by Janette Oke
The chores took Lane a little longer than he had hoped, and he was concerned about the time as he hurried to the Davis farm, not even stopping for breakfast. He wondered if Clare and Arnie would be waiting or had already left for the woods without him.
He need not have worried, for the hour was still early and the Davis men were busy with the livestock when he arrived.
“Go on in an’ say mornin’ to Ma,” Arnie called to him. “I’ll be in shortly fer another cup of coffee an’ my lunch. Ya might even be able ta talk the womenfolk into a cup for yerself.”
Lunch, thought Lane, disgusted with himself. I never even thought ’bout fixin’ myself some lunch.
Ellie opened the door to his knock. Trim and attractive in a dress of blue gingham with white cuffs and collar, a stiffly starched apron tied around her, Ellie smiled when she saw him, and Lane could feel his heart thumping.
“Won’t ya come in?” she welcomed him. “The boys said thet ya had kindly offered to help git out the wood.”
Lane entered and flipped his hat onto a peg near the door.
“Ma’ll be right down,” said Ellie. “She just went up to git her knittin’. Care fer some coffee?”
“Thet’d be powerful nice, ma’am,” answered Lane, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.
Ellie wrinkled a pert nose at him. “An’ don’t call me ma’am,” she teased. “Ya make me feel like an old-maid schoolmarm.”
Lane grinned. “Well, ya sure don’t look like one,” he dared to say and quickly added “miss.”
“Ya needn’t say miss, either,” retorted Ellie.
At Lane’s raised eyebrows, Ellie said, “Just ‘Ellie’ will do.”
Lane nodded and Ellie indicated a chair at the table. Lane sat down and wondered what on earth to do with his hands. They seemed too big for his lap and too awkward for anything else. Ellie was no doubt too busy pouring a cup of coffee and selecting some morning muffins to notice.
“Those sure do look good, miss . . . Ellie,” he said as she set the fresh-baked pastries before him.
“Bet ya didn’t even stop fer a decent breakfast,” she chided. “I know how my brothers batch. They’d starve to death iffen someone didn’t look out fer ’em.” And so saying, Ellie went for her frying pan and some eggs and bacon.
Lane was hungry, but he sure didn’t want her to go to all the trouble. Still, he wasn’t quite sure how to stop her, so he just sat and watched her as she fixed the plate of food.
“There, now,” she said as she placed the plate before him. “Iffen yer kind enough to work for the Davises, the least thet we can do is to feed ya.” She reached for his cup to refill it but discovered he had not yet touched it.
“Ya don’t care fer coffee?” she asked him.
“Oh no. I do. I love coffee. Don’t know how I’d ever git by without it. Why, on the ranch—” Lane stumbled to a stop. “I was just too busy to start drinkin’,” he finished lamely.
“Busy?”
“Watchin’ ya,” he said softly. He could feel his face turn red at the boldness of it.
Ellie flushed, too, and turned back to the cupboards. “Best ya eat ’fore it gits cold,” she said, sounding a little flustered. “I’ve got some lunches to make.”
Lane busied himself with his plate and soon had cleaned up the bacon and eggs and finished the muffins. He crossed to the stove to refill his own cup. Ellie raised her eyes from her sandwiches. Lane took a sip and then lifted his cup to her.
“Thet’s good coffee,” he stated.
“Coffee’s always better when it’s hot,” she countered, and Lane knew she was teasing him.
Arnie came in then. He tossed his mittens in a corner and moved to the cupboard for a cup.
“Boy, but she’s cold out today! Gonna hafta really work to keep the blood circulatin’.”
Clare was just behind him. “Thought ya had yer love to keep ya warm,” he kidded.
Arnie colored.
“Ellie, got an extra cup of coffee there?” asked Clare.
“Help yerself,” Ellie responded. “Ya know where the cups are.”
He reached out and messed her hair. “Boy,” he said, “yer as sassy as ever. Got no one to keep ya in line since I moved outta the house. What ya need is a good boss—”
But Ellie did not let him finish.
“There,” she said, putting the last bundle into a small box. “There’s yer lunch. I put in enough fer the three of ya.”
