by Danni Roan
Fiona was taller than she or Issy, who only stood five foot five, and had the curliest hair she’d ever seen. Her dark chestnut locks were already straining at the pins that held them in place, and the golden highlights around her face were spilling across her cheeks.
“Just fried potatoes, with macaroni and tomato. It’s entirely too hot to cook much more.”
Lexi smiled, knowing that not all the heat Fiona felt came from the sun. “I’ll get the pasta from the pantry,” she offered, walking to the tall many-doored cupboards that took up the whole side wall of the kitchen, and pulling down a large crock full of the tube-like noodles her grandmother made by hand and dried for convenience.
In only a few minutes all three girls were busy preparing the simple, but filling meal.
“Do you ever wonder if everyone eats the same food we do?” Isabella asked as she continued peeling potatoes and cutting them in to small cubes before dropping them into a pot of cold water to rinse.
“From what Hank says about living in Chicago, I’m sure some people eat the same things we do. Our country is a unique blending of many different cultures,” Fiona replied.
“So is our family,” Lexi chimed in with a grin.
“Oh, girls!” Nona exclaimed as she stepped out of the door in the far corner of the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’ve already started.” She walked up to each of the young women, offering her cheek for a customary kiss.
“How’s Mae?” Issy asked, watching her grandmother for any signs of worry.
Nona scowled. “She will be fine, but she is skinned up pretty good. I’m afraid one cut by her eye might scar.”
“What happened to Mae?” Fiona asked as she began scooping pasta into a pot of boiling water.
She winced as her grandmother threw up her hands and began to explain in rapid Italian.
Issy slipped in close to her older sister, offering a whispered explanation while they waited for her grandmother to wind down.
“Well as long as she’ll be alright,” Fiona whispered once her sister had explained. “Nona, where is Mae anyway?” she asked in a louder voice.
“She’s with Chen Lou. That man spoils her, you know.” She sighed heavily, then turned to look at the girls around her. “I guess I can’t blame him, though, since she’s all he has left of his daughter.”
All three girls walked over and kissed their grandmother’s smooth cheek once more, understanding how she felt about each of them.
The sound of horses trotting into the yard drew their attention, and Fiona moved toward the front door. “It’s Eric, and he’s leading Callie for some reason.” She called back along the hallway.
The others joined her at the door and watched as the young boy climbed down from his small ridge-backed, blue roan mule. The pretty tan and white calico pony trotting at his heels was truly as beautiful as the mule was ugly.
“She ran off when Mae fell, and none of us worried because she always comes back. She must have wandered over to the new house.” Isabella grinned at her older sister. “Guess that means Hank will be here soon.” She laughed as her sister’s face flushed, but wrapped an arm around Fiona’s growing waistline before returning to the kitchen and their cooking.
“Issy, Lexi, will you carry the hot water out for the tubs so that the men can wash up when they get back?” Nona asked as they placed the potatoes in two large skillets to fry.
Together the girl picked up the buckets that were simmering on the back of the stove before walking out onto the back porch and out toward the south side of the house.
They’d no sooner carried the steaming buckets down the stairs when Billy and the two new hands could be seen leaving the bunk house.
Taylor looked up from where he’d been scratching Molly’s ears to see the twins step from the house. Each young woman carried a bucket of water and were headed around the south side of the building. Catching his brother’s eye, he quick-stepped it to the girls and politely took the buckets from them.
“Where are these going?” Taylor asked, smiling at the pert young lady in the sun yellow dress.
“Just here in the big wash tubs,” Isabella said smiling back.
He poured one bucket of water into each tub then looked at the girls for direction.
“If you go into the bath house you can fill them again from the pump,” the girl in yellow said, pointing toward the small building at the back of the house.
Reg, not wishing to be shown up, offered his assistance as the old timer, Billy, chortled.
Together, Issy and Lexi led the two newcomers to the small building that sat perpendicular to the house, pushing the door open for them so that they could reach the pump set just a few steps inside and to the right of the door.
The two young men stepped briskly into the wooden structure, both coming to a sudden stop just inside the door. The building was low and snug, with small windows high up in the walls to allow in natural light. Three large copper tubs sat on the hard, wooden plank floor in an evenly spaced line, and a round pot-bellied stove set against the wall on the far side.
Taylor looked at the room, then back at his brother, then back at the room.
Isabella giggled. “We get that reaction a lot,” she said cheerfully. "I guess most ranches don't have a proper bath house, but it comes in handy for loads of other things as well. In the winter we tend to do the laundry in here." She wrinkled her nose, indicating that was not her favorite chore.
“The pumps right there,” Lexi spoke up, pointing toward the pump that rose out of the floor in a bed of river rock that let excess water drain away.
Reg felt his ears warm again. “Thank your ma’am,” he said, recovering from his shock and walking to the pump to fill his bucket. “Come on Taylor, we don’t want to keep these young ladies waiting now.”
A few minutes later the tubs on a rickety table in the yard were topped up, and the girls had returned to the house to retrieve soap and towels.
Billy didn’t wait on the young men though. Instead he pulled his shirt off, gave it a good shake, and plunged his head into the water, spluttering and rubbing his whiskery face as he pulled his head back out.
