The Rancher's Perfect Bride

by Caroline Clemmons

  “You work very hard, don’t you?”

  “In the warm months especially there’s so much work we make use of the daylight. In addition to working the cattle and checking fences and water holes we have to plant, irrigate, and work a large vegetable garden and the orchard. You can understand we need to put by food for the year.”

  “You said your house is only a few months old but the barns look older. How long have you lived here?”

  “Andrew and I came four years ago. We were lucky someone had planted an orchard and started the irrigation canals before the family moved on to Oregon.”

  “Where did you live since the house wasn’t here?”

  “Family that left had a soddie so Andrew and I stayed in it and started on this barn.”

  “I’ve heard that term but don’t understand exactly. What’s a soddie?”

  “A house made out of sod bricks. In this case, a side of a slight hill was dug out and the front part of the house and part of the roof were made of sod. Cheap way to get a house when there’s no lumber available.”

  “Isn’t it dark and moldy?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That it is. Some people whitewash the walls or tack up cheesecloth on the inside and whitewash that, but neither is much of an improvement.”

  “Did you live there long?”

  He laughed. “Long enough for me. When we were able to hire hands to help, we finished the barn and built the bunkhouse where we all lived.”

  “But, Andrew lives elsewhere now.”

  “That’s a recent thing. We were able to expand so we split the final property fifty-fifty. His barn’s over a year old but the same size as the one here. We built the houses at the same time, working on each stage together.”

  “Having a brother who’s your best friend must be wonderful. I wish I’d known Marcy all my life.”

  “We still mourn our parents, of course, but especially Colin since he was so young. He would have loved living here.” His mind drifted to his baby brother.

  “Do you have more instruction for me? I need to know what to cook for supper.”

  Her question snapped him from his reverie. “I’ll show you the smokehouse if you’re ready. Bring a pan or something you’ll use to carry the meat.

  She carried the burlap bag she had from their trip to the cellar. “I should be making notes, Callum. If you’re not here, I might forget steps.”

  He took her arm to help her down the steps. Not that she needed his aid, but he liked touching her. Besides, she deserved his consideration. She smiled her thanks and that boosted his mood.

  “I think you’ll remember because we went through them together. You seemed to catch on quickly.”

  “Thank you, but not fast enough to save all the milk. I’ll be watching her closely next time.”

  “Happens to all of us. Cows are pretty dumb but they’re also ornery when they choose. You probably won’t come to the smokehouse often. Mostly one of the men will cut the meat for you. If you have to, it’s absolutely necessary that you always close up the locks securely.”

  He shot the bolt at top and bottom then opened the door. “If the men and I ever have call to be away for several days, you’ll have to make certain the embers keep glowing enough to produce a bit of smoke. That’s what preserves the meat. We slice off what we need. I’ll cut us some steaks today. You watch. You can see there are hams hanging that will be easier for you to handle.”

  When he’d carved enough steaks for supper, he did the same with less desirable cuts for their breakfast.

  She watched his motions as if recording them in her mind. “You have to be able to slaughter and butcher your own meat. There are so many parts of your life I’d never considered. I’m embarrassed I’ve taken so much for granted.”

  “Suppose we all do about those things we don’t examine. Reckon that’s why the Indian proverb says you shouldn’t judge until you’ve walked a mile in another’s moccasins. Here, add these to the rest in the bag and we’ll go back into the house.”

  Inside, he showed her how to store the next morning’s meat and keep this evening’s cool until time to fry for supper. He would like to take her to bed but he figured she was still too tender. Best thing for him to do would be to remove himself from temptation and meet his men.

  “If you think you’ll be all right now, I’ll ride out and join the hands. They’re irrigating today and that’s a hard, dirty job.”

  “I’ll unpack some of our things. Perhaps I can locate the china before you come back for supper and we can eat from dishes.”

