"Ma, there's a lady out there staring at our house and talking to herself."
"Come in here and help me with dinner Molly," the mother replied, her mind on a million other things.
Marge Hill was just about to put supper on the table and call in the men when she heard a knock at the back door of her farmhouse. She figured it was a neighbor's farmhand wanting to ask her if he could stay to eat with them, after all, her cooking was famous in Colton County.
Instead she opened the door to a young women, holding only a plastic bag, who looked like she needed a bath, some food and a good night's rest.
"Can I help you?" Marge asked briskly, not wanting to encourage this person who was probably trying to sell her something or convert her to some strange religion.
Kate looked at the attractive woman with dark brown hair, a buxom full figure, and hazel colored eyes that gleamed of intelligence and common sense. She appeared to be about fifty and was unmistakably confident.
"Yes Ma'am," Kate replied, trying to sound capable and convincing, "I'd like to apply for the job of farmhand, I learn very quickly, am responsible and strong. I'm motivated to do a good job and will strive to succeed at any task you give me."
"You, a farmhand? Honey, you look like you should be on the cover of one of them fashion magazines, not working your tail off on a ranch. I don't have the time or money to waste teaching somebody how to work this place just to have them start crying and run off while I'm stuck having to find someone else. This is hard, serious, unforgiving work for someone with a back of steel and a will to match."
"I can do it, I won't let you down. I'm not a girl, I'm twenty-four next week as a matter of fact, and I've been through some rough times that have made me even more mature. I used to do nursing work, which is backbreaking labor that never lets up. I'm stubborn, I don't give up easily and I really need the job. I'd appreciate it very much; you could depend on me to be reliable, honest and to put in a full day's labor," she made her case.
"We get a lot of young people coming through here every year, mostly kids who've run away and want something temporary in Montana while on their way to Seattle or California. They think the West will make them a new life, solve their problems, give them what they think they're searching for. Well, it's not that simple and it just don't work that way. Life isn't any easier out here, if anything, it's ten times harder. We even get the rich kids who flunk out of college or can't find a direction. Though I will admit, this is the prettiest state in the country. But no, go home to your family girl, work your problems out there."
"I don't have any family. I don't have anyone. I just want a chance at this job," she stated with an intense honesty that broke through to Marge's no nonsense heart.
Marge leaned against the doorway and took her time gazing into Jane's eyes, trying to see if she could get a handle on her character, if she was trustworthy. Marge suddenly took a deep breath and stood back as she opened the door wide.
"I'm probably going to regret this, but you'll have your chance. Come on in and wipe your feet. It's muddy out there and lord knows I'm tired of mopping this floor with all the muck that gets tracked in here. What's your name?"
"Kate Marsh," she had picked the first name in honor of Katherine.
"Pleased to meet you, Kate, I'm Marge Hill, my husband and I are the proprietors of Red Oak Ranch."
"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Hill," Kate smiled and shook her hand.
"Mrs. Hill will never do, call me Marge, like everyone else. There's a bathroom 'round that corner, Kate, why don't you go in and wash up before we sit for supper."
"I didn't expect to be fed, Ma'am, I mean, Marge—"
"Never you mind, that's part of working here, you're expected to eat with us and help me clean it all up afterwards," she informed her.
She washed up as she was told and then jumped right in to help Marge with preparing the meal.
There was more food on that long wooden table than Kate had ever seen in her life. Just as Marge set the last bowl down upon the table, a husky, square-built, fifty-something man walked in wearing old jeans stained with dirt, a couple of layers of flannel shirts and some stubble. He had clear light blue eyes, a crooked smile and an air of impish mischief about him. He was the kind of man people liked instantly.
"Just like clockwork. Kate, this is my husband Burt. Burt, this is our new hand, Kate. She's a good girl, hard worker," Marge put in a few good words for her, not wanting her husband to think she'd gone totally crazy for hiring the skinny thing.
