by Danni Roan
“Well if I’m ever to see what this whole bath thing’s about I’d better get moving,” he said standing and hefting the boy at the same time. “Let’s head up to the house then I’ll go on.”
Putting Eric down he reached into the trunk at the foot of the bed where his clothing was stored and pulled out fresh clothes. It would feel wonderful to wash the travel and strain of these past few days and weeks away.
Eric dashed into the house and straight to Fiona who was helping her grandmother in the kitchen. “Pa went to get his bath,” he stated causing Fiona’s face to flame once more.
Hank walked Eric to the back stairs of the big ranch house then carrying his gear, headed to the small low walled building tucked between the main house and the crew’s quarters. He could see smoke streaming from a tin stove pipe jutting from the slanted roof of the structure.
Entering, he could see three large copper tubs sitting side by side on the heavy, pine floor, while a small stove glowed warmly against the far wall. There was a pump in the front of the building near the door, and beneath it a stone bed that allowed any spilled water to drain away. Most of the crew was there in various states of dress or undress depending on if they were coming or going, and several of them were lifting heavy metal buckets from the stove and carrying them to one of the tubs. Hank hung his hat on a peg and scratched his head.
Old Billy was just pulling his lean, wrinkled body from one tank and wrapping himself in a heavy sheet of toweling.
“Here ya are Hank.” The old man called. “You can have mine. I’m all done, but you might wanna change some of the water out. ‘Sup ta you.” He dried himself vigorously.
Hank stepped up to the large bath and looked into the murky water skeptically. Yes, he thought he could probably just about change out that water.
Will winked at him as he reached for a bucket by the pump and passed it to Hank. “When I was a kid the youngest got to go first.” Will said a sly smile on his face. “Around here they don’t adhere to that philosophy.”
“What’r you grousing about?” Deeks called from the center tub. “You young fellas can tote water easier than us old men, so make yourselves useful.”
Will smiled at Hank again and nodded when he saw that Hank understood why Billy had so ‘generously’ offered his tub full of used water. Taking the bucket, he began bailing water from the tub. Once the vessel was nearly empty he carried two of the buckets that had been heating on the stove and dumped them in, creating a cloud of steam. Quickly refilling the buckets again, he placed them back on the stove, then poured in two buckets of cold water from the pump before stripping and climbing into the tub.
Huge muscles bunched then unwound as he eased himself into the hot water with a sigh. The tubs were large, and afforded most men a fair bit of comfort as they could nearly stretch out while leaning against the high back, but they still weren’t made to accommodate someone of his girth.
Even with the sloping back and lower sides his shoulders were cramped but the water felt good, and he could feel tired muscles releasing their tension.
“Ain’t nothin’ like it, is there?” Deeks asked, his face for once void of its usual sharp look. “Sometimes when my ol’ back gets too bad I just come on out here and soak a spell. It don’t last long but at least I get some relief from the pain.”
“You need more hot water Deeks?” Will called to the older man as he stripped his long-johns from his lanky frame.
“That’d be mighty nice,” the blacksmith replied.
Turning on his bare heel Will grasped the bale on one of the buckets and carried it over before slowly adding it to the tub.
“I knew ya was good for somethin’ around here.” Deeks joshed. “One of the best things we agreed on at the Broken J was to make this bathhouse. It weren’t no easy decision but it sure has been worth it.” The older man continued, “Josh was the one who wanted someplace to put one of them there hot rooms, like his pa had, so when he was plannin’ it out we thought a bath house would be nice. Besides, when the weathers cold the woman use this here place for doin’ up the warsh.”
“What do you mean by a hot room?” Hank couldn’t help but ask, taking up a bar of rough soap and beginning to scrub.
Deeks jerked his head toward the far wall and the door set in the corner.
“Not cold enough to use it yet,” he said in way of explanation. “Josh calls it a sonya or some such thing. Got a place for hot rocks and when you heat ‘em up the room gets all warm, like a sweat lodge. Then you pour some water on them rocks and the whole place goes all steamy. Sure is nice on a cold day.”
Hank thought about the description of the room, wondering what it was. For clarification he looked at Will who was now soaking in his own gently steaming water.
“Don’t look at me,” Will said. “Katie’s tried to explain it to me but I’ve never seen the like. I guess her pa’s folks were from Sweden and it was something they used to have so he wanted one here. Don’t sound bad though.”
Only the soft swish of water, or the sound of gentle scrubbing could be heard as the men fell silent, and then the heavy clanging of the iron triangle on the back porch made Deeks groan.
“Guess that’s it then,” he said, pulling his bent form from the tub and stepping out to grab a towel. “I reckon you two young fellas is more able to empty these tubs than I am so I’ll just toddle up to the house and make sure all the grub ain’t eat before you join us.”
With that he chuckled and climbed into his clean clothes, then slicked down his hair with an old comb and exited.
Hank watched him go as he pulled his dripping form from the still warm water. “Do they always do that?” he asked Will who was also drying off and climbing into his freshly laundered gear.
