The Rancher Takes a Cook (19 page)

Anna gave the dog a final pat and rose to
her feet. “Do you think Aunt Lola will mind?”

Jacob shrugged, trudging up the stairs. His
shoulders slumped and dark skin under his eyes cast a grayish tint
over their normal blue. “I’m not sure. I hope she’ll
understand.”

Jacob stopped on the porch just a few feet
from Anna, and his nearness triggered butterflies in her stomach.
In an effort to keep her emotions under control, she avoided his
gaze, looking instead at the dog that had sprawled itself at her
feet. “How did the round-up go?”

“All right, I guess. We brought home about
two hundred head. The rest of the ranchers headed out with their
herds on the trail toward the market towns. It’s awful nice to be
home, though.” Anna peeked up. A teasing grin spread cross his
face. “Looking forward to eating something other than beans,
cornbread, and hardtack.”

Anna couldn’t hide her own smile. “Come in
and have some fresh coffee and a snack. Supper’ll be ready soon,
but I have Irish apple pie left that’ll hold you over.”

“Sounds like heaven itself.” He rubbed a
hand over his jaw. The stubble there had grown thick enough to
almost be considered a beard. “Think I should get cleaned up first.
You don’t want a mangy saddle-bum sitting at your table.”

Anna almost said, “You look good to me,” but
stopped herself just in time. Although, warmth rose to her cheeks
anyway. As if he could read her thoughts, Jacob took a step forward
and caught Anna’s gaze with a look that held more than a little
heat. Her stomach flipped at the intensity in his eyes.

After a moment, he grinned and tapped a
finger to the tip of her nose. “Looking forward to that pie.” He
winked then turned to disappear inside the house.

When he was gone, Anna let out a wistful
sigh, and glanced down at the dog still lying at her feet. “Well,
Abigail, we’d better go finish the food. The boys are home.” With a
light heart and a spring in her step, Anna headed toward the
kitchen.

The dog turned out to be a favorite with
everyone. Aunt Lola pretended to be affronted and ignored the
animal at first, but Anna sometimes caught the two together in the
afternoons. The hardy Irish woman would stroke the dog’s soft fur
and murmur sweet nothings while Abigail sat and gazed at her with
undying devotion.

Abigail was a sweet animal, to be sure. She
became a part of the household, bounding from one cowhand to the
next when they came in for meals. She always made her way back to
Anna when they sat down and would lie between Jacob and Anna’s
chairs. Her loyalty was most likely due to the fact that Anna fed
her the kitchen scraps. It was nice to have such a devoted
companion, even if a little bribery was involved.

* * *

The arrival of June brought with it the
oppressive heat and humidity for which Texas was known. The
scorching sun forced Anna to do gardening during the morning hours
before the heat became overwhelming. She enjoyed tending the
variety of vegetables and herbs, and often Aunt Lola would come out
to help with the picking. Anna was amazed at the wealth of
knowledge she held, not just about anything related to the plants
and their needs and growing habits, but also about life itself. The
woman held a strong faith that shone through in her outlook on all
parts of life.

On Saturdays, Anna always skipped her time
in the garden in favor of a nice long ride on Bandita. They would
usually share an exhilarating canter to the river, where Bandita
grazed while Anna picked blackberries and huckleberries from the
many plants that grew in the fertile soil. That made them move more
slowly on the ride home so the berries wouldn’t sustain injuries.
Her efforts always resulted in a blackberry pie or cobbler on
Sunday afternoons, and the men were quick to voice their
appreciation.

On one such Sunday afternoon, Mr. O’Brien
set his fork down after finishing off a second large portion of
pie. Leaning back with a hand over his growing girth, he spoke
across the table. “Anna, dear, I must commend you on your efforts.
At the end of every meal, I decide I’ve finally found my favorite
dish. Then you up and make something even better the next time. I
don’t know how you do it, but I am surely thankful. You’re a rare
treasure, to be sure.” The last words were spoken with a wink and a
proud smile that reminded her of the way Papa used to look at her
when she’d help him in the candle shop. The memory tightened Anna’s
heart, but at least it didn’t evoke tears this time.

