remember to put a big old rock on top a the meat, hold it down under the water.”
“That’s about right. It is quite simple,” Jeremy agreed.
“And if I don’t do it right, will we know if the meat’s gone off?”
“No worry on that account,” Jeremy said. “If you make a hames of it, you’ll
smell it. So will people in the next county.”
“Well, I guess all I can do is try,” she said. She poked at the meat sizzling in
the skillet, declared it done, and pulled both frying pans out of the fire. “I set the
table inside,” she said. “Like a real dinner.”
“It’s quite nice out here, I thought,” Jeremy said. “Air’s a little chilly, but we’ve got the fire. Can make all the mess we want.”
“You set yourself down, Livia.” Mourning nodded in agreement. “I go get
them plates. Tonight I’s waiting on you, hunter lady.”
Mourning dished the food out and neither he nor Jeremy waited for it to cool.
Olivia watched them dig in, eating with their fingers and licking them. Those adventurous women in trousers probably had no use for knives and forks. Olivia
hesitantly put her utensils aside and gnawed at the fried venison as
enthusiastically as her companions.
After they had eaten more than their fill Olivia carried over a bucket and they poured dippers of water over their hands and splashed their greasy mouths and
chins. Tired, Olivia did not offer to hunt up a towel and neither of the men asked
for one – they wiped their mouths on their hands and their hands on their
trousers. Olivia raised her arm, intending to use her sleeve, but couldn’t. Her dress may be torn and filthy, but she couldn’t bring herself to use it as a rag. She
wiped her hand across her mouth a few more times.
She set the coffee pot in the fire and served the peaches, which they happily
slurped. When she poured the coffee they obliged and shouted a loud, “Hear,
hear,” in honor of Uncle Scruggs, but the conversation quickly turned to a
discussion of how much bark the roof would take. Then Mourning raised his
chin and pointed it over Olivia’s shoulder.
“You want Dougan and Dixby to spend the night standin’ there?” he asked.
She looked at him blankly.
“Your vegetable garden – you want it next to the cabin there, like I said?”
“Oh. Sure.” She had not given it a moment’s thought. “Do you have a
vegetable garden?” she asked Jeremy.
“No.”
She managed to find other questions to ask Jeremy, but the result was the
same – a simple yes or no.
“Well.” Jeremy stood up. “Time I was going. Let you tend to that meat.”
“We appreciate all your help.” Olivia started to get to her feet, but Jeremy waved her down, saying, “Don’t bother yourself. I can find my way to Ernest.”
While Jeremy was in the barn saddling his horse Olivia stared into the fire, willing Mourning to keep his big mouth shut.
“Delicious dinner,” Jeremy said as he mounted. “We’ll be by, Ernest and I.”
He raised a hand to his hat and said, “After,” in farewell.
“You’re always welcome,” she called to his back, despising herself for the
pleading tone of her voice.
