by Danni Roan
The men around him chuckled and the other woman smiled.
"Sounds like wisdom to me." Billy said with a grin. "Now what's for dessert?" He looked at Bianca on the far end of the table. The other men murmured their assent.
"If ya'll will excuse me." Clayton said as the small older woman rose to fetch dessert. "I think I'll just go check on The Duke and turn in. Seems like I've been on the road a while and the miles are catching up with me."
"That's fine son." Joshua offered as the young man stood and stepped backward over the bench he'd been sitting on.
"I'll come along with you." Hank offered. "Scott and Jack, my two nags haven't been working much and I want to be sure they're alright before I turn in. I'm sure my pretty little wife can save me a piece of..." his voice trailed off as he realized he didn't know what was for dessert.
"Bread pudding." Nona called from the stove. "We'll do our best to save you a bit." she added with a smile.
"I'll take Clay his down to the bunkhouse." Billy offered his white beard wiggling as he grinned.
Clayton could just hear Nona's reply as he opened the front door.
"Billy it would never make it there if I gave it to you. You eat like a starved wolf and never gain a pound."
Loud laughter ushered the two men out the door.
Chapter 6
"You'll get used to it." Hanks rumbling voice followed Clayton into the barn. "It's a bit much to take all at once though, no doubt about that." his chuckle shook some of the tension out of the raven-haired cow hunter's shoulders.
"I have to admit I've never been anywhere quite like it. Mr. Jude's place is a good deal quieter but probably because the few men working with him and his boys have their own homes and don't eat at the house."
"The Broken J is pretty unique I'd have to say, though as large as this country of ours is there's no telling what other places could be found. I certainly didn't expect to become part of the family when I came out here, but I sure am glad I did." A bright smile that made it all the way to his gray eyes illustrated his words.
Clayton walked to where Duke stood quietly in his stall munching hay, and gave him a pat on the neck. The black horse was big for a Cracker horse standing nearly sixteen hands at the withers, but he looked like a pony next to Hanks big horses in the stalls next to him. The inky horse arched his neck and nuzzled Clayton's hand.
"If you don't mind me asking why do you call him 'The Duke'?" Hank asked, truly interested in the answer.
Clayton smiled despite the dark thoughts of a short time ago. "He was born right there on the ranch where I grew up. He was a little thing at first but with a big spirit. Before the hour was up after his birth he wasn't just walking around the corral he was prancing like he owned the place. My mother took one look at him and said he must think he's a Duke or something and it stuck." He smiled at the happy memory.
"Your folks still around?" Hank asked. "Mine are gone some five years now."
"No my father passed over a year ago and my mother a few years before that. You an only child?" He asked.
"Nah, I have a brother out there somewhere." He lit out a couple years after I apprenticed as a builder in Chicago. Always seemed to have wanderlust."
"You?"
"No, only me, as far as I know I'm the last Allen from my side of the family."
"Well, you settle in here and before you know it the place will feel like home." Hank slapped him on the back companionably then squealed and turned lightning fast on his big feet as something grabbed his back pocket. "Dad gum-it! Scooter, how in tarnation did you get out again?"
Clayton looked around and for the first time in ages truly laughed. The little mule had untied the knot holding the gate closed, as well as turning the wooden latch and had let himself out. Just behind him a tall leggy liver chestnut yearling with a wide blaze down his face, sniffed the aisle curiously.
Hank shot him a look that told him he hadn't found the whole thing nearly so hilarious. "You grab the colt and I'll get Scooter put back into the stall." Placing a large hand on the animal’s halter, he pulled the little mule around while Clayton walked quietly toward the large colt.
“What do they call the yearling?” He asked as he calmly slipped a piece of rope around the young horse’s neck.
“Will said he won’t name him till he starts riding him and knows his personality. Seems like everyone has a suggestion. Billy suggested Mutton since Brion brought him here with a few sheep. Mostly we just call him Colt.”