“I heard Jared Thomas speaking to the Mayor
after church today,” Mr. O’Brien continued, capturing the attention
of everyone at the table. “It seems the town is planning to expand
the Independence Day celebration this year, in hopes it’ll foster
more of a sense of unity and national pride in the people.”

A snort came from one of the men on the left
side of the table. Several of the cowboys stared down at their
hands with furrowed brows and pinched lips, so she couldn’t tell
from whom it had come.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence,
Aunt Lola spoke up. “I know there’s still a lot of grievin’ people
from the war, but I, for one, think it’s high time we all got
together for some fun. Just friends and neighbors enjoyin’ each
other’s company.” Several heads bobbed around the table in
agreement.

Mr. O’Brien nodded. “It does sound like
they’re planning a day full of fun. In addition to the regular
picnic, we’ll have a shooting match, horse race, pie baking
competition, and then a dance that night.”

That statement finally brought a few grins,
and the bantering began as the men one-upped each other to decide
who would win the shooting match or the horse race. Bo finally
settled things when he announced with a suave grin, “Ya’ll can win
all the fancy ribbons ya want, but I’ll be havin’ more fun dancin’
with all the prettiest gals in Guadalupe County.” He ducked the
elbows and playful punches that issued from all directions. “Don’t
worry, boys, I’ll let the rest of ya’ll have a girl or two when I’m
not dancin’ with ’em.”

As her excitement over the Independence Day
celebration grew, Anna finally convinced herself a new dress would
be the perfect way to celebrate. At the mercantile, she found a
yellow muslin, the color of the yellow roses that had climbed the
rail of their porch stairs in Columbia. Anna had already sketched a
design for the dress, but her sewing now began in earnest. The gown
needed to be practical enough for everyday use, as she only had
three dresses, and her gray one was so thin she could see through
the material if she held it up to the light. It really needed to be
read its last rites.

Anna planned to make sure the new dress was
long enough to wear both of her petticoats underneath, giving some
of the fullness she used to wear back in South Carolina. Sometimes,
she still longed for just one of her fashionable gowns that had
burned in the fire. With Papa being only a candlemaker, she never
dressed in the height of fashion like the daughters of the
plantation owners. But they’d lived very respectably, and Papa let
her make two new dresses each year. She’d also become quite adept
at making over her old dresses to keep up with the current
styles.

Out here in Texas, though, style didn’t seem
to be a concern to most people. If the dark colors and simple lines
were any indication, the local ladies only worried about
practicality. But Aunt Laura had been saving copies of Godey’s for
Anna, so she had a few ideas for the design.

Despite her sewing project, the next couple
of weeks seemed to drag by in the stifling heat. She dreaded
cooking on the wood stove because of the warmth it added to the
kitchen, and she discovered creative ways to serve cold meals to
the men.

But as the day of the celebration drew near,
she focused her efforts on putting together an amazing menu for the
picnic. She and Aunt Lola killed several of the young roosters to
make fried chicken, a rare delicacy but one both Jacob and his pa
seemed to appreciate. She planned to prepare a mixture of Mexican
and American foods, including potato salad, baked squash covered
with cheese, buttered carrots, corn on the cob, sourdough bread
with apple butter, bell peppers stuffed with beef and tomatoes,
tamales filled with a variety of meats, chess pie, pound cake with
a sweet glaze, and several kinds of fruit tarts. It was quite a
variety of foods, but she wanted to have at least one favorite dish
for each of the men.

Dawn of July Fourth, Anna scurried around
the kitchen, sprinkling grated cheese over the tamales, shifting
pans on the stove, and packing last minute supplies.

Aunt Lola drifted into the room with a
couple of the cowhands and planted a wrinkled hand on each hip.
“Now what be goin’ on in here?”

Anna didn’t stop moving as she answered.
“The carrots are cooling now, the peppers are about ready to come
out of the oven, and I’m just waiting for the cheese to melt on the
tamales. I need to slice the bread still and …”

“Out.” Aunt Lola shooed, pushing Anna toward
the door. “I’ll take care o’ the bread and the rest of it looks
fine. These boys’ll load the food while you go make yourself
presentable.” She didn’t allow Anna to turn back but pushed her
right into the hallway.