Clare hurriedly downed a few swallows of coffee and then set aside the cup.
“I’m gonna run over and say good-bye to Kate. Meet ya at the barn,” he said to the men and was gone.
Marty entered the kitchen, her knitting basket on her arm.
“Oh, mornin’, Lane,” she said. “I didn’t know ya had arrived. Heard about yer kind offer to help the boys cut wood. Made Clark feel better. We need a lot of wood this year, and swingin’ an axe with just one good leg is a mighty hard job. ’Specially when things are all wet and slippery underfoot. With you helpin’ I’m hopin’ to be able to keep him at home.” She hesitated for a moment. “Did Ellie invite ya to stay fer supper?”
Lane flushed again.
“’Fraid I didn’t,” said Ellie. “I wasn’t thinkin’ thet far ahead.”
“Thank ya, ma’am,” Lane said to Marty. “But I don’t—”
“No problem,” Marty assured him. “Iffen yer gonna be helpin’ us out, the least we can do is to see thet yer proper fed.”
Lane reddened even more. “Miss Ellie already fixed me my breakfast,” he confessed, “an’ sent along lunch fer my noon meal. I think thet’d be quite enough.”
Marty laughed good-naturedly. “I’m glad she took care of ya. Now, ya just pop on in here an’ have ya some supper ’fore ya be headin’ fer home. We’ll have it ready when ya get in from the hills.”
Lane thought he should argue further, but he looked over at Ellie. It would be nice to see her just a bit more.
“Much obliged,” he said to Marty and moved to follow Arnie out the door.
Ellie had a bad day. Something about Lane upset her. She had never met a young man who affected her that way before. Every time she thought about the way he looked at her, her cheeks felt aglow. He seemed as though he was trying to read her very thoughts—to send her strange messages with no words. It troubled Ellie and excited her, too. Why did he have to come from so far away and upset her neat and orderly world? In a few months’ time, he would be heading back to the West, and what then? Would things fall back into the snug and familiar routine as though he had never been? Ellie was afraid not.
“He’s nice, isn’t he, dear?” Marty interrupted her swirling thoughts, and Ellie jumped.
“What?”
“Lane’s a nice boy. Willie is so lucky to have him. He’s been such a help on the ranch and in the church, too.
“An’ then he comes on out here an’ offers to go help cut wood—one of the hardest jobs there is. Sure takes a load off a’ me where yer father’s concerned.”
Ellie agreed with her mother without committing herself in any way.
“Wonder how long he’ll stay,” Marty mused. “S’pose he’s anxious to git on back, but they did say thet the LaHayes are gonna stay beyond Christmas, didn’t they?”
“Guess so,” murmured Ellie.
“Well, we should be real nice to him while he’s here. Don’t think he has a family of his own.”
Marty went on with her knitting, and Ellie continued her kitchen tasks.
“Would be nice iffen he could go to the social at church next week,” Marty speculated out loud. “Nice iffen he could meet some of our young people. Don’t s’pose he’s been in with fellas his own age fer ever so long. Some of those western cowboys can be a little rough. Would be nice fer him. Why don’t ya ask him, Ellie?”
“Me?” Ellie’s voice squeaked in astonishment at the very idea.
Marty’s head came up, surprise on her face.
“Oh, now look, Ma,
” said Ellie defensively, “I don’t go round askin’ fellas to take me—”
“Oh,” said Marty thoughtfully. “I wasn’t thinkin’ of it thet way. No, I guess ya don’t. Would sorta sound thet way, I s’pose. I was just thinkin’ of Lane as a friend of the family, thet’s all. I’ll have Arnie—”
“Arnie will be goin’ with Anne.”
“’Course.”
“Well,” said Marty, obviously not willing to give up on her idea, “I’ll think of somethin’. Wish Luke was gonna be home in time. He could take ’im.”
Marty busied herself counting stitches, and Ellie slipped a cake into the oven.
“Who ya goin’ with?” Marty asked suddenly, and Ellie shook her head, wondering why her mother hadn’t dropped the subject.
