Love's Rescue
Deer?” she asked.
    “Not always. We had a cook, but he left before winter. The men say Mr. Bennett hired a new man. He sent him to get supplies from Sacramento City.” Red Deer pointed to the onions. “You can put the skins into the fire. The ends we will put into that pail with other trimmings to feed the pigs.”
    Jess chopped the onions neatly, gratified that she had begged her mother’s cooks to teach her the basics of their art. “Jake thought I could help with the cookhouse chores during my time here.”
    “I am glad for the help, Jessica. I often work here alone.” Jess thought she would say nothing more, but then she continued. “The women of my village do not like to be near white men, though they know the white men of this ranch are good. The work they do near their homes is still helpful to the ranchmen.” She scooped up the diced onions and added them to the pot.
    “Helpful in what way?”
    “The women prepare fresh cowhides for the ranchmen. Then they cut the hides into strips for the men to braid into lassos, or they sew them into chaps to go over the men’s pants. The men pay them fairly.”
    Jess took a sip of warm tea, which was flavored with bits of dried apple. She found it delightful. “What kind of nuts are these in the basket, Red Deer?”
    Red Deer borrowed the stool and broke three red chilies from their stalks. She followed Jess’s gaze. “They are the nuts we pick from the pinyon pine.”
    “How do you pick so many nuts this small?” Jess asked, stirring them with a finger. She was curious to know, but she was also glad to have someone to talk to, someone to distract her thoughts.
    “My people traveled in these mountains gathering pine nuts for food long before the white men came. Sometimes, we still do, but there are not as many now. I once hated the white men who cut down the pinyon pines to build their houses,” she admitted. “They could have cut down other trees. They could have lived elsewhere.” Red Deer paused reflectively, then worked to regain her cheerfulness. “We use forked sticks when we pick them from the trees.” She laid the peppers on the cutting board for Jess and began filling a large bowl with handfuls of beans from a barrel.
    Forked sticks? That was it? Jess doubted that even Miriam Van Dorn could make this woman keep talking. She recalled seeing brown-skinned children in the distance, and gave the conversation another try. “How do the children help?”
    Red Deer laughed at the question, surprising Jess. “The boys like to climb the trees to pick them, and their bodies turn black with sap. Then they roll in pine needles until many stick to them, and they chase one another, laughing and growling as if they were bears.”
    Jess smiled at the thought. She took another sip of tea. “What are the gatherings like?”
    “We pick the cones before they open, in the cool of the fall. We fill all the largest baskets with them.”
    “With the pinecones?”
    “At first; then, with the nuts. We break out the nuts in the mountains, for there are too many cones for the people to carry away.” Red Deer’s slender shoulders relaxed a little, and she finally seemed more comfortable sharing the experience with Jess. “All the people who come are family and dear friends. Some stay near camp to dig out a large pit and to build a fire. All people—men and women, young and old—work together, and the gathering is very happy, for months have passed since we have seen one another.”
    “It sounds like hard work.”
    “It is hard work, but it is also good.” With her free hand, she tucked her short hair behind her ears. “Some people pick, and others carry baskets of cones to the fire. There the green cones are roasted to dry them and to open them.”
    “The heat makes them open?”
    “Yes, and they sound like many eggs frying in a skillet. When they are cool enough to touch, we lay the cones on large, flat rocks, and then we strike them with smaller stones to

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