Fiona: Book Two: The Cattleman's Daughter

by Danni Roan

  “I reckon we’d best get back inside now,” he finally said.

  She sighed then reached for the lantern and led the way back to the house.

  Hank followed Meg back into the house and watched as she hung her shawl on a peg by the door and put out the lantern.

  “Well, good night Mr. Ballard,” she said abruptly and walked up the stairs.

  The weariness of the day seemed to flood back into Hank in a rush. He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the bristle of three days’ worth of whiskers. If he let this continue he’d look like Billy with his waggley beard.

  Unbuttoning his coat, Hank walked down the now familiar hall and into the heady warmth of the kitchen. He spotted Eric right away sitting up high on a stool next to Fiona who was slowly washing cutlery and handing them one by one to the boy for careful drying.

  At the sound of his booted feet, the boy turned toward him.

  “I’m he’pin’ Pa.” the boy’s high sweet voice called.

  Fiona, elbow deep in dish water looked back over her shoulder. Her thick mass of curly hair was coming loose of its pins and soft tendrils framed her delicate face.

  She smiled at him, then lifting a dripping hand, used her wrist to try to push the unruly hair from her face. His heart did a sudden flip-flop in his chest at the sight as he half lifted his hand as if to help.

  “He’s been a wonderful helper,” Fiona said, turning back to her work. “We’re almost done now.” They were the only people in the kitchen and all he could do was stand there and grin.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Fiona offered as she handed the last spoon to her tiny helper. “Pa and the others are probably in the parlor. I can bring you some coffee there if you’d like.” She dried her hands on her apron.

  As Eric placed the now dry spoon on the work surface, she reached down and lifted him onto her hip.

  The sight made Hank’s heart squeeze and he couldn’t breathe. “Are you alright?” Fiona asked, concern clear on her face.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hank recovered quickly. “Just tired.”

  “Well you go in to the parlor and we’ll bring you some coffee,” she said. “I’m sure Pa will let you turn in soon.”

  Still holding his hat in his hand, Hank turned and headed to the parlor.

  Chapter 4

  “Pa?” Eric’s tiny voice in his ear roused Hank from a sound sleep. “Hm?” he grunted. “Pa?” this time a little hand jostled his shoulder.

  Forcing his eyes open, Hank pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at his son. “You need the privy?” he asked.

  The boy giggled. “No.” Hank’s son sat cross legged on the bed next to him. His elfin form was pale and ghostlike in the moonlight reflecting off of his all but white hair. “I can’t sleep Pa.” the boy’s chiming voice stirred the large man and he reached an arm out for his son. “Pa?”

  “Yes son,” Hank rumbled patiently in a sleepy voice.

  “Is this gonna be our home?” A tiny shadowy hand gestured around them. Hank sat up a little straighter.

  “Yes Eric, this is our new home.”

  “Good.” The boy’s voice was cheerful. “I like it here and evey’one is nice, and the foods good too.”

  Hank ruffled the boy’s already mussed hair.

  “Are you hungry?” Hank asked worried that the boy hadn’t eaten enough at dinner.

  “Nah.” His voice was small again. Somber. “Do you think it’d be alright to get some milk though?”

  Hank smiled, knowing it was hard for the boy to ask. The little boy had become too serious in Chicago before they’d left and although Hank had tried to hide it, his inquisitive son had somehow understood that their circumstances had diminished. He never would have made it at all if not for the kindness of Jonas James.

  “I’m sure it’d be just fine,” he said, pulling himself from the warm quilts and clean sheets of the big bed and tugging his pants on over his night shirt.

  He scurried to the wood stove, his bulk making him bump into the table and chairs on his way, and popped a few more sticks of wood in to the glowing maw. Soon he had his socks and boots on and walked to the bed carrying their coats.

  Fiona crept silently down the stairs, past the closed door of her father’s room and around the corner to the kitchen. It was one of those nights she couldn’t sleep and instead of tossing and turning she made her way to the kitchen and turned up a lamp.

