Not that she would be able to do wonders. Surely she could use soap and water to remove some of the mud and grime. Mrs. Nesbitt had made notes for her and Marcy regarding laundry and cleaning.
She drew hot water from the range reservoir and shaved in soap. With a rag she found by the pump—probably intended as a towel—she scrubbed the tabletop and wiped down the chairs and benches. The furniture appeared to be a random assortment, some crudely made, some of better quality but old, and a few new and well-made pieces.
When the table was clean and dry, she emptied the filthy water.
Callum took the bucket from her and rinsed it. He took a pitcher and pumped it full of clean water he poured into the range’s reservoir. “Refilling is important. Best to get in the habit or you defeat having the reservoir.” He filled a coffee pot and started it boiling on top of the range.
She set the picnic basket on the table. “I forgot I’ll need more hot water soon to clear up after our meal.”
She unwrapped a butcher-paper parcel to reveal golden pieces from what appeared to be two fried chickens. Jars included two of potato salad and peach cobbler and one each of pickled beets, pickled peaches, sauerkraut, and corn. The minister’s wife had also included cornbread. Mrs. Moore was a generous and resourceful woman.
Zenobia found tin plates in the cupboard and enough forks for everyone, but there appeared a shortage of everything. She was glad she would be able to solve that dilemma when she unpacked her trunks. For now, they would be able to enjoy their meal.
Callum leaned over the chicken and inhaled. “You ready for the men to come eat?”
“Yes. Should I go knock on the bunkhouse door or shall I go to the door and yell at them to come eat?”
He laughed. “I guess either one would work. They’ll be expecting to hear the bell, though. Also works for an emergency.”
He opened the door and tugged on a chain she hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived.
The loud pealing startled her. “I’m sure that could probably be heard for quite a distance from the house.”
Callum scratched at his jaw. “Right. Sometimes we… um, I take things for granted. Since I grew up on a farm and then a ranch, I may forget that I know things you don’t.”
His apology continued, “Like if we were in a large city you’d know a lot I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be worth mentioning because you take it as normal living. Be patient with me, will you?”
“What a sweet thing to say. Thank you, Callum. You’re the one who’ll need patience. I promise to do my best to be a good wife but so much here is new to me. It’s as if I’ve traveled to a different world where everything has changed.”
Further discussion was prevented when Max, Pete, and Brand came in.
Pete rubbed his hands together and his brown eyes sparkled. “I’m hungry enough to eat my boot.”
Zenobia searched for serving spoons but could locate only one. “You’ll be happy to learn your boots are safe. Mrs. Moore sent plenty of food.”
Brand nudged Pete. “Wait until you see how much this skinny fella packs away. Always count him as two.”
Max smoothed a finger over his small, neat mustache. “Reckon the three of us eat enough for six and Callum can pack away food, too. Hope Mrs. Moore knew that.”
Zenobia moved the empty basket to a counter and took a seat. “She must have. I don’t think we’ll go hungry. Callum, will you say grace before we eat?”
The men froze, except Pete who’d reached for the chicken and withdrew his hand as if slapped.
Callum bowed his head and so did the other three men. “Father, we give thanks for what we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies. Bless the hands that prepared the meal and those at this table. Amen.”
Zenobia picked up the jar of corn. “I put the chicken in the center so we can serve ourselves because it would be difficult to pass to one another. In one of my trunks, I have dishes and such for the kitchen.”
Brand stared at her. “Real dishes? I haven’t eaten on anything but tin in longer than I can remember. My folks only had tin plates but once I was in a fancy restaurant what used them.”
Pete swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bounced like a ball. “Been a long time for me, too, but I do recollect food tastes better on real plates.” He glanced at Callum. “Not that I ever turned down anything served on tin, mind you.”
She smiled at all four men. “Hopefully, tomorrow you can judge for yourselves. I must warn you my cooking is not up to Mrs. Moore’s quality but I’ll do my best.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Zenobia woke when her husband stirred. He lit the bedside lamp and dressed. Embarrassed by the intimacy they’d shared, she didn’t meet his gaze.
He cleared his throat as he pulled up his braces. “I’ll start the coffee while you dress.” He carried his boots with him.
“I won’t be long.” She quickly spread the cover on the bed to hide the proof of her virginity. As soon as the linens were unpacked she’d change the sheets.
In her room in Atlanta, she’d practiced dressing quickly and putting her hair into a simple coil at her neck. Raising the lid to her trunk, she pulled out one of the few dresses she thought might work as a housedress. Before coming here, she wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing a petticoat or shift two days in a row.
Now she wondered how many times she could wear these and her unmentionables before she changed them. Thoughts of doing laundry for herself and four men had her puzzled and petrified. She would have a few days before that chore became necessary. With that comforting her, she fastened her half boots and hurried to the kitchen.
Callum was slicing bacon. She took over for him.
“I’ll help with chores while you’re making breakfast.”
She started the meat frying while she mixed the biscuits. When they were in the oven she took the bacon out of the skillet and laid more in to fry while she scrambled a dozen eggs. Checking on the biscuits showed them browning nicely, but they didn’t look as she expected.
