by Danni Roan
"Ms. Polly, we knocked, but no one came to the door."
"We're in the kitchen, Sara," Polly called, lifting the pot of boiled potatoes from the stove and draining them at the sink.
A slender woman of eighteen or nineteen, with green eyes and hair of brown and bronze, stepped into the kitchen followed by a young man whose sandy blonde hair was plastered to his head in the impression of a hat.
"Rebecca, I'd like you to meet Rafe Dixon and his wife, Sara," Polly offered, drying her hands on a towel.
"Rafe, Sara, this here's Rebecca Carol, the woman who’s come to look after the guests while we're away."
"Pleased to meet you," Sara offered, "it will be lovely having another woman in the house." She smiled brightly, offering her hand.
"It's nice to meet you as well." Rebecca continued, "I'm glad I won't be too alone in this big house." Her smile was cautious, but friendly just the same.
"Do I smell liver and onions, Ms. Polly?" Rafe asked, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Yes, you do," Polly affirmed.
"Sara won't cook it for me," Rafe offered, wrapping an arm affectionately around the slim waist of his young wife. "She says it makes the house smell funny."
Sara raised a brow at him. "It does and besides, your father doesn't like it. We live with his Pa right now but we're building a place of our own," she said to Rebecca. "We've only been married since Valentine's Day." A soft flush rose up her cheeks as she spoke, but her green eyes were full of love and affection.
"Congratulations to both of you, then." She judged Sara to be perhaps two or three years younger than she was, but having someone close to her age around would be nice.
"I made a pitcher of lemonade for dinner," Polly interrupted. "Sara, if you don't mind taking it from the ice-box?"
Polly quickly tossed the potatoes with bacon, onion, and boiled eggs and added a mixture of vinegar, oil and sugar along with a healthy dash of salt and pepper. “There, the potato salad’s all done, now let me call George and we’ll eat. Rebecca, if you’ll get Grady, he’ll be in the parlor.”
Rebecca smiled as she turned the corner into the parlor and found the teacher bent over a pile of papers, pen in hand. “Ms. Polly says dinner is ready,” she said softly.
Grady lifted his head, his eyes falling on the newest member of his adopted home. “Thank you. I can surely use a rest from this.” He indicated the pile. “We had a spelling test today.” He was rewarded with a smile as together they moved back toward the kitchen.
“Git settled,” George grumbled, “I’m hungry.” But the twinkle in his eyes made it clear that he was only teasing.
Grady pulled out a chair for Rebecca, making her start slightly at the polite offer, but she took it with a thank you.
“Let us pray,” George said seriously. “Lord, thank you for this fine meal you’ve provided, thank you for lettin’ us grow good potatoes and raise fine beef on this beautiful land. Thank you for strength to work for your goodness. Bless each of us and the hands that prepared the grub. Amen.”
The clatter of platters and forks quickly filled the room and polite conversation soon accompanied the food.
“How’s the new place comin’?” George asked Rafe. “You must be ready to be in your own home.”
“It’s coming along well,” Rafe said smiling as his wife. “We have the roof on and the windows in, so now we just need to finish the indoors.”
“I’m afraid we’re having trouble deciding on whether we want a full bath or not,” Sara admitted.
“Don’t skimp on that,” Polly advised. “Only thing I can say about ours is that I wish we’d had it earlier.”
“What do you think?” Sara asked, turning to Rebecca. “How important do you think a full bath is in a new home?”
“Oh, they are lovely,” Rebecca offered non-committedly.
“I keep telling Sara she’ll wish she had one once the kids come along,” Rafe continued, causing the young woman to blush prettily.
“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed.
“Would’a been mighty nice when our five were little.” George mused, “I was always afraid I’d throw the baby out with the bath water every Saturday.” He chuckled, proving his words were in jest, but making everyone else giggle as well.
“My ma used to send us to the creek with a bar of soap,” Grady offered, drawing all eyes. “Well, not in the winter, but she raised nine boys and I think getting a tub out every week was just about more than she could bear.”
“It’s so strange, our understanding of cleanliness.” Rebecca’s words seemed to have taken her far away. “We’re always cleaning and washing.” Her brow puckered as she continued, “if only others would understand that it is important to health.”
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” George offered, “though if truth were told, I’ve known a few people who were neat as a pin but sneaky as a snake.” He winked and took a swig of his lemonade.
“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sara asked, looking at Rebecca. “We know Grady here is from Florida.”
“My family is from Chicago,” Rebecca answered, her attention back on the people around her.
Sara wrinkled her nose. “I’m afraid I’ve never been interested in big cities.”
“Why would you be, when you have those mountains out there to look at every day?”
“They are rather magnificent,” Sara agreed. “You know, those mountains gave this town its name.”
“Biders Clump?” Rebecca looked confused. “How did that happen?”
“It’s an old story,” Polly Esther picked up the thread. “You see, way back at the height of travel along the Oregon Trail, folks would pass this way headed for the South Pass. It was a long trek across the prairie, each day drawing closer and closer to that big blue line, but when you come up next to the Rockies and see them standing over you, they can be a bit intimidating.”
“Travel is often daunting,” Rebecca agreed.
