The Ways of Heaven

by Lindsey Barlow

  Meg looked over at Rose who was now stroking the curls on Daisy’s head. Daisy, in turn, was using her chubby hands to grab the fork and spoon. “Yes, let’s. Tall Pine is such a beautiful town, and I am eager to visit Kyle’s.”

  Anna gave her a proud look. “You’ll be bringing Daisy, of course.”

  “Of course.” Rose snuggled her nose into Daisy’s cheek, “Do you still have the old pram I used to push my dolls in?”

  “No, that fell apart, but when we learned of your arrival, your father bought one. Well, he bought the parts and made one.”

  Rose looked lovingly at her father who tossed her a wink.

  “I am excited to buy a Sunday dress for Meg,” Anna said as she looked at the young cook.

  Meg shook her head stiffly. “Um, Mrs. Castle, I really think I should stay and make a start in the kitchen. I haven’t attended church services for a long time.”

  A knock on the door made Meg jump. Mr. Lars has come for me and will drag me back to Denver. Rose took Meg’s hand under the table and squeezed it.

  “That’s Jeffries, the dairy’s manager,” Rose explained to her, knowing Meg had good reason to be easily frightened. “He always knocks with that rhythm.”

  When the knock sounded again, Anna sighed. “Come in!” she called.

  Jeffries walked in, taking off his hat and giving a polite nod. “Clark, the pasteurization is done; I just need your approval before it’s stored.”

  Meg bit her cheek when Jeffries called Mr. Castle by his first name—workers simply didn’t do that, let alone a black man to a white man. She’d seen colored men beaten for less.

  “Perfect Jeffries, I’ll be right there. Do you want some lunch?” Clark said with a tone of easy friendship.

  “No, thank you,” Jeffries grinned warmly. “You know I like to eat with the other employees.”

  Clark raised an eyebrow. “You trying to make me feel guilty Jeffries?” he joked.

  “Maybe,” Jeffries made a face of absolute seriousness. “I just have to remind you that you don’t deserve Miss Anna, if I want to keep you on your toes.”

  Anna laughed, “And this is why I adore you, Jeffries.”

  The manager chuckled and turned his attention to Rose. “It’s good to have you back, Miss Rose.”

  “Thank you, Jeffries,” Rose replied, her eyes twinkling.

  When Jeffries had shown himself out, Meg leaned towards Rose and whispered, “Has he been here long?”

  Rose nodded. “Came to Tall Pine a year after my father did. So, he’s been with us for over twenty years.”

  Meg nodded, wanting to hear more, but she didn’t want to pry. Instead, she turned her attention to her food, thinking that she could not remember the last time someone had cooked a meal like this for her. Even in its simplicity there was a feeling of tenderness that accompanied each bite. She was being served; it was different, even awkward, but so nice.

  “Don’t get used to it.” Good things rarely lasted, this much Meg knew. Her father had been good, and he left. Her mother had been kind and then grew despondent. Charles Lars had brought hope and had turned venomous. Even God—she had known Him once, but He had abandoned her, refusing to grant her prayers for deliverance. So she’d stopped asking.

  Twelve

  Meg was as ready as she could be. Putting off a visit into town had taken some convincing. She finally was honest with Anna and said that she wanted to get her bearings as a cook first before going to town. Even though Anna Castle meant well, Meg knew that digging her hands into dough would make her feel more secure and confident than a new dress ever could. Breathing steadily, she entered her new home: the kitchen.

  The kitchen for the workers was different than the household kitchen. It was out back near the stables. Her two helpers, Frank and Bill, stood near the oven staring blankly at her. Smiling politely, Meg moved her gaze beyond them to the mushrooms, cabbage, and potatoes on the table. Fresh vegetables, untainted by rat bites or bugs. Rumors and investigations of the cities’ food factories had made the public eager to eat fresh from the country—and here she was with the freshest ingredients at her fingertips.

