by Kit Morgan
“I am, thank you.”
Parthena took a stack of plates to the table and began to set it. Adele went to the back door, walked out, then stepped back inside, looking confused. “Where’s the milk?”
Belle looked at her. “Jefferson didn’t leave the bucket?”
“No. I don’t see it anywhere.”
Lorelei smiled. “Fresh milk?”
The three looked at her like she’d just grown a horn in her head. “Yes, don’t you have it where you come from?” Parthena asked.
“Um … not exactly.” How much should she say? Adele hadn’t been privy to the conversation in the wagon, and Parthena probably hadn’t understood it …
“She grew up in a city,” Belle explained. “I’m sure her family didn’t own a cow.”
“Oh.” Parthena got back to setting the table. Lorelei smiled gratefully at Belle, who winked back.
Adele reached for a shawl hanging next to others on pegs near the door. “I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” She wrapped herself up and headed outside.
Belle spooned the potatoes onto a serving plate, then began cracking eggs into the same pan.
“You have chickens, cows and …?”
Belle smiled. “Steers, lots of steers. Thousands, in fact.”
Lorelei tried to calculate in her head. The Cookes were well off – maybe not rich like future generations, but this is where it all began. She shouldn’t be so freaked out but concentrate on learning as much as she could in the time she was here. The MacDonalds did say they’d return for her. But what then? What would they do with her? She trusted them, and they’d drugged her, dumped her almost a century and a half into the past and poof – gone!
The back door opened, and Jeff lugged in two buckets of milk. “Sorry it’s late, Mother.” His eyes met hers and she blushed. It didn’t matter if she was in the present or the past – having a handsome young man look at her the way he was would make anyone blush.
He set the buckets down, Adele and Parthena took them to a sink and began to pour the milk into two porcelain pitchers. “How are you feeling?” he asked Lorelei.
She’d been so caught up in what the girls were doing, she hadn’t noticed him come so close. “Much better, thank you. Still adjusting, of course.”
He glanced at his mother and back. “Maybe later, after my chores are done, I could show you around the ranch.”
“Me too!” Adele chimed in.
“And me!” added Parthena.
“You can all give Lorelei a tour of the ranch after all the chores are done.” Belle put fried eggs on a plate and set it on a nearby worktable. “Adele, put these on the table.”
Adele left the milk operation and did as her mother asked. “I can show you Uncle Harrison and Aunt Sadie’s house. It’s bigger than ours. We eat over there a few times a week.”
Jefferson shrugged. “It’s tradition.”
Lorelei smiled. “It sounds like a nice one.”
He smiled back.
Parthena, finished setting the table, was at their side in a flash. “Of course, Uncle Harrison and our aunt and cousins aren’t here. They’re visiting the Weavers in Nowhere.”
Lorelei smiled. “Where?”
“Nowhere,” Parthena said, then realized the problem. “The town of Nowhere, in Washington Territory.”
“We mentioned it to you yesterday,” Jefferson said. “We understand if you don’t remember.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.” She unconsciously put her hand to her head. Whatever it was they’d slipped her at the party had packed a wallop. “That’s a funny name for a town.”
“Yes, it is,” Parthena agreed. “Mr. and Mrs. Dunnigan went with them.”
Her heart leaped. “The Dunnigans?”
“Yes, my aunt and uncle,” Belle brought more eggs to the table along with a plate of fried ham slices. “Do you remember much of yesterday?”
“Bits and pieces. I remember you mentioning your aunt and uncle. I …” … have a picture of them in my apartment almost slipped out. It was safe to tell Belle that, and Jeff, but not the girls. She was having to do a lot of self-editing. Even that photograph was a decade in these people’s future.
“Sit down, children,” Belle instructed.
Just then, Colin came through the back door. “Jefferson, I’ll need you to do a few extra chores today.”
“But Father …”
“No buts, I have to take care of things at the mercantile, so we need the help.” He took off his coat and hat, hung them up by the door then went straight to the table and sat.
The entire morning so far had been run with an efficiency Lorelei had never seen. At Bob and Patsy’s, once the morning alarms went off, the morning fights began – primarily over the bathroom but with plenty of variety in the subject matter. The worst were the actual fistfights between Erwin and Francis, a fifteen-year-old foster kid who’d joined the household last year.
The other two foster kids, Missy and Pete, were younger – Pete eleven. Missy eight – and were brother and sister. Though she eventually got sick of babysitting them all the time, Lorelei considered them lucky to not have been split up. Maybe not so lucky to be under Bob and Patsy’s roof, but at least they were together.
Which made her think: had she been missed yet? She was supposed to work at Dunnigan’s yesterday afternoon. How long before a missing persons report was filed?
“Lorelei?”
She stared at Colin at the head of the table. Everyone was seated but her. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She went to the nearest empty chair – next to Jeff – and sat.
Colin glanced around the table, clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head. Everyone else, including Lorelei, did the same. “Lord, thank you for bringing Lorelei to us safe and relatively unharmed. We’ll do our best to take good care of her in the interim. I pray the MacDonalds have safe travels until they return. Bless my brother Harrison and his family on their trip to the Weaver farm, and keep Irene from causing too much trouble …”
A few of the kids snorted. Lorelei, not in on the joke, stayed quiet.
