guessing ages, but she would guess that the woman was ten years older than herself.
Well, I'm looking forward to whatever you brought," Mavis said and glanced at the tables.
"Nothing fancy," Linnea replied. "I cook for cowboys, and all they care about is quantity."
"I cook for our hands, too," Mavis replied with a knowing rise of one brow. "They get breakfast and a big meal at noon, then they're on their own for their supper. They take turns with that at the bunkhouse.
Gives us one meal a day with our family. So what did you bring?"
"Fried chicken and pickled eggs, coleslaw—that one—and spice cakes. Those." She pointed.
Mavis hurried over and broke off a piece of the cake with her fingers. She grinned at Linnea and bit into the dessert. "Mmm, the texture is perfect." She licked frosting from her fingers. "I love these shindigs, because I can eat someone else's cooking all day." With a little shrug she added, "And I do."
Linnea smiled at her friendly chatter and affable manner. She had expected to feel out of place and inadequate among the women, but the first one she'd met had put her at ease.
A boy of about eight or nine ran up to Mavis and, out of breath, said, "When are we gonna eat? Me'n Petey are hungry!"
"Won't be long now," Mavis told him, smoothing his wavy brown hair with a loving hand. "Mind you manners now and greet Mrs. McConaughy."
The boy turned wide hazel eyes toward Linnea. "How'd do, ma'am. I'm John Pruitt."
"Pleased to meet you, John."
He turned back to his mother. "Papa said for me to ask you where the quilts are that I'm to spread out."
"Still in the back of the wagon," she replied. "See that you don't drag the ends through the dust."
"Yes'm." He ran off.
Linnea admired Mavis's easy way with her son and his polite introduction indicated she'd coached him with his manners. Was she as smiling and friendly with her family as she was with Linnea? What a lucky husband and son she had.
Mavis turned back to the tables and soon had Linnea slicing the latest arrived cakes and pies. She introduced her to a few others, including Mrs. Carmichael, the mercantile owner's wife.
"What a delightful job you did making your dress," the woman said appreciatively. "I had to guess on the amount of the material. Will said you were on the smallish side, but you know men. I didn't want to short you on fabric."
"I had a little material left," she replied. "Enough for an apron or a bonnet, perhaps."
"Will was amusing," Mrs. Carmichael confided to Linnea and Mavis. "He didn't want to come right out and say you were carryin' a babe, so he said—'' the woman lowered her voice and frowned in imitation "—'she's a mite bigger around the middle than she'll be in a month or two.'"
Linnea could just hear Will describing her in that way. and she and Mavis giggled.
"Think everyone is here?" Mavis asked Mrs. Carmichael a few minutes later.
"Looks about right. Latecomers can always eat when they get here," she replied. "Let's call 'em."
Soon lines had formed on both sides of the tables. Uncertain what to do, Linnea went back to stand by Aggie, and Will approached, carrying saddle blankets. John Pruitt ran up to Will. "My mama says you're to come join us over there."
Will glanced to where the Pruitts had spread their "Thanks, son, we'll be pleased to eat with your
John ran back and Will carried Aggie's chair while Linnea assisted her over the uneven ground. They must have made quite a pair, Aggie with her cane and
Linnea waddling beside her. But the Pruitts had nothing but smiles at their ponderous approach.
"This is Piper," Will said, introducing Linnea and Aggie to the stocky, bearded man with round hazel eyes like his son's. "Mrs. Pruitt," Will said.
"Uh-uh, Mavis," she corrected.
Four children surrounded the couple, and Mavis proudly identified each one as Rachel, John, whom Linnea had already met but Aggie hadn't, Petey and Sarah. Rachel was the oldest and carried Sarah, the youngest, on her hip. Mavis took the little girl from Rachel and instructed her children on politely waiting their turns and not helping themselves to the last of anything on the tables.
Linnea followed the example set by Mavis's children, appreciating the instruction Mavis had unknowingly provided for her as well. It took quite a while to move through the lines, select food and settle themselves on the blankets. Linnea had prepared a plate for Aggie first, then gone back and filled her own, so she sat down after the others.
Will handed her a tin cup filled with lemonade.
"Thank you," she said in surprise.
Since the sun was high and hot, everyone kept their hats on throughout the meal, and Will studied her from beneath the brim of his. "Met a few people, did you?"
She nodded. He'd been right. She'd had no way of knowing, but it was good to meet other women.
"Linnea's spice cake would win a ribbon at the county fair," Mavis declared.
"It would if I was a judge," Piper agreed.
Linnea warmed under their praise for her baking.
"Can me'n Petey play mumblety-peg with the other boys after we eat?'' John asked his father.
"Use your common sense, John Robert," his father said. "Watch how you set up, so that the throwing circle is a safe distance from where all the boys stand."
He referred to the game where boys threw knives and tried to make the blade stick in the ground. Linnea had seen her brothers do it on many occasion.
"I remember," the boy replied earnestly.
"Does he have to pull the pegs out of the ground with his teeth?" Mavis asked.
