Prissy's Predicament (Tales From Biders Clump Book 6)

by Danni Roan

  Turning from the stove, Rupert’s hip came into contact with Priscilla’s and he jumped. The contact was soft but firm at the same time, like a roll baked to perfection.

  “I beg your pardon,” he offered, turning and looking into her green eyes. “I suppose these things will happen when one is working closely in a small space.”

  Prissy smiled. She’d known immediately that it was Rupert who’d bumped into her, and instead of feeling embarrassed, she felt a little thrill skitter up her spine.

  “It’s alright,” she said, feeling comfortable in his presence. “What are you making?”

  “Honey loaves,” Rupert said. “They’re simple, but folks buy them and after this morning, I need to replenish my wares.”

  Prissy studied his face. It was a handsome face, narrow but strong, chiseled and nice looking at the same time.

  She had discovered early on in their acquaintance that she liked his face, and the funny way he talked, and his overwhelming knowledge of baked goods. As a matter of fact, she liked the baked goods themselves

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, “and I’ll work at the Mill until Tate’s back on his feet.”

  “You will!” Rupert cried, placing his hands on Prissy’s shoulders, his slate-colored eyes bright with excitement. “That’ll be smashing.” He grinned, his enthusiasm contagious. “I know Tate will appreciate it tremendously,” he continued, dropping his hands and stepping back in embarrassment.

  Prissy’s eyes fell. She was happy to stay, but it would have been nice if at least some of Rupert’s enthusiasm had been his own and not on behalf of Tate.

  “Shall we plan the menus for the week?” Rupert asked more calmly.

  “Priscilla Adams!” Maud’s voice echoed through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Young lady, are you in here?” she called impatiently.

  “Oh no, Mother!” Prissy called, covering her mouth with her hand. “I never sent word.” She continued running toward the door. “I’m here, Mother!” She hurried toward her mother.

  “Prissy, what is the meaning of this? I expected you home hours ago.” Maud’s face was flushed with concern.

  The door behind them opened again and Harlan Dixon entered, removing his hat.

  “I’ll bring some coffee,” Rupert said, slipping back into the kitchen.

  “Priscilla,” the older man smiled, pulling out a chair first for Maud and then Prissy.

  “I am sorry mother. I’ve barely had a minute to think. When I came in this morning the whole place was in shambles, complaining customers, confused staff and no food.”

  “No food,” Maud blinked. “what do you mean?”

  “It’s Mr. Tate, mum,” Rupert spoke up, pouring coffee into their waiting cups. “He’s fallen ill, but we were already open and people were about.”

  “So you stepped in?” Maud concluded.

  “Yes. I cooked breakfast and then we were organizing for supper tonight. The lunch crowd has been light.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you to pitch in like that, Prissy,” Harlan said. “Your mother must be very proud.”

  “Well yes, I guess I am.” Maud said, squirming a little, “though I was pretty annoyed earlier. I worry, you know.”

  Rupert returned with a tray full of pie and placed a different slice in front of each person, then moved to the empty fourth chair.

  “Miss Priscilla has been a true blessing,” he offered quietly.

  “Mother, I am sorry, I should have sent word, but we were so busy.” Prissy, squeezed her mother’s hand and lifted a bite of pie to her lips distractedly. “I guess I’d better let you know that I’d like to continue on, at least until Tate has someone to step in.”

  Maud looked at her daughter seriously.

  “I’ll help out, Mrs. Adams,” Rupert spoke up. “She won’t have to do everything on her own.” The young man looked between the two women hopefully.

  “Do you mind, Mama?” Prissy worried her lower lip in anticipation.

  Maud Adams smiled. “No, I think it’s very kind of you to help out,” she said, patting her daughter’s hand.

  “Will you be alright on your own?” Prissy asked, concern on her face. “I don’t want you to have to cook for all the hands.”

  “She won’t have to.” Harlan picked up the thread. “I’ve got a bang-up cook at my place and your men can eat over there. Maud, why don’t you join me for dinner as well?”

