by Danni Roan
“So your name is Sasha?” Priscilla asked, rolling the name over her tongue.
“Um hm.”
“I already knew Toby’s name, but I hadn’t heard yours.”
“Everyone knows Toby,” the girl said, “cause he’s always in trouble.”
“Sasha,” Mr. Druthers chided.
Prissy handed a small plate with sandwiches and cakes to Sasha and then another one to the child’s uncle.
“Thank you.” His soft voice was soothing on her wounded pride.
***
Rupert glanced over his shoulder to see the tall man from the restaurant plop onto the picnic blanket that only moments ago he had been sharing with Priscilla Adams.
He rubbed his breast, feeling the burning ache all over again. How could he explain to the lovely Priscilla?
It had been a mistake becoming friends with the young woman, but she was so full of life and ideas. He loved her energy, her imagination, her passion for all things food.
So many young woman nowadays were so afraid of a little food. They picked at everything, barely tasting it, as if it were a sin to enjoy good things.
He shook his head. He had been foolish becoming so close to the young woman. Again he rubbed at his chest, the old pain familiar.
When he’d come to America, he was sure he could find a small town to ply his trade, largely unnoticed. He could bake, experiment with new foods and cooking methods, and stay out of everyone else’s way.
He only wanted to keep to the quiet life and put the old, painful memories behind him. He hadn’t counted on his heart betraying him and straying to the pretty Pris.
Once more he glanced over his shoulder, taking in the scene; Prissy sitting in the sun, the dark-haired little girl next to her sampling his cakes, while the lean, dark man laughed at something Priscilla had said.
His heart sank even as he steeled his soul. Mis Pris deserved someone like that, a nice farmer, a simple man with no secrets. Perhaps he could help things along.
Chapter 7
“Sakes alive,” Maud Adams expostulated, stepping around a group of grubby men in work overalls. “Rebecca, Rebecca! Where on earth did all these men come from?” she asked as she made her way through the door of the busting boarding house.
“Haven’t you heard?” Rebecca Gatlin said with a smile, her blue eyes bright. “There’s a whole new crew of quarrymen come to pull rock out of the mountains.”
“What? You mean that dusty old gravel Banes and company dig out along the south road?”
“Yes, but this is a different area.” The young wife of the town’s school teacher ushered Maud into the parlor as a few more men walked by. “Apparently, they’ve found pink granite behind the Sparak place.”
“Pink?” Maud could barely get her head around what Becky was saying.
“Maud, is that you?” Polly’s voice echoed down the stairs along with the drumming of feet in the hall.
“It’s me, Polly.” Maud stuck her head back through the door as Polly Esther reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Becky, could you see to the last room at the end of the hall?” Polly asked the young lady who helped her with the house work. “And change the linen and blankets in the white room. I’m not having these ruffians ruining my best things.”
“Of course, Polly,” Rebecca grinned. “It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Adams,” she added, giving a little wave as she moved up the stairs.
“Come on into the kitchen, Maud,” Polly said, watching the last two men make their way out of the house. “I need a cup of coffee.”
“Polly, what is all this?” Maud asked, peeling her gloves off her hands. “Where’s Quil? Are all these men staying here?”
“Now aren’t you full of questions?” Polly asked with a grin, her bright blue eyes sharp as they moved into the kitchen and straight for the large coffee pot on the stove.
“First, Quil and Cam are over at the doctor’s.” She lifted down two large mugs, filling them with the strong coffee. “Second, yes all these men are staying with me until they get a camp established over on Bruno’s property.”
“A camp?” Maud fanned herself with her gloves. “How many are there?”
“A good number. We’ve only got the crew bosses here and a few of the more senior diggers.”
“You mean there are more?” Maud’s eyes were wide.
“Maud, it’ll be good for the town once things settle down.” Polly smiled. “It’ll be even better for Bruno and Janine.”
Maud smiled back. “It’s about time things looked up for that boy. He’s been selling those little whittled items of his over at the mercantile, and Mr. Bentley’s even been getting orders for them in other towns, but some hard cash won’t go amiss.”