He chuckled shaking his head as he escorted the mule to the stall gate. Hank pushed the mules head into the stall, and then slapped him sharply on a speckled hip. “I don’t know what to make of this animal. It seems that every time we come up with a way to keep him corralled he finds a way out. We don’t dare leave him in with the other horses. First, he’s just so small he’d get bullied by some of the more aggressive mounts, but more than that he seems to be able to open just about anything. Deeks had to make a special pin for the feed room to keep him out of there.” He nodded toward the room at the front of the barn.
Clayton turned the colt back into the large square box stall and watched as the mule made his way to the manger. Leaning his elbows on the walled fence, he examined both animals. The yearling colt was as pretty as the mule was ugly. He was tall and leggy, and had great confirmation. Wide hindquarters, straight cannon bones, and a nicely sloped shoulder indicated he’d be a fine cow pony. His dark brown coat and white blazed face had lost the soft fuzz of babyhood and made for a flashy combination.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful but you know that mule is about the worst piece of stock I’ve seen in a long time.”
“We all know it, but Eric loves him and he’s sound enough. He gets that boy around everywhere he wants to go and seems to have enough sense to keep him out of trouble. He’s also got about the sweetest nature of any mule I’ve ever seen. During the day he follows my son around like a puppy. What do you do when your child loves something like that?”
Clayton smiled. “I guess you thank your lucky starts a little mule like that doesn’t eat too much.”
“If you’re done. I think I’ll call it a night.” Hank offered looking off toward the house. “Fiona will wonder where I’ve gotten to.” The big man’s soft smile and bright eyes showed how he felt about his wife.
“It’s been a long day.” Clayton offered turning toward the barn door. “I’ll be glad for my bed.” Together they stepped out into the crisp spring night. Clayton looked up examining the bright stars in a black sky. He breathed deeply of the frosty air and shivered.
“Good night Clay.” Hank offered raising a hand as he headed toward the small sod shack on the other side of the house where a bright light could be seen shining through a tiny window on the outside wall.
“Night.” He drawled in reply and headed toward the bunkhouse at a brisk pace.
“You get that critter tucked in for the night?” Old Billy called as he walked in the door.
“Yeah.” Clayton called back good-naturedly “Along with a mule and a big colt. Seems like they let any ol’ thing wonder around this place.” He added, a teasing twinkle in his eye.
Billy chortled. “Yep, Josh’s got more heart than brains any day of the week. Take in any stray thing that comes along.” The old man’s smile slipped as he caught the flare of fire in the young man’s eyes, but it was gone in a minute, replaced by a flashy smile.
“Must be the truth old timer, an’ he must have started pretty dang early by the looks of you.” His eyes twinkled with merriment as the old chuck wagon cook, leaned back on his bunk and howled with laughter.
“I reckon you’ll prob’ly fit right in here, sonny.” He said holding his sides. “You ain’t afraid of crotchety old men and that’s an important trait round this place.”
Deeks, already stretched out on his bed to take the strain from his tired back, smiled and winked. “Your dessert is on the table there.” He said pointing toward a small plate wrapped in
a napkin. “You might wanna eat it before too long or Billy will gobble it up. On’y thing we can keep in this bunk house is coffee.”
Clayton moved to the scarred table and lifted the napkin. The pudding was still warm and he picked up a fork taking a bite before he’d even lowered himself into a chair.
“I’ll say one thing a man won’t starve around this place. The cookin’s about as good as I’ve ever had.” He sat slowly eating his bread pudding and then turned back to the four other men he now shared the room with. “Just tell me one thing and I’ll be a happy man.” He looked at each one of them carefully, his eyes intense; serious. “Do you get biscuits and gravy?”
The room erupted in laughter as each man nodded his head. Steve, and the bald Walters stood pounding him on the back cordially.
“You’ll do boy. You’ll do.” Billy gasped between laughs. “An’ don’t you worry. Them women can whip up some dandy biscuits and gravy. You just wait and see.”