  “That’ll be real nice.” He kissed her cheek, clapped his hat on his head, and left to saddle his horse.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zenobia was not dependent on having others around but she missed her husband as soon as he left to join his ranch hands. His tender consideration last night had let her enjoy their coming together. How fortunate she was to have a loving husband.

  She had a lot to do before he returned, that was certain. Hard to believe she’d accomplished so much and the time was probably only nine o’clock or thereabout. She poured the amount of milk he’d specified into the churn. At least she could perform this chore while seated.

  By the time she had butter, her arms and shoulders ached from the unaccustomed motion. She took pleasure in setting the butter into the mold and placing it on a shelf in the cool space. Now she could search for her dishes and silverware.

  Once Zenobia was able, she dived into unpacking. There wasn’t enough storage for all her dishes so she saved the best ones for when she had additional display and shelving. She had ideas of what to add and where when her husband had time and the money to do more.

  She set out her maternal grandmother’s dishes and silverware. They were the least valuable so she wouldn’t be heartbroken if a piece was chipped or shattered. After hearing the men mention they would enjoy eating from real dishes, she was excited to be able to provide them.

  When she came to the linens, she chose an older tablecloth that fit the massive dining table in Atlanta. The cloth was too long so she folded it in half and that worked fairly well. Next she found two silver candleholders and candles for them.

  Storing sheets, towels, and other linens in her new home brought her great pleasure. In the parlor she placed a lamp on the small table, antimacassars on the couch and chairs, and candelabras on the mantle. Her grandmother’s parlor clock went on the mantle as well, although Zenobia had no way of knowing the correct time until Callum gave it to her from his pocket watch.

  She scooted the trunk near the windows and covered it with a scarf, then set on it a vase, a music box, and a small painting on a brass easel. Satisfied that the parlor had been improved, she carried the few remaining things she’d selected to the bedroom. This room’s furniture deserved special treatment.

  She had a scarf for the washstand and for the vanity. With the addition of a pretty lamp on the vanity and a fancier pitcher and bowl on the washstand than was there, she was proud of the result. The room still needed curtains, but she had plans for those as well.

  In the kitchen, she got to work on supper. The men said they’d be late, so she had plenty of time. When she heard them riding in she set the butter on the table as well as pouring coffee for each man and herself. She dished up the vegetables into nice bowls with a serving spoon for each bowl. Then she stood aside and waited for the men’s reaction when they came in.

  Her husband and three other incredibly muddy and tired men dragged into the room. Mud dropped from their boots and clothes as they walked but their hands and faces were clean. They stopped and stared at the changes in the house.

  Callum looked down at his clothes then shook his head. “Sure looks nice, Zenobia. We’re too tired to clean up more before we eat. Sorry we tracked in.”

  She wanted to yell in frustration but he had told her he would be irrigating all day. Not understanding what this meant was no one’s fault. “I’m sure you’re all hungry. Please sit dow
n and I’ll bring the steaks.”

  Pete looked at the table. “I sure never seen a prettier table, ma’am. Don’t reckon you want the likes of me sitting at a place like that.”

  She smiled at the men, hoping she hid her true disappointment. “I remember that each of you said food tasted better from real dishes. That’s why we’re using them every day from now on. Please sit down so we can have our supper.”

  At her nod, Callum said the blessing.

  The men soon recovered and dug into their food.

  Callum acted proud enough to bust. “Sure is a good meal. Biscuits are really tasty.”

  Brand reached for another one. “They sure are, Mrs. McFadden.”

  She held up a hand. “Please, you must call me Zenobia because we’re like family here. I won’t take it as any disrespect.”

  The three hands looked at one another and then looked at Callum.

  He reached for another biscuit. “You heard her, boys. Always do what the cook tells you.”

  Max said, “If you don’t mind, could I call you Miss Zenobia?”

  “If you feel more comfortable addressing me in that way then please do. I don’t want to be called Mrs. McFadden by you men, though. I can tell you’re like relatives and I know my husband holds you in very high regard.”

