Big Meadows Valentine (Eastern Sierra Brides 1884)

by Zina Abbott

  After the judge locked up his office, the trio made the three-block walk in silence, Val claiming Beth’s one hand on his arm while her other hand clutched her Bible to her chest. Once they arrived at the furniture shop that also built coffins and had a back building that served as the morgue, McLean spoke quietly to the owner while Val waited with Beth just inside the door. After McLean motioned them back, they all proceeded to the morgue.

  The furniture builder, Andrew Barnes, who also served as the mortician, located the pine box with Dodd’s name scrawled across the end. Barnes used his crowbar to pry the lid open. Sliding the wood aside, he moved back to allow Val and Beth to step forward.

  Beth swallowed at the sight of the white skin mottled with bluish-black splotches. The man had a look of peace about him that belied the circumstances surrounding his life and his death. Despite the cold, the smell of death hung in the air, prompting Beth to fish out of her pocket the wadded up handkerchief that belonged to the judge. She held it to her nose. After only a few seconds more, she turned and took several steps away from the corpse.

  “Have you seen enough, Mrs. Dodd?” Charles McLean asked.

  “Ain’t no doubt. This here’s the Jim Dodd I married.” She turned to the judge and tipped her head in his direction. “Thank you, kindly, Judge.”

  “Let’s get you out of here, Mrs. Dodd.” Val put his arm across her shoulder and hurried her out of the building. They waited on the boardwalk, Beth taking several deep breaths, until they were joined by Charles McLean who stayed long enough to wish them a good day before he started his walk back to change into his butchering clothes.

  Val released Beth’s shoulder and slid his hand down her arm until he grasped her hand. With the fingers of his other hand he gently nudged her chin until she looked him in the face.

  “I need to hitch up my mules and head back down the mountain for home, Mrs. Dodd. Do you think you’ll be all right?”

  “Reckon so. I thank you for seein’ me through this. Had no notion it would get so...upsettin’.”

  “I was pleased to be there with you, ma’am.”

  “Reckon I’ll stop by my room long enough to drop off my Bible. Then I reckon I best go see Gus.”

  “You’re planning to stay in this area, then?”

  Beth stared into Val’s dark eyes, trying to guess where his question was leading. “For the time bein’.”

  “I’d be happy to offer you a job as a cook and housekeeper at the ranch. Ever since my sister Barbara married and moved away last summer, my brother and I have been switching off with our ranch hands doing the cooking. The boys have been pretty patient about it, but they do keep asking when we’re going to hire someone.”

  The offer was tempting. But, Beth knew that if she accepted, it threatened to break down her resolve to take care of her own affairs first without relying on a man. She didn’t feel ready to take the chance.

  “Reckon I’ll try cookin’ for Gus first. Need to get my husband buried and this estate business done settled. But, I ain’t one to live in no town, especially no minin’ town. I’ll be lookin’ for someplace else to settle permanent. But, I’ll keep mindful of your offer in case this don’t work out none. ”

  “I guess I can see your point,” Val said, trying to mask his disappointment. “Mrs. Dodd, I know it may be too soon to say this, but I will.” He stepped even closer and dipped his head until his face was mere inches from Beth’s. “I want you to know I plan to look in on you whenever I come to Lundy.”

  Beth turned her head and looked off to the side, suddenly nervous about the way she felt standing so close to Val Caldwell. She doubted she could fit the flat of her hand between them without touching him. She felt an increased awareness of his hand holding hers, his jacket almost brushing against hers, his lips close enough to only need him to move an inch or two toward her to kiss her. Or, for her to lean forward and kiss him. Even when they didn’t physically touch, he pulled her to him like a magnet. She feared what her feelings could lead to.

  Don’t know that I’ll ever be ready to get tied up with no man, no matter how much he appeals to me.

  “Why you figure you’d want to look in on me? I’m just a farm woman from Ohio.”

  “Truthfully, Mrs. Dodd, I don’t think you realize what an attractive lady you are. That’s the first thing I noticed about you.”

  At his compliment, Beth’s face began to heat with a blush.

  He don’t got no idea how pretty my sister will be all growed up.