“You mean those little curio boxes?” Polly sipped her coffee, enjoying the sudden quietness of the boarding house. “Seems that people passing through like to pick them up,” she said.
“Janine said that Bruno’s got a lot of time on his hands now that he’s not working for Mr. Simms no more.”
Polly chuckled. “Bruno’s got no lack of imagination.”
“He’d have to have, to marry Janine,” Maud laughed, but there was no real sensor in it. “She’s been out to see Sara a few times for cooking lessons.”
Polly chuckled again. “I’ve never seen a girl so ill-equipped for marriage in my life, and yet she’s coming along just fine.” Polly’s piercing blue eyes fell on Maud. “Maybe if she keeps improving, Prissy will give her a lesson or two.”
“Prissy,” Maud snapped, her mouth falling into a hard line, “I never see her anymore.”
“You’ll be seeing her even less with these fellas filling up the town.”
“Why?” Maud spat, almost spilling her coffee.
“I’m providing breakfast and packing lunches for these men, but I’m not cooking dinner for them. That means the only eatin’ place in town’s the Mill,” Polly stated.
“She’ll never be able to keep up.” Maud’s voice was strained. “She’s just one girl.”
“Priscilla’s made of stronger stuff than you think, Maud. She’ll manage.”
“Well, she won’t be doing it alone anyway.” Maud stood to her feet, her eyes flashing as she pushed up her sleeves. “I’m sorry to cut our visit short Polly, but I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Don’t forget to go see Quil,” Polly called after her friend as she tramped down the hall and out the door.
“Maud,” George Olson greeted, holding the door as the matron walked out.
“Morning, George,” she said, barely giving him a nod.
“Where’s Maud going all fired up?” George asked, walking into the kitchen, two suitcases suspended in his hands.
“The Mill,” Polly replied sipping her coffee and eyeing the bags.
“Oh!” George lifted the bags. “A woman at the depot asked if I’d store ‘em for her. She was with a pretty little thing and a portly woman that was plumb havin’ the vapors. Guess they was taken her ta see the Doc.”
“Seems like the town’s filling up.” Polly smiled, her blue eyes shining as George poured himself a cup of coffee.
“You gonna be alright keepin’ up with all these men?” George asked.
“With you and Becky helpin,’ we’ll be just fine. Besides, I like having a full house.”
***
“No, no. I’m putting money on account for them. They’ll need their evening meals here.” A stocky man in a dark suit was waving a packet in front of Rupert.
“I’ll have to speak to Tate about this,” Rupert said, his voice agitated. “I’m only looking after the restaurant while he’s recuperating.”
“Look, mister,” the stocky man said, “I’ve got forty hungry men who’ll need to be fed regular. I’ve got a rush order from a man back East who wants as much of this pink granite as we can git him, and he’s payin’ top dollar.”
“Sir, I understand your situation, but we are not equipped to feed so many. We’ll need time
.”
“It’s alright, Rupert.” Prissy stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “I’m sure Tate will be happy for the business and we’ll find some way to feed the thundering herd.”
“Yes, we will.” Maud moved up beside her daughter, placing an arm around her protectively. “I’ll help.”
“Mama,” Prissy chided.
“Prissy, I know you can cook up a storm like no other, but this time you’ll need some help.”
Prissy grinned, leaning over and placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.
“Rupert!” a male voice bounded through the open door as the heavy clomp of boots echoed from the stoop.
“Ah, Bruno,” Rupert turned, distracted.
“So do we have a deal?” the stocky man asked.
“That depends,” Prissy replied. “Won’t you join me?” She indicated a seat at the other end of the room. “Mother, can you go check on the kitchen?” she added over her shoulder, clearing the room.
“What can I do for you, Bruno?” Rupert asked.
The handsome black-haired man turned his dark blue eyes on the baker. “I need a passel of baked goods. Seems them fellas that’s stayin’ in the barn want some extra things to eat.”
“Oh, of course.” Rupert smiled, leading the young shepherd to his table. He didn’t know Bruno well, but liked what he’d heard.
