Читать книгу Christmas Cowboy Kisses - Carol Arens - Страница 12

Chapter Two

The barn loomed before them and Gideon applied his strength to the task of pushing the wide barn door aside, reaching for Joy to draw her close to his side as they entered. She found herself inside the warmth of the barn, which in reality was more of a shed, holding but three stalls and storage space above for hay for the animals. There was a straw stack outside the backdoor, already half gone with months of winter yet to pass before the hay would once more be ready to cut and the wheat ready for harvest. Luckily, their neighbor was good enough to cut the wheat for them and bring a stack of straw to the barnyard for their use, all for allowing him half the harvest.

Gideon spoke to her, his voice booming now that the barn door was closed and the wind was held in abeyance. “I’ll clean out the stalls for you, ma’am, and put hay in the mangers for the animals. It looks like you have a good supply up above.”

“Yes, hopefully it will last until the first cutting of hay in June or July. We cut the last in September and had a good crop to pile up top. It keeps the barn warm and the animals fed. Can’t ask for more than that, can we?” Joy smiled up at Gideon from her perch on the milking stool next to Daisy. She’d tossed an armful of hay into the cow’s manger before sitting down to milk her, and Daisy lowed contentedly as she bent her head to munch on the hay set before her. Joy propped the milk bucket between her knees in preparation for the chore of milking, an event Daisy was more than ready for, according to her low murmurings that Joy understood after long association with the cow. She found herself talking to the animal as she milked, much as she might speak with a friend, knowing that the sound of her voice kept Daisy contented and placid.

Joy looked up as a pair of big feet paused to stand beside her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said to the man who had worked his way to Daisy’s stall, having already hefted last night’s leavings from the animals out the backdoor. “It would have taken me almost an hour to plow through the snow and get out here, and then I’d have to carry the bucket of milk back and hope I didn’t spill it on the way. I’ve fallen more than once traveling back and forth, and it was much easier to follow in your footsteps and get here so quickly today.”

“I’m more than grateful to you, ma’am, for feeding me and my son and giving us a warm place to roost this morning. I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if I hadn’t seen your lit window from the road out front. I was about winded from plowing through the drifts and carrying Joseph. I fear we’d have frozen to death had I not caught sight of your place.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with Grandpa and me for as long as you need to. We have a loft with plenty of room for you. Grandpa sleeps up there in one room my pa walled off over the kitchen range. It keeps him warm in the winter, and when he opens his window in the good weather, he’s right next to the big maple tree out front and can see and hear the birds in its branches. We use the rest of the space up there for storage and have a bed set up in one corner. It used to be my room before my mother and father died. It seemed like a waste to have their bedroom empty, so I moved downstairs and put my things in their old room a couple of years ago.”

“How long have your folks been gone?” Gideon asked quietly from behind her. She felt the warmth of his big body and wondered if he hadn’t moved to keep the draft from the door off her while she milked Daisy.

“It’s been four years, since I was sixteen. They apparently got hit by a log while they were crossing the stream on their way home from town. It must have tipped the wagon and they were caught beneath the lumber Pa had bought there. The weight of it was too much for them and they drowned before they could get free. Our neighbor found them and managed to pull them from the water, but it was too late to do more than bring them home.”

“We never know why things happen as they do,” Gideon said quietly. “I often wondered why my wife died in childbirth as she did. I had to find a wet nurse for Joseph. She lived with us until he was six months old, when I began to feed him from the table and taught him how to drink from a cup. My housekeeper took over his care when the wet nurse had a chance to go to a family that needed her more. She was a lifesaver for me and for Joseph, of course. But it was good for me to take over his care as much as I could after I came home from work. Mrs. Bates had her hands full with cooking and cleaning and such, so Joseph and I spent a lot of time together. We’ve become much closer than most father and sons, I think. He means the world to me.”

“Well, I’m pleased to have you with us for Christmas, Mr. Burnley. Perhaps you can even help me chop down the tree I’ve had my eye on.”

“First off, why don’t you call me Gideon, ma’am?” he asked nicely.

“I will if you can bring yourself to stop calling me ma’am and call me Joy instead.”

He grinned at her and she was warmed by his smile. She stood and lifted the milk pail, not surprised when he reached to take it from her hand. He placed it by the barn door and then turned back to her.