“Pretty much. They seem to figure that as the youngest here we get to do the heavy lifting when they can get out of it.” Will grinned, showing he didn’t mind the extra chores though.
“I suppose they’ve done it all enough over the years it won’t hurt us to have a turn,” Hank replied, and began baling water from his tub then the one in the middle of the room. His sheer size and strength making short work of the job.
As the two younger men stepped into the kitchen they could already hear half a dozen conversations going, Bianca Lione’ leading the charge as she accosted Joshua with wooden spoon raised.
“You know what next week is, Joshua.” She glared at him, hands on hips. “I need turkeys and venison too. You need to get it.” She turned, noticing for the first time the two men by the door. “Oh, good you’re here. Sit, sit. We eat.” And with that she stepped back to the stove to pick up two loaves of crusty bread before returning to the table and taking a seat with all of the others.
Hank slid his hefty bulk into the space next to his son and smiled at Fiona. “What’s next week?” he asked quietly, as he ruffled the boy’s hair.
Fiona’s smile lit her face as she leaned toward him. “Thanksgiving,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Nona, wants someone to go hunting but all of the men have been busy.”
With the last dishes on the table and Nona in her seat, Joshua bowed his head for the blessing. A hush settled over all as he lifted his voice in prayer.
As her father’s voice filled the cozy kitchen, Eric’s small hand took Fiona’s, stretching her arm across his lap until suddenly her hand no longer rested in his soft cool fingers, but was clasped in a large, callused warm one, that completely engulfed hers.
Her eyes flew open only to meet the equally shocked ones of Hank Ballard as he hastily released hers fingers. She looked down at Eric, who smiled sweetly up to her, face completely innocent.
Fortunately, her shock and embarrassment was quickly covered by the resumed conversations of the others at the table. By the time supper had finished, soft flakes of snow were drifting toward the frosty ground. As the sun receded into the west the temperatures dropped and shimmering ice crystals began appearing on the window panes.
Hank thanked the l
adies of the house for another nice dinner then excused himself to go put his horses up. They were used to stable life and he didn’t want to leave them out all night in this weather. As usual Mr. James encouraged Meg to go along.
“Eric. Do you want to come and help me put Jack and Scott in their stalls?” Hank asked his son, even as his eyes fell on Fiona’s lovely face. It seemed to him that every time he saw her she was more beautiful.
“Nah. I wanna stay with Fona,” the boy replied, taking the young woman’s hand in his own. Hank noticed the soft blush that rose to her cheeks and knew she was remembering how the boy had placed her hand in his own during grace. He smiled, nodded and turned toward the front door.
“Fiona sure does like your boy.” Meg’s voice drifted to him as he stepped out onto the front porch and followed her to the barn.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hank said. His mind was still full of the woman’s younger sister.
“I’m not sure if she realizes it but I think Eric reminds her of how her life started.” Meg pulled open the big barn door then waited while Hank called to his team.
The horses joined him at the gate of the big corral, waiting patiently as he lifted large rope halters over their heads before leading them toward the barn.
“Why’s that?” Hank asked. He’d spent a good bit of time with Fiona but realized he didn’t know her story.
“Our Mammy died having her. So like Eric she never knew her mother.” Meg paused casting her mind back. “I was only two at the time so I don’t really remember it. The only one who remembers Mammy is Katie and she admits she doesn’t remember much.”
“I’m sorry,” Hank said sincerely, as he put first one then the other massive beast into their stalls.
“Oh, it was a long time ago now and not long after, our step mother, Cammy, came into our lives. I remember her. She was Isabelle and Alexis’ mother; Nona and Isadoro’s daughter.”
“I remember you telling me about that when I first arrived.”
“Well I just thought that maybe that’s why Fi and Eric hit it off so well. I’ve never seen her happier than when she is with your son.”
Hank paused in pitching hay into the manger for his team. Fiona did seem happy when she was with the boy.
Again the words echoed through his mind. “You’ll have to marry Fona.” Done with his task he placed the pitch fork back on the wall and turned to face the young woman leaning against a heavy barn support.
She smiled at him. A soft friendly smile, but there was no heat in it and suddenly he realized he was falling in love with Meg’s little sister. He felt his ears growing warm at the thought of almost holding hands with her at the dinner table and turned away to hide his face.
“You like her don’t you?” Meg’s blunt words hit him hard and for another moment he just stared at her. She smiled wickedly. “I thought so. Fi is very special. She’s got the biggest heart and the sweetest nature.”
Hank didn’t know what to say. Meg was bold, unlike Fiona who was unassuming, quiet and gentle.
“She’s always been that way,” the copper haired woman continued. “She’s the one who always takes care of the late lambs, or any of the injured animals that turn up here. It’s just her way.”
Hank waited, wanting to know more, wanting to ask questions but not daring to.
Meg’s laugh startled him, and he turned to face her. She smiled at him and winked. “I see,” she said, “and I’ll tell you what. If you truly care for my sister, I’ll do all I can to help you win her.”
Hank gaped. “Miss Meg, what are you saying?”
