The Milch Bride

by J. R. Biery

  Instead, she removed her shoes and scooted down to stretch out beside the sleeping baby, again using the other pillow to hold him wedged against her. Maybe she could just lie here a minute, then she could get up and help.

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  Rubye stepped in with a plate of beans and a thick piece of cornbread, already buttered, and then set a tall glass of cold milk beside it.

  Hattie sat up slowly, then wrinkled her nose. The baby lay looking sweetly up at her. Rubye stared down at him. “I believe J.D. has a present for you too.”

  Hattie smiled and for the first time, Rubye smiled back.

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  The first group of men, including Jackson, came and went quickly. Jackson knocked at the bedroom door, and Hattie hurried to open it, but he was already hurrying away. “Brought a present for you,” he called.

  She held the baby in her arms and he stopped and walked back, leaning to stare down at the sleeping boy a minute before reaching out to rub his downy head. The baby was sleeping, a pink sausage in the snug blanket. He stared at them a minute, looking confused, then hurried out.

  Hattie looked around, not spotting anything. She looked over at Rubye, who nodded toward the living room. A crude wooden cradle sat rocking before the empty fireplace. Hattie smiled, noticing the still damp wood.

  “Men found it out in our barn and cleaned it up. Missus didn’t want it, preferred her fancy new contraption. But we thought you might find it handy to have a place to set the baby down when you’re out here, if you want to use it,” Rubye said.

  Hattie smiled her thanks, “I’ll need something to dry it out and then something to pad it. I don’t have a quilt left, or that would work.”

  Rubye lifted a hand. A minute later she was back with a towel and a folded quilt. Hattie walked over a few minutes later, keeping an eye out for the other men. Relieved, she put the sleeping baby down on the soft quilt. She held her breath, sighing when he stayed asleep as she set the cradle to rocking.

  Quietly she headed back to the bedroom to gather the basin full of damp and smelly baby clothes. Rubye had already put water to heat on the back of the stove and there were two washtubs set up in the pantry, one with soap beside it and the wash board standing up. The second tub held cold, clear water.

  Hattie had grown used to washing smelly clothes during the last two weeks, but she had washed them out in the sunlight, not in a closed room.

  Her eyes burned from the ammonia fumes and she felt frustrated when she splashed both her shirt and dark skirt while rinsing the garments. Finally she had a basket of clothes ready to hang, including the yellow gown and her dirty clothes from home. All had been washed, rinsed and wrung out by hand. Her knees and back ached.

  Rubye picked up the clothespins and started to take the basket. But J.D. slept on and Hattie held onto the clothes. “I need to dry out a little. The sunshine will help me.”

  Rubye harrumphed, but walked her to the end of the porch and pointed out the clotheslines.

  Hattie raced across the yard, quickly shaking out and pinning diapers, gowns, booties and her own clothes. She shook her loosened hair, letting the wind whip it around to cool her, already feeling her shirt drying. She stood, just letting the breeze dry and cool her sweaty body, hoping the dampness under her arms and down her back would not leave stains.

  She was hanging the yellow gown at the high part of the line when she heard the horses and wagon pull into the ranch yard. She heard the squawk of chickens and the bray of her mules, Henry and Pepper. Horses in the yard nickered in greeting.

  Hattie yelled at the mules by name and they gave a second bray and her old pet Nugget tugged at his rope tied to the back of the wagon. Hattie swung the empty basket onto her hip with the leftover pins and moved to touch each animal in welcome. Then she leaned close to hug Nugget. She turned toward the house when Rubye appeared with a fussing J.D. and a huge scowl on her face.

  Hattie gave the horse a last rub down his dusty head then quickly bounded up to the porch, trading her basket for the baby and disappearing inside.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Only when she had changed J.D. did she glance in the mirror. She gasped in horror. Her hair was a tangled, stringy mess. She put the crying baby into the crib for a few minutes and took time to wash her face, hands and arms. Then she brushed and repinned her hair. Finally she used the damp washcloth to wipe around her neck and clean both breasts before offering the fussy baby either one.