  She was wrapped snuggly in her dressing gown, her dark hair braided down her back and thick woolen socks covering her feet.

  Walking to the ice-box, she pulled the heavy golden crockery pitcher out and placed it next to the stove. Opening the grate, she added wood to the banked coals. Quietly lifting down a pan, she placed it on the stove and poured in a full mug of milk.

  She had only that moment turned toward the ice-box to put the milk away when she heard the squeak of a stair tread outside.

  Hank was surprised to see a lamp burning in the kitchen as he approached the back porch. Perhaps Nona was back in the kitchen. He hoped he wouldn’t be disturbing her.

  Quietly he walked across the porch and lifted the latch on the door. Stepping across the threshold he turned and pushed the door closed. “Fona,” Eric’s happy voice called over his shoulder.

  Turning with a start, Hank took in the sight of the young woman standing by the ice-box, a pitcher in her hand. She was wearing a heavy dressing gown and her dark hair was tied ruthlessly into a long braid that fell over her shoulder almost to her hip. His mouth went dry.

  “Oh,” the girl squeaked.

  Hank smiled despite himself.

  “Eric wanted some milk,” he whispered in explanation, hefting his son on his arm. Fiona’s smile brightened the room.

  “I’m just making some warm milk for myself. Would you like some?”

  “Yes please,” Eric piped. His father looked at the boy, surprised by his son's boldness.

  Fiona returned to the stove and measured out two more mugs worth of milk. The pan had nearly simmered before she added more but it would allow her time to fix it properly.

  “I like mine with honey and cinnamon,” she said. “Is that alright?”

  “Ah huh,” Eric answered in the affirmative.

  “Well don’t tell Nona,” Fiona whispered back at him, laying a finger over her lips. “She’s always complaining that her spices go missing when she’s not looking.” She winked at Eric, a mischievous grin on her soft pink lips.

  “Why are you just standing there?” She asked. “Go sit down and I’ll bring the cups when it’s ready.”

  Hank trudged to the big table and situated himself and Eric as quietly as possible. He watched as Fiona scooped honey from a heavy jar into the warming milk and gave it a good stir. She then poured one cup, setting it on the work bench to cool a little while the rest warmed further.

  He noticed how she carefully judged the heat of the cup with her little finger, then lifting the tin of cinnamon from a pantry shelf sprinkled it over the top. She carried the mug to Eric.

  “Mind you don’t burn your tongue,” she said gently to the boy who looked seriously at the big cup, as she returned to the stove and poured the steaming milk into the other mugs before sprinkling them with a soft dusting of cinnamon as well.

  Hank wrapped his big hands around the mug, letting the heat soak into them before lifting it to his lips. The sweet smell of milk and honey mixed with the spicy tang of cinnamon filled his senses.

  It was soothing. Taking a sip of the hot brew he looked over his mug at Fiona sitting across from him.

  “Mm. This is good,” he said, still gazing at her. She smiled.

  “I’m glad you like it.” She turned her smoky eyes to Eric. “Do you like it as well?”.

  “Yes ma’am.” The boy took another careful sip.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you up at this time of night?” Hank asked.

  Fiona pulled her dressing gown tighter around her, suddenly feeling self-conscio
us. “Sometimes I can’t sleep so I make warm milk. I’ve always been this way, ever since I was a child. Nona used to make me warm milk and then when I’d get sleepy she’d tuck me in again.”

  The warmth of the milk mingling with the heat from the cook stove seeped into Hank and without thinking he undid the first two buttons on his heavy coat. Fiona’s eyes followed his fingers and grew wide as the coat fell open revealing a thick wedge of muscular chest dusted with light hair, where his night shirt was also open.

  Hank, abruptly remembering that he’d come out in his night shirt, blushed bright red to the roots of his hair and hastily buttoned his jacket again.

  Fiona lifted her eyes to his, noting the bright blush, and offered him a shy supportive smile. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen men without their shirts before, even if all of them where uncles to her.

