Rugged and Relentless (13 page)

“You’re brilliant, Evie.” Lacey scooped away the carrots and plunked them into the massive pot boiling atop the stove—far too soon. “That generous ‘offer’ of yours will keep the men from sticking their noses in your kitchen again tonight!”

“Tonight?” Naomi harrumphed, carefully browning the second round of chopped beef then adding in diced tomatoes to the mixture of meat and onions, as Evie instructed. “That’s the sort of threat we can reuse every meal to keep scavengers at bay.”

“Scavengers.” Cora giggled. “You make them sound like
crows, skulking about, waiting for us to drop something so they can swoop in and snabble it up. Or fight over it.”

“Snabble?” Evie pulled the carrots off the stove then pushed more potatoes toward her sister. “You made fun of my word when I made it up, and now you dare use it?”

“Joking about the words you make up is a sister’s privilege. Besides, I like the ones you create. They’re so expressive and vibrant—just like you are.” Cora put down her paring knife to reach over and give Evie’s hand a fond pat.

“We can always tell when Cora’s repeating an Evie-ism.” Naomi’s smile took the sting away. “You have a flair with words, the same as you do in the kitchen. Creativity always shows.”

Evie shook her head and went to rescue the next batch of biscuits from Lacey’s overexuberance. So far, Lacey had committed just about every crime known against biscuitkind. She’d left the batter lumpy then overstirred to correct it. She’d rolled them too thick, then too thin. Left them in the oven too long, and not long enough. This time it looked like overdone batter combined with thin rolling. In truth, the entire scavenger issue hadn’t been Naomi’s fault. Entirely.

The other three women had been sneaking ruined biscuits out of the kitchen for a while now, and Naomi simply got caught ditching the duds. The bribe she’d used to purchase silence—one of Evie’s own biscuits—brought the man sniffing around for more. With others trailing in his wake when he left empty-handed.

“I think snabbling scavenger has the right ring when they first show up,” Lacey mused, almost not noticing when Evie shooed her away from the biscuits and set her beside Cora to peel potatoes. She certainly didn’t catch the glare Cora shot Evie as her sister pried an already-peeled potato from Lacey’s fingers and replaced it with a runty one still wearing its skin.

“No!” Evie swiped the paring knife she’d just put in Lacey’s hand and demonstrated again. “Like this. Never move the blade toward yourself. Always keep your thumb out of the way.”

“I see.” Lacey reached for the knife again and merrily began slicing the skins off half her runty potato. Meaning she took off half the potato along with its skins, of course. “I also see that the scavengers turn to beggars awfully quick.”

Evie watched for another moment to make sure Lacey wouldn’t lose a thumb or do herself any other sort of injury. She couldn’t let her friend near the stove, they didn’t have time to waste any more rounds of biscuits, chopping carrots would be far too dangerous, and besides, Evie hadn’t planned to feed a small army of men right from the start. Potatoes she’d brought aplenty for Lacey to mangle. It would have to do for tonight.

“You could sell predinner biscuits and make a fortune.” Cora’s suggestion made everyone stop whatever she did and stare.

“Cora, I’ve never heard something so absolutely—”

Mercenary, manipulative, downright shameful
. Evie finished Naomi’s exclamation a dozen different ways even before Lacey beat her to it.
Maybe even a little bit funny, but mostly—

“Brilliant! I say propose the idea to the next scavenger.”

“That’s dishonorable. We agreed to meals as part of their payment for the hard work these men will do.” Evie rationed the browned, seasoned meat into pie pans as she rejected the plan. “Although I might as well mention we’ll need a far sight more food than I brought along—especially if more men show up. Mr. Draxley will need to put in an order as early as tomorrow for an entire array of supplies if I’m to feed a logging outfit from the first day. We already have two stoves, but I’ll need the room and storage we discussed right away, too. The café wasn’t designed to accommodate the quantity of a log camp cookhouse.”

“The men can build on an extra room tomorrow, I’d think.”

“Naomi’s right—the mercantile is supposed to be stocked with lumber so they can start right away.” Lacey added her second potato to Cora’s enormous pile and announced with a great sense of accomplishment, “We’ve finished the potatoes!”