The girls returned and handed the old man a sheet of toweling.
“You fellas are next,” Billy commanded as he dried himself vigorously.
Taylor could feel his face going red at the thought of taking his shirt off in front of the two James girls. He looked at them, willing them to understand that it was time to leave, but they remained, watching the old man button his dark blue shirt.
“Ain’t you gonna warsh up fer dinner?” Billy finally said, looking at the newcomers as if they had two heads each.
Reg looked at the old man, then at the girls.
“Oh,” Billy said as realization set in. “You girls run on along and help your Nona with dinner. Seems these young fellars is shy.”
Both men gaped at the old man's temerity, but Taylor noticed a gleam in the eye of the girl in the yellow dress, and his breath caught in his throat as both women slowly turned and walked away.
Chapter 4
Billy was already seated at one of the big tables on the back porch sipping coffee when the Ogden boys walked around the house. They’d both taken their time washing away the trail dirt and sweat of weeks of travel, using liberal amounts of the rough soap to at least clean away some of the dust from their hair.
Billy grinned at them like a kid at Christmas while the smells of frying potatoes made their stomachs grumble, and they looked at each other, both remember the lean days on the trail.
“Go fetch yourself some coffee an’ join me,” the old man said. “No reason to make more work for them women.”
They were just about to step into the house when a soft whimper caught their ears, and they turned to see Molly sitting in the grass at the foot of the stairs.
“Long as she stays down there, no one will care.” Billy said. “Best see if there’s any grub for her, though.”
Taylor looked at his
brother, a silent communication zipping between them, then turned and walked down to the bottom step, scratching the old dog’s ears.
It was only minutes later that Reg returned with two mugs of coffee, along with the girl in the yellow dress, who held out a plate to him with some stale bread and meat.
“It’s not much, but I’m sure there will be more later.” She smiled as she said it, and something soft seemed to slide into Taylor’s belly.
“Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”
“Who let Callie out?” a boy’s high voice called from around the corner of the house, followed by the boy himself.
“That’s a bit of a story,” Joshua James said as he pushed through the screen door and smiled at the blonde haired boy of about seven. “I take it you and Scooter put her up for us?”
“Yes, I put Scooter up, too,” The boy said his blue eyes resigned as he approached. “Won’t do any good, but I put him in the stall with Callie,” he added with a grin.
Suddenly the boy stopped as he saw the two strangers, then his eyes fell on the dog and he smiled.
“That your dog, mister?” he asked his booted feet crunched across the summer grass.
“Sure is,” Taylor replied, looking the boy up and down. By the size and sound of him, he couldn’t have been more than six or seven, but he was growing fast, if his slightly too short trousers were any indication.
“I’m Eric,” the boy said, extending his hand.
“Taylor, and that galoot up there’s my brother Reg.”
“Howdy,” Eric called, then squatted next to the dog. “Can I pet her?”
“Sure.”
“I’m getting’ one o’ the puppies,” Billy called, out of the blue.
“You are?” Eric’s eyes were wide.
“Yep. Taylor said I could have one. Didn’t you, son?”
Taylor shook his head even as he said “Yes, I sure did.”
“Eric, go wash up,” Joshua said, watching the boy with pride.
“I already did,” the boy chimed.
“Well, now you’ll have to do it again because you’re petting that dog.”
“Alright.”
“I’ll go with you,” Taylor offered with a knowing wink.
Moments later boy and man returned and found a seat at the table, while Isabella and Lexi brought plates and other utensils out and began setting the table.
As the dinner hour got underway, Taylor and Reg took a seat at the second table near Billy and watched as one by one more members of the Broken J ranch arrived, introducing themselves as they met the newcomers. Billy, sitting close to Taylor, started reminding him of who everyone was. "Don't forget I get one of them pups," the old man said.
As the tables filled with men, the women came out onto the porch, each carrying a large pot or steaming bowl of something that smelled wonderful. Nona carried the pot full of macaroni in tomato sauce, made from tomatoes she’d canned the summer before, but this time sweetened ever so slightly to bring out the tang in the red sauce. Issy carried a massive bowl of crisp, fried potato cubes and behind her came Lexi with a green salad. Fiona had been left the smallest item and only carried the milk pitcher.
Katie soon joined them carrying baby Mary, who'd just woken from her nap, and finally at the tail end came a wiry, ancient Chinese man accompanied by Mae. Mae, whose hands were bandaged, walked with a decided limp but everyone was careful not to comment on it.
The noise at the tables grew with every new arrival, and soon the Ogden men were completely turned around. Then, without warning, a hush fell over the whole group and Joshua James bowed his head, lifting a prayer of blessing heavenward.
Taylor Ogden wasn’t sure what was on the menu, but he was willing to eat just about anything by then. They'd finished their last bit of hard tack and jerky the night before and aside from the coffee and molasses cookies that afternoon, they'd neither one had anything to eat. It didn't help that he'd given his jerky to Molly. He watched as the men piled their plates high with potatoes, then accepted a hearty scoop of some sort of noodle in a bright tomato sauce. In moments, he was too preoccupied with eating to even try to figure out who was who.