  Maud smiled. “Well I guess that’s all settled then,” she half-chuckled. “Perhaps Sara and Rafe will have dinner with us.”

  Rupert grinned around his coffee cup. He’d be working with the prettiest of the Adams girls for at least a few more days.

  The door of the Grist Mill opened again and a tall, thin man with dark hair and deep brown eyes stepped through the door, looking about him curiously.

  “I think you have a customer,” Maud smiled, lifting her cup and washing down a bit of pie.

  “Hello,” Prissy offered, rising. “Can we help you?”

  “Ah, hello,” the man said. “I’ve come for supper.” He had a soft lilt to his voice as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny neck.

  “Oh, you’re a tad early,” Prissy said with a welcoming grin, “but please have a seat and we’ll get you a bit of coffee if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “That would be fine,” the man replied, turning and moving to a table next to the wall.

  “I’ll fetch the coffee,” Rupert said, heading for the kitchen.

  “If you’ll excuse me, then Mama, Mr. Dixon,” Prissy said, “I’ll see you tonight.” She moved away into the kitchen.

  Harlan tossed a few coins on the table and offered Maud his arm with a grin. “She’s a good girl,” he said, opening the door and escorting her out.

  Prissy gathered up her specials board and a note pad. “We have two items on for tonight,” she said, speaking to the thin man. “Oven-fried chicken with potatoes and gravy or stewed rabbit with root vegetables.”

  “Rabbit?” the man asked. “Yah, hasenpfeffer,” he grinned, his smile broad and white under a beaky nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice.

  “Hasenpfeffer, what’s that?” Prissy asked.

  “Rabbit. It is what I know this dish as.”

  “Oh, how interesting,” Prissy smiled, drawing a second smile from the man as well.

  “Yes, I think I will have this stewed rabbit,” he said carefully, “and two meals with this chicken.”

  “That’s a lot of food for one man.” Prissy said, wondering how a man that looked more like a stork would store so much food.

  “No,” he said, “the other two are for my niece and nephew. They will come after school.”

  “Oh, I see,.” Prissy said. “It might be about twenty minutes before the meals are ready. I hope that’s alright. I’ll bring you some bread and coffee.”

  She was just turning away when Rupert approached with the coffee pot and a basket of rolls.

  “Thank you,” she said, offering Rupert a grin before turning and heading back to the heat of the kitchen.

  “We’re back,” a cheerful Mary entered through the back door. “Thank you for the break. Jack will be in any minute and Ida comes a little later to start the dishes.”

  “You have a regular routine down, don’t you?” Prissy’s comment was meant as a compliment.

  “Yes, it makes things easier.”

  “I’ll have a meal ready for the man out there in a few minutes,” Prissy said.

  “Oh, you mean Mr. Druthers,” Mary said, “He’s a regular. He and his niece and nephew come in every week for supper.”

  The sound of laughing children filled the dining room and Prissy looked out to see Toby and his little sister scurrying across the room to join the thin man at his table.

  “Of course,” Prissy said, “I should have recognized him. Didn’t he come here when his sister took ill?”

  “Yes,” the young waitress replied as the door opened again as customers entered
and Mary moved to intercept them. “That’s the train in, then,” she said. “It’s going to get busy.”

  ***

  Soon the small café was bustling with business as passengers left the train station seeking food, while others moved to the boarding house to find a room for the night or longer.

  The hum and rattle of the Grist Mill kept everyone moving and soon Rupert was as busy as Prissy, sending baskets of bread, slices of pie, and troves of tarts to the hungry mob.

  “This is kind of fun,” Priscilla commented, plating up the last of the rabbit and sending it along with a server. “Is it always this busy?”

  “No, not always,” Rupert said with a gleam in his eye, “but when the train’s running extra routes to take people to that land park, there’s good business.”

  “Land Park?” Prissy questions, “you mean Yellowstone National Park?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” Rupert agreed. “Have you been?”

  “Yes, ages ago when my father was still with us. He took all of us for a visit.”

  “Was it nice?”

