by Cyndi Raye
Russell’s brother and mother came through the door, calling out.
“In here, Ma!”
Wesley and Widow Young hurried in to make sure Naomi was safe. “We weren’t sure if you had tried to run outside. You sure scared us,” Widow Young said, giving her a hug.
Naomi let the tears flow. It was something she never thought she’d do in front of anyone. Why were her emotions all over the place? She was a hardened orphan. Nothing phased her in all the years she was left without a family. She had vowed no one would see her cry or in a weakened state. Now, here she was, being a big baby in front of her new family.
“Now, now, it’s all over, Naomi. You should lie down.”
Russell lifted her up, placing her on the bed.
Widow Young wet a cloth and placed it on her head before turning to her sons. “Boys, there is an animal to butcher. Rusty heard the shots and is gathering a few hands to help. Go on now, I’ll take care of Naomi.”
Russell pushed a strand of hair from her face, placing a kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back later. You get some rest.”
She didn’t want to rest but her insides were tossing and turning. She was afraid to move. Widow Young pulled a chair close to the bed. She had a small bowl filled with fresh water, dipping the cloth and placing it back on Naomi’s forehead. It did feel soothing.
Naomi closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a coward.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure you’ve never seen a wild animal like that living in the big city.”
“Only rats. Homeless cats and dogs, but no creatures like that.”
Widow Young stared at her. She felt it even with her eyes closed. “Oh? Why would you know about such things where you lived? I’ve heard that only happens in the poorest of areas.”
Naomi’s first mistake! She had been living amongst the squalor of the homeless. Crawling in windows of abandoned or closed buildings to find a warm place to sleep. Begging for food or stealing a muffin now and again off a food cart to fill her rumbling belly. There were plenty of wild cats who scouraged for food just like she did.
There was no end to her lies now. She had to make everyone believe she was a decent, well-bred person. Besides the awful monster, this place was heaven. She didn’t want to lose it and have to go back to live in the street ever again. Even though she had wanted to tell the truth, she didn’t want to give up this place. Not now, not ever.
So, she continued her lies. “Once a month our cook was allowed to send food out for the homeless. I rode along once and saw the abhorrent way those people lived. When my father found out, he had a fit and ordered me to never do so again. Once was enough.” Naomi had been the recipient of the wealthy’s food give-aways. Every now and again a carriage would come by the docks, throwing leftovers for the poor. She sometimes hung around the docks for days to be sure to be there for the hand out, stuffing her pockets to make sure she’d have enough to eat for the next few days.
“Well, that was nice of your parents to give to the needy.” Widow Young stood. “Let’s get you up and about. Are you able to walk?”
“I believe so.” Naomi tried to stand, relieved when her legs no longer shook.
Russell’s mother turned, hands on her hips. “Now that you are back to normal, follow me,” she ordered, her voice stern. “We have a busy day ahead.”
“Oh?” What in the world happened to his Ma? The woman was sweet as pie a moment ago.
“The men will be busy all day butchering the bison. It’s time you learn how to be a farmer’s wife. Come along, we have a lot of work to do.”
Did she know Naomi was a fraud? Sheer terror engulfed her whole body, keeping her feet frozen to the floor boards.
When she didn’t follow, Widow Young turned and frowned. “Naomi, I know you have been brought up in a well bred family. But that doesn’t mean you can neglect work here. Your husband will need you to be able to help keep the place going. I can help you. We have no hired help here. Are you ready to learn?” Her tone was softer. Perhaps Naomi had taken her wrong because of her own guilt. Widow Young was a no-nonsense woman who got things done. She’d better listen to her.
A wave of relief almost knocked her over. Naomi smiled. “I sure am.”
Chapter 5
Several days later, Naomi had learned so much from his mother. She was ready to make bison stew. She had spent the last several afternoons with Widow Young while the older woman taught her a variety of dishes to prepare. Learning how to make bread and churn butter was the most difficult. Next week, his Ma was going to show her how to bake pies.
Everything seemed easy enough when his mother was by her side guiding her in the kitchen. Now, she found herself alone in her own space, a large pot of cut up meat cooking away. Naomi went out to the garden where fresh vegetables were growing in abundance. She picked a variety, then hurried back to the kitchen, trying to recall Widow Youngs instructions as she cleaned off the dirt.
After the meat boils, place the vegetables in the water and stir. One by one, Naomi carefully dropped each whole vegetable in the boiling water. The long carrots took up so much space, she hoped they’d shrink somewhat. Large potatoes sunk to the bottom of the pot, eventually making the water boil over onto the stove. Naomi jumped back the first time it sizzled and spilled over.
She emptied all the vegetables in the big pot. They’d have stew for a month of Sundays! She nodded, proud of herself. Wiping her hands on the apron, Naomi peeked under the towel where her bread was rising.
Time to bake it in the oven and set the table. This day was turning out perfect. She busied herself at the table, then ran outside to pick a few bluebonnets in the yard. Taking a small glass, she filled it with water and placed the flowers in the center of the table.