Once he’d started on his second helping of the tasty meal, Taylor slowed down enough to start paying attention. He glanced down the stairs to check on Molly, who was contentedly gnawing on a bone, then looked around him at the family surrounding him.
At the head of the table sat Joshua James, the man whose name lent itself to the ranch. On the other end a smaller man, with a rough five o’clock shadow gracing his jaw, sat next to the woman the girls called Nona. He remembered Billy mentioning Bianca’s husband, and guessed that the man must be Isadoro Leoné.
Near the head of the table Katie sat, baby on her knee, next to a tall, lean cowhand with dark hair and eyes. Taylor squinted trying to remember names. "That's Will," Billy whispered loudly, making everyone smile. The young puncher of about thirty raised his head and waved down the table cheerfully. Taylor Ogden was surprised at the way the young couple had their heads together primarily talking about cattle and the running of the ranch. The young mother seemed to have many ideas on how things should be done.
On the other side of the table the young woman who’d cooked the meal sat next to the boy Eric, smiling and chatting with a large man who had broad shoulders and short-cropped, dark blonde hair. He remembered he was called Hank, a name that seemed to fit the man’s size.
Mae, a small cloth stuck over her cheek and bandages wrapping her hands, sat next to the wizened old Chinese man she called Yeye, along with two more cowboys who sat near Billy at their table.
Overall the whole meal, though delicious and filling, was a little overwhelming and chaotic. Everyone was talking at the same time, giving reports on stock or talking about the building process that was going on. He was grateful that no one seemed to feel that he and his bother needed to contribute to the general melee of the meal, and spent his time simply trying to take it all in.
As plates were cleared, the noise diminished a little and Taylor took the time to lean back on the bench where he sat and survied the people around him. He noticed that Reg had gotten quieter as he ate his meal, something that was prone to happen when his older brother was in a large group. He also caught the eye of the pretty dark haired girl in the yellow dress looking at him and smiled before looking at her identical sister, but his eyes came back to the one everyone called Issy.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about that girl that was somehow different, somehow uniquely hers, even if she did have an identical twin.
Taylor was pondering the thought when the woman they called Bianca returned from the kitchen with a large backing sheet in her hands.
“Dessert,” she stated with a grin. “It’s only blueberry cobbler,” she added modestly before setting it on the table, “but it is still dessert.”
Taylor grinned and caught the eye of the girl called Issy again, then smiled wider as she sent him a quick wink. She sure was pretty.
The whole crew of the Broken J sat around the table drinking coffee and eating the thick, warm cobbler served with cream and sugar. The hot dish was just tart enough to dazzle the mouth before blending with the fluffy cake-like batter and sweet cream on one’s tongue.
As the sun sank lower on the other side of the house, the women rose from their seats to clear the table. Both Reg and Taylor stood politely as the women left, but noted that the other men stayed seated.
“How are the horses lookin’ Walt?” Josh called from the other side of the table. A man of average height, his head as bald as an egg, turned a grinning face toward the boss.
“The Duke’s takin’ good care of his little brood,” the man replied. “Those colts are growin’ a treat and we’ll about double the herd before ya know it.”
"The Duke's Clayton's stud horse," Billy directed at Taylor to keep up his part of the bargain.
“Did you have any trouble?” the cat
tleman asked, still watching his top wrangler’s face.
“No, no signs of trouble, but I reckon that black kayos would bring them mares on up toward the house if’n there was trouble. Matter of fact, I'm wondering' if he'll kick up a fuss if anyone but Clay tries to bring them in.”
Reg raised his head from the dish he’d been giving his full attention to and turned his gray green gaze toward the bald cowboy. “Has there been trouble before?” he asked, his mind working.
Taylor flinched, knowing that his brother would work a problem to the bone before letting it go.
“Just the usual stuff. We always lose a few head here or there, but we’re hopin’ with the new barbed wire fences we put in last spring that this year will be better.”
“What do you mean by lose?” Reg asked, squinting slightly in thought.
“Well son,” Joshua picked up the conversation, “there are still Indians around, and though they mostly stay on the reservation, now and then they’ll wrangle a few head of cattle to feed their families. Other times you might lose a few head to rustlers.” He cut a significant look at the other men at the table. “We lost over a hundred head last year before the fence was strung. The law does what it can, but since we are only now slated to become a state this year, there’s still plenty of people who think they can take what they want.”
He smiled, taking the edge out of his voice, but it was obvious he was determined to hold on to what was his.
“We’ve had our share of bad men in the territory, Dunc Blackburn and Bill McCoy to name a few. Anywhere an honest man is trying to make a living, there will be those who wish to take it from him and use it for their own.”
“I can’t say we know much about cows, except to milk them, sir,” Taylor finally spoke up, “but we’ll do whatever you need done. This job is mighty important to us.” For some reason, the thought of anything going wrong around that pretty girl in the yellow dress made his skin go cold.
Joshua smiled at the two new men he’d just signed on. “I’m sure you’ll settle right in at the Broken J in no time.”