  Beth bent her head to look at her feet, brushing his chin with her forehead. Instinctively she shifted her body away from him to break contact. He tightened his grip on her hand.

  “The second is the kind of woman you are. Escorting you around Lundy has proven very enlightening.”

  Beth looked back at Val’s face, trying to read if that was good or bad. Then she looked down.

  “I want to see you as often as possible, Mrs. Dodd. You’ll be up here with a town full of miners coming in to Gus’s every day to eat while I have to see to my work down on my ranch in Big Meadows. I don’t want one of those miners to try to put in a claim on you while I’m gone.”

  “No need to fret none about no miner jumpin’ no claim on me. I’m lookin’ to live my own life for the time bein’.”

  “If I can help you in any way, Mrs. Dodd, please let me know. If there is something you want me to bring up on one of my freight runs, just say so and I’ll do my best to find it for you.”

  Beth jerked her head up until their eyes once again met.

  “Chickens.”

  “Chickens?”

  “Don’t matter what kind, I ain’t particular none, at this point. Baby chicks. Hatching eggs. I reckon it’s a mite chancy this time of year, but soon as someone’s got chicks for sale, I need me some chickens. Can’t bake all that good without no eggs. You want I should pay up front or when you deliver?”

  Val’s face split with a smile as he squeezed her fingers.

  “When I deliver, Mrs. Dodd. I promise. As soon as I can, I’ll bring you your chickens.”

  CHAPTER 6

  lUNDY, CALIFORNIA – FEBRUARY 14, 1881

  Beth shook her head as she stared out the back window of Gus’s kitchen. Ohio got snow, but she couldn’t recall the last time she had seen it like this. It seemed like she spent half her time digging through piles of white. Keeping a path to the necessary cleared had been a challenge some days. Fortunately, after each snow storm, the men of the town rallied to clear enough snow on the roads between the covered boardwalks that she had been able to make the two-block trip between Mrs. Ford’s boarding house and The Arcade most days. Those days blizzard conditions forced her to stay in her room, she settled on hardtack for breakfast and lunch, and stoically paid the extra to Mrs. Ford to join the other boarders for supper.

  Beth soon learned that part of the problem was the altitude. At 7,858 feet, the dry high desert air kept the temperature below freezing. Just when Lundyites thought a sunny day had arrived and might help melt away some of the snow, clouds soon rolled in and dumped a few more inches.

  Even with a sleigh, Eddie Hector was having trouble getting the mail back and forth from Bodie, which was about five hundred feet higher than Lundy in altitude. The last day Eddie had delivered mail and small packages had been February first. He had left Lundy the next day, knowing he would be trying to outrun the next snowstorm. No one had seen him since. His older brother, Heck, who owned the stage line and ran freight, figured that without a warm spell, it would be several weeks before Eddie made it back with the mail.

  Big Meadows, where Val and his family lived, was a lower altitude than Lundy. But, once Beth realized his mules had to climb 1,400 feet to get to Lundy, she figured it would be chancy that he would visit her again anytime soon. The snow was just too deep, and the drifts in the mountain terrain just too treacherous for Val to risk his mules—let alone him and his brother, Luther.

  Val had been up three times since their first
meeting the day she learned she had arrived in Lundy already a widow. Each time, he had brought his younger brother, Luther. Luther, with skin and hair not quite as dark as Val’s, shared the same dark eye color with his brother. He stood an inch or two shorter than Val, but was just as broad across the shoulders, if not more. He seemed to be light-hearted, always making wise-cracks and playing jokes on people. Unfortunately, a little of that went a long way with Beth. Zelly would probably consider him entertaining; Beth didn’t have to be around him long before she found him to be annoying.

  However, the last time Val and Luther had made it up to Lundy was the day after Eddie Hector had left for Bodie. It had only been ten days since she had seen him last, but she missed him terribly. As much as she insisted she had no personal use for a man in her life, she yearned to see him again, to talk to him, to have him tease her about being prickly when she stood her ground. Although he merely extended it as a courtesy expected by society, she looked forward to those times he wrapped her hand around his offered arm so that she found herself pulled close to him in order to keep her balance.

