Authors: Nancy Radke
“Well, we bake plenty of it. I’ll show you how, if we have the
time.”
Gilbert climbed up behind the team and I got on the buckboard
with him.
“Wait,” Mally said. She went back into the house and came out
with a hat which she handed to me. “You’re already reddish from yesterday.”
I put it on. This one fit much better than yesterday’s, but I
think I preferred wearing James’ big cowboy one.
“Have fun,” Mally said. Gilbert clucked to the team and they
started off at a trot. We went along the road, through the gate, then down a
dirt road that had cut hay on each side, the dust rising behind us as we rolled
along.
Gilbert was quiet, intent on getting us to the workers, and I
enjoyed the sweet smell of hay, the clear air, and the warm sunshine. The
meadowlarks sat on fence posts and trilled their lovely six-note song as we
went by.
The workers had already downed tools and were waiting for us
when we arrived. They made short work of the food and water, then went to lie
down in whatever shade they could find, including next to and under the
buckboard.
This was the noon hour, a time of rest for them in the hottest
part of the day. I understood now why the early settlers had planted so many
shade trees.
James was there, and he smiled at me as I handed out the food.
“So they’ve got you working already,” he said, taking a drink
from the dipper.
“I don’t mind. It was a chance to see more of the ranch.”
“It’s your turn to look clean and my turn to look dirty. Come
set with me in the shade. No one works this hour. It’s too hot.”
We found a spot next to the wagon, and James leaned up against
the wheel.
“Do you use all this hay?” I asked.
“Most of it. We sell some to ranchers who live near the Pacific
Ocean. Cattle do better on it.”
“Is this all hay?” I pointed out to fields in the distance, some
looking white, some golden, some still greenish.
“The white is oats or bearded barley. The green is grass hay.
Alfalfa. The gold is wheat. We grow a soft white wheat here.”
“There’s a difference in wheat?”
“They grow a hard red in Montana and Wisconsin and places like
that. It’s best for making bread. Ours gets used for noodles and items that
need starch. The early settlers here boiled it and ate it like cereal when they
didn’t have any other food. Dad and Mom had it one winter, but just as a break
from the venison they were eating. Both my parents are skilled riflemen, so we
always had plenty of meat. Still do. The wheat attracts the deer and elk, and
they come down to feed on it. We shoot a couple each year, at different times,
so have venison as well as beef. And bear a few times.”
“Are there any other wild animals around?”
“Skunks. Badgers. Coyotes and wolves. Bobcats. Porcupines. Most
of them run when you get close. They’ve already learned to avoid people. So
tell me, how do you like it here?”
“I like it here just fine. It’s beautiful. I hate to leave, but
I did come out to see Lizzie, so I do need to get back to Walla Walla.”
“I’ll take you in. I was hoping you could stay longer.”
“I checked on Sir Galahad first thing this morning. He seemed
happy.”
“So am I. Could be because you’re still here.”
“You put some cows in with him, and I doubt he’ll ever think of
me again.”
“He trusts you. I bet you could lead him through fire.”
“Speaking of fire, are those firebreaks I see, those strips of
brown between the fields?”
“Yes. Fire is one of our biggest enemies. Lightening causes
some. Some are caused by careless people. And some by the trains. If a fire comes,
we go to the firebreak and start small fires along it to burn toward the larger
fire. When the larger fire gets to the burned area, there’s no more fuel for
it. Hopefully it stops there. If it jumps the break in a few places, we can
still put it out, just by beating it with gunnysacks and throwing dirt on it.
If not, we retreat to the next firebreak. A lot depends upon wind strength and
direction. The whole neighborhood will turn out to fight a large fire.”
I looked around. Some of the men were lying with their eyes
open, although most appeared to be sleeping. “Am I keeping you awake?” I asked,
thinking about how late we were last night.
“It’s all right. They’re going to keep working. I’ll go back
with you and Gil, get cleaned up, then take you in to Lizzie’s. Hopefully, your
trunk will have arrived.”
All my dresses and shoes. Even the hats.
They seemed excessive
here. The simple dress I wore was cool and comfortable. I could not imagine
wearing that corset ever again. At least not in this heat.
Baltimore seemed long ago and far away. I had almost forgotten
my desire to come visit Lizzie.
“Thank you. Lizzie will be looking for me.”
“And you can see Sir Galahad once more before you leave.”
“Yes.”
“My dad wanted to know if he knew what to do with a cow, so we
put a few in with him. He knew. Didn’t waste any time.”
“Then he’ll be happy here.”
“Yes. You can finally wean him.”
I laughed at that. “I thought I did, years ago. I didn’t realize
our bond was so strong.”
“He’s a smart bull. Knows who cares about him.”
“He’s also clever in acting like he’s not been fed yet. He used
to trick the stable boys into giving him extra grain.”
The lunch hour was over. The resting men got up, then nudged the
ones still asleep. “We’ll take the wagon and go back now,” James said to
Gilbert and me.
We climbed aboard, and James let Gilbert drive back. The horses
were harder to handle, knowing they were headed back for the barn, and kept
wanting to run.
“They’re going to have a surprise when I don’t unharness them,
then drive them to town,” James said watching Gil struggle to keep the team in
check. “They think they’re all done.”
“Shouldn’t you help him?”
“No, Gil’s big enough. He knows he has to keep their speed down,
so they don’t run away. This is the first year he’s driven them. I think he
does very well.”
“Yes. He does.”