Moments later the usually well-stocked bakery shelf was nearly bare as he and Bruno loaded up a buggy with baskets of bread and other baked goods.
“Done!” Prissy’s voice drew Rupert’s attention, and he turned to see the young woman shaking hands with the camp manager for the quarry outfit.
Somehow, he was sure that life in Biders Clump was going to get even more interesting.
Chapter 8
“Doc, Aquila, what are you doing here?”
Maud Adams’ voice carried back into the kitchen, drawing Prissy into the dining room as her sister, huffing and waddling, stepped into the restaurant.
“Quil insisted,” Doctor Walker spoke, rubbing his chin. “She’s been talking with Tate and insisted on coming over to see what the numbers look like.
“The numbers? What numbers?” Prissy smoothed her apron carefully as her sister managed to make it to a table and plop down awkwardly.
“Yes, the numbers,” Quil spat, her breath still coming in short pants. “Tate’s not doing very well, I’m afraid, and he’s worried there won’t be anything left for when his sister gets here.”
“I’ve been keeping up with the regular orders,” Prissy commented, sitting with her oldest sister and noting the perspiration that made her brown hair stick to her face.
“Yes, but with all these men, things will be different. You’ll need to budget more for supplies, and Tate said you wouldn’t discuss pay with him at all.” Quil’s green eyes sparked in disapproval.
“Well, I like helping him out,” Prissy bristled.
“That’s all well and good, but he’s running a business and wants everything to be in order.” Quil skewered Prissy with a look that meant she’d take no argument. “I’ve agreed on a weekly wage for you, and now we need to look at the food budget.”
“Who made you boss?” Prissy didn’t know if she was offended or pleased as her sister slid a slip of paper toward her. “Oh,” she said, tucking the paper in her pocket, “that should be fine.” She couldn’t help but smile.
“Good, now let’s get down to business.” Quil mopped her brow. “Have you made an agreement with the manager yet?”
“Yes, here’s what we agreed.” Prissy handed the paper to her sister. “Do you know when Tate’s sister is supposed to arrive?” Prissy asked a short time later as her sister poured over the tallies for the week.
“No, not exactly, but it should be soon,” Quil said, sipping a glass of iced tea as she shooed her sister away.
“Aquila Royal is a pain in the…” Prissy bit her words off as her mother turned from the stove, a brow raised in censor. “Alright, Quil’s really a big help,” Prissy admitted, “but she can be bossy.”
***
“Surely this can’t be where we’re expected to live,” a woman said, stepping into the Grist Mill.
The lunch rush was over and the wait staff was busy tidying the tables and sweeping up while Prissy, Maud and Rupert restocked and took a breather before preparing the evening meal.
“You just have a seat somewheres,” another woman, her dark hair liberally streaked with gray, offered. “We’ll git you a nice cup a’ tea.”
“You shouldn’t coddle her, Martha.” A younger woman gazed around her, her dark eyes taking in everything as she accompanied the older woman to a table.
“Lucinda, don’t be rude,” the first woman spoke, “Martha understands.” She nodded. “It’s all just too much,” she added with a sniff, pulling a lace trimmed handkerchief from her sleeve.
“Can I help you?” Prissy rose from a table near the kitchen, where she’d been enjoying a cup of coffee and a piece of blackberry pie.
“Who are you?” the first woman spoke again.
“Now, Mrs. Farrow, never you mind, I’ll take care of this,” the second woman said. “I’m Martha, Martha Peterson, Tate’s sister,” she said, smiling. “And who are you?”
Prissy smiled. “So you’re Tate’s sister.” She offered her hand. “I’m Priscilla Adams, I’m doing the cooking right now.”
“Where’s Tate?” Mrs. Peterson looked concerned.
“I’m afraid he’s over at the doctor’s place,” Prissy said, indicting for the older woman to sit down. “He had to have surgery for an inflamed appendix.” She looked up and waved for Mary to bring them coffee.