Callum returned and set the plates and forks on the table.
When she removed the biscuits from the oven, they were too short. “I don’t understand. Those I made in Atlanta were nice and fluffy.”
“Probably a difference in the way the stoves cook.” He picked one up and tossed it from hand to hand to cool it before he took a bite.
He stared at the remainder while he chewed what he had in his mouth. “Kind of… um, hard and cooked a mite too long but edible.”
A horrible thought occurred to her and she looked at the cabinet. The can was on the shelf but she didn’t remember taking it down. “Baking powder. I forgot to add baking powder.”
Tears filled her eyes and she dropped onto a chair. “The one thing I could cook properly and I ruined it.”
Callum knelt in front of her. “Hey, they’re not that bad.”
“They’re ruined. There’s a little cornbread left from last night. I’ll set it on the table. Please ring the bell before the eggs get too cold to eat.”
She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron and rose. She’d put the cornbread in the pie safe yesterday evening after supper. When she opened the door, a tiny mouse sat on the cornbread.
After grabbing an empty food jar and lid, she scooped the mouse into the jar and clamped on the lid. She strode past the puzzled ranch hands to the door and emptied the mouse onto the yard then stomped her foot several times to further frighten the rodent. The creature scurried into the grass at the side of the water trough.
She yelled, “And don’t come back.”
To her surprise, the men ate the biscuits without complaint. They even thanked her for cooking for them. That only made her feel worse.
Callum remained behind when they rode to check on the cattle and crops. “I thought I could show you how to milk the cows and collect the eggs. We can wait a day or two if you’d rather.”
“Thank you, but I want to learn to do my chores perfectly.
You may as well know I’ve never even been close to a cow or a live chicken.”
He chuckled. “You certainly handled that mouse in short order. Reckon you’re up to whatever comes your way.”
He couldn’t know how much his praise helped her. Her previous life hadn’t prepared her for this one. She prayed he’d give her time to learn all she needed.
He took her hand and examined her palm and fingers. “Your hands are incredibly soft and unmarred. You’ve never worked, have you?”
She met his gaze. “Your letter didn’t say you expected someone who was already experienced in ranch life. Even though I don’t have experience with such things, I’m willing to learn everything I need to be a good ranch bride. I want to be perfect.”
“Hey, no one expects that, Zenobia. I appreciate that you’re willing to pitch in and do your share.”
“After I made such a mess of breakfast, you’re being very kind. I’m going to master this, Callum. You can count on that.” She was determined to be the perfect ranch wife—if learning didn’t kill her.
She set the dishes in the dishpan and pumped water on them until after she milked the cow and gathered eggs.
He stared at her and made an up and down motion with his hand. “Do you have a dress that’s… well, not so fancy?”
She looked at the skirt of her blue faille dress trimmed in Valencia lace. Already stains dotted the sleeves but her apron covered the bodice. “No, but I have fabric to make some. I’ll alter others.”
“No one’s here but me so reach under and grab the bottom of your back hem.” He bent over and reached as if he wore a dress. “Pull it up and tuck it into your waist. This will keep the bottom of your dress from being ruined.”
“I think the woman who did laundry for my family did that.” She followed his instructions. Her stockings showed and her dress bunched in front as if she carried a pillow on her lap.
“You’re ready. Why don’t we start with the eggs since they’re easiest?”
She shook her head. “No, start with what’s hardest then the rest will seem even easier.”
No matter how difficult, she had to master these chores. But what if she couldn’t? Her insides quivered and her chest tightened. Her stepfather’s image popped into her head and stiffened her resolve.
Callum picked up a large bucket and handed her a second one. “These have to be scoured every time they’re used. I cleaned them yesterday, so you can just rinse them out now and make sure no dusted landed inside.”
She did then carried hers by the handle.
He opened a drawer of the cabinet and pulled out a couple of towels. “When you’ve finished milking, wrap a towel around the handle so it doesn’t cut into your hand when you carry the milk. The bucket will be heavy.”
They walked to the barn and her doubts multiplied with each step. Who was she trying to fool? She was terrified of large animals and had never even saddled her own horse. The cow was bound to sense her fear.
“What are their names?”
He grinned and pointed first at one then the other. “Cow and cow.”
“Can I name them?”
“Sure. Are you going to name the chickens too?” She was certain her wanted to laugh at her.
“I don’t want to name anything that gets eaten but I’m calling the cows Nellie and Bonnie.”
Callum patiently led her through all the steps to prepare for milking. He guided her hands at first. His touch made concentrating on the milking. Heavens, she’d thought a person set down the bucket and pulled the teats.
But no, there was all that cleaning and massaging. On top of that, now Nellie acted suspicious of her. As proof, Nellie’s tail repeatedly slapped Zenobia’s head with resounding whacks that stung and sent her bun into disarray.
At least she got over a half bucket of milk from Nellie. Then she had to do the same for the second animal. Bonnie wasn’t looking so bonnie now. Her head turned and she sent Zenobia the evil eye.
“I’ll stand here and watch to make sure you remember the steps.” His surveillance made her even more nervous.
