by Danni Roan
Fiona smiled down at the small figure cuddled up to her.
“How about you snuggle up on the settee in the parlor while I help my sister with breakfast?” she asked. “I’ll be right here if you need anything. See, the parlor’s just there through that door way by the tables.” She pointed and the boy swung his eyes toward the still dim space.
He nodded his sleepy head again and Fiona carried him through the door and settled him on the soft settee’s cushions, covering him with a quilt that had been draped across the back.
In seconds his eyes were closed and she hoped he would actually go back to sleep. He’d had a hard journey and a long night. She smiled and smoothed his white gold hair then returned to the kitchen.
“What are we having?” she asked Katie as she pulled an apron over her head and tied it behind her.
“Nona was up very early making bread so I’m making flapjacks like Pa used to make us.” Katie grinned widely. “Can you get the syrup and butter and set the table? I’ve nearly finished with the bacon and I’ll put it in the warming cupboard while I start the cakes. Then you can help pat out the dough while I start frying them.”
“Sounds good” Fiona beamed. “I love bread dough flap jacks; don’t some people call them Indian fry break? You can blacken one for me so it’s really just like Pa’s.”
They both laughed, as they continued with the work. Katie, careful to keep the skillet at an even temperature, would pinch off a piece of the leavened dough, roll it into a ball flatten it by stretching and smacking it into a disk, then frying it in the same skillet she’d used for the bacon.
Fiona busied herself setting the table, starting the coffee and laying out butter, jam, and sorghum for the flapjacks.
“It’s been ages since we had flapjack,” Fiona called to her sister. “I bet Nona will have a few words to say about what’s been done to her bread.”
Katie laughed, “It’s why I made them. Nona thinks pancakes are good enough but I love these.”
No sooner had the words made it out of her mouth than the very woman they had been talking about stepped out of the door on the back wall and in to the kitchen, tying a flowery apron around her middle.
“Good heavens, what have you done to my bread?” The mock horror on her face was enough to send both girls into peals of laughter.
“Oh Nona,” Katie chided. “You make enough bread each week to feed an army. You can spare a little dough.”
“That’s because I do feed an army,” Nona said, keeping her features stern. Katie flipped another flapjack then turned and planted a sweet kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. Nona smiled.
“Well, I suppose it will be alright this one time, but mind you make enough that everyone can have plenty. Joshua will eat four himself and heaven only knows what this new fella can put away.”
Before the girls could echo the thought, a clatter of boots on the stairs announced the other girls’ arrival. Each stooped to kiss their grandmother then looked about to see what was for breakfast and what they could do to help.
“Yum. Flap jacks,” Mae called lifting her nose and sniffing the crisp smell of fried bread.
Nona quickly began barking orders and soon a mountain of bacon and towers of flapjacks rested on the table.
“Go get the men while I pour the coffee,” Nona said, looking to Meg, who grabbed her shawl and bounced out onto the porch.
Fiona was just setting an earthen ware pitcher of milk on the table when a little voice, followed by the sprite himself, came through the door to the kitchen.
“Fona,” his little voice called, as he rubbed his eyes. “I’m hungry.” The young woman smiled and quickly reached to take his hand.
“Then you’re in luck,” she said cheerfully “We’re all ready for breakfast. Come on and I’ll let you sit with me.”
Big blue eyes brightened as a smile broke out across his little face.
Fiona helped Eric wash his hands and had just settled both of them at the table when the back door burst open and the men came stomping in.
Buckets of milk and baskets of eggs were deposited on the big work table, as each man washed their hands at the pump.
In just minutes everyone was seated at the table. Hank eased in next to his son, ruffling his hair on the way.
Joshua said grace and the usual banter, bickering and planning of the Broken J ranch began along with some serious eating.
Fiona helped Eric with his flapjack, smiling at the sticky fingers and mouth created by sweet strawberry jam.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched Hank take only two of the fried dough treats, and a few strips of bacon. Once she noticed that everyone had slowed down a bit on the food she made sure the platters made their way around the table to him.
Her Pa worked his men hard but he also fed them well.
Conversations turned to the day’s work and soon Grans Isadoro was explaining what the crew would be doing today.
Will had begun to plan out a small home for himself and Katie, along the creek near where the blackberry bushes grew. Today they were going to start laying a foundation.
The weather, although frosty, was alright for that type of work but they knew they’d have to wait until spring to build the house itself.
“Hank, you can come out and help with the lay-out today. You’ll have plenty of building to do before you know it,” Isadoro said. Hank nodded but glanced at his son.
“Don’t worry,” Fiona offered. “He can stay and help me today. Can’t you Eric?” she smiled warmly at the boy. “Yes ma’am” he said brightly.
“What are we doing today, Nona?” Fi looked at her grandmother, waiting to know what was on the agenda.
“It is laundry day and you know it,” Nona said, no nonsense in her voice. “You, young man.” She now addressed Hank. “Bring your things in and we’ll get ‘me washed. We already do the laundry for the whole crew so two more won’t make no extra work.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hank was once again astounded at the way things worked here. "I'll go fetch it now."
Laundry day was never one of Fiona’s favorite days but with so many hands the work would go fast and today she had a special little helper.
