pleasure for myself.”
Jane and Colin followed T.C. to the kitchen, where he placed the plate of food on the table and hung his hat on the knob of
a kitchen chair.
Herb was vigorously stirring something in an iron pot.
“What’s that?”
Herb ignored the question, looked over his shoulder and spoke to Jane.
“Mornin’, ma’am.”
“Morning.” Jane stood beside the table, still holding the cup of milk and the plate of biscuits.
“You cooking mush?” T.C. peered into the iron pot.
“What’s it look like?” Herb growled.
“Whatever it is, it’s burning.”
“Horse-hockey!” Herb muttered as he grabbed a rag, wrapped it around the bail on the pot and lifted it. Flames shot up out
of the round hole on the iron surface of the stove. T.C. moved quickly to cover the hole with a round iron lid.
“You fixin’ to plaster the walls with that mess, Herb?” Colin, a grin on his wide mouth, eyed the spoon stuck in the thick
mush.
“I wasn’t plannin’ on it.” Herb spoke irritably. His eyes were bloodshot as if he’d gone for days without sleep. “That for
Doc?” He jerked his head toward the plate piled high with flapjacks and fried meat.
“Yeah. I thought Miss Love might have better luck getting him to eat.”
“I don’t know.” Herb shook his shaggy blond head and rubbed the stubble of whiskers on his chin. “He had a hell of a night
and he ain’t in a very good mood.”
“He’s got to eat, Herb. If you wait for Doc to be in a good mood—”
“—You’ll wait forever,” Colin added.
“If he don’t eat, he’ll die. How long’s it been since he had a solid meal?” T.C. asked.
“Long time.” The bottom of the iron pot rasped against the range top as Herb pushed it farther back on the stove.
“May I say something?” Like a musical note, Jane’s voice broke into the male chatter.
As if suddenly remembering she was there, the three men turned to look at her. It was T.C. who finally spoke.
“You’ve not been bashful about speaking up before. Why now?”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Jane took her time and placed the milk and the plate of biscuits on the table.
“If the doctor hasn’t eaten solid food for a week, his stomach certainly will not welcome this.” She moved the plate of flapjacks
and meat they had brought from the cookhouse across the table toward Herb. “You eat it, Mr.… ah, Herb, and I’ll make the mush
to go with this milk.”
“Herb, ma’am. Ya don’t need to be addin’ a mister to it.” He took a step closer to the table. “That milk for Doc? He’ll puke!”
“I doubt it. From what you say there’s nothing in him to come up.”
“I’d be obliged, ma’am, if ya made the mush. What I got here is a thick, lumpy mess. But I’ll tell ya right now, Doc ain’t
goin’ to drink that milk.”
“Want to bet?”
Chapter 7
“N
OW that that’s settled, I’ve things to do.” T.C. snatched his hat off the chair post. “Coming, Colin?” At the door he turned.
“We’ve not had a chance to fully discuss your employment, Miss Love. Work here today. We’ll discuss the pay later. God knows
there’s plenty to do. This house hasn’t been cleaned since we moved in.”
“You’re either ignoring or have forgotten what I’ve told you repeatedly. I’m not—”
“I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t have time to deal with it right now. I’ve got fifty men out there waiting to be told what
to do.” By the time he had finished speaking he was in the hallway.
Colin lifted his shoulders, grinned at Jane and left the kitchen.
In the quiet that followed, Herb spoke softly and sincerely.
“I’m purdee sorry ya ain’t stayin’.”
“I expected the town to be more… settled.”
“It’ll be more lawful than most towns. T.C.’ll see to it.”
“That’s a big job for one man.” Jane took the spoon from the mush in the pot and decided that what was there could not be
salvaged.
“He can do it,” Herb said
Jane and Colin followed T.C. to the kitchen, where he placed the plate of food on the table and hung his hat on the knob of
a kitchen chair.
Herb was vigorously stirring something in an iron pot.
“What’s that?”
Herb ignored the question, looked over his shoulder and spoke to Jane.
“Mornin’, ma’am.”
“Morning.” Jane stood beside the table, still holding the cup of milk and the plate of biscuits.
“You cooking mush?” T.C. peered into the iron pot.
“What’s it look like?” Herb growled.
“Whatever it is, it’s burning.”
“Horse-hockey!” Herb muttered as he grabbed a rag, wrapped it around the bail on the pot and lifted it. Flames shot up out
of the round hole on the iron surface of the stove. T.C. moved quickly to cover the hole with a round iron lid.
“You fixin’ to plaster the walls with that mess, Herb?” Colin, a grin on his wide mouth, eyed the spoon stuck in the thick
mush.
“I wasn’t plannin’ on it.” Herb spoke irritably. His eyes were bloodshot as if he’d gone for days without sleep. “That for
Doc?” He jerked his head toward the plate piled high with flapjacks and fried meat.
“Yeah. I thought Miss Love might have better luck getting him to eat.”
“I don’t know.” Herb shook his shaggy blond head and rubbed the stubble of whiskers on his chin. “He had a hell of a night
and he ain’t in a very good mood.”
“He’s got to eat, Herb. If you wait for Doc to be in a good mood—”
“—You’ll wait forever,” Colin added.
“If he don’t eat, he’ll die. How long’s it been since he had a solid meal?” T.C. asked.
“Long time.” The bottom of the iron pot rasped against the range top as Herb pushed it farther back on the stove.
“May I say something?” Like a musical note, Jane’s voice broke into the male chatter.
As if suddenly remembering she was there, the three men turned to look at her. It was T.C. who finally spoke.
“You’ve not been bashful about speaking up before. Why now?”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Jane took her time and placed the milk and the plate of biscuits on the table.
“If the doctor hasn’t eaten solid food for a week, his stomach certainly will not welcome this.” She moved the plate of flapjacks
and meat they had brought from the cookhouse across the table toward Herb. “You eat it, Mr.… ah, Herb, and I’ll make the mush
to go with this milk.”
“Herb, ma’am. Ya don’t need to be addin’ a mister to it.” He took a step closer to the table. “That milk for Doc? He’ll puke!”
“I doubt it. From what you say there’s nothing in him to come up.”
“I’d be obliged, ma’am, if ya made the mush. What I got here is a thick, lumpy mess. But I’ll tell ya right now, Doc ain’t
goin’ to drink that milk.”
“Want to bet?”
Chapter 7
“N
OW that that’s settled, I’ve things to do.” T.C. snatched his hat off the chair post. “Coming, Colin?” At the door he turned.
“We’ve not had a chance to fully discuss your employment, Miss Love. Work here today. We’ll discuss the pay later. God knows
there’s plenty to do. This house hasn’t been cleaned since we moved in.”
“You’re either ignoring or have forgotten what I’ve told you repeatedly. I’m not—”
“I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t have time to deal with it right now. I’ve got fifty men out there waiting to be told what
to do.” By the time he had finished speaking he was in the hallway.
Colin lifted his shoulders, grinned at Jane and left the kitchen.
In the quiet that followed, Herb spoke softly and sincerely.
“I’m purdee sorry ya ain’t stayin’.”
“I expected the town to be more… settled.”
“It’ll be more lawful than most towns. T.C.’ll see to it.”
“That’s a big job for one man.” Jane took the spoon from the mush in the pot and decided that what was there could not be
salvaged.
“He can do it,” Herb said
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