She laughed again. “I’m saying you’re smitten and I’d love nothing better to see to it that you succeed in winning my sister’s heart. Deal?” She extended her hand to seal the agreement.
Hank reached for her hand like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.,”
“You two younin’s about done in here?” Billy’s voice called through the open door. He smiled as he entered and saw them standing under the lamp light holding hands, happy expressions on their faces.
They both dropped the other’s hand as soon as the old trail cook entered and stepped away from each other. Billy smiled from ear to ear.
“We’re just coming up to the house now.” Meg offered, recovering quickly. “Did you need something Billy?”
“No,” the old timer said “Just wanted to tell Hank here that he’s part of the huntin’ party on Monday.” He looked between the two young people, still smiling. “Gotta get us some turkeys for Bianca to cook up for Thanksgiving ya know.”
Together the trio walked back to the house and into its warmth.
The soft clatter of dishes being washed and put away greeted them as the murmur of voices from the parlor added to the general homey feel of the place. Hank released a deep sigh at the feeling of home creeping over him.
Chapter 7
Hank woke the next morning to a weak winter light filtering through the frosty window near his bed. He stretched, realizing it was Sunday and the ranch would only require that basic chores be done.
A day of rest would be wonderful and he snuggled back into the heavy quilts on the bed. Eric, stirred next to him but didn’t wake and the big man smiled, feeling content. It had been a long grueling journey but it had been worth it. He had a home.
With those words, a vision of Fiona drifted before his mind’s eye. He could clearly see her soft features, her gentle eyes, and her inviting lips. He smiled as he thought of how her hair seemed determined to free itself from the pins she ruthlessly employed to keep it under control. He wondered what it would be like to bury his hands in those curly locks.
A sudden heat began permeating his whole being at the thought and despite the chill of the morning he found himself too warm. Slipping from the big bed, he let his bare feet rest on the cold earthen floor, sending a chill along his legs to help combat the fire that was stirring in his groin.
Finally finding some relief in the cool air of the sod shack, he stood then added wood to the little stove. He didn’t want Eric to have to get up into a cold house. As Eric slept he puttered around their little home.
This week would be Thanksgiving and he realized just how thankful he was to be here at the Broken J. He bowed his head as he put the coffee pot on to simmer, and thanked God for the blessings of a new start.
His mind wandered to Fiona as he prepared the coffee. He’d see her at breakfast today. He was almost tempted to wake his son just so he could hurry to the house. He smiled to himself, thinking of Meg’s offer the day before. Could he do it? Could he win the heart of the beautiful young woman who had already begun to steal his own?
Fiona woke before dawn. She’d spent a restless night dreaming of Hank Ballard’s large hands. The dream had started innocently enough, their hands simply entwined together, sweet and gentle. She blushed as she thought of how the dream had continued and felt again his hands on her body.
Shaking herself she put the dream out of her mind. She couldn’t control what her subconscious mind did but she could control her waking thoughts. She would just creep down stairs and make some tea, then start getting things read for breakfast. Sunday or not everyone still had to be fed.
Always quiet in her movements and manner, Fiona barely made a sound as she slipped down the stairs. She was just about past her father’s room at the bottom of the stairs when she heard Billy’s voice. The door was slightly a jar and although Billy probably thought he was whispering she could hear him clearly.
“I’m tellin’ you they was holding hands in the barn.” Billy’s voice cracked with glee. “Them two youngins will be sparkin’ before you know it.”
“I guess it’s only to be expected.” Joshua replied, “even if it has only been a week.” He sounded resigned.
With a sigh Fiona realized that the two men must have been talking about Meg and Mr. Ballard. Her heart lurched in her chest and she couldn’t breathe. Silent tears spilled from her eyes as she pulled h
erself together, then slipped away into the kitchen.
Still making no sound, though she dearly wished to clatter the kettle, and bang the pots, she threw herself into making coffee and preparing breakfast.
How could she have allowed her heart to be so stupid? She’d always known that Meg was the most beautiful of her sisters. It was only logical that the big man would fall for her, especially after spending so much time with Meg each evening. Her older sister was stunning with her dark red hair tinged with highlights of soft copper, her startling blue green eyes, and angular form.
Fiona could never compete with her wool brush hair, and murky eyes that couldn’t decide if they were green or brown.
In her chest her heart constricted. She thought she’d settled this already but apparently you couldn’t control your heart the way you could your head. Taking a deep shuddering breathe, she clamped down on her wayward heart.
“Lord,” she whispered reverently. “I pray that you will bless Meg and Mr. Ballard with love. Amen.” Then firmly pushing her own desires away she silently began mixing batter for pancakes.
“Papa! It snowed!” Eric’s clear sweet voice called from the bed where he knelt looking out the window.
Hank’s deep rumbling chuckle shook his chest. Oh the wonder of childhood.
“It did?” he asked trying to match the boy’s surprise.
“Yep.” Eric turned toward him, little hands still resting on the cold window sill. “Do you think we could build a snow man today?”
“If there’s enough snow I’m sure we can.” Hank smiled back at his son. “Now you get dressed and we’ll go see what’s for breakfast.”