Katie was the only girl who didn’t pitch in but everyone understood how she’d want to participate in laying out her future home. Chen Lou had no qualms about helping with laundry and argued with Bianca every week about the best way to get it done.
Eric was delighted to help with the laundry and once the clothes had been scrubbed, boiled, rinsed and wrung, he stood close by, handing Fiona each item from her basket so she could hang it on the line.
The light dusting of snow from the day before had already disappeared and a cool brisk breeze fluttered the clothes on the long lines strung between two heavy poles in the back yard as a blue sky sparkled above.
Eric would stoop and lift one item at a time from the large basket, careful not to let it fall on the ground, and hand it to Fiona who would stretch to pin it on the tall line. The process may have been a bit slower than if she had done the work on her own but she enjoyed the boy’s company.
She’d finished hanging out what was obviously a pair of Hank's long-johns; the now dazzling white fabric stretched wide as a tent across the line, as the boy spoke.
"My pa sure has big drawers," Eric's cheerful voice called as he bent to pull yet another item from the basket. Fiona, looking properly at the garment for the first time, blushed but couldn't help the burst of laughter the boy’s words provoked.
The next item was one of the waifs own shirts and the tiny garment, frayed around cuff and collar, looked so miniscule beside the waving flag of the undergarments next to it. Fiona sighed. She tasseled the head of the boy then returned to her job.
"Meg. Meg. Muiread!" Nona's voice called from the kitchen door. "Meg, come fetch the lunch I made to the men on the site. They won't want to come back up to the house for it."
Meg turned, shooting a long suffering look at her sisters a
nd trudged to the house. Nona handed her two large baskets, packed to the brim with sandwiches, cookies, and small roasted potatoes, still warm from the oven. Meg groaned under the burden but started the twenty-minute walk toward the building site.
"We should have most of the foundation laid by the end of the week." Isadoro said to Joshua as they watched Hank and his big team dragging the skid, now full of river rock, from the creek some forty odd feet away.
The site itself was beautiful even now with the grass brown and withered. A small flat field, covered in thick winter thatch ran toward the bubbling stream. It was backed with several old oaks that provided some shelter from the brisk winds of winter and shade from the fierce sun of summer.
That morning Isadoro and Will had paced out the site, driving stakes into the corners of a square lot then running string along them and stretching it tight to indicate where the foundations would be dug.
The men had been divided into teams, one for digging the foundation trench over seen by Isadoro and the other, to pull stones from the creek bed, over seen by Will.
Katie trailed behind her grandfather, listening and making suggestions. Work had progressed well all morning. The weather, though brisk, was treating them alright and three of the four trenches were nearly ready for stone.
Hank pulled his team to a halt on the far side of the building site, and started unloading the large stones from the flat wooden drag used to move them.
Muscles bunched as he lifted stones that had taken two of the other men to place them in the skid.
"That's a fine team ya got there, son," Joshua's voice called as he sauntered over to where the younger man labored. Standing, Hank turned toward his new employer.
"Thank you sir, these boys do know their job," he smiled up at the boss man, easing his back as he stood.
"I'd say they've already cut the work by half today." Josh patted the nearest horse. "Billy's team would normally do this work and although they're good steady animals they don't have the muscle of these brutes."
Hank simply nodded.
"Looks like one of your daughters comin' this way." Hank tilted his head in the direction of a tall girl striding toward them, a large basket suspended from each arm.
"Must be Meg with lunch," Joshua said, squinting across the site as his second oldest approached. "You best go tell the men at the creek and we'll have us a little break."
"Yes sir," Hank replied, then strode off to where the other men were digging stones from the chilly water, while his boss started off toward the new arrival.
In only a few moments everyone was gathered around a small fire Billy had started, drinking coffee and eating lunch. The men from the creek team sat close to the fire holding hot potatoes in their hands to warm them while Billy poured coffee from the big enameled pot.
Hank, having stopped to unharness his horses so they could graze, was the last to the fire and found that the only seat available to him was between Joshua James and Meg.
Folding his long legs beneath, him he lowered himself to the ground, trying not to bump his companions with his wide shoulders.
"How're things coming?" Meg asked as she passed sandwiches around.
"Coming good," Isadoro answered. "We'll have a foundation finished this week and if the weather holds we'll go to the mountains for timber soon. Probably get snow before too long though so we'll do what we can now and finish up in the spring."
"Sure do look like a fine place don’it'" Billy chimed in. "I can see it just plain as day, I can."
Everyone around the fire smiled. "Me too Billy." Katie spoke up, her eyes twinkling at her husband, who sat munching on a cold chicken sandwich next to her. "I can hardly wait to have a house all my own."
As the men and women got down to eating, Hank turned to Meg. "How's Eric doing?" he asked obvious concern in his eyes. "He isn't fussing is he?"
"No," Meg began. "He's helping Fiona hang laundry. He seems to keep her laughing about something all the time. He hasn't fussed once about anything. Do you want me to bring him down later?"
"No. If he's alright, I'll leave him where he is. It's just everything’s so new. I didn't want him to be afraid."