Martha’s hand rose to her throat. “Is he alright? We were just there and no one told me. Can I see him?” Her gray eyes were full of worry.
“I’ll take you to see him,” Prissy offered kindly, looking up at Mrs. Peterson’s companions.
“Don’t worry about us, Martha,” the dark-haired young woman said, her eyes kind. “You go see your brother and I’ll get mother something to eat.” She reached into a small reticule she had at her waist, pulling out a meager collection of coins.
“You don’t need to pay,” Prissy offered, laying her hand on the other girl’s, “this is family.” She smiled, liking the way the other girl didn’t fuss but simply nodded. “I’ll take Mrs. Peterson and be right back.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Aquila called across the room. “I need to see Tate anyway,” she added, struggling to rise from her chair.
On light feet, Rupert moved to her side and half-pulled, half-lifted her from the low chair.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice peevish. “I hope this baby comes soon,” she said in a kinder voice. “I can’t seem to do anything.”
“I thought you were writing,” Rupert spoke, helping her to the door.
“Oh, I’ve already finished my manuscript. Cameron’s sending it in the post right now.” She smiled. “Now I’m simply writing up silly childhood tales.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Rupert offered.
“You’ll have to tell me a few of your own one day,” Quil said, finally smiling. “I’m sure you have some interesting stories of growing up in England.”
“Yes, well, perhaps when you’re back on your feet, so to speak.” He smiled.
“Quil.” Cameron moved up the front stairs to his wife, his deep voice rolling over her and making her smile. “Are you ready to go back to the Doc’s now?”
“Yes, and you should be out at the ranch,” she chided. “Also, this is Mrs. Peterson and she’s coming to see Tate.”
“Ma’am.” Cameron touched the tip of his hat with a smile, letting Quil take his arm. “As for being at the ranch, well, the fellas are doing just fine without me for a few days.” He grinned wolfishly. “I reckon I can stick around until my son’s born.”
“Son?” Quil’s voice chirped. “Don’t you mean daughter?” she said, as together they disappeared down the str
eet, trailed by the older woman.
“Well what can a body get to eat in such an establishment?” Mrs. Farrow spoke up as the trio left. “I suppose whatever it is, it will have to do.” She looked up at Prissy, a disapproving look on her face.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” the younger woman said. “I’m Lucinda Farrow, by the way and this is my mother.” She grinned. “We’ve come to work here.” Her dark eyes twinkled as if at a joke.
“Oh, that will be wonderful.” Prissy was delighted, not only would there be more help at the Mill, but having another woman of about her own age at the Mill would truly be a delight. “Now let me get you something to eat. The special today is ham pot pie. It isn’t fancy, but it is filling.”
“Lucinda!” Mrs. Farrow’s voice was shrill, “I’m hungry.”
“Yes, mother,” the girl commented, turning. “We’ll have whatever you can offer,” she added to Priscilla, “and thank you.”
“I’ll bring them some bread,” Rupert offered, turning to look about him, a slightly confused expression on his face. “Today seems to be full of surprises.”
“That’s entirely too true,” Prissy replied mopping her brow as she stepped back into the kitchen.
As Prissy stepped in, Rupert stepped out, a small basket in his hand, leaving Prissy alone to try to organize her thoughts as she fixed two large bowls full of ham and fluffy dumplings in a creamy sauce full of potatoes, carrots and green beans.
“Been a doozy taday, ain’t it?” Ida spoke up. She was busy pouring more hot water into the big sink. “Tate laid up, ‘is sister arriving with two unexpected folks, all them diggers in town…” She shook her head. “One of the things I like ‘bout Biders Clump,” she finished with a giggle, “ya never know what’s comin’ next.”
Prissy smiled, sprinkling a few fresh herbs over each dish. “I’d say you’re an optimist, Ida,” she laughed, carrying the piping hot food out into the cooler dining room.
As Prissy entered the quiet space of the airy room, she noted Rupert speaking with the newcomers. He smiled kindly down at the dark-haired girl, making her heart stutter. Steeling herself, she approached, placing the dishes on the table.