  “Fona.” Eric’s little voice drew her attention and she smiled at the boy.

  “Yes Eric?”

  “Pa said this is going to be our new home.”

  “That’s right. Your pa brought you here to have a new home and to work for my pa.”

  “Your pa’s Mr. Josh, isn’t it?” the boy asked.

  “Um hm.”

  “I’m glad we come here,” the boy said again. “I like it. We even have a big bed to sleep in with soft pillows and warm blankets.” He punctuated his comment with a big yawn.

  “I’m very glad you like it Eric,” Fiona said. “I’m very glad you came here too. I think you and I will be good friends. What do you think?”

  The boy’s bright blue eyes grew wide with wonder. “You wanna be my friend?” he asked, his voice soft as a prayer.

  “Yes I do, and you can help me around here just like your pa is going to help my pa. How’s that sound?”

  “I’d like that.” The soft voice suddenly went shy.

  “Good. Now I think you’d better get back to bed so you won’t be too tired tomorrow to help me.”

  “OK,” he replied looking at his father. The big man was smiling at the girl across the table. His heart was warmed by her kindness to his son. It seemed like it had been a long time since anyone had just been kind with no ulterior motives.

  “I reckon we’d best get to bed then.” The big man hefted his son in his arms, then strode quietly to the door and out into the night.

  Later that night as the deep hush of the pre-dawn encompassed the house, Joshua James crept to the long table in the kitchen.

  One by one Bianca, Isadoro, Chen Lou, Billy, and Deeks appeared and quietly took their seats. Nervously Joshua tapped his breast pocket, before reaching in and pulling out a creased letter.

  “I thought we’d better have a look at Jonas’s letter again,” he said without preamble. “I have a feeling we might understand some of its more cryptic phrases now.” Unfolding the white page with a sharp crackle he began to read.

  Dear Joshua, August 1, 1888

  It has taken some time but I believe I’ve found exactly what you’ve been looking for here in Illinois. The item is used and is rather special though perhaps somewhat the worse for wear. It does not come as a single piece but with additional baggage. Still it should fit well with the needs of the ranch.

  The packaging is perhaps a bit bulkier than you’d like but I’d place a high value on its worth. It should travel well and reach you sometime in October if all goes to plan. I hope that it is received happily by everyone as it is sent to you with love.

  Things are the same here in the city. I’m hoping with the elections coming up in November perhaps we will finally find some relief from the trials and corruption of this once great place. Give my love to each of the girls and keep well.

  Your Loving Brother,

  Jonas

  “Baggage!” Bianca blustered in a heavy whisper. “Imagine calling that poor Wootsie baggage.” She shook her head in disgust. Isadoro reached out and patted her hand.

  “Wootsie?” Josh asked, eyes wide. “Where in the world did that word come from?”

  “I heard it from a woman in Ohio when we first started out,” Bianca replied lifting her chin.

  Deciding not to pursue the issue, the rest of the gathering continued.

  “Weell, at least we get that part about ‘bulkier’ now” Billy chuckled. “Between him and them horses of his, we couldn’t get much more bulk.” His rheumy eyes twinkled at the turn of phrase.

  “I’ll be the first to say Hank Ballard is not at all what I expected but I trust Jonas’s judgment,” Joshua said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He seems to be a good man.” He looking around the table. The others nodded their heads, at least being able to agree with that.

  “But will he do?” Deeks asked leaning across the table. “I mean he seems the type to work hard and with his size he should be a big help to me and Iss. But will he do?” He shot a significant look at Isadoro across the table.

  “Muiread barely said two words to him all through dinner,” Bianca grumbled, casting her eyes upward toward Meg’s room. “But they did stay out in the barn for a while.” Heads around her nodded.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. After all, it worked out for Will and Katie.” Joshua added.

  “And we all know that went off without a hitch.” Isadoro‘s sarcasm made the others chuckle.

  “Well he’s here now and he and that boy need a home so we’ll just have to do our best.” Joshua laid his hands on the table and looked east out the windows at the first hint of gray on the horizon.