  She ran a hand over one of the potatoes, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. She almost wanted to cry and utter a prayer of thanks. The latter she had not done for a long time. But this—being in a warm kitchen with such beautiful ingredients to work with—it truly felt like a divine mercy. She only hoped the Castles wouldn’t be disappointed. Meg had always been confident in her cooking, but more seemed at stake here. Her happiness and future depended on her success.

  “Miss?” Frank asked, squinting through his glasses. Both men wore glasses and spoke softly. Meg instantly liked them.

  “Meg.” She put her hand out to greet them, but they stared at the floor, their arms heavy at their sides.” She put her hand down awkwardly. “Well, I better start, but you both must promise to be patient with me until I know this kitchen top to bottom. You are Frank?”

  The one on the left nodded and Meg was surprised her guess was correct.

  “Good, then Frank please start on this recipe for lunch.” She handed him a piece of paper from her apron pocket. “I wrote out the recipe. Mix six loaves worth and I’ll show you how I want it kneaded afterwards. Bill, bring me the freshest of the vegetables and we can see how best to cook them.”

  The two men nodded and silently went to work; their movements were methodical and gentle. All three fell into a comfortable rhythm and Meg noticed that the two men, after a while, began to hum different melodies that collided terribly with each other, but Meg enjoyed it so much more than the frantic curses and crashes of the hotel’s kitchen.

  In an hour, the kitchen smelled of crispy doughnuts, salted bacon, and dark coffee with thick cream, fried potatoes, and fluffy eggs mixed with mushrooms and tomatoes. Bill set the table, rearranging the plates until each was equally spaced from the edge.

  Frank explained in a murmur, “Bill, he … he likes things straight.”

  Meg felt like he was apologizing. “I like things straight, too.” She turned so he could see her bun, “Even in a hurry, I did my hair two times until it was perfectly centered.”

  Frank gave her a sweet smile, then quickly turned away as he and Bill began on the next task Meg assigned. Shortly after, Jeffries walked in, lifting his brows in surprise. “Well if this doesn’t smell like heaven, then I don’t know what does.” He was followed by eager men all forcing their way through the door. The manager let out a low whistle. “Miss Meg, I believe you just made it a whole lot easier getting these boys to wake up on time.” He gave her a wide smile, “Well done.”

  “You should taste it.” Bill said bluntly.

  Jeffries looked at him warmly. “I sure will Bill. You helped, didn’t you?’

  “We all helped,” Frank interrupted.

  “Well then, I’ll let you know how it is.” Jeffries sat next to Clark who instructed the men to bow their heads during grace. The “Amen,” had barely been spoken before hands lunged out for bowls and plates piled high with food.

  Meg had always been satisfied with her cooking, hearing about the comments made in praise of her food, but she had never heard them first hand. Now, she couldn’t help but blush as exclamations of delight and satisfaction were expressed in abundance.

  “How is it Mr. Jeffries?” Bill asked, walking over to the manager.

  Jeffries swallowed and closed his eyes savoring the taste. “Bill, I congratulate you, your brother, and Miss Meg. This is the best food I have ever eaten, and I’ve eaten a lot of food!”

  The brothers looked at each other with smiles of pride before walking over to Meg who was filling the basin with hot water and soap.

  “Miss Meg, what would you like us to do now?” Frank asked eagerly.

  Meg was taken aback. Even though Meg was used to giving orders in the kitchen, no one had ever been eager about it. Charles’s attitude toward her had been contagious. His lack of respect spread to the other workers who lis
tened to her but did not respect her. She had been a cook, but to be respected as The Cook, this was a pleasant change. “Carrots and squash to go with the roast. Bill, please get those ready then toss them with garlic, salt, and oil. I’ll show you the amounts when you are ready. Frank, cut ham for the sandwiches we’ll bring out for lunch, and then peel that bag of apples for pies.”

  As quickly as the workers had come in, they left, leaving empty plates and splatters of food. Before Meg could approach the table, Bill abandoned his carrots and scooped up every plate, dumping them into the basin filled with soap suds.

  Frank once again approached Meg and explained, “Bill doesn’t like to see the plates crooked and messy.”