“Well that’s how we got our little town. Ya see, a fella told the wagon master he thought he’d stop and bide awhile here in a clump of trees. Just rest up a bit and come along with the next train, but by the time the next one come through, he’d built a little cabin and he and his family were settled in.”
“Later if folks was plumb tuckered out from travel or couldn’t face the pass,” George added, “they’d bide awhile here and pretty soon a town sprung up out of nothing but wagons.”
“Biders Clump,” Rebecca rolled the words on her tongue. “It’s makes sense.”
“Makes a good home, too,” George grinned. “Now mother, what’s for dessert?” He leaned back in his chair, pushing his plate forward.
“George Olson, who said anything about dessert?” Polly asked, her blue eyes snapping.
“Well we got comp’ny, so I knew you’d make somethin’ nice.”
Polly’s smile was devilish. “How’s some shoefly pie sound?”
“You got cream?”
“George, when do I not have cream for pie?”
“They do this all the time,” Grady said, leaning close to Rebecca, who was watching the banter with serious eyes. “It’s just for fun, though,” he finished, his words for her ears only.
The conversation turned to the everyday chores and the daily running of the boarding house and the things that each person would be responsible for during the Olson’s trip.
As the evening wore on, Rebecca found herself feeling more and more weary. The trip had indeed taken a good deal out of her and she hoped to find her bed soon, though the conversation and comradery among the town dwellers was welcome.
“Well, we’d best get back to the ranch,” Rafe finally said, rising and offering an arm to Sara. “We have plenty of calves to be counted and a rancher’s work is never done.”
“Not to mention your father will insist I need to read another of my sister’s stories to him.”
She had explained about her family earlier and how Aquila, the ol
dest, now married to the ranch foreman Cameron Royal, wrote stories that had been picked up by an Eastern paper and ran as a serial each week.
“I do hope to meet both Aquila and Priscilla sometime soon,” Rebecca offered politely. She missed her sister who was so many, many miles away and understood the special bond between siblings.
“I have no doubt you’ll meet them soon enough. Prissy’s in town almost every other day anymore.” she replied, a wide smile gracing her pretty face. “She brings in canned goods and special items to the Grist Mill restaurant across the street.”
“We’ll see ourselves out, Ms. Polly,” Rafe continued, moving to the door. “Good-night and we’ll be back on the weekend to take up our duties.”
The door opened and the couple’s voices could be heard as they called to their patient mounts, Chester and Spice, waiting at the hitching rail, before the door pulled-to with a click.
Rebecca stifled a yawn and rose to her feet as well. “I’ll help you with the dishes,” she offered, again repressing a yawn that was now mirrored on Mr. Gatlin’s face.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Polly said, standing and placing her hands on her hip. “I’ve been washing dishes since before you were a twinkle in your daddy’s eye and I can do them again tonight. You go on up to bed and I better not see you until you’ve had a good, long sleep.” She grinned, taking the bite out of her words. “You rest up; you’ll have plenty to do when I’m gone.”
“I’ll go finish up those spelling tests,” Grady added. “Good-night, Ms. Carol, sleep well.”
Once in her room, Rebecca gathered some clothes and headed across the hall to the bath. She was tired, weary to her soul, but she was also dirty and a hot bath would feel wonderful.
It did not take long to scrub the grime and soot of the trip away and return to her room, where she brushed out her hair, wrapped it into a tight braid and collapsed into the soft quilts.
***
“You sure about that girl you hired?” George Olson asked quietly as he wiped the last plate and stacked it on a shelf, the soft oil flame of two lamps dancing on the shining dishes.
“She’ll be alright, George, she’s just wore out from travel and trouble.”
“What trouble?” George asked suspiciously.
“I don’t mean trouble like that, only that she’s weary and come a long way.”
“She seems kind a frail.”
“Everyone’s different, George. Give her a day or two to rest and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“You sure she ain’t sick or something?”
Polly turned her piercing blue eyes on her husband. “I know in my heart she’s the person for the job, and that’s good enough for me.”
“It was mighty nice havin’ young folks around to dinner tonight.” The old man let the topic of Rebecca Carol go. “I think young people keep ya from gettin’ old too fast.”
“You do realize that you are old, don’t you?” Polly teased.
“Now woman, how can I be old when you’re as young and pretty as the day I married you?”
Polly grinned. “Ah get on with ya now, George Olson,” she answered, snapping a towel at him, but he grabbed the damp fabric in one hand, gave it a tug and pulled her close for a quick kiss.
“Let’s call it a day,” he finally said, wrapping an arm around her and placing the dishtowel on the counter before blowing out the lamps and quietly turning toward the stairs of the now darkened house.
Chapter 3
“Now don’t you skimp none on supplies and such,” Polly said again as she adjusted a rather large straw bonnet on her head. “Mr. Bentley will keep a tab and we’ll take care of it at the end of the month when we get back.”
“Ma, you already told Becky this, she ain’t dense you know,” George grumbled, trying to pull his wife a little closer to the door.
“Well, I don’t want her worryin’ none,” Polly groused. “She’s already been such a help and if she needs something, she should get it.”
