“He certainly does fine work.” She ran her hand over the armoire’s delicate carving. In addition, a chest of drawers, washstand, and a storage chest filled out the room.
“You ready to see our room?”
Her face heated. “Y-Yes. I’d like to see everything. I mean every part of the house.”
His chuckle let her know he caught her correction. “Until our getting acquainted time is up, you can share with Iris. But our room is next door and then Papa’s on the other side of us.”
Iris laid her dolly in the doll bed. “Mommy, may I stay and play in my new princess room?”
“Of course, Dear. I’ll call you when our meal is ready.”
Preston guided Amanda to the next room and opened the door.
“Oh, this room is nice and large.” She pictured the room with curtains and a new quilt on the bed.
Massive furniture filled the bedroom. Instead of the dark brown woods used in Atlanta, this was dark blonde and polished to a fine sheen. Ornate carving decorated every piece.
She ran a finger over a detail. “Whoever made this is indeed gifted.”
“Once you empty your trunks, we’ll have to store all but one in the attic or the barn.”
She whirled to face him. “Now let’s see Papa’s room and then the rest of the house. After that, I’ll prepare our dinner.”
“Sounds good to me. Later, I’ll take you on a tour of the ranch buildings and introduce you to the hands.”
When he showed her the cellar underneath the kitchen, she picked up several potatoes. “These will fill out our dinner. Will your hands be eating with us?”
“No, Monty cooks for them. They’d appreciate a good meal occasionally, but that can wait.”
Relieved she’d only have the four of them for meals, she chose enough for one meal. “The cellar seems well-stocked for this time of year.”
“In addition to those spuds, there’re still some yams, onions, beets, a few apples, and turnips,” he pushed the toe of his boot through the sawdust, “and some scrawny carrots. Beans, corn meal, and flour are in the kitchen. The garden is planted, though, and we’ll have new stock soon. Our growing season is short, but our vegetables are good quality because we irrigate.”
He helped her climb the steep steps. As she navigated them and then her way across the kitchen, she tried to picture her sister in this home and couldn’t see the other woman enjoying life here. Indeed, she would have hated everything.
But for Amanda, the house was wonderful, heaven on earth. She wanted to dance across the floor’s wide planks. Instead, she did her best to imitate a genteel lady’s glide.
“While you’re busy with our food, Papa and I will bring in your things. Where do you want each of the trunks?”
Panic-stricken, she faltered. “So much happened so quickly that I’m having trouble remembering what’s in each container. I suppose you’d better set them in the parlor until I can open them and check.”
Preston sent her a sympathetic glance. “I understand. I imagine your packing was hectic with the bank ousting you from your own home. The parlor it is.”
Releasing her held breath she nodded and set to work in the kitchen. They had only a dab left of the food that Mrs. Norton had sent with them. What to prepare besides potatoes and biscuits?
Papa Kincaid set a ham on the small work table. “We have meat in the smokehouse.”
She sent him a grateful smile. “This will fry nicely to go with our creamed potatoes and biscuits.”
“Biscuits? Aw, you’ve already made my mouth water.” He patted his stomach. “Makes me eager to get your things into the house and earn my keep.”
The range was nicer than any she’d ever used, but enough like the one at the brothel that she figured out how to get the fire going and adjust the flues. This range even had a reservoir she filled so she’d have hot water for dish washing later. Having a pump right in the kitchen was a luxury after living in a tiny room for the past six years.
After dinner, she washed up and then Preston took her and Iris on a tour of the grounds. Iris wanted to see the kittens first. He opened the barn door and strange odors greeted them—she supposed they were hay and animal smells. The barn floor appeared clean and she was glad he took such good care of his animals and property.
He led Iris over to see the mama with her kittens. “They’re too young to leave their mother yet or to be held much. In a couple of weeks, they’ll be just right for a girl to play with.”
She knelt on the straw to look closely. “What are their names?”