Meg smiled at the big man. "If he gets worried one of us will bring him down. Otherwise I'm pretty sure he'll be getting his nap after lunch."
Joshua watched his copper-haired daughter chatting with the new man and allowed himself a small smile. Maybe everything would work out alright this time without all of the trauma and heart ache of the last time.
Chapter 5
Even as they finished their lunch, companionably chatting around the big kitchen table, Fiona could see indicators that Eric, despite his protests, was getting tired.
"How about we go out to your new house and I'll read you a story?" she asked the boy as he finished his last drop of milk.
Mouth full, he nodded vigorously in reply. Fi looked up at her grandmother, the unasked question in her eyes.
"Oh, you go on then," Nona said "We can do up the dishes and start supper without you." Her dark eyes twinkled at her granddaughter.
A short time later Fiona found herself in the sod shack, stoking up the fire in the tiny stove. The bed hadn't been made that morning so she quickly yanked the soft linens and thick quilts into place then nestled Eric against a fat feather pillow.
Snuggling in beside the boy, she suddenly realized she had just crawled into a man's bed. A deep flush climbed along her cheeks and a heat filled her that had nothing to do with the now glowing embers in the stove.
Clearing her throat to settle her sense of propriety, she opened the book she'd brought with her and began to read. Jack was apparently a very busy boy with his magic beans and Eric was enthralled by the tale, but soon his bright blue eyes began to droop and before they’d even slain the giant, he was sound asleep.
Covering him gently, Fiona rose silently and crept away from the bed. Hank's bed. The blush returned.
Looking around the small space she tried to imagine what it would be like to be a stranger here on the Broken J. To say that her family, which extended to the aging hands on the ranch, were exuberant was a huge understatement.
As quietly as possible she cleaned the table, then checked what supplies were in the small dwelling. The tea in a tin above the stove was all but gone and there were no mugs on the shelf. She was sure they had been there when Benji and his new bride Cathleen had lived here. Mentally she began making a list of things that would be useful in the soddy.
Noting that the water pitcher was empty, she let herself out of the heavy door and went to the pump. Filling the jug, she returned once more, happy to find that Eric had slept through the whole thing.
Soon she'd tidied the small space, swept the floor and taking one final hurried trip back to the house, had organized cups, mugs, and a small coffee pot.
She couldn't help smiling the whole time she worked. She felt exactly like she had as a girl playing house. It didn't seem like any work at all to do the little things she'd done to make Hank and Eric more comfortable.
With the thought of the impressive man, she stopped and wondered if he'd be offended that she had done these things. She'd even laid a bright table cloth on the small square table next to the stove. Surely he would know she only wanted him and his delightful son to be happy here at the Broken J.
The afternoon wore on and eventually Fiona ran out of things to do in the small shack. The place was warm and cozy now, and the bright fabrics of the table cloth cheered it. She sat and studied her handy work from a chair at the table.
A soft rustling sound, then a tiny voice: “Fona?" Eric sat up in the bed rubbing his eyes.
"Right here," she called, rising and walking to the big solid wood bed. The tyke sat rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then reached up to her. She wrapped him in her arms, pulling him close and laying her cheek against his silky hair; he snuggled close and wormed his way even deeper into her heart. What was it about this little soul that touched her so? Why did she
feel like she'd known him from the beginning of time?
When Fiona and Eric entered the kitchen, preparations for supper were in full swing. Nona was standing at the stove, a long wooden spoon in her hand. The windows were steamy from pots simmering softly on the stove. The smell of fresh bread, and a rich tomato sauce were enough to make her mouth water. Eric sniffed and looked at Fiona.
“Somfin’ sure smells good,” he whispered conspiratorially. Fiona smiled and squeezed his hand.
“It sure does. Let’s ask Nona what she’s making.”
Releasing her hand Eric dashed to the stove. “Nona?” he asked, looking up at the dark clad woman.
“Yes, pumpkin?” She smiled at the boy, her chocolate brown eyes bright with laughter.
“What’s ya cookin’?”
“Something special for you,” Nona bent down and gently pinched his cheek. “Would you like some milk and cookies?" she asked, eyes smiling.
“Yes, ma’am,” Eric replied enthusiastically and headed for the table.
Fiona laughed.
“After his snack I thought I’d take him out to see the lambs and the colt. Will that be alright or do you need my help?” Fiona asked her grandmother as she poured milk and took a plate of cookies to the table.
“Oh, he’ll love that.” Nona agreed. “I have everything well in hand for supper and the twins can help when I need them. Chen Lou is working on the ironing, as usual.”
After a quick snack, Fiona, dark hair trying to free itself from its bun, bundled the pale haired boy in his jacket and taking his hand, walked out the front door to the barn.
The old mare lifted her head, looking for a treat as Fiona and Eric approached. Already prepared, Fiona took a carrot out of her pocket and handed it to Eric.
“Do you want to give her a treat?” she asked. The little boy nodded and unafraid, lifted his hand toward the horse, palm flat, offering the carrot as if on a plate. “I see you’ve done this before,” Fiona said.
“Sure, Pa lets me give Jack and Scott treats when we can ‘ford them. They like apples and carrots a lot.”