The water boiled over again, splashing onto the cook stove. Naomi smiled as she wiped it up, not too worried about the mess she made. When she went to stir the pot, the potatoes were losing their skins, falling off into the water, giving the stew water a muddy look. It didn’t look like that when Widow Young made stew a few days ago. There was something she forgot to do but her mind was reeling as she tried to remember everything.
Naomi gritted her teeth and hoped for the best. It was time to bake the bread, so she uncovered the pan and set it in the oven on the small rack inside. Closing the door, she turned the knob to keep the door closed and the heat in.
Naomi looked around the room, proud of her accomplishments. The table was set, now all she had to do was make some fresh lemonade. A bowl sat on the counter, so she did like Widow Young showed her and squeezed the juice into a small pitcher and added more water. She rummaged around on the shelves, trying to remember what else to put in the lemonade. Ah, sugar!
There was no sugar to be found anywhere. There was, however, some flour, which apparently was used in the same way. Naomi took a few tablespoons full and dumped them in the pitcher. Except the flour clumped more than dissolved. Oh, dear!
“I wonder why it won’t work for me?” She stirred for over ten minutes, then satisfied, poured two glasses. The white clumps sank to the bottom of the glass. She was pretty sure Russell would notice those ugly clumps. So, she quickly poured the lemonade back in the pitcher and found two tin cups instead that were not see through. There, now the flour clumps were hidden from sight.
After stirring the pot again, Naomi noticed the juices had cooked down or either boiled over. She wasn’t honestly sure which. It was so darn thick she wondered if perhaps more water would thin it out. Then she heard Russell’s steps on the porch and forgot about thinning the stew as excitement ran through every vein in her body. He was going to get his first taste of her cooking supper all by herself.
Maybe he’d even want to consummate their marriage after tonight!
“My, you’ve been busy.” Russell hung his hat on the hook on the wall while closing the door behind him. He turned and gave her a big smile.
Her heart leapt in to her throat as she saw how pleased he looked.
“Yes, I have,” Naomi said. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table and we’ll eat. I’m sure you are hungry.” When he took off his hat, a clump of hair hung over his forehead. Naomi went up to him and brushed it back. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Home. She never would get used to saying that word. She went to turn when a hand shot out. He turned her around and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.
Without a word, he sat down at the table, grinning.
She was grinning, too. This felt nice. Right. As if she belonged here in this home. With Russell.
He coughed.
She giggled.
He handed her a plate.
Her face began to heat up. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Taking the plate, Naomi used a ladle to scoop up a thick spoonful of stew. It was dark looking, more so than Widow Young’s stew but she was certain it was delicious.
Before setting down his plate, a thought occurred. Maybe she should’ve tasted the stew before serving.
Yet, it smelled fine, so she went ahead and set the plate in front of him, then took her own plate and filled it with a scoop of stew. She didn’t plan to eat much, she was much too nervous.
When she realized the bread hadn’t been taken out, her heart sank, afraid it was ruined. Jumping up from the table, Naomi quickly grabbed a towel and pulled open the door.
A sense of relief went through her. The bread looked delicious. She set it on the table beside the bowl of whipped butter. “Well have to let it cool off a few minutes before we cut a slice.”
Sitting back down, she reached over to take Russell’s hand as he said Grace. When finished, he stared at the food, a look of shock rendered on his face that he quickly tried to hide. His brow rose and he gave her a puzzled look. “Where was Ma today?” he asked, his voice sounding uncertain.
Naomi patted his hand and sat back. “She went to Cooper’s Ridge earlier today but I told her not to worry, I had the whole stew recipe down pat. Go on, taste it and tell me what you think.”
She heard the intake of air as he took in a deep breath. Russell hesitated a moment before he picked up the fork beside his plate. Watching in anticipation, her nerves were on edge. Would he like her first supper?
Her hands were clasped together on the table. He stared at her hands for a moment and then the stew on his plate. Finally, Naomi let out a breath when he took a forkful of stew in his mouth.
Her face fell when a strangling noise rose up from his throat. Even though he tried hard to hide his distaste, she knew in an instant he didn’t like it.
Her hand went to her throat. “I’m so sorry.”
Russell waved his hands in front of him. Trying to speak, he mumbled then pointed to the glass of lemonade by his plate.
She reached for the tumbler, handing it to him, concerned. Why wasn’t he able to speak?
Sweat poured from Russell’s brow. He gulped the lemonade and then pushed his chair back and stood straight up, eyes wide before he ran outside. She thought the words excuse me escaped from his throat but she was too upset to listen.
Her supper wasn’t that bad, was it? She scooped a forkful in to her mouth and gagged at the taste. The salt was overpowering, potatoes tasted pasty, making her gag like he did a moment ago.
She took the tin cup to her mouth, drinking lemonade to get the pasty, salty taste from her mouth. Clumps of flour floated around in the liquid and some got in her mouth, which made it even worse.
Naomi ran for the front door, out onto the porch where she hung her head over the railing and spit out the awful food! It had almost made her throw up.
Russell came up beside her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He reached in his pocket and handed her a hanky.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, completely embarrassed.