  Prissy stilled for a moment, contemplating. “I think Quil would describe it as awe-inspiring.”

  Rupert smiled. “Perhaps someday I’ll see it for myself. I’ve been ever so astounded by your country.”

  “I haven’t seen much of it,” Prissy said, “but I like it alright.” She finished with a giggle.

  Half an hour later the last of the guests were gone and Prissy collapsed into a chair.

  “What time should I be in tomorrow?” she asked, looking at the others, who were busy with the cleaning.

  “I’m in at five,” Rupert offered.

  “So early?” Prissy groaned.

  “Our first guests are usually here at six, but that’s often just for baked goods.”

  “Oh dear, Rupert, will you have enough?”

  “I’ll just get up a little earlier tomorrow and begin.” he said, his eyes twinkling as if it were all a lark.

  “But what about the dishes and…”

  Rupert took her arm, hauling her to her feet and effectively cutting off her questions.

  “Ida takes care of all that,” he said, firmly guiding her to the door.

  The night sky was bright with jeweled stars as they stepped out into the quiet street.

  “Your horse, Miss Priscilla,” Ramey, the blacksmith of the town, sauntered toward them. “Old Ida asked me to fetch him earlier today. If you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll trail along to see you get home alright.”

  “Oh, no you don’t need to do that,” Prissy protested.

  “Whoa,” a husky male voice called, pulling a buggy to a stop by the stairs. “That won’t be necessary, Ramey, but thanks,” Rafe Dixon called. “I’ve been sent to fetch my sister-in-law home.”

  Prissy smiled, thinking of Sara. “That was nice of Sara to send you,” she said as Rupert walked her to the conveyance and helped her aboard. “I could have ridden, though.”

  “I’m sure you could have,” Rafe smiled, his dark eyes bright, “but your mother and sister couldn’t have survived worrying about you.”

  “Well good night, Miss Pris,” Rupert offered, stepping away from the buggy. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” Prissy replied, stifling a yawn.

  “You’re all set, Rafe,” Ramey called from the back of the rig where he’d attached Sugar’s reins.

  “Thanks Ramey, and hopefully tomorrow Prissy will just drop Sugar off with you,” Rafe called, clicking to the team and dashing into the night with a wave of his hand.

  The night air was cool, and a brisk breeze lifted Prissy’s curls from her sweaty brow. It had been a long day in the kitchen and she was tired, but felt content and confident, if weary.

  “You had a good time, didn’t you?” Rafe asked, pushing his hat back on his sandy hair at a rakish angle.

  Prissy let a slow smile spread across her face. “Yes, actually I did,” she said, tipping her chin toward him. “It was a bit messy at the beginning, but once everyone started to pull together, things went smoothly.”

  She laughed softly. “It was fun seeing all the people who came in and out of the place as well.”

  “I’m glad it wasn’t too difficult for you,” Rafe offered. “Are you really going to keep at it until Tate’s up and around?”

  “Yes, I think I am. It’s a culinary challenge.” She smiled again, her green eyes bright with mirth.

  Rafe chirruped to the team again, setting them to a gallop, “then I guess I’d better get you home so you’ll be fresh as a daisy come dawn.”

  Prissy groaned. “Did you have to remind me of that?” She shook her head, breathing deeply of the night air and replaying her day working with Rupert in her mind.

  Chapter 5

  “Maud, how lovely to see you.” Polly Esther Olson smiled at her friend as she entered the boarding house. “I’m afraid Quil’s resting. She was up to all hours last night hammering away at that contraption Cameron got for her.”

  “I hope it isn’t disturbing you and George,” Maud said, worried that having Quil at the boarding house was a burden.

  “Oh my no,” Polly assured, “she’s letting George and me take a peek at the story.” Polly’s blue eyes twinkled with delight. “You know I love a good story.”

  Maud leaned forward on the chair she’d taken at the big table. “You really think it’s good?” she asked.

  “Oh my, yes,” Polly replied, pulling down the tea pot and filling it. “Very enjoyable stories,” she assured her. “If I had to say, I think Quil’s getting better with each story.”