  She could hear Rubye warming food for the men, sympathizing with their tales of chasing chickens.

  “I hope Miss Stoddard isn’t too disappointed. We brought a chest, rocker, one cane seat chair, the tools and harness from the shed, along with three saddles and bridles from the barn. We couldn’t find but the one old horse and two mules.”

  “The boss will be ticked for sure. We have 32 head outside, twelve are calves. If she had 50 head three weeks ago, we couldn’t find them.”

  Hattie wasn’t sure if they thought she couldn’t count or that she had lied. She sat up, her shoulders tightening as she grew angry. If they doubted her, what would Jackson think?

  J.D. leaned back and gave one sharp cry.

  Hattie stared down at him. He seemed to be studying her, quietly staring up at her with his misty blue eyes as though to say, “Hey pay attention to me.” He made a soft bleat of sound and she leaned down to kiss him.

  His tiny hand touched her face and she felt her worry and anger go, sinking into the pleasure of the moment. She moved her head enough to catch the tiny fingers in her mouth and he turned back to nuzzling, hunting his nipple. She relaxed and stretched out on the bed to feed him and rest.

  She did not wake until much later. The bedroom was dark and quiet and she realized that J.D. was winding up to cry again. Quickly she tended him, then remained still in the dark while he fed, listening to the conversation through the door.

  Rubye must have been too busy tonight since there was no food, no glass of water or milk. The more the baby nursed, the hungrier and thirstier she felt. She was annoyed that there were lots of voices, but she could not discern what anyone was saying.

  As soon as the voices died down, she picked up the baby, patted him on her shoulder, made sure he was still dry and clean and she was neatly buttoned and pinned, then she opened the door to peek outside.

  Two people remained at the table with Jackson, but he looked up and motioned for her to come forward. She stopped at the chair where she had eaten before but Jackson indicated the chair beside him. As she started to sit, both men stood up and the cowboys bowed toward her and left.

  Jackson reached out toward Hattie and though surprised, she handed the child to him.

  Jackson unwrapped the baby, touching the soft legs, cupping the small feet, then putting a hand on the full rounded tummy. J.D. raised both hands to put on top of the big hand, catching two fingers, one in each fist. Slowly, lazily, he leaned his head back to reveal his soft throat, yawning contentedly before managing to open one eye half-way.

  Hattie hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Jackson smiled, setting the boy down on one long thigh, placing his free hand beneath the wobbly head as J.D. turned his head, trying to pull a finger to his mouth.

  Jackson glanced up then and the look in his eyes made her let out her breath in a single gasp. ‘Gratitude,’ if she had to label the look. She waited to hear the words and realized they would not be coming. The man seemed content to just bounce his knee and stare at the baby.

  Rubye set the food down but Hattie barely noticed, draining her milk instead and gladly accepting a refill. She whispered, “Thank you,” when Rubye set the half-full pitcher beside her dish.

  Next Rubye brought the basket of clothes she had pulled off the line. Hattie started to say, “I’ll fold those,” but the housekeeper plopped the basket in the chair beside her and it was obvious Hattie would be the one doing it.

  Hattie ate quickly, anxious to move to the next job. The tension in the room was unsettlin
g. While Rubye cleaned up - Hattie rose and stood to fold clothes, item by item, Soft booties, embroidered diapers and baby gowns, each tiny and precious like the boy mindlessly relaxed on his father’s gently bouncing leg. Hattie was embarrassed at the flour-sack gown and diapers she had dressed the baby in at the ranch, even more so by her own dingy, worn clothes. She folded them quickly, tucking them into the bottom of the basket as soon as she could. She was folding the yellow night gown, the last item, when Rubye came out of the kitchen and moved the basket to the bedroom, then bustled back to take the limp baby and cradle him as she carried him to bed as well.

  Jackson waited as Rubye returned to collect the empty milk pitcher and last dishes. They both listened to the sounds in the kitchen until five minutes later, when Rubye blew out the light and breezed past them toward her own bedroom.