“Their mama is Tiger and their papa is Socks. The kittens don’t have names yet, so I guess your job will be to decide what to call them.”
“Really? I can name them?”
“Yes, ma’am. Everyone on a ranch has jobs and one of yours will be to name all the new animals. You can think about it and decide tomorrow.”
She looked at her new daddy with adoration shining from her eyes. “I’m glad that’s one of my jobs. What are the others?”
“We’ll get to them as they pop into my head. The important thing to remember is that you don’t go near any other animals except the cats and dogs unless a grownup is with you. Can you remember that?”
“Of course. I’m almost four. Aren’t I, Mommy?”
“You’re growing up fast, that’s for sure.” What day was Iris’ birthday? Amanda hoped there was a family Bible in one of the trunks.
As the men came in from the range, she met the ranch hands. The three dogs danced around and barked until Preston told them to quiet.
Ben Atherton was a lanky teenager with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He didn’t look old enough to shave and she guessed his age to be no more than sixteen. “How do, Ma’am. Welcome.”
Rusty Granger, whose real name was Roland, had carrot-colored hair and freckles and looked to be in his late teens, maybe eighteen or nineteen. “We sure needed a woman on the ranch. Glad you’re here.”
Preston whispered, “He’s awfully homesick. Having you here will help him a lot.”
Looking about mid-twenties, Garrett McDonald’s brown hair fell across his forehead and his brown eyes held intelligence. “Proud the boss got hitched, Ma’am. Welcome to the Circle K.”
Monty McGee appeared middle-aged with a cynical expression on his face. He was the most bowlegged person she’d ever seen. “I suppose you’ll be telling me how to cook now?”
“Why would I? My husband said you’ve been doing a great job. I might bring you the occasional cobbler, though.”
The other three cowboys cheered. Monty almost smiled.
When they got to the chickens, Amanda said, “Iris, I’ll bet one of our jobs will be to gather eggs and feed the hens. I sure need a good helper for that job.”
Iris ran from a big black hen. “Mommy, she wants to eat me.”
Preston picked her up. “She’s just never seen a princess before. You’ll need time for her to get used to you and for you to get used to her and the others. We have to have the chickens for eggs and for fried chicken.”
Iris frowned. “You kill them?”
“I’m afraid so, Princess Iris. The ranch raises food. Chickens and pigs and cows are part of our food. We also grow a big garden. You can help with that.”
She watched the hens pecking and scratching at the ground. “I’ll like that better than that mean old chicken.”
Amanda was amazed at Preston’s patience with Iris. She hoped he’d be as tolerant of her. “The cooking I can do but I’ve never gathered eggs or fed hens or killed one. You’ll have to teach me.”
He grinned and patted his stomach. “Happy to, especially if you make biscuits that good every day.”
“I’ll bake loaves of bread tomorrow and maybe a cobbler with the apples. I’ll make a second cobbler for the hands’ supper.”
“I sure like hearing that kind of talk, don’t you, Papa?”
“Durn right, I do. Haven’t had decent cooking since your mother died. I do
make fair cornbread, if I do say so myself, but my biscuits could be used for ammunition.”
Amanda laughed at the kind man. After their tour, she inspected the trunks and barrels. She guessed correctly and the barrels contained the dishes and utensils Nonnie had taken before the bankers arrived. She unpacked them onto the sturdy kitchen table before deciding where to store them.
Preston frowned. “Thought you had to leave this sort of thing in the house.”
“These were used by the servants and not valuable enough, I suppose.” She hated lying to her husband. “Nonnie, our cook, packed these away. I’m not really sure what all is here.” That last part was true. Each item she pulled from the barrel was a revelation.
Her husband stood watching a moment and then reached for his hat. “I’ll get on with my work then and leave you to your arranging.” He left to join his father, who’d gone to work in the barn.