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Hill, thank you for the job," Kate smiled, extending her hand.
He smiled back at her and shook her hand firmly, his being large and hard with calluses from thirty-five years of farm work.
A little girl with wavy brown hair and eyes the color of Burt's ran into the spacious kitchen.
"And this is my daughter Molly," Marge stated proudly as Molly gave her mother a hug.
"Hi," Kate remarked.
"Hi, you're pretty," she blurted out with a giggle.
"Thank you, so are you. How old are you Molly?"
"Nine," she answered. "You can sit next to me at supper if you'd like."
"I would like that, thanks," Kate smiled.
One by one, all the hands lumbered in until there were ten of them at the table. Marge briefly introduced them to Kate, said a quick prayer and then the food was eagerly passed around the table. Burt was obviously hungry as he piled his plate high with mashed potatoes, salads, vegetables and meat. He threw a few hunks of homemade bread on top for good measure.
"Is that all you're putting on your plate," Marge spoke up as she looked across the table at Kate.
"No?" Kate responded.
Burt and the other men laughed, otherwise they didn't say much. They were too busy eating and weren't comfortable talking in front of the stranger.
"You've got to keep up your strength for this kinda work, Kate, believe me, you'll find out tomorrow. Now load up and don't eat like a sissy, we ain't got time for weak bodies around here. Isn't that so, Burt?"
"That's so Margie," he grinned at his tough, attractive wife and kept on eating.
Kate was being polite by not eating as much as she secretly wanted to. But with Marge's encouragement, there was no need to hold back. She gave herself second helpings of everything because she was actually ravenous. Marge nodded her head at Kate in approval.
"I hope you're right, Marge," Kate spoke up in between her bites.
"About what?"
"That I work this food off or by next week, I'll be up to 300 pounds," Kate commented.
Burt laughed again. "That reminds me, where's dessert?" he inquired.
This time it was Kate and Marge who laughed at his incredible appetite.
After helping Marge and Molly clean up the dishes and supper mess, Kate said goodnight to everyone and followed Marge out the door. She led her down a small path to a tiny log bungalow. There were a few others scattered about the same general area. As they stood on the modest front porch, she took out a key and opened the door.
"This is your place while you're here. There's a bedroom in there, a bathroom, you can see the kitchen and this is the main room of course. Clean sheets are on the bed, there's more linens and blankets in that cupboard, you're responsible for doing all your own laundry and keeping the place clean. The washer's in the basement of the farmhouse. Work clothes are hanging on the hook behind the door and there's more in the dressers. I think that's everything. Now get your sleep, we're up at four," Marge instructed as she turned around to leave. "Oh, there's wood for the fireplace in the box on the porch. Don't burn the place down."
Kate nodded her head, signifying she understood all of Marge's orders before closing the door. She took a few steps and looked around. It was pleasant enough; very small but clean and cozy. There was good craftsmanship in the bungalow; heavy wooden beams, thick moldings, and hardwood floors. An old desk and chair stood against the wall in the main room, along with a sm
all couch dressed in a clean slipcover and a wooden rocker. In the kitchen area was a modest table complete with a couple of chairs and a corner cupboard. The bedroom had a nightstand beside the bed, one large dresser and a standing lamp to read by. There were worn but attractive braided rugs on the floors, green checked curtains on the windows and a few decorative touches here and there.
"This is nicer than where I grew up," Kate said to herself. She went to the tall dresser that rested against the bedroom wall and rummaged through it. There were long underwear in it, a few tee shirts, some flannel shirts, faded jeans and all of them clean and fresh smelling. She figured these things were probably Burt's old stuff that he had grown out of or just didn't need and were left there for whoever occupied the bungalow.
She took off all her clothes, showered, threw on one of the long underwear shirts and plopped into the single bed. It felt like the most comfortable bed she'd ever been in. It was warm, the sheets smelled of scented detergent and before one more thought passed through her mind, she was asleep.
