CHAPTER
12

Trace jerked his head up so fast he almost embedded the ax in his foot.

Utah laughed from where he was digging a trench in which to set the foundation logs. “Reckon I haven’t heard a sound that pretty in many a day, Trace. And two meals in a row cooked by a woman’s hand.”

“You ate woman-cooked food at the end of the cattle drive.” Trace didn’t know why he was correcting Utah. He agreed. It was a mighty fine sound.

They were hustling when they walked into the house and smelled heaven.

Utah poked Trace in the back so hard he almost stumbled forward. But no words or pokes were needed, at least not between the men.

But words were definitely needed for the women.

“You made ham and potatoes.” Trace could barely hold himself back from diving into the food. “This looks delicious. Better than any food that has ever appeared on this ranch.”

Which wasn’t much of a compliment considering Trace’s cooking skills. He needed a better compliment.

He washed up, then was afraid his dash toward the food was flat-out embarrassing, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Gwen set the biscuits on the small table. Everyone would need to take a plate and sit on the beds. Trace figured he’d better give Gwen and Deb and the little ones his bed to sit on. They needed to build furniture. Funny, he’d never had such a thought until now.

Hoofbeats thundered outside. Adam was back. It’d taken him just over six hours and that was close to a record.

Trace should have gone out to help, but he had a plateful of food and honestly he just could not make himself put it down. And the flattery from Utah, not to mention from him, almost drowned out the sound of a rider, so he decided to pretend like he hadn’t heard anything.

He and Utah all sat on the bed farthest from the women. It seemed proper. He really did need more furniture. Of course, the cabin he was building needed walls and a roof even more, so he had to get that finished first.

Trace saw one plate left, and Gwen was chopping food up on it in such small bites he figured it was for the children. No plate for Adam, then, and none for the women who’d made the feast.

Eating fast, and he didn’t mind doing that one bit, Trace cleared his plate and went to the sink to wash it up for Adam.

“I’ll do the dishes.” Deb came and for a second looked to be preparing to wrestle him for the plate. He kinda hoped she would.

But she saw him smile at her, and he had no idea what was in that smile, but she backed up and crossed her arms, tapping her toe. Then she sniffed at him and turned back to the hearth, dropped to her knees, and started working over the fire.

Adam swung the door open. Trace saw his horse and the packhorse just outside the door. Both had a full load on their backs. They didn’t need many supplies; they’d just stocked up in Sacramento.

“Help me unpack the—” He froze like he was underwater in January in Lake Tahoe as Deb rose from the fireplace. “Is . . . is that . . . ? Ma’am . . . Miss Deb, is that . . . pie?”

Deb turned, pie in hand—absolutely a pie.

Trace gripped his clean dripping-wet plate, unwilling now to let Adam use it for his meal.

“I’d say the meal was a success.” Gwen chuckled a bit, then broke out laughing.

“I’m glad Adam had the sense to mention he bought a few more plates. I thought there might be a fistfight.” Deb looked at Gwen’s pink cheeks and suspected hers were a match. She and Gwen didn’t look much alike, but they both blushed at similar things.

And this wasn’t even a blush—it was delight. “Feeding those men made me feel better than anything I’ve ever done. Far better than the time I wrote that story about the burned-down general store, and folks came in and there was a building day and money donated to restock their shelves. And that made me feel very good.”

“And look at the fabric.” Gwen nodded at the stack in all colors and fabrics teetering on one of the beds. “We need to hem some flannel for diapers as soon as we can.”

Gwen rocked Ronnie by standing up and swaying. There was certainly no such thing as a rocking chair. Deb worked quietly shaping bread loaves so that Gwen could get the boy settled. Maddie Sue had crawled into bed and gone to sleep without a fuss. The children were exhausted after yesterday’s long ride. They’d slept well through the night and looked to be settling in for a good nap.

Deb finished with the loaves as Gwen lay Ronnie down to sleep in his own bed. The boy tended to kick in his sleep, and both children slept better if they were apart.

The chopping went on. Gwen went to the door and opened it a few inches. “They’ve started on the walls, Deb. I can see where the cabin will be. I can’t believe they’re building a cabin for us.”

Deb washed the flour off her hands and took the towel with her to the door to peek out. She enjoyed the sight of hardworking men for a few more minutes. There was a nice stack of logs, but more trees were being felled. Adam was out of sight, his ax ringing out at a steady pace.

“Let’s get the supplies Adam bought stowed and see about more diapers, then turn our attention to supper.”

“I’m going to have to make both of us a dress,” Gwen said. “We have to have at least one change of clothes. We honestly need nightgowns, too.”

“I sent enough money along to pay for this cloth, though I didn’t expect to get quite so much. We can use it for ourselves. I had one extra dress for Maddie Sue and a pair of overalls for Ronnie, but they need more than that.”

“Where’d you get them?” Gwen asked.