  Maud smoothed her skirt, pleased that Polly liked her daughter’s little tales.

  “How are you managing out at the ranch?” Polly asked, placing a plate of white frosted cookies on the table and joining her friend.

  “As well as can be expected.” Maud sipped her tea. “Cam and the other men are busy moving cattle, and I swear my son-in-law is going gray worrying about Aquila.” She chuckled. “I hope that baby hurries up.”

  “The first is always the worst,” Polly agreed. “George and I almost closed the boarding house completely before Joyce had her first little one,” she chuckled, remembering.

  “I have to admit it’s a little lonely at home right now,” Maud mused.

  “I imagine, especially with Prissy cooking at the Mill while Tate’s out sick.”

  “You know about that?” Maud said over her tea cup.

  “Ain’t much Polly misses,” George said, walking into the kitchen with a bundle of wood.

  “Good morning, George,” Maud offered, watching as the older man, his graying hair sticking out at all angles under his hat, stacked the wood.

  “Mornin’ Maud,” George smiled. “You two have a nice visit now, I’m off to beat Byron at a game of checkers.” He touched his hat and left again.

  “How’s Prissy like cooking at the Mill?” Polly asked, offering a cookie to her friend.

  “Mm, lemon,” Maud hummed after her first bite. “You know Polly, I don’t really know if Prissy likes working or not. She comes home every night so tired she practically falls into bed. I’ll be glad when Sunday comes and they close up shop.”

  “Cooking for a crew can take it out of you,” Polly agreed. “It’s different, though, when you have to keep going all day.”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m worried about.”

  “I heard that Tate has a sister coming to help out soon,” Polly offered encouragingly.

  “I don’t mean to be selfish, but I would like to see my daughter at least a little bit,” Maud sighed.

  “And what have you been doing all on your own with Prissy at the Mill, Quil here, and Sara in her own house?”

  Maud smiled. “Sara’s been over twice already to check on me, but over all I’m simply keeping up with the house. I’ve barely even eaten at home because Harlan insists I come to dinner with him.”

  Polly carefully studied the tea leaves at the bottom of he
r cup.

  “Tonight we’re eating at the Mill, though. I thought perhaps we’d get a minute to see Prissy and have a change of pace at the same time.” She smiled with a sudden idea. “Why don’t you and George join us?” she asked.

  “That’d be mighty nice.” Polly said, “but we have guests comin’ in on the train tonight. This is a busy time of year ya know, what with the fall colors and the weather being so fine.”

  “Oh, of course,” Maud accepted graciously.

  “I’ll tell you what though,” Polly offered, “how about I have you and Harlan over sometime soon. Grady and Rebecca are coming over tonight as well, so we’ll have a full house.” She smiled. Polly liked nothing better than a full house.

  ***

  Rupert walked into the kitchen, a large empty hamper in his hands. “I believe your mother just pulled up at the boarding house,” he said, smiling at Prissy.

  He was more than impressed with how well the young woman had organized everything at the Mill.

  It was Saturday, always a busy night for the Grist Mill, but Priscilla Adams had set everything beautifully.

  Already at this early hour, aromatic smells tempted the taste buds and a new array of jars, bottles, and bunches graced the shelves on the wall.

  “Yes, she said that Harlan asked if she’d like to come here for supper tonight.” She smiled, a wicked glint in her eye, “I guess that’s the only way she has of seeing me right now.”

  “You have been working terribly hard, you know,” Rupert agreed as he began placing mounds of fresh baked buns and long loaves in the basket.

  “Oh, I’m alright,” Prissy insisted, though she was feeling the physical drag of the early mornings and late nights. “I enjoy the work.”

  “I can see that, but you mustn’t over do it.”

  “I won’t, Rupert,” Prissy insisted, her heart warming to the annoying man all over again. His concern was touching.

  “Have you heard anything more about Tate?”

  “Doc’s gonna have to operate.” Ida’s high voice joined theirs as she entered through another door. “Just been to see him this mornin’.” She shook her shaggy head of dark hair.