The bedside alarm clock went off, accompanied by the shrill crowing of a rooster. It was a little before four in the morning. It took all of Kate's strength to get out from under the warm blankets and make her way to the bathroom. It was still pitch dark outside and so she turned on the lamp in the main room as she walked past.
She washed her face and brushed her teeth, quickly wound her hair into a bun at the back of her head and threw on some long underwear, a flannel shirt and old jeans that hung on the door. Luckily there was a belt already strung through the loops that she was able to tighten enough to keep them up. There was also a man's heavy work jacket; she threw on the oil stained jacket that had a John Deere emblem on it and walked out.
There was a biting chill in the early morning February air and the ground was crusted with ice as she trudged up the path to the main house. She followed the line of men walking into the kitchen and immediately helped Marge with getting breakfast served up.
The other men took little notice of her as she placed the food on the table as fast as Marge made it. There were piles of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast and most importantly, strong hot coffee. Burt sat at the head of the table and joked around with guys, mainly about business; farm equipment, planting, seed, prices, fertilizers, other ranches in the area, cows, horses, etc. Kate didn't understand most of it.
"All right, Kate. Let's clean up and it's off to work," Marge said as the last man left the house.
"Okay." Kate didn't have much to say, she was nervous and still trying to wake up.
Kate zipped up her jacket and followed Marge out of the warm kitchen and up to the barn. Eddie was already working and didn't pay them any attention as he went about his chores.
"You'll start here first thing in the morning. The animals need to be fed, watered and let out to graze. The cows need to be hooked up to the machines and then of course, unhooked when they're done. Eddie will teach you how to do this properly. Then you'll need to come back to the house and help me with housework, then we have a large garden behind the house which needs to be weeded and cleaned of debris. Of course there's nothing growing in there now, but next month, we'll be getting it ready for planting. There's also another barn behind this one that holds our hay, which needs to be stacked. By the time you're finished with that, the animal stalls will need to be cleaned again, Eddie will call down to the stables to see if they need any help, and then it should be about time to head back down to the house to get supper ready for the men. Don't worry. Eddie will help you out today to learn the routine, but I'll expect you to be mostly on your own tomorrow 'cause Eddie's got his own work to do and can't be babysitting you every day," Marge informed her with a half-smile.
"Yes Ma'am," Kate replied, feeling completely overwhelmed and the day hadn't even begun.
"All right, see ya later," Marge ended their interaction as she left the barn.
Eddie just smiled at Kate, which he'd been doing the whole time. It was kinda funny how Marge scared the girl with her list of duties and expectations; she'd done the same thing to him when he'd come to work for them four years ago. He guessed it was her way of weeding out the weaklings.
"Better get moving, Kate, come on," he spoke up as he motioned for her to follow him.
Marge laughed to herself as she walked down the path to her house, recalling the expression of intimidation on Kate's face; she wouldn't last a day.
"I don't think these animals like me, Eddie," Kate remarked to him as she tried very hard to mimic his every move and attitude as they fed the animals and cleaned their living quarters.
"Now why do you say that," he asked.
"I've been attacked by the roosters, chased by the turkeys, pecked by the chickens, almost kicked by a couple of horses, pooped on by the pigs and the cows just look at me like I don't know what I'm doing, they're on to me."
He laughed, "they just don't know you, give them time to get a feel for you, plus they can tell when someone's unsure of themselves."
"Then I don't stand a chance."
"You're doing all right, just keep at it," he advised her with a sparkle in his green eyes. "I wasn't much better than you when I started here."
"Really," she said, feeling hopeful.
"Nah, I grew up on a farm, I was just trying to make you feel better."
Kate couldn't help but laugh and slapped his arm.
"Better be careful, if you injure me and I can't work, Marge'll have your hide," he warned her.
Just then another farmhand walked into the barn to fetch Eddie, "Ed, I need some help herding, Calvin didn't show up today so we're short handed down at the stables."