“Great job.” Evie winked at her sister, sharing the joke instead
of letting it become a sore spot. By then, she’d rescued her carrots from the pot and set the water a-boiling once again. “Now those can boil while you start to mash the others!” Because, of course, Evie saw to it the first ten pounds of potatoes Cora peeled—minus their skins—stood alongside condensed milk, butter, and salt for mashing. She hastily added the other ingredients and toted the still-hot pot over to the worktable for them.
Thank You, Lord, that I brought an extra masher. Even Lacey can’t do worse than make a mess of her apron with this task!

Meanwhile, Evie kept a watch on the minced beef, onion, and tomato mixture as Naomi finished pan after pan, laying it into pie tins to cool and form the thin skin signaling their readiness for the mashed potato topping. Shepherd’s pie, alongside the biscuits Evie whipped up in such a frenzy she had already planned on ways to use leftovers the next day, should make those men more than glad to hold up their bargain.

The peas and carrots she’d steam last, to avoid that dreadful cold limp vegetable phenomenon she’d seen too often. Peas and carrots, steamed slightly soft and bathed in butter with a hint of brown sugar, never failed to please her diners. Better still, they cooked quickly and went with almost anything.

With everyone busy and things progressing, Evie sifted a good amount of flour onto a clean wooden surface then put over a third again as much sugar alongside it. With her fingertips, she rubbed butter into the sugar until thoroughly mixed then lightly added in the flour bit by bit, working it until it formed a rather loose dough. She lifted it onto a baking sheet she’d greased beforehand and shaped it into a long oval about a quarter inch thick and three inches wide. Her fork pricked even holes all around before deft strokes of her knife separated the mass into long strips she sprinkled with more sugar.

She readied two batches of the shortbread before the time came to finish assembling the shepherd’s pies. Evie set Naomi and Lacey to beating eggs while she and Cora spread fresh mashed
potatoes atop the cooled minced meat and vegetables.

A sister could always tell when her sibling had lost patience, and Cora’s acceptance of her best friend’s inexperience in the kitchen fared far better when both of them stayed outside it. For that matter, it seemed everyone fared better when Lacey stayed away from the kitchen. Evie heard the splat of a dropped egg and reconsidered.
Make that far, far away from the kitchen. Any kitchen, really, but especially mine!

Within moments, the dropped egg forgotten, they had no fewer than twenty-one shepherd’s pies ready to brown in the oven. They had the dozen loggers, Braden, the doctor, Mr. Draxley, and themselves. The ladies wouldn’t eat one each, but Evie held it was best to make a little more than they expected to need. They glazed each with beaten egg for that glossy sheen Evie considered her signature then sprinkled cheese on top for extra flavor and color.

Naomi kept an eye on the pies, rotating and removing them when ready. Cora steamed the peas and carrots, the sugar Evie’d already browned in the pan adding sweetness so she need only dab butter atop the vegetables afterward. The biscuits stayed warm in covered baskets near the oven, much like they had back home.

“I’ll make tea for everyone, if you like.” Lacey’s offer took Evie by surprise. “Coffee for the men, I’d suppose.”

“Have—” Evie groped for a diplomatic way to ask, couldn’t come up with one, and simply blurted out, “Have you ever made tea, Lacey? Or coffee? It’s not as simple as most think.”

“Oh, I know!” Apron filled with more stains than the other three would see in the entire week, Lacey nodded with great confidence. “Tea, chocolate, and coffee were the only things Pa insisted I learn to make for myself. It was useful when we traveled. Particularly if Pa took meetings—I could replenish the coffee without waiting an age in an uncivilized place.” She beamed at the evidence of her independence. “If worse comes to worst, I can also drive a team of horses and shoot a pistol. It’s all part of being a modern, self-reliant woman, you see.”

She’s invaded other kitchens?
Evie took a deep breath.
Even if only to make tea and coffee, I pity the cook who returned to the carnage Lacey left in her wake
. The other women gave voice to their reactions, too stunned to stay quiet.

“Self-reliant?” Naomi echoed in what Evie knew to be disbelief, but apparently Lacey interpreted it as admiration.

“Your father let you shoot a gun?” Cora’s horrified gasp came closer to Evie’s own reaction. “A
real
one?”

This elicited a matching gasp from Evie.
When did Cora’s priorities become more organized than mine? And, really, what could Mr. Lyman have been thinking, to let Lacey lay so much as a finger on a firearm? She can’t handle an egg without chaos
.