She counted service for two dozen in dishes with the same number for the cutlery, some of which she had no idea how to use. In addition were wooden spoons, ladles, serving tureens, cooking pots and pans, a rolling pin, and various items for use in her new kitchen. Imagine having this bounty for servants. Bitterly, she wondered what the Eppes family had dined on in their fine home.
Comparing this to what her mother had only upset her, so she pushed those thoughts aside. Resentment and bitterness had no place in her new life. She was fortunate to have a safe, sturdy home with a fine man.
That thought brought the realization that eventually he’d expect to consummate their marriage. What would he think when he found she’d never been with a man? Dear heavens, who’d have thought being a good woman was a detriment? She’d have to think of something to explain her condition.
After she’d wiped each item and put it away, she admired the look of the cupboards and shelves. Then, she set to work on the trunks. She unearthed a wealth of linens for bed, bath, and kitchen. Her sister had cheated the banker in another way. Had Nonnie taken these things, too, or had her sister secreted them from the banker?
She supposed her sister had felt justified taking what to her were her belongings. Perhaps these were from her personal hope chest and she’d believed they should go with her. The new Amanda stored them away with sorrow in her heart. She’d idealized her sister and wanted to believe her blameless, but admitted the woman was simply human.
When she came to the instructions Nonnie had given for housekeeping, she read them. Shaking her head, she realized these scanty, generalized explanations wouldn’t have helped. They were more suited for a fine home in Atlanta than a ranch in Montana Territory.
There were too many clothes, most of them far too impractical for ranch life, for the room’s allotted space. She stored leftovers in Iris’ room which was where she was sleeping until she came to trust Preston. Excited to find the Bible, she learned Iris’ birthday was only three weeks away.
Chapter Seven
Preston strode from the house, uncomfortable that his wife had brought things from her old home that should have gone to the bank. No matter that someone else had packed the barrels, she had to have known those things were no longer hers. Did a banker ever think anything was not valuable enough to be auctioned? He didn’t think so.
The gentility of his genteel bride bothered him. Sure, she looked the part and had the clothes and daughter to match her story. Something wasn’t right, though.
Her hands weren’t as soft as those of a pampered woman should be. He’d felt a small callus on one of her fingers. He wondered what she was hiding. Was she really a widow or was she something else?
He spent the afternoon in a confusing war of “is she” or “isn’t she”? Certainly she was beautiful and he was already fond of Iris. Amanda’s cooking was a big improvement in his life, as was her willingness to take over some of the chores.
Maybe he was building a mountain out of a molehill. Papa always told him he was too suspicious. He’d give her a few more days to see what he discovered.
At least, in a few weeks he’d have a willing woman sleeping with him. That knowledge tightened his body and sent images to his brain. All in all he regretted agreeing to wait a month to consummate the marriage.
***
The next morning, Preston waited until Amanda was dressed and in the kitchen. “Are you ready to learn your chores?”
“Of course. What have you in mind?” She smiled as she twirled to face him, the morning light through the window turning her hair into a glorious blaze of color. Tied with a ribbon, her hair trailed in ringlets down her back that made him itch to touch the fiery strands.
He refrained from telling her what he really had on his mind. “You ever gather eggs?”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “The closest I’ve been to a live hen is when you showed me yours. I’m sure I can learn, though.” She looked a picture this morning in her blue dress and white apron.
“As soon as we finish breakfast, come with me to the barn. Ben’s been milking the cow. We can teach you that if you’re willing or he can continue. You’ll help a lot if you take over the hens and eggs.”
Iris wandered in with her dolly safely tucked in her arms. She climbed onto a chair. “I’m hungry.”
Amanda set a glass of milk in front of her daughter and spoke to her husband. “Your food is almost ready. Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.” She reached for one of the cups that belonged to her dishes.
He pulled out his chair and sat. “I’ll have my coffee in my usual mug.”
She blinked at him, her smile fading, as she set down the heavy white cup and reached for his speckled tin mug. Her only comment was, “Coming. Hello, Papa, your timing is perfect.”