“Take this bounty and bless it to our bodies. Amen.” Colin looked around the table, his eyes fixing on her. “Feeling better, I take it?”
“Yes, sir,” Lorelei said, her hands in her lap. “Sir” seemed appropriate with all the children present.
Jefferson picked up the plate of ham. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.”
He stabbed a piece with his fork and shook it onto her plate, then took two for himself.
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The food was passed around the table and each time something came to Jefferson, he asked if she wanted a portion and served her before taking any for himself. She’d never seen such manners. Last night she sat between Thackary and Adele and served herself. She couldn’t envision Erwin doing anything near as polite. Was it because Jefferson was the oldest? Or maybe the Cookes raised their children better than the Browns did. She suspected the latter.
Conversation was light. This was a routine day for the Cooke family – chores had to be done, food had to be cooked. Lorelei watched them eat, listened, and learned in a very short time that a cattle ranch in the 1870s was a lot of work. It was nothing to sneeze at in the 21st century either, even with all the modern conveniences. They were polite and considerate to each other. They weren’t perfect, because who was, but there was something at their center, something almost tangible.
Tears stung her eyes when she realized what it was. Love. She’d never experienced this, not even when her parents were alive. They both worked and she …
“Would you like to see the barn?” Parthena asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
Lorelei swallowed hard, then took a sip of coffee to push back the lump in her throat. “Sure.”
“After you gather the eggs and feed the chickens,” Belle said.
Parthena frowned. “Yes, Mother.”
“I’m afraid our children’s chores are taking longer than usual,” Colin explained. “They’re also covering for Harrison’s brood while they’re away.”
Lorelei got an idea. “Can I help you with the chickens?” she asked Parthena.
“Sure!” Then Parthena turned to Colin. “Would it be all right?”
“Are you up to it?” he asked Lorelei
“I think some fresh air will do her good, dear,” Belle said. “But we don’t expect you to work today. Doc Drake did say you should rest.”
“I think I can handle gathering eggs,” Lorelei volunteered. “If someone shows me how.” She winked at Parthena.
“I can. And we have a rope swing in the barn …”
“I would argue against using it today,” Colin warned. “One dizzy spell and that would be it.”
“Yes, Father,” Parthena said, then grinned at her.
Lorelei could tell she was a mischief-maker. “I probably wouldn’t try the rope swing anyway. I get vertigo.”
Jefferson turned to her. “You get what-a-go?”
“I, uh, get off-balance at heights,” she explained, hoping they wouldn’t press it. Some of the girls in gym class never let her forget about it. She stopped taking gym as soon as she’d met the requirement for graduation. She didn’t play sports in school. She didn’t do drama class or band or choir. She wouldn’t even join the chess club, even though she was a good player. She was too shy, too self-conscious all the time. Books were her thing, and all the wonders they held between their pages. She’d wanted to major in Library Science if she ever got to college.
But going to college was contingent on a lot of things. Now including getting back home to the 21st century.
“Hey,” Jefferson said to get her attention.
She turned to him. “Yes?”
“Can you ride?”
Her eyes widened. “A horse? No, not at all.”
He stared at the table a moment. “Would you like to learn?”
“Chores, children,” Belle called from the stove. “Now.”
Colin put on his hat and coat. “Go see Logan and find out what he wants you to do, Jeff. I need to get into town.”
Lorelei blushed as Jefferson glanced between them. “Perhaps later?”
“Perhaps. Not today, though.” It was fine to stand next to a horse, but to actually sit high upon one might be too much. She’d had a hard enough time with the buckboard yesterday.
“Jefferson …,” his father warned.
Jeff left the table, shrugged on his coat, put on his hat and taking one last look at her, went out the door.
She swallowed hard. He was attentive, polite, handsome, and unlike any boy she’d ever known. But Jefferson Cooke, she reminded herself, was no boy. He might be considered young where she came from, but around here he was a man full-grown and acted like one.
She finished her coffee and almost offered to do the dishes before noticing the lack of plumbing. Adele and Parthena hauling in buckets of water didn’t go unnoticed either. They took them straight to the stove and set them on it one at a time. “Okay,” Parthena said. “Let’s go feed the chickens.”
Lorelei smiled. She could handle chickens. How hard could it be?
Adele disappeared from the kitchen and reappeared with a coat. “Here, you can wear this. It used to be Honoria’s but she grew out of it. It might be a little tight.”
“Thank you.” She took the coat and put it on. She noticed the lace-up boots the girls wore and glanced at the tips of her easily laced high-tops. She had a pang of guilt at having such comfortable shoes and was glad she’d had them on when she was … what, taken? Kidnapped?
She pushed the thought aside. She was here now and would have to fit in if she was to survive. The problem was, she’d never fit in anywhere before. How would this be any better, when she was a hundred and forty years away from fitting in?
“Are you ready?” Parthena asked with a big smile.
Lorelei forced a smile back. “Sure. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
Lorelei decided that she preferred chickens in a cardboard bucket with a side of potato wedges. Live chickens, on the other hand …
“Not like that,” Parthena scolded. “You’re giving them too much!”