  Meg nodded and simply thanked them for their hard work, but not before noticing that Frank wrung his hands when he talked.

  /

  A cool breeze swept through Rose’s undone hair. How nice it felt to not have it pinned to her scalp and to wear something not so restricting. Despite feeling physically gratified, she realized she was vexed with herself.

  Rose had woken up that morning thinking she would experience a giant relief settling over her. She had been home for a week now. She had Daisy safe and sound, and Cade would have sealed the divorce by now. She should be hearing from the attorney any day. There was no staggering husband coming in late, no fights, no arguments, just peace.

  Still, it felt like she was missing something; as if she had left the house having forgotten her blouse. You are better off this way. You are just used to being married. You had yourself so tightly wrapped up in him that it’s going to take some getting used to.

  She needed to stay busy: garden, work on the dairy, there was plenty to do. She refused to whimper any more.

  If Cade ever saw her again, she not only wanted to appear content and self-assured, she wanted to actually be happy and filled with confidence. Rose looked around the vegetable garden that she had been working in for the past two hours. It felt good to have her fingers in dirt and to smell fresh earth. She had missed so many things about Tall Pine, about her dairy. When she really thought about it, there was not a whole lot about Denver that she had loved … besides Cade.

  Rose rolled her eyes at herself and stood up. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get him out of my head? Yes, they’d had happy moments, but those had been fleeting. The hardship was lasting and perpetual. Why then did his laugh, his winks, and the way he would jerk his chin beckoning her to come to bed—why did those scenes keep playing in her mind?

  Rose walked out of the garden with an audible laugh. This was natural, wasn’t it? Remembering good things was normal, but the good times didn’t make up for the countless bad times. Did they?

  She lifted her skirt and broke into a run, feeling her lungs pump with fresh air. She was free now, an independent woman. So many women were stuck in unhappy marriages. She had found a way out. She was the lucky one. She ran faster, dirt and grass flying up in chunks around the fabric of her skirt.

  A new life! A new Rose! She was Rose. Mother to Daisy. Not Mrs. Walker. Not a wife, not a lover, nor a nag. There was no reason to feel sorry for herself. In fact, she had every reason to celebrate.

  She continued to run, feeling as if she was breaking off chains that had been wrapped around her heart. Rumors would fly, but she could take them. A warmth spread through her with the hope that everything would be more than fine—it would be wonderful!The laughter of her parents echoed across the grass as Rose reached the stall where she expected to see the new calf. To her surprise, there were three calves: two with a heifer and a lone calf who was feeding furiously from a bottle as Jeffries cradled the animal. Anna was holding Daisy who had her eyes glued to the baby cows.

  “Three calves?” Rose exclaimed, walking forward. She stopped when she noticed something different about two of the calves. As she came closer she could tell that one was blind in the eye and had a stubbed tail. “What happened?” She rushed to the stall, her throat tightening to see such perfect creatures hurt. Upon hearing her voice, Daisy began to fuss and reached her chubby arms for Rose who eagerly took the baby from Anna. “Don’t tell me it was rustlers.”

  Anna nodded, her lips pursed as she watched her husband struggle with the wobbly, scared calf. “Cowards stealing babies. Calves will do anything to get back to their mothers: tear through barbed wire, run through packs of wolves. So the rustlers often blind them, or cut their tongues so they can’t nurse, or put a hot poker in between their toes so they’re crippled. Godless torture to keep these creatures from returning to their mothers.”

  Rose closed her eyes and instinctively squeezed Daisy. “Is that what happened with these two?’’

  Anna nodded. “The one nursing is ours. These two baby bulls were found by Sheriff Ben the other day in the mountains. He figured the rustlers were sloppy with their torture and these were able to wander off.”

  “Have you found the owners?”

  “Not for the one Jeffries is feeding, and he suspects the eye will heal. The other we have. Rose glanced between the two heifers. “What about the heifer nursing that calf. Is she ours?”

  Anna nodded, “That is Apple Tree. She gave birth to a stillborn, so when we brought her this calf, she took to it immediately. Jeffries and your father just have to help it stand, so it is a gamble whether we can get it enough milk during its feedings.”