  Twice Hattie had started to rise but Jackson had signaled her back to her seat. Each time she had felt another set of muscles tighten. What now! By the time the housekeeper stopped puttering and disappeared, Hattie’s legs were bouncing under the table from nerves.

  She stared at him, wary and suddenly aware of him as a man and the fact that they were alone. She tried to tamp down the fear that suddenly roiled through her. She imagined he had heard about the men seeing her in the yard hanging clothes. Perhaps he wasn’t pleased with how well J.D. was keeping down her milk; after all he was always hungry. Maybe he had heard how she petted the mules and Nugget, certainly unladylike, yelling hello to mules.

  She gripped the edge of the table and waited for what he had to say. The grandmother clock resting on the mantle gave a light musical chime and they sat while it went through all eight counts. On the last chime she spoke.

  “What does J.D. stand for?”

  “Jackson Dawson Harper, its Donna’s maiden name and my name.”

  At the reminder, he glimpsed Donna as she used to sit and chatter about this time of night. Giving reasons why she knew it was a boy, the way he kicked, the way she was carrying him in front, the fact that both families always had boys first, although her brother Charles had died as a baby. She would show him the clothes she had made that day, protesting when he would ask if she hadn’t made enough, claiming you could never have too many things for a baby.

  Then slowly the image faded, with its head of glossy chestnut curls and instead of the stout familiar figure he was staring at this thin, nervous woman with her wispy blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and timid manner. God, you would think she was afraid he was going to beat her as tensely as she sat and as high-pitched as her voice had been. Carefully he began his questions.

  “Fifty head of cattle is far fewer than your 400 acre spread should carry.”

  “We had nearly two hundred last year about this time, too many, and then Dad got the tax bill. After spring calving, he and our two hands branded and treated the cattle, then we separated about a hundred head and drove them to Abilene to sale. He let the hands go and they stayed in Abilene to find work. The night we made it home, that’s when the robbers came. They knocked Dad out in the barn, then tied him up. Then….” her voice trailed off.

  He stared at her, not commenting. Hattie swallowed, then continued.

  “When they left, the cattle money and our two saddle horses were gone.”

  “Why didn’t you report it to Sheriff Tate?”

  “It was a week before I felt Dad would be all right alone. I wore his six guns and a pair of pants to ride old Nugget to town. The sheriff laughed at me. Told me he’d heard a different story, the men had been bragging about how I’d invited one or the other out every night, how I would slip out to the barn to be with them.”

  “I told him they were liars, and if he didn’t do something, I’d shoot them myself.”

  He came out to the ranch, but when he asked Dad, Dad said nothing. He just teared up and looked ashamed when he looked at me.

  “Outside, the sheriff told me that even my Dad wouldn’t defend me. To him that meant that what the men said was true and if he saw me dressed like a man again in town, he would arrest me for indecency.”

  Jackson swore. “What did he say about the money and horses?”

  “He told me he knew nothing about missing money or horses, he hadn’t heard of us being in town to sell our cows.”

  “Of course, Dad hadn’t wanted to sell them there. Everyone knows the only buyer is Charles Dawson, and he only pays a fraction of what they are worth.”

  Jackson stared at her. He knew his father-in-law ran things, but he had always paid more than a fair price for the cattle from the Harper spread. Apparently, he hadn’t realized a lot of things about Dawson’s dealings with others.

  “Then what did you do?”

  “With no hands and Dad laid up, I had my hands full tending the stock, moving them to new pasture. That fall, we were only able to get part of the feed crop put up, Dad was able to help by then, but I had figured out I was pregnant and wasn’t as much help as we needed. After what the sheriff said, I avoided town, only going in early when I had to go for supplies.”

  “You had over a hundred animals last winter, but this spring you only located 50 or so.”

  “The round-up wore Dad down. It was too much for him. When he had his attack, I was able to get him home and inside, then I rode into town for the doctor. I’ve already told you what happened after that, the baby and all.”

  Jackson nodded, unwilling to give her the pity she was asking for. “Fifty is a big loss for a mild winter. Any idea what happened to them?”