Miguel tipped his hat as Anna passed. “You
go on, Miss Stewart. We’ll take care of this.”

It didn’t seem she had a choice, but the
yellow gown upstairs softened the sting of her exile from the
kitchen. Anna released a martyr’s sigh for anyone who might be
listening then headed toward the staircase.

Once in her room, Anna slipped out of her
old gray dress, layered both of her petticoats, and pulled the new
gown over her head. The shiny muslin almost looked like silk and
fit perfectly as it tucked in at the waist and flared into a full
skirt, drawn up at the bottom on each side to reveal an under layer
of the same material. She’d sewn white ribbon around the collar,
sleeves, and bottom edges for just the right amount of contrast.
She twisted more of the white ribbon into her hair and tied it in a
bow at the nape of her neck. Stepping back to examine herself in
the mirror over the bureau, she smiled at her reflection. She’d
forgotten how much fun it was to dress up.

Abigail barked outside, and Anna reached for
the vanilla scent Aunt Laura had given her, dabbed a bit behind her
ears, and hurried down the stairs. She grabbed her bonnet from the
coat rack in the hall and stepped outside.

Mr. O’Brien sat on the seat of the loaded
wagon, and Jacob helped Aunt Lola onto the bench beside him. The
rest of the cowboys were already mounted on horses. Anna stopped on
the porch to tie on her bonnet. Why hadn’t she made one to match
her new dress?

After finishing with his aunt, Jacob turned
around and stared as Anna approached the wagon. He reached to boost
her into the wagon, but held her on the ground for an extra moment
before lifting. The pause was enough for her to lose herself in his
gaze and the strength of his hands at her waist. In the morning
sun, his eyes appeared bluer than normal as he lifted her onto the
seat.

When she was safely on the wagon seat, Jacob
stepped back and touched a finger to the brim of his hat in salute,
the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin. A shiver ran through
her as Mr. O’Brien urged the team into a walk. This was going to be
a wonderful day.

When they arrived at the picnic area, the
men spread out on blankets in the grass. Plates in front of them
were heaped high with their favorite delicacies, which soon
disappeared. Anna sat on the corner of the blanket next to Aunt
Lola, enjoying the light breeze on her face. This mismatched
collection of Irishmen and Mexicans from the Double Rocking B truly
seemed to be her family now.

Edward ended a story, and Manuel burst into
laughter and gave the boy a playful slap on the back. Edward’s
shoulders had filled out some, and he had lost most of his gangly,
boyish look.
My goodness, he’s starting to look more like a man
than a boy
. Anna gulped at the sobering thought.

“Care to take a walk?” Anna glanced up to
Jacob’s outstretched hand. “I hear the pie judging is getting ready
to start. And you should be on hand to accept your ribbon.” His
face and voice were matter of fact, but the wink he flashed
conveyed his teasing.

Heat flushed her cheeks, adding to the
swelter of the sun. “I can’t imagine my simple little blackberry
pie would win a ribbon with so many accomplished women here. But I
would love to stretch my legs a bit.” She placed her hand in
Jacob’s and allowed him to assist her to her feet.

They strolled toward the schoolhouse yard
where a row of tables under a large pecan tree had been covered
with numerous pie dishes. Three men sidestepped down the row,
tasting each dessert and making notes on pieces of paper.

Anna recognized the salt-and-pepper beard
and lean figure of Reverend Wallace. Jacob pointed out the other
two men as Sheriff B.A. Brown and Sam Wright, the county clerk.
Several clusters of onlookers stood in groups a little distance
away from the judges. When Anna and Jacob approached, Mrs. Wallace
waltzed over and gave Anna a welcoming hug.

“It looks to be a tough competition this
year,” the matronly woman explained, turning back toward the men.
“They’ve already sampled the pies once and are making a second
round now.”

“If they need a tie-breaker, I’ll be happy
to step in.” Anna turned toward the voice and received a sheepish
grin from a stocky man, one hand on his suspender strap and the
other patting his already-full mid-section.

“You know the rules, G.W.,” Mrs. Wallace
chided in a lightly scolding tone. “The wives of the judges aren’t
allowed to enter a pie in the competition. And since your Emmaline
has won the last two years, there’s not much chance you’ll ever get
to be a judge.”