“Ms. Polly, I assure you I will purchase anything I feel is a necessity for the boarding house,” Rebecca said, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
“Good, good. I sure am glad you came all the way out here to help. It’s been too long since we’ve seen our grandbabies.”
Rebecca ushered them out the door to where their bags sat on the stoop. “Have a wonderful trip,” she said, waving them away.
“And don’t you work too hard,” Polly called back as George took her arm and urged her toward the train station.
“Have a nice time,” he barked as he marched forward, a carpetbag under each arm, while another dangled from his right hand.
Rebecca Carol watched the older couple disappear around the corner of Main Street as a whistle blew loudly from the station that was just out of sight.
She had only been in Biders Clump a few days but already felt the effects of the fresh air, bright sunshine, and simple work. It had not taken her long to fall in step with Polly and the routines she had in place for managing the cooking, cleaning and maintenance of the rather large, two-story house.
“An orderly mind makes for an orderly home,” she chirped, recalling her mother’s words. She needed to write and let her parents know how things were working out, but first she would start a pot of beans for dinner.
The house was still and quiet as she closed the door behind her and headed for the kitchen. In moments, the beans that had been soaking all night were rinsed, seasoned, and placed on a warm stove to begin the long, slow cook.
Pulling a small book from her apron pocket, Rebecca sat at the big, empty table and flipped through the pages of her worn Bible. The soft leather was warm in her hands, familiar and comforting, as she sought words of encouragement.
A brisk breeze blew through the open window ruffling the pages with a sibilant sigh until they fluttered into stillness once more.
Exodus 33:14 “The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest,” fell open before her and her heart stuttered. Something squirmed in her middle. If the Lord had gone with her, she would not be here now. She would still be far, far away with her sister.
The sound of the door opening made Rebecca close the Bible and tuck it back into her pocket as she listened to the footsteps in the hall.
“Hello? Becky, are you here?” Sara Dixon’s voice was as bright as the morning sun.
“I’m here.”
“Oh, good. I waited until Rafe was off then came on over. I guess we’re going to be house mates now.”
“Yes, we are. Would you like some tea?”
“That would be lovely. Is the kettle on already or do I have a few minutes?” Sara’s face was slightly pink from the brisk breeze that had accompanied her from the ranch.
“I haven’t started it yet,” Rebecca replied.
“Good, I’ll fetch my bag from Spice’s saddle and put him up in the barn.” She grinned delightedly.
“Do you always ride to town?"
"I try to. Today I came into town with Cameron and Aquila. They’ll probably stop by later. You start the tea and I’ll be right back.” Her words still hung in the air as she made her way back down the hall and out the door.
Rebecca could not help but smile. Sara certainly was a lively young woman. From what she could tell so far, Biders Clump was a friendly, industrious little town.
Carefully she filled the big iron kettle from the pump at the sink. It was lovely having a pump in the house. At her mother’s home, there was hot and cold running water on tap but when she’d been away with her sister, only a deep well was available and each bucket of water had to be hauled up by hand.
The heavy kettle settled onto the shiny surface of the stove with a rattle where she sat it directly over the fire box.
For some reason, she suddenly felt like a child having a tea party as she lifted down a medium-sized blue and white teapot and matching cups. Polly had explained that each pot was set for different sized groups. It made sense for
when the boarding house was busy.
A pink, flowered tin of cookies was next along with a small pitcher of milk and a pretty dish for sugar. Rebecca had been amazed in her first few days at the lovely furniture and pretty items that Polly and George had acquired, but was quickly coming to understand that they were common in the little town.
Because of its location, Biders Clump had become a dropping off place, quite literally. Many pioneers traveling the Oregon Trail had come to the South Pass only to discover that heavily laden wagons, which had rolled easily over the wide prairie, could not manage the steep pass.
Families soon discarded heirloom pieces of large furnishings or equipment. The residents of the burgeoning town were more than willing to barter, trade or buy such items and their treasures grew over the years until nearly all the older homes were full of beautiful items.
Even polishing the well-made and often unusual pieces made Rebecca feel as if she were a part of the history that surrounded her.
The back door opened and a grinning Sara entered. "It's rather brisk out there this morning. Did George and Polly get off alright?" she inquired as she removed a simple sunbonnet and hung it on a peg.
"Yes, though George seemed to have his hands full getting Ms. Polly away."
Sara laughed. "I think George has had his hands full for a long time." Her voice tinkled in the quiet kitchen. "Polly Esther is an efficient woman, but she does worry that she doesn't do enough. Oh, good the tea's ready," she added, taking a seat and gesturing to Rebecca to join her.
Rebecca smiled. "She's been easy to work with. I hope I won't let her down."
"I'm sure you'll do fine," Sara said, reaching across the table and patting Rebecca's hand. "Besides, you have me to help."
"When might your sister arrive?" Rebecca asked, changing the subject. Surely, she could not be an equal failure at simply looking after a house.
"I'd expect her along shortly. Cam, that's my brother-in-law, has some business in town and Quill will probably put the shopping order in at the mercantile. I suspect Prissy will drop by as well."
Rebecca smiled. If Sara's sisters were as friendly as the younger woman, she felt they might be friends.