  “We may need to bottle feed him as well?”

  “Most likely. Terrible isn’t? You wonder what dark souls people have whenever they hurt a helpless creature.” Anna sighed and turned away. “Enough sadness for the moment. What are your plans for today since Meg has again refused to go shopping?”

  “I am going to work in the garden a bit more, if that is alright with you.”

  “Oh, by all means, yes. I have been planning this summer party and have neglected the weeds. And speaking of parties, we have the Hugh party coming up. I know we do not agree with their … philosophies.”

  “That is a delicate way of putting it,” Rose said, rolling her eyes.

  “They are not the most honorable people, but many of the guests the Hugh’s invite are clients of ours. It is good for business to keep up relations, and good business means more money we can donate to orphanages, reservations, and other good causes.” Anna clicked her tongue. “Not much of a justification, I know, but it makes me feel better.” She folded her arms. “Would you feel alright about going, or would it be too awkward for you?”

  Rose bounced Daisy on her hip and pondered the question. “I would have to bring Daisy. I don’t know if that would be wise.”

  Anna smiled. “Probably not. But will you go?” She gave a half wink, “You are back in Tall Pine, remember? People bring children to parties, and they have mud on their boots, and it’s alright if your hair comes undone every now and then.”

  Rose shrugged. “I will think about it. It’s not that I am scared, but I don’t want Daisy—well, I don’t want people making sly comments about her.”

  “I’ll be with you, and besides, if you plan on staying in Tall Pine, you can’t hide Daisy away. Better to bring her out now so that social acceptance starts early, instead of hiding her away. That’s kinder than suddenly plopping her into difficult social settings when she actually understands the slanders.” Anna looked at Clark now laying the calf down so it could rest and briefly checking its wounds. “We cannot always change what is unfair, but we can try to make it better.”

  Rose nodded in agreement. “And we have help doing so. It is comforting to me at least to know God cares for Daisy and that He cares for lost calves and fallen sparrows.”

  Anna looked over at her, “Yes, He does.” She rubbed noses with Daisy who grabbed Anna’s hair and tangled it in her tiny fingers.

  Thirteen

  “I had to gamble, sweetheart.” He walked in running a hand through his longish hair. He walked, over to his desk and picked up a baseball from his college days. “It was part of my cover.”

  “Cover?” Ros
e had her arms folded and cocked an eyebrow. “Most people know you in these parts. Were you not the one who said most thieves are from the actual town from which the train departs?”

  Cade nodded and tossed the ball in the air. “Which is why they are so easy to catch. They follow the train, rob it a couple miles out then return to the town to trade in jewels, golden flasks, whatever they loot.”

  “Exactly. Most criminals know you because you just march in and grab them. So why would you need a cover?”

  Cade sighed and set down the ball, suddenly looking very weary. He walked over to the bed and patted it. “Come here,” he said with a slow wink that could only be described as provocative. Rose looked away. He always did this, distracted her with his charm.

  “Rose,” he said her name slowly, the timbre in his voice husky with longing. “Come sit by me,” he said again.

  Rose looked over and feigning annoyance walked over to him. In a smooth movement he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap. “Are you seducing me, Mr. Walker?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

  “Is it working?” he asked, tilting back his head to gaze on her.

  Rose met his eyes. “A little. Tell me about this cover of yours, and maybe I will let down my guard.”

  “Sounds fair. This man liked to kidnap big shots at the train station. They were in plain sight but vulnerable. He held them for ransom and had a reputation for delivering them safely once the ransom was paid. This last time, the poor victim tried to escape and was killed in the process.”

  “The Denver police took the case but—” he rolled his eyes, not needing to say more. Like many city police, Denver detectives had little motive to solve crimes and often used their position to get away with amoral acts. “So I took over; the family of this victim deserved it.”

  Rose began to trace his features with her finger, trailing it around his jaw, his cheekbone, his neck. Cade closed his eyes letting out an involuntary groan. “You sure you want me to go on?” he asked.