  Callum sent her a warm smile.

  As soon as they’d eaten the men thanked her for the meal then excused themselves and went to the bunkhouse. Callum stood and took his plate to the sink.

  When he turned around, she saw him scan the table and the floor. “I’m real sorry about all the mud on your tablecloth and floor. When we irrigate the work is incredibly hard and dirty. There’s just nothing we can do about it.”

  He sat back down and pulled off his boots and set them by the door. “I should help you clean up this mess but, to tell the truth, I’m too beat. We have to irrigate again tomorrow so don’t change tablecloths. If you want to leave the dishes until then that’s all right with me.”

  She touched his shoulder. “Go on to bed, husband. I’ll clean the kitchen tonight so I can fix breakfast in the morning. I won’t be long.”

  He stood and kissed her lips gently but briefly. “Thank you. Looked real nice, Zenobia, like a grand home. Tasted good, too. You did a fine job.” He staggered toward the bedroom.

  His words softened her reaction when she regarded the mess that was left of her beautiful table arrangement and clean floor. She still had the urge to bawl. No wonder he used tin plates and cups. They were practical for this life.

  She straightened, determined to have a neat kitchen before she went to bed. That was part of her job. Cooking and cleaning was why Callum had wanted a wife, that and someone to share companionship and bedroom intimacy.

  What she’d wanted was to avoid marrying Percy Lawton and escape her stepfather and she’d done both—at least she hoped she had escaped Jim Beveridge. For certain, she’d married a man who regarded her as his partner and a valued companion. All the mud in the world wouldn’t make her regret coming here.

  When she went to the bedroom, Callum was sound asleep. Yet, when she crawled in beside him, he mumbled and curled to fit his body to hers and laid his arm across her waist. She snuggled against him. Never had she felt so treasured and safe.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning after the men had gone, Zenobia brought the buckets of milk into the kitchen. This time, she’d given the cows more to eat while she milked. That darn Bonnie had tried to kick her stool again but Zenobia was prepared today. She fell onto the barn’s floor but saved the milk. Unfortunately, her hands and clothes suffered and were covered in muck.

  Right now, cows did not hold a warm spot in her heart. At the same time, she was happy she had managed to get the milk on her own. She was nervous about gathering eggs and fending with that grumpy rooster.

  At the pen, she set down the basket and grabbed the wooden garden rake. She waved it at the rooster and today he took the hint. When the chicken’s pen was raked clean as Callum had shown her, she picked up her basket and set about searching for eggs.

  The rooster didn’t attack her but he set up a ruckus and ran back and forth as if acting out a message. At least he left her to her job. The hens pecking and squawking also frightened her but she was determined to complete her chores. At least now she was less likely to soil her shoes.

  Once she was at the nesting boxes, she spied an egg and placed it into the container. There, see, she could do this on her own. After all, Callum had told her he and Andrew did this chore as small children.

  Reaching into the nests became less frightening. At one spot, she saw two yellow eyes staring back at her and heard a strange noise. A snake! She retreated without dropping her eggs and grabbed the rake.

  Once again she set the basket on the ground before using the rake to pull the serpent from the nest along with straw and an egg. The thing appeared to keep growing wider and longer as it slithered toward her. She had no idea snakes could be this wide and long. The urge to scream was overpowering and she yelled as she beat the snake repeatedly with the rake’s wooden head.

  The rake’s head shattered but the reptile’s writhing continued. She used the handle to repeatedly smack the thing’s head and body. When finally the snake had stopped moving, she took the egg basket and rushed into the house.

  Shaking, she sat at the kitchen table to recover. She couldn’t leave the snake in with the hens and rooster, could she? Was it all right for chickens to eat snakes or would doing so make them sick? What would a real ranch wife do in this situation?

  Wait—she was a real ranch wife now.