“Where will I find the straw to put in the stalls?” he asked.

“I’ll show you, Gideon. Follow me.”

She went to the backdoor and slid it open, revealing the small corral and the straw stack that was covered in piles of snow. Gideon set her aside and stepped outdoors, pitchfork in hand. “I’ll toss it in if you can push it to one side until there’s enough for the stalls,” he said. He stuck the pitchfork into the hollowed-out space from which she’d dug straw for the past months and turned back around with the fork piled high. In a quick movement he sent it sailing into the barn and Joy nudged the straw to one side, then awaited the next load.

In just a few minutes Gideon had tossed enough straw inside for the stalls and he came back into the barn, pushing the door closed behind himself. “It’s not so bad out back. The wind is broken by the barn and it makes it easier to work when you’re not being blown hither and yon.” He laughed as he turned to fork up the straw and spread it in the stalls. “This won’t take at all long now. Why don’t you let the cow out of her stall and into the aisleway while I clean her space and then give her a share of this stuff.”

Joy undid Daisy’s lead rope from the manger and backed her up, giving Gideon room to toss the soiled debris from her stall and then replace it with the clean bedding. When he’d completed his chore, she led the cow back to her breakfast and Daisy immediately tucked into the fresh hay, lowing contentedly as she did.

“I’m about done out here,” Joy said. “And it looks to me like you’ve finished all my chores for me, Gideon. I surely do appreciate it. Now to carry this milk into the house. I usually leave it in the milk house until the next milking, but I think I’ll just take it on in with me and let you pick up last night’s bucket from the milk house, if you will. It’s just to the left of the door, with a towel draped over the top. We’ll put them both in the pantry and by tomorrow I’ll have enough cream for churning.”

“I’ll be glad to carry both pails, Joy. I think I can manage if you’ll hold this one while I get the other from the milk house.”

Joy tucked her shawl around her head and inside her coat collar, readying herself for the blast of wind that would surely be waiting on the other side of the door. Gideon led the horse into his stall and closed the door behind him, and then they stood by the wide barn door, both of them obviously dreading the trek back to the house.

“Might as well set out. It’s going to be hard going, no matter how long we wait to begin,” Joy said, inhaling deeply of the warmer air inside the barn. She watched Gideon open the door and pick up the milk pail as he waited for Joy to pass in front of him. She set out, ducking to keep her face inside her warm shawl, away from the blowing snow. Gideon followed closely behind her, his hand grasping her elbow as they made their way to the milk house, where Gideon picked up last night’s milking. As they set off back down the path, which was fast filling with new snow, she looked up, hoping for a break in the heavy clouds that had dumped so much of the white stuff on them in the past weeks. But as it stood, they would have to shovel again tonight to get to the barn.

“I was hoping for some of it to clear, at least enough to allow me to get across the meadow to the trees before Christmas,” she told Gideon, hoping he could hear her voice speaking to him.

Apparently he got the gist of her muttering, for as they stomped their way up onto the porch, he leaned forward enough to answer her. “What do you want to go out across the meadow for, Joy? Is that where you spotted the tree you spoke of earlier?”

She nodded, then opened the door and stood aside, allowing Gideon to carry the milk into the kitchen. She shivered as the heat from inside warmed her suddenly.

After shaking the snow off their coats and hanging them up, they stood in the kitchen grinning foolishly at each other, as if they had surmounted some great task set before them and were celebrating their victory over it. And so they had, Joy decided. They carried the two buckets of milk into the pantry and placed them beneath the shelf, covering the most recent milking with a clean dish towel to keep dust and critters out of it while the cream rose to the top. Then she uncovered last night’s milking and stirred it with a wooden spoon before pouring a good bit of it into the pitcher she kept there for that purpose. It was enough to keep her in milk for baking and drinking for the day. Joy left the rest beneath the shelf and carried the pitcher to the kitchen.

“Would you like some more milk, Joseph?” she asked. “It’s nice and cold from being outdoors, but if you’d rather have it warmed, I can do that for you. In fact, I can put some chocolate in it, and with a spoonful of sugar, you’d have hot cocoa to drink. Would you like that?”