“Wasn’t sure thet I would be goin’,” answered Ellie honestly, thinking of the two boys who had asked her and not really wishing to go with either of them. She shrugged. “Not sure thet I want to,” she continued.
“But ya should,” encouraged Marty. “Ya need to git out more.”
Ellie was highly relieved when her mother let it go at that.
Supper was ready when the men came in from the woods. Lane knew he really should go directly home and care for the LaHaye chores before it got too dark, but he couldn’t resist spending a little more time in the same kitchen as Ellie. All day long he had thought of her. Her efficiency in the kitchen, her thoughtfulness in fixing his breakfast and sending along his lunch, her sparkling eyes and teasing smile. He couldn’t get her off his mind, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to.
She served the meal, and once, when she had to replenish the plate of biscuits, she had bent near him to reach the empty dish. Lane thought surely everyone at the table must have seen how it affected him. He looked around quickly, but in truth, no one seemed to have noticed. No one but Ellie perhaps, and she was not letting on.
Lane left long after he should have and much before he wished to. It was dark riding home and a cold night for being out. He still had chores to do and cows to milk. He hoped that nothing on the LaHaye farm had suffered because of his tardiness. He wouldn’t do it again, he told himself. He’d tell the Davises that he must go straight home from the wood cutting.
The next morning he was up even earlier than usual. He did the chores thoroughly and promised the milk cows that he would not keep them waiting that night.
He pushed the horse a little faster than normal on the way to the Davis’, though still careful not to ask too much of it. If anyone knew how to care for his horse, it was Lane.
Again Ellie met him at the door, and Lane was surprised when he entered the kitchen to see that there was a place set at the table. Ellie pointed to it and asked him to be seated. She then busied herself at the already hot grill on the big kitchen stove, frying up a plate of pancakes. The very fragrance of them made Lane’s mouth water.
She didn’t pour his coffee until she had placed the stack of pancakes before him.
“Ya weren’t gonna chance it gittin’ cold, huh?” Lane asked softly, teasing in his voice.
If his words surprised Ellie, she chose not to show it. “Eat yer breakfast,” she said in mock firmness, her words carrying with them an acknowledgment that she was aware of the strange undercurrent that existed between them.
Ellie went to make the lunches, and Marty soon joined them in the kitchen. They talked of the weather and the soon-approaching Christmas, and Marty extended an invitation to Lane to join them for Christmas Day, which he gratefully accepted.
Clark came in from the barn carrying a pail of fresh milk.
“How ya enjoyin’ bein’ a farmhand?” he joked with Lane. “Is it kinda nice to milk ’em rather’n brand ’em?”
Lane grinned. “Guess I’m ’bout the only cowboy who would ever admit he don’t mind milkin’ a cow.”
Clark laughed. “Well, I don’t mind admittin’ it none. I kinda enjoy it myself. Had me an idea, too,” Clark went on. “Since yer out there doin’ my work, how ’bout I do a little of yers?”
Lane looked puzzled.
“Well, iffen ya wouldn’t have to hurry on home fer the chores, you fellas could chop a few more trees. I thought I’d just ride on over and do up yer evenin’ work so’s you could stay on to supper here an’ not be worryin’ none ’bout the time thet ya git home.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—I was gonna tell ya thet I wouldn’t be stayin’ on fer supper. I’ll just go on home after we finish in the woods. It won’t be too late iffen I—”
“Nonsense,” said Clark. “Me, I’ve got all day here with very little to do. I can do up the chores here and still have plenty of time to do yers, too, ’fore it gets dark.”
“Oh, but I hate—”
“Won’t have it any other way. Not gonna let ya work in the woods all day an’ then go home to git yer own supper and do chores in the dark.”
Lane could tell there was no use in arguing. He wondered if Ellie was listening to the conversation and if she was, what she thought about it.
“’Preciate it,” Lane said and determined that he’d work doubly hard felling trees.
Thirteen
Marty Makes a Date
Supper that night was chicken and dumplings, and Lane thought he’d never tasted anything better. Ellie wore her hair pinned up, but tendrils floated loose about her face, and her cheeks were flushed from working over the stove. Arnie was anxious to eat and be off to see his Anne, and Clare had gone directly home to Kate.