"Not if he doesn't miss,'' Piper replied with a grin.
"I sat up and rocked him nights when he was cutting those teeth," she added.
"That's the way it's played," Piper said. "I pulled a good many pegs from the ground as a boy and I still have a charming smile. Don't I?" He gave her a wide smile.
Mavis couldn't help laughing at her husband.
"You might offer the ladies more lemonade before you hurry off, though," Piper said to his boys.
John and Petey immediately scrambled to their feet and hurried to take the women's cups and returned them filled with fresh drinks. "How 'bout you, Mr. Tucker?" Petey said to Will. He stood before Will, his expression solemn. "Can I get you some more, too?"
"Mine's beer, young fella, and I'd be much obliged for a refill."
Petey ran off with Will's cup and returned more slowly, concentrating on not spilling. "Here ya go, Mr. Tucker."
"Thanks, Pete." He accepted the cup and sat with his wrist propped on his knee. "You know, I suspect you and John will be prime ranch hands one of these days. Maybe when you're a little bigger, you'd be willing to help me cut hay in the fall."
"Sure thing," Petey replied proudly.
"Me, too," John offered.
The boys ran off to play.
Mavis wiped Sarah's chin with a napkin. The child was about two perhaps, with fine silky hair that hung to her shoulders.
"Shall I take Sarah with me?" Rachel asked, helping her mother pick up plates and cups.
"No, you run along and visit with your friends. It's time for S
arah to take a nap."
Rachel hugged her mother before turning away.
"I'll move a quilt into the shade for Sarah," Piper offered.
Mavis shooed him away by waving a napkin. "You go join the men. I'll take care of it."
"You heard her," Piper said to Will.
"Tell me where you're moving, and I'll take Aggie's chair," Will offered.
"That willow grove over there," Mavis replied "It'll be cooler than the tents."
Once the ladies and Sarah were settled, Will took his leave.
Linnea had never seen a family interact as the Pruitts did. They spoke respectfully to each other, and their love was obvious. The brief interaction she'd witnessed between the married couple spoke volumes. She tried to imagine how they'd met and man and as she glanced around at other couples and families, she wondered the same thing about them, too.
And seeing Mavis and Piper with their children, she knew none of them would be considered a waste of food and shoved out the door. It did her heart good to know there were children who were loved and appreciated. On the other hand, it hurt deeply to know, with growing hurt and anger, that she hadn't been one of them. She would love her child and make him or her feel loved.
She prayed she would be able to provide a home, clothing and food. As well as all the other unforeseen tilings needed. How would she know what a baby needed? Will had made her aware of flannels and gowns. If she had a son, what would she say if he wanted to play mumblety-peg?
"How do you know?" she asked Mavis. "How to do for your children? What do you do if they get sick, for example?"
"They're just little people," Mavis replied. She used a napkin to fan herself. "You love 'em, that you can't help, and you figure it out as you go. The good thing is they start out as babies, so they don't know if you're makin' a mistake." Her soft smile helped to ease Linnea's worries. "You should have seen me when Rachel was a baby. I was the youngest in my family, so I didn't know how to do for younger ones, not like Rachel does. Now, she'll make a good mother. I have to stop her from helpin' so much and see that she acts like a child sometimes."
"I was the youngest, too," Linnea said. She thought a few moments and then asked, "What about when Rachel was born?"
Mavis leaned over and patted Linnea's hand. "It's perfectly natural to worry some with the first one. Truth is, once the time comes, it all pretty much happens and you can't control any of it. But then I had my mother. My folks came west same time as we did. And of course there's always my Piper standin' by me. He's a good man."
"I can see that."
"Don't you worry, dear," Mavis said. "You send for me. I'll come."
"You would?"
"Well, sure, I will. Womenfolk got to slick together. Else, what would become of this world?"
Tears of relief smarted behind Linnea's eyes, and she gave Mavis a watery smile.
"When do you 'spect that baby's due?"
"I'm not certain. A few weeks probably."
"You're still carryin' pretty high, so that's probably a good guess. Baby'll drop down lower, once it's closer to your time."
"Lower? I'll be in the outhouse half the night!"
Mavis laughed. "Stop that nonsense and use the chamber pot, dear.''
Aggie had been silent through their entire conversation, but she piped in with, "Is it safe for her to hang the laundry with her arms over her head? My mother always said that wrapped the cord around the baby's neck."
Linnea gasped, but Mavis was quick to reply. "That's one of those old wives' tales that gets passed around," she assured her. "I didn't have any choice but to hang laundry and every other chore that needed doin' and my children all came out just fine."
After another half hour of conversation and Linnea asking a hundred questions, both Aggie and little Sarah napped.
"I'll sit here with her," Linnea told Mavis. "You can go visit with the other ladies if you like."
"You sure you don't mind?"
"Not at all. I might just lie down there beside her and rest my eyes."
"You're a gem," Mavis said and got to her feet.