  “No, we never saw any carcasses or bones left by predators. Dad and I felt they were being rustled.”

  “It’s a possibility. We have the herd penned. There are a lot of calves that need branded and cut, plus I want to make sure the herd’s healthy before I let them loose with the other animals.”

  She nodded. “Did your men bring Dad’s branding iron?”

  “Yes, that’s what I wanted to go over with you, the list of what they brought, compare it to the list you sent them with.”

  He handed her both pieces of paper. Hattie noticed they had brought her plow, her seeds, passed down from gardens her grandmother had grown, through her mother, carefully saved and labeled for the next garden.

  She stared at him, looking up hopefully. “They brought Momma’s seeds. I wonder if you would let me add them to your garden.”

  “I thought your mother died when you were a little girl?”

  “She did. Dad and I always saved seed and labeled them, Mom’s beans, Mom’s cucumbers, etc.”

  “Rubye has a small garden out back. James helped her plant it a couple of weeks ago. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind adding a few more rows of whatever you want to plant. I can have one of the men plow it.”

  “Thanks. If it’s all right with Rubye, I can use Pepper or Henry to plow it. I always did the garden at home.”

  He looked doubtful. “Its hard pack, I’m not sure if you ever had to break soil before or just till up old garden space. But I’ll have one of the men stand by to help if you need it.”

  “I thought you would be angry, because I went out to hang the clothes.”

  “I can’t expect Rubye to handle all the extra work. It was just chance, that you were outside when they came back.”

  “About the laundry…”

  “What?”

  “It would be a lot easier to wash the clothes outside. It made a lot of extra work for Rubye, my doing them in the pantry.”

  “Maybe, if you wait until after the hands are out on the range. The side yard would probably work since it’s fenced.”

  He hesitated, then added. “I told the men they need to treat you the way they’d want their sisters or mothers to be treated. I warned them if they didn’t, they’d be looking for another job.”

  She started to thank him, but he shook his head. “You still need to be careful, stay near the house, and be sure Rubye is nearby.” He shook his head, “It would be a lot easier if you weren’t so young and attractive, but
they’re only men.”

  Hattie rose, suddenly wobbly again with nerves now that he had reminded her of all there was to fear.

  “Goodnight” she whispered stiffly, “Thank you, Mr. Harper.”

  He rose to stare after her, answering just as formally. “Goodnight and thank you Miss Stoddard.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hattie rose early, fed and dressed the baby before dawn, then straightened the room and left him sleeping in the crib. She felt excited about the day. Gardening and washing clothes outside would allow her to enjoy the sunshine again. Crossing the empty house to the kitchen, she stirred the fire, adding wood and emptying ashes. She was setting the table and had coffee and a pot of water on to boil when Rubye entered the kitchen.

  The housekeeper was clearly surprised but only gave her usual harrumph and Hattie was glad she had not started to cook. Rubye walked into the pantry and came out with a jar of jam, a slab of bacon and the tin of grits.

  “Do you need me to milk the cow?”

  “No, James does that after he feeds the stock.”

  “James?”

  “James Boyd, the older man. He’s chuck cook during round-up, stock wrangler every day.”

  Hattie nodded and looked around. Rubye stirred the grits, then pointed to the pantry. “Get three potatoes and an onion. If you’re so antsy to work, hash ‘em up.”

  Quickly Hattie peeled and diced the vegetables and when Rubye lifted the last thick slabs of bacon out of the grease, she poured half of the oil off into a crock, then took the bowl of potatoes from Hattie and added them to the hot skillet.

  A cowboy entered the warm kitchen, looking from one woman to the other. He set the can on the floor by the sink and Hattie looked to Rubye. This time she nodded and pointed to the left drawer of the tall cabinet on the left wall. Hattie opened it and pulled out a clean square of cheesecloth and then opened doors until she found the wooden churn. She removed the lid and paddle, making sure it was clean and smelled sweet inside before stretching and knotting the cheesecloth over the top. Slowly she lifted and filtered the fresh milk into the churn.