Corn fell out of her hands as she tried to dodge twenty chickens chasing her through the snow to get their breakfast. “Get away from me!” She turned, slipped on some ice and down she went. The chickens were ecstatic.
Parthena rushed over to help. “Shoo, shoo!” She waved them away, grabbed Lorelei’s hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Thank you.” She brushed snow off the borrowed coat. “Aggressive, aren’t they?”
“Not really. You just have to toss their feed away from you. Otherwise they’ll be on top of you trying to get it.”
“Now you tell me.”
Parthena’s hands went to her hips. “I thought you at least knew how to feed chickens.”
“I told you I needed someone to show me how.”
“No milk cow, no chickens. You really are a city girl.”
Lorelei smiled weakly and shrugged. “Guilty as charged.” She brushed her hands together and stuck them in her coat pockets. Her feet were cold, but otherwise she felt … excited. She was on an adventure, with the chance of a lifetime to learn about the past. All she had to do was get past her screaming ignorance and paralyzing fear and she’d be fine.
Parthena headed back to the chicken coop. “Come along – we’ll gather the eggs next.”
“Great.” Lorelei took a deep breath as they entered the chicken coop. Thankfully most of them were in the barnyard at the moment scurrying for all that spilled corn.
Parthena handed her a basket. “Here. All you have to do is take the eggs from the nest and put them in this.”
“I can do that.” She looked at the first nest – uh-oh. It had a hen in it. The bird looked at her with its beady eyes and clucked menacingly.
“Don’t worry, just put your hand under her like this.” Parthena demonstrated, pulling out two eggs and putting them in the basket. “Now you try.”
“Are there any left?”
“One.”
Lorelei took another deep breath as she slowly stuck her hand beneath the bird. “It’s warm.”
“Yes. I don’t mind this chore when it’s cold out.”
Lorelei smiled and pulled the egg out. The hen continued to look at her but did nothing. “Wow, she didn’t mind at all.”
“Most of them don’t. Some put up a fuss.”
They gathered the eggs and took them into the house. She’d done her first farm chore. Talk about living history! “What next?”
“Well, let’s see. We have to bring in wood for the stove.”
“All right.” They went back outside and chopped some kindling in a woodshed near the barn (Parthena had a mean swing with a hatchet), loaded it into a wheelbarrow, took it to the house, stored it in some baskets and bins and went back to bring in more. Lorelei was more familiar with this kind of work – Bob used to take Erwin and her up past the tree line to cut a couple cords of wood for the old stove in the family room and the fireplace in the living room. It was just for ambiance - their house had central heat. But here, wood was a necessity.
“What’s next?” Lorelei asked when they were done.
Parthena made a face. “The mending.”
“I take it you’re not fond of that?”
“It’s because she’s not very good at it,” Adele said as she entered the parlor. “Savannah isn’t either. You’d think they were twins.”
“Who’s Savannah?” Lorelei asked.
“She’s our cousin – Uncle Harrison and Aunt Sadie’s daughter,” Adele said. “She and Parthena are the same age.”
Lorelei smiled. “So what does mending entail, exactly?”
“Sit down – we’ll show you,” Adele hurried into the kitchen, returning with a huge basket. “These are Father’s and Jefferson’s things
.” She pulled out a white work shirt with no collar and what looked like wooden buttons. She recalled a picture of an Amish man she’d seen in a book once. He’d worn a similar shirt.
Adele set the basket on the table in front of the sofa. There was a small rectangular sewing basket on top of the clothes pile. She threaded a needle, then passed the basket to Parthena, who did the same.
Lorelei stared at it. “So … um, just thread a needle and find a tear?”
They exchanged a look, then stared at her. “You’ve never done mending either?” Parthena asked in shock.
“Well … I hemmed an old skirt once, but I didn’t do a very good job.” She wasn’t about to tell them she’d used Patsy’s sewing machine.
“Well, that’s something,” Adele said. “Here – Jefferson’s pants always need mending. You can practice on a pair.”
She handed Lorelei a pair of worn … “Oh my gosh, these look like Levi’s.”
“Levi Stone?” Adele said. “Do you know him? He’s our relation.”
“On our Father’s side,” Parthena said as she got to work. “He married Father’s cousin Fina.”
“And he’s Jewish,” Adele added, as if telling her he was a unique creature, like a unicorn.
Lorelei stared at them a moment; her mouth half-open. “No, I, uh, don’t know him. What I meant was these jeans are like … Levi Strauss denims. You know … from San Francisco.” She had to think of the label on the back of her own Levi’s at home. A home far, far, away …
“Jeans?” Adele said.
“That’s what we call them where I come from.” Good recovery.
“We just call them denims around here,” Parthena said.
“Mr. Dunnigan calls them waist overalls,” Adele added. “But I like the short version – denims.”
Lorelei felt like she was in a history seminar. She smiled and threaded a needle, though it took her a few tries. If she kept busy and talked, maybe she wouldn’t think as much about the reality of her situation. She was trapped here and had no idea what to do about it other than wait for Dallan and Shona to show up. And she had no idea what would happen then either.