The laughter and the easy comradery had lifted his dark mood from earlier and he finished off his snack with a smile, but as the warm food settled in his stomach his eyes grew droopy.
Cleaning his plate in a small pan of water on the stove, his jaw cracked with a huge yawn and he knew he’d need to seek his blankets. Taking a quick trip to the necessary and back he quickly washed his hands, brushed his teeth and crawled between his blankets in shirt and jeans. Even with a small fire keeping the chill out of their quarters he knew he’d feel the cold as the night wore on.
The bright red glow of the coals in the small cook stove cast an eerie light in the dark room as silence fell. The lamp had been put out ages ago but despite his tiredness, Clayton lay awake studying the heavy planking on the ceiling of the bunkhouse. He was conflicted about the new job about his role here on the Broken J. He had no doubts about his ability as a cowhand. It had been his whole life since he was a boy. His plan was to spend some time here then begin preparing to start his own place.
He gritted his teeth thinking of it. His place was in Kissimmee in his home, the place he’d been born and raise. That was his place. Blowing a breath through his mouth he let the anger pass. There had been too much of that already.
In Texas he’d found he could have fun again that he could learn to enjoy a few good things in life. There he’d discarded the gear he’d used hunting cows and bought all new clothing, right down to his spurs. The only thing he had left from home was The Duke and his mother’s dying gift.
As his eyes grew heavy he wondered what life here on the Broken J would bring. He had a lot to learn about the place but he hoped he’d find some peace.
Chapter 7
Meg stood at the stove stirring the sausage in a large iron skillet. The fragrant meat had been canned last fall and was now browning in small crumbles. In a large bowl she’d mixed together milk, corn starch and seasonings for the gravy. She’d no sooner climbed out of bed this morning than Nona had knocked on her door asking her to go down and start making biscuits and gravy for breakfast.
Why Billy had insisted he wanted that particular meal was beyond Meg but who was she to argue with the old chuck wagon cook. He probably could have made it just as well himself. Katie wasn’t feeling well again this morning and Nona had gone to see if she could make her more comfortable. She glared at the now browned sausage in the pan and prayed her sister wasn’t seriously ill, before slowly mixing the milk mixture into the skillet, stirring it to keep it smooth.
A cold blast of air flitted through the back door as Fiona and Eric entered. “Good morning Meg.” The dark haired young woman said as she hung up her warm coat and reached for an apron. “What’s for breakfast today?”
“Yeah, Aunt Meg, what’s for breakfast?” Eric’s bright voice brought a smile to her lips.
“Biscuits and gravy, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect.” A deeper voice replied as the new puncher slipped through the door. A light jacket buttoned up to his chin.
Meg bristled.
“Hiya Mr. Allen.” Eric called cheerfully to the man. “You like biscuits and gravy too?”
“I sure do son.” The black haired cowpoke replied. “As a matter of fact they’re just about my favorite breakfast ever and I’ll bet your aunt makes them just fine.” His soft drawl did nothing to soften the deep scowl that Meg now wore.
“Good morning Mr. Allen.” Fiona’s soft voice greeted him as he hung his hat on a peg. “I hope you slept well.”
“Yes ma’am, though I must say it’s sure is nippy out there this morning.”
“I hope you have a warmer coat than that one.” Fiona said as he stretched his hands out toward the stove. “Spring can be a fickle time here in Wyoming.”
“Yes, ma’am, I suppose it can. I just figured with how the sun warmed things up yesterday that once it’s fully up this lighter coat would be enough. If not, I’ll go fetch my other one from my bedroll.”
“Fiona?” Meg’s voice cut across the conversation. “Would you mind getting the biscuits out of the oven for me? Maybe Eric can help set the table and get the butter and jam.”
“Sure Aunt Meg.” Eric called as he started to push a tall stool toward the black stone counter top.
“I’ll help too.” Clayton volunteered cheerfully. “After all many hands make short work.” He added smiling then deftly slipped around Meg and Fiona to hand down a few plates for Eric.