Papa rubbed at his eyes then sat down. “Smelled ham frying and biscuits browning. Good as any alarm clock.”
She set a mug of coffee in front of Papa. “Iris, will you carry the butter to the table and then take your chair, please?” Amanda dished up eggs, ham, gravy, and fried potatoes. She poured coffee for herself and milk for her daughter before she joined them.
After breakfast, her husband stood. “Leave the dishes in the sink. Let me show you how to feed hens and gather eggs so I can get on with my chores.”
“All right.” She pumped water in the dishpan and set a stack of dishes to soak. “I’ll just return the milk and butter to the cool space and I’ll be ready.”
Papa poured himself more coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Believe I’ll have another cup of coffee while you conquer the chickens. Don’t forget to take the egg basket with you.”
“Do I have to come, Mommy? I don’t like that big chicken.”
Amanda looked at him. He liked that she consulted him. He shook his head.
“No, you can wait in here this time. When I know how to do things, you’ll learn them so you can help.”
Amanda grabbed the basket and followed Preston to the barn.
He showed her where the corn for the chickens was kept. “Make a bag by holding up the two corners of your apron.”
She did and he scooped in two measures of the corn. He was close and she watched his face as he worked. More handsome than any man she’d ever met, she wanted to touch the stubble on his jaw and chin.
He met her gaze and smiled. “This is how my mother always carried the feed. They’ll learn when they see you that food has arrived.”
Amanda watched carefully so she could do her chores alone next time. She didn’t want him to think her unable to help with her share of the duties. Holding the apron up with one hand, she carried the basket on her other arm.
“We keep them penned up at night or we lose them to coyotes and other varmints. The dogs protect when they’re around, but they work with the cattle.” He opened the door to let the clucking fowl out of their enclosure.
Reaching into her apron, he tossed a handful of grain on the ground. “Here, chick, chick, chick.”
She followed his example. Their chaotic rush toward her was disconcerting at first. T
he hens and a rooster clustered around the grain. She watched in amazement as their pecking order displayed in front of her.
“While they’re busy, you slip in and gather the eggs. Watch where you step and you’d better pull that dress hem up out of the way.”
She handed him the basket. “I see I need to redo my hemlines.” Reaching between her ankles, she pulled the back of her dress forward between her legs then tucked the hem into her waist.
He stared at her then laughed.
Retrieving the basket with a wry smile, she said, “I see why the laundress did her skirt like this.”
Straightening her shoulders, she marched into the hen house, careful to step between droppings. He followed and showed her how to find the eggs in the straw. “If a hen is sitting on the eggs, you’ll have to reach under her and steal the eggs.”
“Don’t you let them hatch?”
“At some times of the year and we’ll start a brood soon. Heat and cold are too hard on the baby chicks. We bought a couple dozen this year from Lavinia Murphy in Sweetwater Springs.”
“With all these hens?”
“Last summer we had a bad drought. Then our winter was the worst on record. Living in town, the Murphy’s hens coped better with the weather. We needed all the eggs for food.”
“Now I really feel dumb.”
“Hey, you’re doing fine for a city gal. I admit I’m pleasantly surprised at your willingness to pitch in.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I weren’t. Well, I was desperate, as you well know, but I could have asked for a husband in a town.” Her sister had said she only asked for someone who would be a father to Iris and took the first offer.
“Yes, you could. I’m glad you didn’t.” He leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips.
She stared into his beautiful blue eyes. “I’m glad I’m here, Preston. Even with the hardships you’ve described, this is a good life with a future.”
Smiling down at her, he cupped her elbow and guided her out of the enclosure. “Leave the door open in the daytime. Before you close the hens in at night, you have to check and make sure a fox or other predator hasn’t sneaked inside during the day.
Montana Sky: Amanda's Rancher (Kindle Worlds) (Loving A Rancher Book 1) Page 6