After the meal, Ellie tried to shoo everyone into the family sitting room before the big fireplace. Clark and Marty were quick to respond. Lane went, too—rather reluctantly. He chatted with Clark for a few moments, more aware of the activity in the kitchen where Ellie was clearing away the table than in the responses he was attempting to make in the conversation.
When Marty started a new subject with Clark, Lane saw it as his opportunity and slipped back to the kitchen.
“Mind iffen I dry?” he asked quietly, and Ellie looked up in surprise.
“I’d think yer muscles would be tired enough after yer long day,” she stated.
“I’m thinkin’ thet it might take a different set of muscles to dry a few dishes.”
“Then I accept the offer,” Ellie said and smiled. Lane’s heart did a flip.
She handed him a towel and showed him where he could stack the dried dishes. She led in the conversation, keeping it light and sticking to general subjects.
They were finished all too soon. Lane hung up the towel.
“An’ how’s yer young pup?” he asked.
Ellie looked surprised and then must have remembered the first time Lane had visited the farm.
“He’s growin’ like a weed,” she said. “Pa has already given away two of the others.”
“But not yer favorite?”
“Not yet. But he will. We already have enough dogs. I know thet. Pa’s right. We can’t keep ’em all. We’d soon be overrun.”
She moved to stack dishes in the cupboard.
“It bother ya?” asked Lane.
“Guess it does.” Ellie’s smile looked a little forced. “But I’ll git used to it.”
“Anybody asked fer ’im yet?”
“I hide ’im,” Ellie admitted sheepishly. “Every time someone comes to look at ’em, I hide ’im.”
It was like the game of a little girl.
“An’ don’t ya tell,” she quickly admonished, and then they were laughing together.
“How long d’ya think ya can keep doin’ thet?” Lane asked when they were serious again.
“Till he’s the last one,” she said soberly. “Soon as the next one goes, I’m a goner.”
“They don’t have a dog at the LaHayes’,” Lane said quietly.
“So ya said. I can’t ’magine livin’ on a farm without a dog.”
“I’ve never had a dog of my own.”
“Never?” Ellie’s tone said she could scarcely believe that one could live without a dog
.
“Never!”
“Don’t ya like dogs?”
“Love ’em.” Lane handed Ellie another stack of dishes, and she placed them in the proper spot in the cupboard.
“’Specially took to thet little one of yourn out there. I been thinkin’, iffen ya have to give it up anyway, would ya mind if I took it?”
Ellie’s eyes widened. “Not . . . not iffen you’d like ’im.”
“I’d love ’im—I really would.”
“He’s an awfully good dog,” Ellie enthused. “He’s gonna be real smart—you can tell by the brightness of his eyes. An’ he’s from real good stock an—”
“Hey,” cut in Lane, “you don’t have to sell me on the pup. I’m already askin’ fer ’im.”
Ellie smiled. “When d’ya want ’im?” she asked.
“Well, I was wonderin’. With me gone all day, would it be too much to ask ya to keep ’im fer a while? I mean—till I’m done cuttin’ logs so’s I’ll be home with ’im. Seems a shame to take ’im from his ma an’ then not have any company fer ’im.”
Ellie’s grin widened. “I’ll tell Pa,” she said.
Lane turned to go back into the living room because all the dishes were done and there really didn’t seem like any good reason for him to stay around longer. Ellie stopped him midstride by calling his name. “Lane.”
He turned quickly, and she spoke softly. “Thank you,” she said.
Lane wondered just how late he dared stay without being an unwanted guest. Clark challenged him to a game of checkers, and Lane was surprised that he was able to play as well as he did with Ellie sitting across the room from him, hand stitching a baby blanket. Marty was working on a tiny sweater, but Lane was scarcely aware she was there until she suddenly spoke.
“The young people of the area are havin’ a little gatherin’ in the church next week,” she said. “Would ya be interested in goin’ an’ gettin’ acquainted, seein’ yer goin’ to be in our area fer a time?”
“It’d be nice,” Lane answered absently and moved a checker out of range of Clark’s.