The girls looked at each other, both rather surprised that the new man was willing to give a hand in the kitchen. Fiona was the first to respond as she picked up a heavy dishtowel and opened that oven.
“That is true and besides you must be hungry and nothing gets breakfast on the table faster than a little help.”
“Come on Mr. Allen.” Eric called as he began carrying items to the table. “I’ll show you what to do.”
Bit by bit the cowpuncher and the young boy laid plates, cups, and cutlery on the table while Fiona pulled two massive trays of thick fluffy biscuits out of the oven.
No sooner had the table been set then the twins entered followed by Mae.
“What’s for breakfast?” the youngest James daughter asked stifling a yawn.
“Biscuits and gravy.” Meg replied rolling her eyes. “Help get it on the table so I won’t’ have to answer that question again.” She grumbled handing a plate holding two split biscuits topped with thick white gravy to her baby sister. “You take that one and start bringing me plates. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the young cowboy.
As the other girls finished getting butter, jam, and other items on the table the men began pouring through the back door.
“Ow wee!” Billy called stomping in with a basket of eggs he gave to Fiona. “Somethin’ sure smells good in here.”
“Meg chuckled despite herself; sometimes she wasn’t sure who acted more like a child Billy or Eric. Receiving a plate of biscuits from her sister, she poured a ladle full of gravy over them and handed the plate to the old man. One by one plates were filled and placed on the table. Meg however kept one plate back a minute longer then with her own hands delivered it to Clayton.
“Why, thank you ma’am, he drawled.” Just as the other men lowered their heads for grace. After a quiet blessing everyone turned to their food with gusto on this brisk morning.
Meg watched as the bright eye puncher cut into his biscuit with a fork and raised the piping food to his mouth. It had just settled on his tongue when his eyes grew wide, then narrowed looking at her. Without any further reaction he chewed, swallowed then reached for his coffee. “That’s some fancy cooking” he drawled across the table at her. His eyes bright. “Not short on pepper either.” He added with a quick smile.
“Oh I hope it’s not too spicy for you Mr. Allen.” The copper haired girl replied. “I believe yesterday you mentioned you like things a little hot.” Her eyes danced with delight as she looked at his plate where she’d mixed in a liberal amount of black pepper.
“Yes, ma’am.” He said again. “Just how I like
it nice and spicy. That’ll keep a man warm on a frosty mornin’ like today.” Then to her surprise he dipped his fork back into his breakfast. To Meg’s complete shock he ate the entire plate of food without even a grimace.
Joshua James cast a questioning look along the table to his father-in-law, Isadoro, who shrugged. Something was obviously up between his daughter and the new hand but what it could be seemed to slip right by him. He hoped that just this once things could go smoothly for one of his children and that they would not have to suffer the heartache and pain his other two had gone through. He’d need to talk to everyone soon but for now there was work to be done.
Will arriving late for breakfast stomped down the stairs in a disgruntled mood. The usually cheerful cow hand and foreman of the Broken J had been summarily dismissed from his own room. He knit his brows as he walked into the kitchen where everyone had already started breakfast. Taking a plate from his usual seat he walked to the stove and got himself some biscuits, and sawmill gravy. At least that was something nice to start the day.
“How’s Katie today?” Joshua spoke as the lanky cowhand stepped over the bench and took a seat.
“Nona says she’ll be fine.” Will said sounding uncertain about the whole thing. “She took her some soda crackers and tea and said that would work wonders.”
From the far end of the table Isadoro’s soft chuckle carried over the conversations of the others. “Don’t worry son. If Bianca says Katie will be fine, she’ll be fine.” His light brown eyes twinkled with a merry light as if he had a special kind of secret.
“There you are then.” Deeks offered from his seat one place down Nona’s been nursing’ us along here for years now so don’t you worry none.”
Will dug into his food then with a nod. He’d talk to Nona again after breakfast.