“I’ve never had hot cocoa,” Joseph said eagerly. “Can you show me how you do it?”

“I surely can. Let me put your chair a bit closer to the stove and you can stand up on it and watch me fix it.” It only took her a few seconds to move the chair and prop him up next to her. While she prepared the cocoa, she kept her left arm around his waist lest he fall forward.

“Would you like to share Joseph’s drink, Gideon? I can add another cupful of milk easily enough.”

Joseph turned in her grasp to look over his shoulder at his father and added his plea. “Why don’t you, Daddy. We never had this before, did we? I don’t remember it anyway.”

“No, I suspect we haven’t, son. I’ll be glad to share some with you if Joy doesn’t mind.”

She added the extra milk to the saucepan, along with another scoop of cocoa and some sugar. Joy lifted the saltshaker from the back of the stove and shook it over the pan, as her mother had taught her, the salt enhancing the flavor of the chocolate.

“Would you find some mugs in the dresser, Gideon? The door on the left.”

With a grunt of assent, her guest rose and brought back four thick china cups, which he placed on the table. “I assume you’ll both be joining us,” he said, taking his seat once more.

Grandpa got up from his chair and made his way to the kitchen door. “No, you young folks enjoy your treat while I find my whittling knife and a likely piece of wood to work on,” he said, then walked from the room with the aid of a cane he kept nearby at all times.

Joy lifted Joseph from his perch and set him away from the hot stove before she poured the mugs full, the milk foaming almost to overflowing as she drained the pan. “That ought to do it, gentlemen,” she said with laughter lacing her words. It seemed there was much to be thankful for this morning. Two guests to share the coming days until Christmas and the hope of having a tree this year after all.

“How about a piece of bread and butter to go with your cocoa? I can slice some right quick if you like.”

“Have you the heel handy?” Gideon asked. “Joseph likes the middle of the loaf, but I’ve always been partial to the first slice. My mother used to spread it with butter, right to the edges she always said.” He looked up at Joy with a smile that was strangely tender, as if his thoughts of home and hearth were warming him. “It’s odd how little things stick in your mind, isn’t it, ma’am? I can still see my mother at the stove, standing as you are right now, ready to serve her family.”

She felt the sting of tears as she turned away, her thoughts bittersweet as she recalled her own mother. “Memories are to be cherished, especially the ones that warm us from within,” she said quietly.

“I wish I had a mama to remember,” Joseph said, and Joy sat, reaching across the table to take up his small hand within her own.

“Perhaps one day your father will find a woman fit to be your mother, Joseph. We never know what life has in store for us, and surely a mother isn’t too much for a little boy to hope for.”

Gideon lifted his cup and sipped carefully. “I fear he’ll have to make do with one poor excuse of a father, ma’am,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask any woman to take me on, unless she was looking for a repair-and-restoration project.”

She smiled at him, almost chuckling at the woebegone expression on his face. “Do you think you are such a poor specimen as all that? I see you as a shining example of fatherhood, Gideon. Your son would not be as he is without your influence.”

“My daddy says I’m a good boy,” Joseph said with a speck of pride showing in his shining eyes.

“I’m sure you are. You certainly know how to behave well and that’s about all that can be expected of a child your age,” Joy told him, leaning close to speak to the lad as if he were an equal and would understand her words. She marveled at how she’d misjudged the small boy at first, thinking him to be three or four years old. Gideon had since told her that Joseph was small for his age; he was actually six. That explained his ability to communicate so well, Joy thought.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joseph said politely, his wide grin showing his delight at her attention.

“Well, I’d better get busy and start something cooking for dinner. These dishes aren’t going to wash themselves and I have dish towels to wash and hang to dry,” Joy said, listing her agenda for the morning.

“I’m a pretty good hand at dishes,” Gideon said, offering his help.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Joy rose and took her cup to the sink, adding it to the pile already awaiting warm water in the dishpan.

As the two adults did the dishes, Joseph watched from his place at the table, not seeming surprised at the sight of his father with his hands in dishwater.

But he totally missed the warm look Gideon bestowed upon the woman who stood beside him, nor would he have understood the message his father sent silently with but a wink of his eye and a subtle twist of his mouth that signified his delight in her.