Gil grinned, looking very important holding the reins. It was
not an easy thing to control a team, and I was impressed that he could do it.
“I rode with him the first three times and he’s done it himself
the rest of the summer.”
Just before we entered the ranch gate, we passed a little house
and a small barn, sitting in a cluster of trees, all by themselves.
“Who lives there?” I asked.
“No one right now. That’s the weaning house.”
“The what?”
“The weaning house. Whoever gets married lives there until they
get their own land and a house up on it. Then they move out.”
“I see. Do you plan to live in the weaning house?”
“No.”
I thought that was a shame, that he’d not get married, when he
added, “I’ll live in the ranch house we have. Dad and Mom plan to move to town
after I marry. They’ve got a lot there and a house they plan to build. So, yes,
I probably will move into it, until they have their house built. Want to see
it?”
“Why...yes. I guess so.”
Gil drove us over and stopped in the shade of the locust trees.
There were apple trees planted in the back, with a small outhouse tucked into
the grove. We got down and went inside.
It was big and comfortable inside, with a fireplace and stove, a
large main room and two smaller ones. One had a bedstead in it, the other had
the kitchen and pantry shelves. The larger room was unfurnished except for a
table and four chairs. All the furniture was handmade.
“This was where my Uncle Luke and Aunt Mahala lived when they
first came here. They acquired some land near Dayton and moved there as soon as
they had made enough of a down payment. Uncle Luke had to work some of the cost
off, so they were here about a year.”
“Do they raise cattle too?”
“Some. And wheat. They’ve planted fruit trees and vegetable
crops that do very well. A special train carries fresh produce back east. It
only takes six days. It takes items from this whole region.”
“My train out took longer.”
“You had a mixed local train. It stopped all along the way, and
carried both freight and passengers. Not like the passenger express, which runs
between New York and California. It’s the stops that take a long time.”
I looked around the log house. It was clean and neat and just
waiting for someone to come live in it.
“Do you like it?” James asked.
“Yes. I do. I can imagine living here. I bet they hated to
leave.”
“I think Aunt Mahala’s son, Hayden, was a month old when they
left here. Luke built their house with several bedrooms to handle all their
kids.”
“They had many?”
“Eighteen.”
I thought about the fact that my mother had called it quits
after she had me. My father had wanted a boy, but had decided that he would
have to accept whomever I married. That accounted for the way he had vetted my
early suitors. Now I was doing the vetting on my own, and using his standards.
Someone who was already mature. Well, so far, the only young men
I had run into on the trip that met that standard was Shorty and James.
Someone who was established and well to do. That narrowed the
list to James.
Someone who would love me and care for me. That was my own
requirement, and for that one I was still searching.
I looked at James and shocked myself by wondering what kind of
lover he would be.
“Thank you for showing me this,” I said, swiftly changing the
subject in my mind. “I should be heading in to Lizzie’s soon. She’ll be
wondering what became of me.”
“Poor Lizzie. Greg said she figured you were coming in on a
different train, and wasn’t looking for you.”
“Really? I sent her a telegram giving my arrival date.”
“Evidently she figured you’d find her when you got here.”
“And here I had imagined her frantic with worry.”
“No such thing. She thanked Greg and sent him home. Didn’t think
to offer him a drink of water, so he stopped at a saloon on the way home. Took
him a long time to get that drink.”
“Was he here in time for work this morning?”
“Oh, yes. His horse brought him home. He woke up long enough to
unsaddle and fall into his bunk. He was out there haying. Probably the hardest
to wake up from the noon siesta.”
“Poor Greg.”
“The men thought he was lucky to make the trip. They all had to
stay and work in the fields while he got a trip to town.”
“And now you get the trip.”
“Yes. I get to meet Lizzie.”
We climbed back into the buckboard, and Gil drove us to the main
house.
He was as proficient as Jeremy in handling the team, and I
decided that in a year, he’d be able to drive through Baltimore. Farm kids
seemed to have to learn their skills early, but as far as I could see, it
didn’t hurt them any. Gil had a sense of pride, a quiet maturity well beyond
his years. When we got back, he watered the team, while James and I went
inside.
I went on out back, to where my clothes were hanging. Everything
was dry, and I took them down and brought them inside. My dress didn’t look too
much worse for having been worn so long. I took it up to the girls’ bedroom and
changed.
Mally met me as I came out.
“Do you want a bonnet for your ride back?” she asked.
“Yes, please. That way James can keep his hat.”
“He thought you quite the trooper, you know, ready to lead that
bull out to the ranch though the hot sun.”
“I didn’t know how far it was when I started. Otherwise I
wouldn’t have been so eager to go.”
“You won’t find it so long, going back. You aren’t leading a
bull.”
“He does walk kind of slow.”
“Slower than molasses in January. We thought something had
happened to James when it took so long. He usually doesn’t dally.”
“Thank you for the use of the dress while my things were drying.
And your hospitality.”
“I’d like you to stay longer, but I guess you have a friend in
town. She is probably eager to see you.”
“I haven’t quite figured Lizzie out.”
“How so?”
“She begged me to come. Sounded desperate. Yet Greg said she
didn’t bother to meet the train.”
“She might have realized you would want to deliver Sir Galahad
first.”
I nodded, but I had never told Lizzie I was bringing a bull
out.
I had never seen Lizzie in any but the best of situations. What
would she have done if she were on the train instead of me?
We went downstairs and found James in the kitchen, pouring
himself a cup of coffee. “Ready to go?” he asked.