“I’m a dab hand with pistols.” Lacey’s nonchalance could have been comforting, but Lacey managed to be nonchalant about everything from butterflies to a dozen hungry loggers. While she spoke, she took down the grinder, selected coffee beans, and began grinding with an expertise lending credit to her claim. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t want to mention it for fear of frightening anyone, but I brought one along for each of us.”

Silence filled the kitchen. The familiar backdrop of the stove burners and oven didn’t count as noise to Evie as she joined Naomi and Cora in gaping at Lacey. While she gaped, she nudged Cora out of the way and took the carrots away from the heat before they burned, but otherwise, she’d ground to a halt.

“I knew your father took you shooting, Lacey, but he never confided in me about your proficiency.” Naomi, as Lacey’s live-in companion for the past five years, obviously felt she should have known about this. “Nor did you ever mention it before.”

“We agreed it wasn’t the sort of thing to make Charleston society look upon me more favorably.” A blithe shrug as she took the grounds and began measuring them into drip percolator pitchers Evie herself only recently learned to use. “Our own business ventures, my friendship with a female businesswoman”—she shot a conspiratorial grin at Evie—“and the proposals I chose
not to accept already served to make me something of an … oddity, shall we say? We thought it best not to make it known I carry a pistol around in my reticule whenever I travel.”

“There’s a pistol in your purse right now?” Cora’s curiosity began to overcome her disbelief and outrage.

“Of course! To be honest, I’d hoped to have the chance to teach you each some level of competence and a degree of comfort with your own before we invited any suitors to Hope Falls.” A frown twisted her pretty features. “Perhaps tomorrow, while the men are building the storeroom onto the café, we can start?”

“Absolutely,” Evie answered almost before she thought it through. She knew what Cora and Naomi were thinking—the way their jaws all but hit the floor told her they worried she’d lost her mind. “With this many men around, we should avail ourselves of every type of protection at our disposal. If Lacey claims proficiency, I believe her. She’s quick to admit when she lacks experience in cooking. I want to learn, and I’d sleep easier knowing you both did, too. Won’t you agree?”

She watched their faces while she spoke, but the distinctive aroma of shepherd’s pie had her opening the oven, grabbing a dish towel, and pulling out the golden-brown pies the moment she finished. She waited a beat as Lacey set the percolators atop the stove to come to a boil. They exchanged a brief nod—a silent agreement Lacey would teach Evie even if the others didn’t agree to join them the next day. Evie then busied herself sliding the sheets of shortbread into the oven.

“Someone should point out the danger of this little scheme. I suppose, as the oldest, I should be that someone.” Naomi’s eyes sparkled. “Instead, I’m going to be honest and say it sounds like great fun. Learning to handle a firearm should be one of the benefits of moving out West, and there are the safety concerns Evie pointed out to consider. I’ll join both of you.”

“By now you should all know better than to think I’d miss something like this!” Competition glinted in Cora’s gaze. “When
else would I get the chance to become a crack shot?”

“There’s something deliciously … masculine … about it, isn’t there?” Lacey carefully checked the color of the coffee, judged it too light, and set the percolator pitcher back on the stove.

“Liberating, I imagine, to know you can defend yourself.” Evie had reason to be glad she’d put warm bricks in the base of her pie safe—they would keep everything toasty until the shortbread finished. Usually she’d simply send supper out ahead and stay in the kitchen. Tonight—and every night hereafter—she needed to dine with the men to become better acquainted.

“Not to mention invigorating. It’s a wonderful thing to have a secret, I must say.” Lacey blanched. “Not that I regret telling you three. You’re all becoming a part of it, making it an even better secret than I kept before. I love that! I promise!”

“Calm down, Lace.” Cora tweaked one of her friend’s curls. “We understood what you meant and didn’t take any offense.”

“Impossible to refuse the chance to learn something men believe only they can master.” Naomi’s laughter caught on. “Someday, if we have cause to reveal our secret, it will most likely be for no better reason than to wipe a smug, superior smile off a man’s face or warn him not to underestimate us.”

“Is there a better reason?” Evie kept her reply light but hoped they never ran into a real threat causing them to draw their pistols.
But if we do, at least we’ll be ready
.