"You know what to do?" he checked with Kate before leaving her alone.
"Yeah, thanks, I'll ask Marge for help if I need it."
He gave her a friendly wink and followed the other hand out. Kate took a deep breath and finished cleaning the last pen while keeping a wary eye out for the goats that kept trying to ram into her leg.
Kate looked at her watch; it was one o'clock in the afternoon. This was the slowest day of her life; she'd worked harder here in half a day than she had at the nursing home in five years. Lunch was at twelve thirty; she walked back to the house, body dragging with her legs and back aching. She stepped into the kitchen just as all the others were leaving.
"Hi," she said to Marge.
"Hey. Looks like you missed lunch," she stated.
"What do you mean?" Kate asked.
"You were late, the men ate it all. You've got to get here on time if you want to eat," she informed her.
"There's nothing left?"
"Nope, but you can check the fridge in the basement on your way back up to bale the hay. There's usually some apples in there."
"Great, can I at least have a glass of water?" she inquired, feeling testy.
"Help yourself," replied Marge as she walked out of the kitchen to check on her laundry.
Kate drank three glasses of cold water and headed out again. She stopped down in the basement and snagged an apple, a tomato and a lonely cucumber that had seen better days.
She carried her precious foods up to the hay barn. At least it was warm in the barn and she peeled off a few layers until she was in her long underwear shirt and work pants. She sat on a bale of hay and bit into the overly ripe tomato. Juice squirted all over her face and down the front of her shirt, despite the spill, it tasted so sweet and wonderful. She bit off the cucumber end next, spit it out and began chewing on that, skin and all. It was bitter and rubbery, but she was desperate. A nap in the soft, scratchy hay would have been the perfect dessert, but it wasn't part of the schedule. She forced herself to stand up and returned to laboring.
No one had shown Kate how to bale the hay, she assumed it was harder than it looked on television. She knew she was supposed to make neat orderly stacks out of the disarray and mess that lay in front of her. She took the sharp tool and began stabbing at the bales and heaving them upon one another in stack formatio
n, what she didn't know was that they should actually form a type of pyramid so as not to tip over.
In the midst of her exhaustion, Kate's mood was beginning to pick up, as she felt pretty good about the way she was successfully accomplishing her hay-baling chore. The last bale was stacked when one of the huge tractors roared by the back of the barn. The vibration from the monstrous vehicle shook the building and the haystacks began to topple. A split second before they started coming down, Kate saw what was happening as she put her arms over her head and tried to take shelter under a more sturdy structure of hay. But a bunch of them came crashing down on her anyway and she fell to the barn floor as the scratchy bales pounded her.
Kate's shriek sent Tray Pierce running up to the hay barn. He slid open the heavy wooden door and looked for life among the toppled bales. Off to the side he saw a pair of legs sticking out, as he walked around the stack, he saw what appeared to be a woman sitting up and crying.
"Excuse me Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked.
Kate was shocked at his sudden appearance and embarrassed by what the barn and she herself must look like.
Immediately the tears stopped as she quickly wiped her face, creating large dirt streaks down her cheeks, "I'm okay, just a little scratched up."
"Looks like your leg's bleeding," he pointed to a blood soaked area on her pants.
"I'm sure it's nothing, I've got to get back to work, I can't let Marge see this mess," Kate said as she stood up, trying not to wince in pain.
"So you're the new hand, do you know what you're doing in here?" he questioned her flat-out.
"If I did, do you think things would look like this?" she replied with arms outstretched.
He tried not to laugh as he took off his jacket and grabbed another pitchfork that leaned against a beam, "Follow my lead."
He began stacking the hay the right way, explaining to Kate how it should be done. Forty-five minutes later, they were finished.
"I cannot thank you enough for your help," she said sincerely.
"Next time, ask how to do things first before you get yourself or someone else killed," he replied rather sternly as he picked up his jacket and left.
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