  “No point worryin’ over it,” he added, then pushed himself up from the table. “No point going back to bed either, boys. Might as well get started.” He picked up his heavy coat and headed for the door.

  In the shuffle to leave, no one heard the bare feet creeping up the back stairs behind Bianca and Isadoro’s room.

  Fiona rose and dressed, studying herself in the mirror. She was no beauty and she knew it. Her hair was dark with those annoying bits of lighter hair at her face, not like her sister Katie’s honey colored hair, or Meg’s silken coppery-red tinged locks.

  On top of the color, the spring-like curls had a will of their own and it was a constant struggle to keep it pinned in place. She sighed, seeing her plain hazel eyes that only hinted at green. Her skin was good overall and she was thankful for that but often she felt her older sisters had received the best of the looks in the family.

  “There is no point worrying about any of that now,” she said to her reflection. “I’m what the good Lord made me so I might just as well accept it.” She shoved a few more pins into her hair and, hoping for the best, left her room.

  Situated almost in the middle of the big house, Fiona’s room looked out on the ranch yard and barn: one of a set of two rooms on either side of the stairs. You don’t need this. Her sister Katie along with her husband Will had the room at the far end of that hall, facing the barn.

  Across the hall from Katie’s room was the only empty room at the Broken J. It had been meant for Chen Lou but he had insisted on the room next to Mae’s, and no one argued with the old man.

  In the center of the landing between the two rooms was part of the massive chimney that stood on that end of the house and with a warm blaze in the fire places down stairs, the upstairs stayed warm all winter.

  Two small storage rooms faced each other next to these rooms across the pine wood hall floor. Meg’s room was next also on the front of the house then the stairwell separated Fiona’s room from her sisters. Two rooms exactly like her own were on the other side of the hall and next to her room was the one that the twins shared.

  Issy and Lexi had repeatedly been told they could each have their own room but they preferred to stay together and no one tried to change their minds. Another heavy stone chimney graced the far wall and radiated heat on cold days. Beside it the back stairs descended into the bedroom that their grandparents shared off of the kitchen.

  Fiona walked quietly down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She knew Nona would be getting started o
n breakfast and she would see what needed to be done to help. She hoped it was something that Eric would like.

  The little boy somehow had already wormed his way into her heart and she couldn’t help worrying that he’d not like something or would go hungry. Speaking of hungry, she wondered how much more they’d need to make this morning to feed the massive Hank Ballard. She smiled. Who could imagine any man ever being so big?

  Entering the kitchen, she found Katie already moving bacon around in a large iron skillet, Will behind her, nibbling her ear.

  Fiona rolled her eyes. It seemed Will could be found kissing Katie in just about every corner of the ranch anymore. Now that they’d been married for most of a month you’d think they’d have settled down a bit. Fiona chuckled as she saw Katie blush, while Will slapped his hat on his head and made a hasty retreat out the back door.

  “I wish you didn’t walk so quiet,” Katie grumped at her sister. Fiona laughed out loud. The door had not even swung shut on Will when Hank unfolded his frame through the door way. The sun wasn’t fully up yet but he looked fresh and rested.

  In the crook of his left arm Eric nestled against his father’s wool clad shoulder, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

  “I didn’t know what time I should come in,” Hank said quietly, removing his hat and hanging it on a peg by the door.

  “Breakfast won’t be ready for a while,” Katie called over her shoulder. “You could have slept a little longer.”

  Hank looked at his son, whose tiny face was contorted by a yawn. “I didn’t want to leave him in case he woke and I wasn’t there.” Hank turned his eyes toward Fiona.

  “Let me take him and you can go help out in the barn. I think Pa might be there already.” Fiona lifted her hands to take the boy.

  “You go with Ms. Fiona now, alright son?” Hank asked.

  The little head nodded as he turned and settled against the young woman’s shoulder.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” Hank promised grabbing his hat before stepping back out into the crisp morning.