Then he did something she never expected. A laugh rumbled deep in his gut and came out loud and clear. He flung his head back and roared with laughter.
She looked at him, shocked, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Then, a smile spread across her face as she joined him, holding her belly and almost doubling over.
They wound up sitting on the bench outside, gazing at the way the sun was starting to fade into the horizon. Russell took her hand in his. “I am sorry your first meal didn’t turn out well.”
She shrugged. “I am, too. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. I guess having your own servants to do everything does make it difficult to go out on your own. I’m sure Ma will help you again.”
“I thought I was ready. Clearly, I was wrong. What am I going to do with that giant pot of stew?”
Russell smiled. “I’m not even sure. Ask Ma, she’ll help you figure it out. Perhaps some of the animals here or at the White Ranch can eat it. In the meantime, are you hungry?”
“A little. You?”
He nodded. “Sure am. I tell you what. You go on an clean up the kitchen and I’ll run to Ma’s and borrow two bowls of her supper. It should be simmering on her stove. Even if she goes away, supper is always made.”
“Are you sure?”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Sure as I’ll ever be. Go on now, I’ll be right back.”
Naomi rose up, excited and relieved he wasn’t mad. “I did make some fresh bread and it looks and smells wonderful. I’m pretty sure it tastes as good as it looks.” At least there was one thing she was able to do right.
“Good. Good, then. I’ll be right back.”
While Russell was across the yard at his Ma’s getting food, Naomi came up with an idea. She cleared off the small kitchen table and drug it outside on to the small porch. Then she brought out the two chairs, found a sheet and placed it over the top of the table. Placing the vase of bluebonnets and a small oil lamp in the center, she went inside to slice the bread.
Taking a small nibble, she nodded in approval. It didn’t have too much of any one ingredient, no powerful smell or taste, so she was in the clear. He thought she never worked at a stove before because she was a wealthy socialite and had servants to do their bidding.
If he only knew!
She could straighten this all out if she told him the truth. Something deep down told her he was an understanding man and would care for her even if she had lied. Yet, in just three more weeks the thirty days were up. She didn’t want to take any chances he’d get mad and send her packing.
No. Not yet. She had to be sure. After the thirty days, then she’d be honest. Maybe. It would be too late and he’d be stuck with her. Was that wrong?
Naomi loved it here. She loved his family. She loved him. Oh, dear! How can she love a man so quickly? His touch, his intent gaze when he looked at her, it was so surreal. He seemed to care, at least a little. Maybe that was all she’d ever need.
Naomi went outside to sit at the table and wait on Russell to return. She placed the plate of bread there, covered with a towel and a bowl of whipped butter. Taking her finger, she dipped it into the butter and tasted to make sure there would be no more surprises.
Russell soon returned with a pot of his Ma’s chicken and dumplings. After getting them both a bowl, he sat in the space across from her, a content smile on his face. “This is nice.”
“Thank you. I thought it would be nice to watch the sun go down while we eat.”
Russell lowered his head, taking her hand without looking as if he knew where to find it and began Grace. “Thank you, Lord. For everything. For my home, wife and family. We may not always be perfect but that job is for you, not us. Amen.”
“Amen.”
<><>
Russell enjoyed their supper on the porch. It was a sweet idea. Naomi was trying to make it up to him and he was pleased. She was trying to be such a good wife. His expectations were high because his Ma made things like cooking and taking care of a homestead easy. She had done it alone for so long.
Naomi had so much to learn. Thank the good Lord his Ma was next door while she experimented with food.
“What are you thinking about?”
Her soft voice cut into his thoughts.
He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m thinking about you.”
“Oh, goodness, me! Whatever for?”
She almost looked afraid when he said that to her. It made him smile. “You’ve changed your whole life to marry a farmer. I’ll be surprised if you want to stick around after our thirty day trial.”
She shook her head back and forth. “Oh, Russell. I want to stay. I am afraid you will send me away.”
He was perplexed. “Why in the world would I send you away? I’ve got the golden egg, so to speak. A wonderful lady from a well bred family like yours makes me the luckiest farmer in the world. The other ranches and farms from miles away are so envious of what I have right now.”
“Are you saying you are glad I’m from a wealthy family and not from some poor family?”
He chuckled, rubbing his fingers over her hand, which moments ago was soft and plush in his. Now, her fingers were stiff and she was trying to pull away. He held onto her hand anyway, ready to tell her he didn’t care if she were rich or poor.
Just then, she pulled away, pushing her chair back and gathering their plates. “It’s time to clear the table,” she mumbled, taking the dishes inside, not looking at him.
Russell stood, confused. She seemed rather upset and in a big hurry all of a sudden. What had happened to their evening? He propped open the door to drag the table back in, along with the chairs. Glancing at Naomi, she busied herself with cleaning the dishes.
When he was done, he stood behind her, wanting to take her in his arms but she seemed distant all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Naomi, is everything okay?”
She didn’t turn around when he stepped closer. “Fine. I’m tired, it’s been such a long day. I’ll finish these up and then say goodnight.”
“It’s getting harder to sleep on the floor. I’d like to sleep in the bed if you don’t mind.”