“I’d stuck them in my satchel earlier when we were walking through those woods. I often keep a change of clothes for them. And they never needed them, and there they still were when I grabbed the satchel to carry along into the tall grass.”

“Mr. Scott was always reminding us not to go out unprepared. I’d say you learned that lesson.”

“We’ll have to find time when the children are napping to see about new dresses.” Deb looked down at her faded blue gingham dress. She’d worn it most days, with only one other dress to change into when this one was getting the rare washing.

“Adam went overboard with the fabric.” Gwen looked at the stack of bolts and giggled.

“I must have scared him with my talk of diapers.” Deb grinned at her sister. “He certainly didn’t want to be caught short. What are we going to do with all this?”

“The men left here quickly last night and I’ve looked around. I’ve found a second shirt for each of them, and they are mighty threadbare. We can make shirts for the men, maybe trousers, too. Unless they’re stored somewhere I can’t see, none of them have much to spare.”

“You’ve had to drag Ronnie out from under every bed. There’s no corner of this cabin you haven’t seen.”

“Let’s get to work. We need to try and outdo ourselves for supper.”

Shaking her head, Gwen said, “I’m not sure we do. I get the feeling it will take only very simple good food to keep the men happy. Plenty of it, of course, as hard as they’re working.”

Midafternoon on the fifth day since the wagon train massacre, Trace came in alone, smiling. “It’s done. There’s finishing work to do, but the roof’s on, the chimney is solid and ready for a fire. Utah built a couple of cots in the bedrooms. So you can sleep in the new cabin tonight. The men are chopping down a few more trees, younger ones so Utah can build a few chairs and make a table tomorrow, and there’s work to do on cupboards and such. He says he can figure out how to make a crib for Ronnie, Maddie Sue too, if you think she needs one.”

“You’ve worked fast.” Deb was near him, just pulling a cover up over Ronnie. Both children slept soundly at nap time. Deb and Gwen didn’t worry about talking while they slept, and neither child had noticed the door open or the gust of cold wind that came in or Trace talking.

Going the few steps to Trace, Deb rested a hand on his arm. She was so delighted she had to make sure he knew it. “Thank you for all the hard work. For all you’ve done and keep doing for us, Trace. As for the cribs, we didn’t have any on the wagon train, so we can get by without them.”

She looked at Gwen, who smiled at Trace from where she kneaded bread at the table. “I don’t think you need to build a crib, either. Maybe instead you should build a couple more cots, if the house is going to be for you and your men once we’re gone.”

“We aim to put up a bunkhouse after you get moved in. We’ll live in here until it’s done, then tear down this house,” Trace said. “We’re going to keep chopping down trees as long as the weather holds. If we can’t build now, and I hope we can, we’ll do it in the spring. But we’ll have a jump on it by having the trees ready. Utah’s determined to get on with it.”

“I’m so impressed with how hard you’re all working. You’re wonderful, decent men.”

Trace looked down to where her hand rested on his arm. She had since taken a nice firm grip. Deb realized she had a tight hold and let go. She stepped back so fast she almost stumbled.

Trace opened his mouth, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, the house, it’s mighty raw, there’s no floor . . . but then there isn’t one here, either. Utah says that’s a winter job. And we need to seal up some holes, yet it’s a mighty fine house, especially compared to this one.” He gave the sleeping little ones a nervous look. “Can you come out and see it? Will Maddie Sue and Ronnie be all right in here alone for a few minutes? I’d like to show you. I appreciate how you’ve kept to the house. I worried that the children could come to grief with all the axes swinging and such—and there’s gonna be more of it.”

“Can we wait until they wake up?” Deb asked.

“No, you go ahead, Deb.” Gwen cut the dough in three pieces. “My hands are already in the dough. I need to shape this into loaves, and I don’t want to leave the children sleeping. They would probably sleep through our absence, but if they did wake up, I’m afraid they might wander too close to the fire.”

Deb smiled at Trace. “I’d really love to see. Maybe we could go take a look, and then I can get back so Gwen could go?”

Trace nodded. “Sounds fine to me. Grab your coat.”

Deb was already shrugging it on.

She dressed as warmly as possible all the time. The house was chilly. She and Gwen had made heavy shawls and wore them around the house, and they’d used wool Adam had brought to sew stockings for themselves and the children.

Deb wished she’d asked for yarn to knit mittens and scarves, but she didn’t mention it because she was sorely afraid Adam would just jump on his fast horse and run the hours to town. They were all trying to take such good care of the women and children in their midst that Deb found herself more than willing, in fact eager, to take care of meals, mend and wash their clothing, do anything she could to ease the burden on the men.

She remembered her promise to herself to quit working for men and mentally stiffened her backbone. She’d keep helping here and enjoy doing it, but come spring, she and Gwen were heading for San Francisco and a new life.

Deb walked beside Trace toward the house. They were nearly there when she noticed something. “The wind died.”

She had her chin tucked into the collar of her coat, but now she relaxed and straightened her neck.