She settled on the stool and repeated her earlier motions. Only once did Callum have to remind her of a step she’d skipped and she began milking. Bonnie switched her tail and acted restless. Maybe Zenobia was too slow because the cow had already eaten the food Zenobia had put out for her.
“Bonnie doesn’t like me.” But, Zenobia continued milking.
When the bucket was half filled and Zenobia thought she was nearly finished with this chore, Bonnie kicked the stool. Zenobia fell, knocking over the milk bucket. She righted the container as quickly as possible but almost no milk remained—except on the barn floor.
Callum helped her stand. “Are you all right?”
She brushed straw and who knew what else from her hands and clothes. “I told you Bonnie didn’t like me.”
“Aw, that’s just a cow for you. She’ll get used to you.”
“I hope I get used to her.” Zenobia doubted she would ever have warm thoughts toward cows in general and Bonnie in particular.
Chapter Ten
Callum helped Zenobia carry the milk to the house. He was impressed at how hard she was trying. Suppressing his laughter at her with her dress askew should win him a medal for tact. Her hair was coming undone where the cow’s tail had repeatedly hit her head. He liked the sight of her blond curls tumbling onto her shoulders.
“We take what milk is left from yesterday and put it in the slop jar for the hogs.” He showed her the enameled can where they saved leftovers for the swine.
“I see that we need to drink milk for supper. Milk is good for us so we’ll have that with supper and I’ll make coffee for the dessert.”
“Now that you know how, why don’t I have Pete continue milking the cows?”
He watched the emotions pass across her face. Oh, how she wanted Pete to do the milking. He saw the longing in her expression. Her beautiful blue eyes hardened and she straightened her back. She had better never play poker because her face gave away her thoughts.
“Thank you, but I will learn and do my share as any rancher’s wife should.”
She picked up the egg basket. “I used all the eggs at breakfast so you’d better show me what I need to do with the chickens.”
“If you’re sure that’s what you want, Zenobia. You don’t have to learn everything the first few days.” He accompanied her to the hen’s enclosure at one end of the barn. He opened the door, which was really just a wooden frame holding woven wire poultry netting.
“You see we keep the chicken pen closed because there are so many varmints who would love to catch them.”
“Their little roosts are part of the barn.”
“Right. In the winter, we close up this side and keep the hens in the barn and enter the pen from there. This time of year, we let them in here for fresh air and sunshine. First thing, you’ll probably want to rake the pen so you can walk without stepping in… um chicken droppings and soiling your shoes.” Whew, having a wife meant he and the hands had to watch their words.
His wife took the wooden rake from him but stared as if she wasn’t certain what to do with the tool. The large rooster squawked and ran around the large enclosure.
Callum took the broom rake from her. “We’ll need to get you some gloves. Let me show you how to clear away the enclosure floor.” In a few quick strokes, he had the refuse in a pile he shoveled into the wheelbarrow.
“I see you do the opposite of what you’d do with a broom. I’ll remember. What do I do with the wheelbarrow?”
“Nothing. One of the men will take care of that. You’ll feed the chickens now that the floor is clean—not that the hens care one way or the other. All they find important is that they have their corn and fresh water.”
Again, she followed his instructions. His mother had trained him to be a gentleman and protect women. Standing aside while she did the work went against his training and his nature. Besides, he could have done the work
himself in a fraction of the time.
She looked up with question in her eyes. “Now do I gather the eggs?”
“Yes. One or two of the hens may resent your intrusion and especially the rooster, so watch they don’t peck you. You reach into the nest like this.” He retrieved an egg from one of the cubicles built as nests.
“Do the hens always use the same cubbyhole?” She hesitantly stretched her hand to grab an egg and nestle it in the basket.
“Near as I can tell. They appear to work out their own system.” When the eggs were gathered, they went toward the pen’s door.
The rooster must have decided he didn’t want this stranger stealing eggs because he squawked and attacked Zenobia. Flapping his wings and trying to peck at her legs, the bird chased her behind Callum.
“Help me! How do I get him to stop?”
Callum grabbed the rake and used it as a shield. “Get back, you sorry so and so, get back and leave her alone.”
The irate rooster wasn’t discouraged. He darted this way and that in an attempt to get by Callum and reach Zenobia.
“What do I do now?”
“Take the eggs with you and leave the pen and I’ll back out. He’ll calm down when the door is closed.”
When the pen door was securely closed, the rooster strutted as if he’d done a great thing in protecting his brood.
Zenobia held the basket and stared at the bird. “Is he always like that?”
“Well, he’s never friendly, but not usually this bad. It might be your dress or that you’re a stranger.” Callum guided her into the house.
She set the basket on the counter and straightened her dress. “I’m sorry but I think I used too many at breakfast today.”
He was sorry to have her pretty ankles hidden. “Not too many for the men, especially when we’re irrigating. We can get by with one or two eggs but you’ll need to add fried potatoes and more meat.”
She exhaled a sigh. “And better biscuits.”
Ignoring her comment seemed best. “We usually don’t come in at noon this time of year. That means we need a large breakfast to keep us going all day.”
The Rancher's Perfect Bride Page 5