  Beth shook her fanciful longings away. She had bread that was about finished rising. She needed to slide her loaves into the oven to bake.

  Gus didn’t have bread pans. Beth soon learned that her small bread rounds, no bigger than what would fit in a small pie pan once they were baked, were quite popular with the men. The biscuits went with the meals. If the customers wanted bread, that was extra. Many of the men bought a round, using some to sop up their supper, but kept the rest for breakfast. Beth soon decided that a slice of her bread topped by a thin layer of the canned preserves she bought at the market or occasionally a little butter made a delightful breakfast for her. Otherwise, she started her day with mush or left-over rice, which she quickly decided was a tasty grain.

  If the market had eggs available at a price she was willing to pay, she tried to save at least one aside for Sundays when she indulged herself with a serving of Gus’s potato pancakes she had learned to make. Although the mines closed for the winter and most miners were not receiving a paycheck, the habit of celebrating on payday remained with them. With many of their usual customers being hung over from drinking more than usual Saturday nights, business was slow Sunday mornings. Beth could take the time to sit and enjoy her pancakes without interruption.

  Now, she stirred the pot of beans that was simmering on the stove. She not only made beans the way she had back in Ohio, she had experimented making beans using the hot peppers that were popular in California. The fare offered that day would be spicy beans over rice.

  Although her bean and stew meals were enjoyed well enough by most of their regular customers, several complained about the unavailability of steaks. But, once it appeared that fresh beef would be hard to come by and too expensive for his clientele, Gus moved to menu offerings that did not require so much meat.

  Beth smiled at the thought. She quickly figured out that, although Gus was good at cooking up meat and the Bratwurst he made that was quite popular, he needed someone who knew not only knew how to bake, but knew how to cook other foods that would get them through the lean winter. In addition to stews and beans with rice, Gus always had Beth make the biscuits. The man seemed to have a heavy hand with the flour. No matter that Beth had tried several times to teach him to make the simple quick bread so they were light and fluffy, Gus’s biscuits always turned out as hard as stones.

  Gus was even getting stingy of offering the Bratwurst, only serving them two days a week now. He was afraid of running out until he could make more the coming fall.

  Beth recalled the day she had asked him if he would teach her how to make the flavorful sausage.

  “Nein!” he had shaken his head. “Only Gus make bratvurst. It what you say...” At a loss for words, he had trotted over to the doorway that led into the main room and called across to Leonard who was working the bar.

  “Leonard, auf Englisch how you say geheimen familienrezept?”

  “Secret family recipe.”

  “Ya, danke.” Then he turned to Beth. “What Leonard say. Secret. Only tell family men. No vomen. Only sons.” Then a look of sadness had flooded Gus’s face and he had turned away, avoiding her eyes. He tried to act like he was keeping busy in another corner of the room. Beth had sensed his sorrow and sought to find the right words to comfort him.

  “Gus, don’t go givin’ up hope. Even though there ain’t no great passel of women to choose from in these here parts, it ain’t too late for you to find you a wife to give you sons.”

  Gus had shaken his head in denial and gruffly insisted before he fled out the back door, “Nein. Keine familie für Gus, keine söhne.” No. No family for Gus, no sons.

  The rest of the day, Gus has been morose and spoke only when he had to, and then it was only in one syllable words. Beth didn’t know what had disturbed him to such a degree, but she made it a point to say nothing more about her desire to learn how to make bratwurst.

  Beth sighed and turned to making a couple of pie crusts. Might as well do it while Gus was gone shopping at the Central Market.

  Pies and specialty cakes were her business, not part of Gus’s chop shop restaurant. It had taken some haggling with Gus, but she had worked out a deal with him. She used his kitchen and his stove during slow times for a small percentage in order to offer her own baked goods for sale. It made the best use of the stove and oven heat during times Gus did not need it to prepare food for meals.

  Of course, Gus had argued with her about it in his usual stubborn fashion, worried it would take time away from the cooking he needed done. She knew when she had won. Anytime Beth got her way about something, Gus would throw his hand in the air with disgust and mutter, “Ach! Herrisch witwe.” Bossy widow.