  Zenobia marched back to the chicken pen and retrieved the rake. Ugh, the rooster and hens were pecking at the dead snake. After shooing them, she used the broken rake’s handle and pushed the snake out of the pen then closed the door securely.

  Shuddering, she wondered what she should do with the awful thing. An old bucket was beside the barn. Using the garden tool’s handle, she scooped and shoved the long serpent until the whole length was inside the bucket. There was no lid so she laid a board over the top. Callum would know what to do with the thing.

  Satisfied she’d managed that crisis, her limbs were rubber and her hands shook. She staggered inside and pumped herself a glass of cold water. The liquid was refreshing and tasted far better than that in Atlanta.

  How did people learn to get by out here? She had so much to learn that had nothing to do with cooking or cleaning. This must be how settlers felt when they came from a city to homestead. Steadier, she splashed water on her face and neck. Dear heavens, she still had to go to the smoke house to get meat for supper.

  Dear Lord, please don’t let there be any critters in there.

  She intended to get one of the hams, but she put a cleaver in her apron pocket. It was heavy and didn’t fit but reassured her. Nothing else had better mess with her.

  Callum and his men rode in at six. Supper simmered on the range, ready to set on the table. Zenobia went to the door to greet the men.

  He kissed her cheek. “How was your day?”

  “I… I broke your rake.”

  Callum held her shoulders and his brow wrinkled as he met her gaze. “How did that happen?”

  She couldn’t suppress a shiver from memories of her encounter. “I killed a snake in the hen house. The awful thing wouldn’t die so I had to keep hitting it and hitting it.”

  “What kind of snake and where is it now?”

  “I didn’t know what kind or how to dispose of the thing. I left it in that bucket over there.”

  “I’ll see what we have.” He strode to the bucket and tipped the board from the top to peer inside. He kneeled as if to be certain the snake was dead. When he raised his gaze toward her, his face was somber.

  Had she done the wrong thing? Maybe she’d overreacted.

  Pete joined Callum. “That’s a mighty big snake. I’d like to have the rattlers if no one else wants them.”

  Max a
nd Brand joined the other two men.

  Max put his hands on his hips. “I’ll take care of burying the head.”

  Callum stood. “Thanks. I wish we knew where the nest was.”

  Brand glanced at Zenobia then back at Callum. “She know how to shoot a revolver?”

  “If not, she soon will.” He strode toward her and put his arms around her waist. “Sorry you had to deal without more help. Where in the hen house was the snake?”

  “On the eggs.” She rested her forehead on his broad chest. “I confess it frightened me. I used the rake to pull it out of the nest and that broke an egg. At least I didn’t drop the egg basket.”

  He hugged her to him. “You had a right to be scared. That’s the largest rattlesnake I’ve ever seen. The venom of that one would be enough to kill you. Even when a rattler is dead we have to be careful not to touch the fangs.”

  She clutched his shirt in her hands as a shudder possessed her. “I wouldn’t touch any part of that thing. The end of the rake was too close for me. I had to kill it so it wouldn’t get our eggs.”

  “A rattler that large can also eat the small hens. I’m proud of you for killing that one.” He leaned back and met her gaze. “Zenobia, do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  Her eyes widened and she slowly shook her head. “I’ve never even held one.”

  “Tomorrow I’m staying here long enough to teach you how to shoot a revolver and a rifle. I apologize for leaving you defenseless.” He tipped up her chin. “Guess you weren’t totally at risk because you killed that varmint.”

  Max tipped his hat to her. “Miss Zenobia, you are a woman to ride the river with.”

  Callum leaned near her. “That means you’re brave and can be depended on in tough times.”

  Pete put away his knife after cutting off the snake’s rattlers. “Reckon we’re lucky the boss has you for his wife. Some women would have screamed and hid in the house ’til we got here.”

  Brand stroked his beard. “Yes, ma’am, you’re a brave lady and I’m glad the boss has you here as his wife.”