“It didn’t die. Utah picked this spot behind what he called a windbreak. It makes sense just hearing it, but I never thought of that when I built the cabin. Utah’s teaching me a lot.” Trace led her to the door on the west side of the cabin.

She’d expected it to be on the north, where you could step out and see the old cabin. He opened the door, using a wooden latch.

“Look at this. We can latch the door from the inside at night.” Trace grinned. “Not that we have a real big problem with intruders.”

“Utah says he’ll add on an entry room when he’s got time. It’ll cut the wind if we shut one door before opening another. It’ll keep the cabin warmer.”

“That’s so obviously a good idea, but I’d have never thought of it.” She went on into the cabin.

His smile was so friendly, and so happy about this cabin, Deb couldn’t help but return it. Then she stepped inside to a hallway.

“There are two bedrooms, one on each side of the hallway. Then on through is the main room.”

“It’s four times bigger than the old cabin. It’s so nice.” She walked slowly to the middle of one large room. Fireplace right beyond the hall to the north, another door that must lead outside straight ahead.

“It is, isn’t it? Utah did a good job of picking straight logs and knew how to shave the branches off smooth. He’s going to do something more to stop the wind, chink every gap, I don’t know what all, but even without that it’s so much better than the old one, I can’t quite believe it. And the fireplace is tight and big enough to be more convenient for cooking. Utah left a couple of logs out up high on the inside walls.”

Deb looked at the oddly placed open strips on the walls that separated the big front room from the bedrooms.

“He said those will let warm air into the bedrooms and keep it decently comfortable. Utah’s got plans for a table and chairs, too. He says he knows how to make sturdy things but not too fancy. I told him it sounded like he was describing me.”

“Me too.” Deb turned in a circle, taking in everything. The front door faced the east. A window with a shutter was on either side of it—no glass of course. There was a window to the south, the fireplace taking up the west wall. The north wall had a countertop and what looked like a cupboard for a kitchen.

“You’re pretty fancy, I’d say.” Trace had wandered to the fireplace and was feeding logs into it. There was a roughly built woodbox nearby. “He’s going to spend time this winter adding more cupboards. We’ll move the beds from the cabin in here for tonight, and he’ll get on to building one more cot so you’ll have four. The little ones can each have their own. You and Gwen can decide how to divide the bedrooms up with the little ones. He’s got lots of winter projects planned—a dry sink and a split-log floor. He said things I didn’t understand about finishing. Well, he’s got lots of good ideas.”

Deb quit her quiet circling. “This is so nice of you, Trace. But you and your men should sleep in here. Gwen and I are getting by in the old cabin. And this has so much more room, a much better place for three adult men.”

“Utah said if the weather holds, he’ll get up the other house. I reckon I won’t stop him, but he seems to think the hired men should have a separate house from me. I mean, he’s thinking to the future when you’re not here anymore.” He swallowed as if his throat had gone bone-dry.

Deb, for some reason, found his sudden awkwardness endearing. Almost as if he didn’t look forward to that day.

She opened her mouth to thank him again, but she’d already thanked him so often she was afraid he might find it annoying. But didn’t it have to be said, anyway?

“Trace, the lengths you’ve gone to in taking care of us is nothing short of heroic. You are a blessed miracle from God, you and your men. You saved us and now you care for us. It’s the Bible’s very definition of a Christian.”

Smiling, his cheeks a bit pink, he said, “That’s not how it seems, Deb. Having you here, well, I don’t feel like we’ve thanked you enough. The food has been like a dream come true. We really rough it out here. Now to have good food, clean clothes, our mending done. It’s an honor to provide you with a roof . . . one I was going to build anyway, and a warm fire and the goods so you can cook and sew.”

Unsteadily, Deb reached for Trace’s arm. “You can’t know how hard I worked back east, for the paper and at home, and for nothing like the thanks you’re giving me. I can hardly believe a man can speak so kindly.”

“I thought you wrote for a paper with your pa?”

“I did.”

“And he never said thank you?”

Deb laughed with an edge of anger she instantly regretted showing. That shook loose more of the truth than was usual when talking with anyone but Gwen. “I didn’t just write for the paper. I went out and gathered the news stories. I ran the printing press. I sold advertisements and collected the payments for them. I did all the bookkeeping and paid our bills. I had a paper route, and I’d go around town delivering the papers, sell a few more on the street, and we had a paper out five days a week.”

“And your ma?”

“Ma died a few years back, but she’s the one who taught me everything. She ran the paper before me.”

“But your father was there.”

“Pa was an important man in town.” She fought to keep her voice calm. “He was friends with the mayor and the sheriff, the banker and the only lawyer in the small town near Philadelphia. He was the friendly face of a very well-respected paper. He took all the credit and never did a lick of the work.”

Trace was silent for a long moment. Then he caught Deb’s hand and turned her to face him. His touch was so warm and strong, it stopped her from her embarrassing talk of her father.

Thank heavens, something stopped her.