  Beth purchased her own flour, sugar, spices and dried fruits. As soon as she had gathered together enough money, she had also indulged in a beautiful large punched tin pie safe in which to store her supplies, justifying the purchase as something she would need when she got her own home and kitchen.

  Beth had her arms elbow-deep in flour when she heard a familiar voice call to her from the main room.

  “Mrs. Dodd, are you in the kitchen? I sure hope you’re here.”

  Val!

  “Reckon you found me. I’m smack-dab in the middle of makin’ dried apple pies.”

  “That sounds good,” said Luther Caldwell who followed his brother into the kitchen, carrying a large package wrapped in burlap, which he dropped in a corner. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dodd. Hope you’re making enough for us to buy a couple to take home.”

  “What I hope for, Mrs. Dodd, is if you can stop long enough to take from me what I brought. I’m more than ready to turn them over to you.”

  Val’s statement set Luther to laughing hysterically.

  Beth glanced at Luther with annoyance before turning back and watching with anticipation. After Val carefully propped his rifle up against the kitchen wall, he proceeded to unbutton his jacket. She noticed a thick leather belt cinched tightly about his waist on the outside. She wondered about the new style. Her eyes grew wide when, once the jacket was open to his waist, Val next started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Is the man going to strip off his clothes in front of me, smack dab in the middle of Gus’s kitchen?

  Beth breathed a sigh of relief once she realized that Val had a second shirt on underneath. She watched with curiosity as he fumbled with a burlap sack wedged between the two shirts.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Dodd. I told you I’d bring you some as soon as I could find them.”

  Beth’s eyes lit up. Excited, she sucked in air as she covered her mouth with both hands, coating her cheeks with flour. Did she dare to hope?

  “Those ain’t just plain ol’...”

  “No, ma’am. These aren’t just any old eggs. The lady who sold them to me a few days ago said they were about a week away from hatching.”

  Beth stepped forward with the urge to throw her arms around Val’s
neck. Then she thought better of it and skidded to a stop. The last thing she wanted to do was crush the eggs between them and crack the shells.

  Luther clapped his hand on Val’s shoulder. “Yep, Mrs. Dodd, this man, here, has been a regular mother hen to your eggs. He’s kept them by the stove, waking up I don’t know how many times a night to make sure the fire’s still going and they’re warm enough.”

  “Ain’t this excitin’!” Beth clapped her hands together sending a cloud of flour in the air.

  Val shook his head. “Think I’d rather tend twenty sick calves than watch over hatching eggs, But, I know you’ve been waiting on them. Seeing how happy you are to get them makes it all worth it.”

  “Thank you, Val Caldwell,” Beth said, looking him in the eye as she took the first egg from him. “How much I owe you?”

  “Nothing. I wouldn’t do this for money, not in winter, anyway. Consider this part of your Valentine’s present.” Val scratched the spot where the itchy burlap sack rubbed against him.

  “Valentine’s present?” Beth asked, confused. Back east, she had heard there were people who made a fuss about Valentine’s Day. They had never had time for that kind of nonsense on the farm.

  Luther jumped in. “I told him he didn’t have to worry about getting you a present. All he had to do was show up and say, ‘Here I am, I’m your Valentine.’” At Beth’s confused look, he explained, “His name is Valentino, you know. That’s Italian for Valentine...his legacy from our Italian grandmother.”

  Val turned toward his brother and said pointedly, “Luther, can’t you find someplace else to be? I’d like a little time alone with Mrs. Dodd helping her settle in these hatching eggs before Gus gets back and chases me out of his kitchen for socializing with his cook. Maybe you can take the rest of our load of dried beef over to the Central Market and see if they’re interested in it. If not, we can try the other eating places later.”

  “Yes, sir, brother.” Luther stuck his fists in his armpits and flapped his elbows while he bobbed his head and high-stepped toward the doorway to the main room, all the while clucking like a chicken. Just before he exited, he turned with a laugh. “Don’t get too cozy settling in those eggs. And, don’t forget to give her that frilly thing Barbara was so sure she’d like.”