After she'd gone, Linnea reclined on the soft quilt, glad to be off her feet and out of the hot sun. Studying the patterns of the willow leaves and the fluffy clouds in the vivid blue sky, her mind absorbed all that she'd learned and seen that day. She most appreciated the nurturing advice of another woman, and Mavis Pruitt was one of the kindest, warmest human beings she'd ever met. What would it have been like to have parents like the Pruitts? How would her life have been different?
Within minutes she slept, and when she woke it as to Will Tucker's husky whisper near her ear.
Chapter Seventeen
"Games are startin', Linnea," he said.
Her eyes fluttered open. Little Sarah no longer slept on the quilt beside her, and Will had knelt to wake Linnea. His breath on her cheek was warm and yeasty smelling.
She pushed upward to sit and discovered hips ached from lying on the ground. "Oh, my."
"What's the matter?" Will lowered his eyebrows with the question.
"Just stiff from lying here. I'll be all right in a few minutes."
"Let me help you."
Grateful for his assistance, she let him take her arm and steady her as she rose. "Oh, my," she said again.
"What?"
"I—um…I need to…"
He pointed to an outhouse a short distance away. A woman and two girls were walking away from it "There."
"Aggie, do you want to join me?" Linnea asked turning to discover the old woman watching then
"I want to, but it'd take me till midnight to walk that far," she grumbled.
Will turned from Linnea to his stepmother and leaned down. "Put your arm around my neck."
Effortlessly, he picked up Aggie and carried her toward the outhouse. Linnea fell in step behind him, thinking of the night of her arrival when he had carried her into the house and to her room while she slept. She couldn't help wondering what it was like to be held in those strong arms.
By the time the games started, he had left Aggie seated with a group of older women and escorted Linnea to the sidelines of the first event. Cimarron and Roy set up the folding stools, and invited Linnea to sit. Ben, Clem and Nash greeted her with nods and grins. Glad to see the familiar faces of the Double T hands, she took a seat among them. Will stood close by.
There were three-legged races and sack races, barrel races, a knife-throwing contest, which Roy and Cimarron entered, and even a spitting contest. Linnea refused to watch that one; neither did she want to know who had joined in.
When the arm-wrestling competition was an-nounced, Nash and Ben clapped Will on the back and pushed him forward, shouting, "The champ!"
"The boss won last year," Cimarron told her, "so he'll wrestle the final winner after the preliminaries."
Linnea watched with mild interest. The sport was friendly and the contestants good-natured. Only now and then did anyone grumble or throw down their hat in frustration. All the contestants were paired off. The winner from each pairing was matched with another, until only one remained.
That remaining competitor was a huge Swede, dressed in baggy trousers, a brown vest and cap, and Cimarron informed her that he ran the livery. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a thick neck and hands even larger than Will's.
He removed his hat and vest, as well as the front-laced shirt, revealing acres of bulky muscles. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Linnea recognized the show of intimidating brawn as part of the sport.
When he moved to sit at the small square table at the center of attention, Linnea noted that he didn't move as gracefully as Will.
A cheer rose from the crowd as Will stepped forward to take his place across from the Swede. He removed the white shirt Linnea had so carefully ironed, and one of the bystanders took it from him. He turned the chair backward and straddled it, his left hand on the wood, his right flexing. Sunshine glowed on his wide, muscled shoulders.
Realiz
ing she was openly admiring his unclothed back and shoulders, she glanced around in embarrassment, hoping no one had noticed her looking.
Will planted his elbow solidly on the table.
The Swede did the same.
Excitement buzzed through the crowd, and the tension was infectious. Linnea watched expectantly.
A silver-haired gentleman dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back circled the table, eyeing their positions and the arrangement of Will's arm.
"That's Enoch Brimley," Cimarron told her. "He's the officiator of the contests and the owner of the bank. There's a cash prize for this contest."
Glowering at his competition, Will waited until the other man raised his hand, then clasped it firmly.
A hush fell over the spectators.
The bank owner shouted, "Begin!" and the contest was underway.
The men stared daggers at one another. Knowing firsthand the full effect of Will's disturbing glare, Linnea suspected he held the advantage in that department. With her fingers laced against her lips, she watched the match with tingling anticipation.
It became apparent right away that this event would not be over in a matter of seconds as some of them had been. There was no wavering this way and that in the pose of their locked arms. Both men held fast with a show of strength that had the crowd leaning forward in awe.
Will's sledgehammer biceps bulged with the effort it took to give the other man no leeway. From her position, she could see even the contracting muscles in his back. Linnea held her breath and her heart fluttered nervously.
The liveryman's face contorted with the exertion.
Will's expression remained stoic.
Drops of perspiration broke out across the Swede's upper lip and rivulets ran down his temples.
Will showed no sign of strain, save the impressive bulge of muscles in his arm, shoulder and neck.
Minutes passed with no sign of change. Their arms trembled with strain, tendons stood out in their necks.
Linnea began to wonder how long the two men could hold the other in the same position without tiring. She found herself gripping Cimarron's arm and let go self-consciously.
The Tenderfoot Bride Page 14
