Tame a Wild Bride, a Western Romance (9 page)

He held the basket out to her.
 
She took it and went to the next nest.
 
She gingerly reached under the hen and tried to grab the egg.
 
The hen turned and pecked her hand.

“Ow.
 
Why didn’t they do that to you?” she said, snatching her hand back and checking for blood.

“Because I’m quicker than you are.
 
Don’t be slow and try to take it easy on the hen.
 
They’ll peck you every time.
 
Push the hen aside and take the egg.
 
Try it again.”

This time she dove her hand under the backend of the chicken, grabbed the egg and was out before the chicken knew what she was up to.
 
She turned grinning toward Tom and showed him her prize.

He smiled back.
 
“Easy, huh?”

“Yes, it is easy.”
 
Something pecked her leg. “What in the heck?”

She looked down and the rooster was pecking at her skirt.
 
Hard.
 
She kicked at it and he flapped away.

“That’s Walt, my cock.”

She raised her eyebrows at him and burst out laughing.

“My rooster.”

She nodded, chuckling under her breath.

“You have to watch out for him.
 
He’ll peck you every time if you don’t get in and out of here fast.
 
Sometimes feeding them by throwing corn in the yard will distract him enough that you can get in and out without being attacked.
 
Luckily you have your skirt to protect you.
 
Watch it when you go into the coop though.
 
If you don’t see him in the yard he could be in the coop and he won’t hesitate to leap at you.
 
He doesn’t realize he can’t fly.”

“I’ll remember.”

“I noticed there are only twelve nests, but you have a lot more chickens than that.”

“There are only twelve laying hens.
 
The rest we eat.
 
You’ll have to do that too.”

“Do what too?”

“Slaughter the chickens when you need them for a meal.”

“I’m not slaughtering any chicken.”

“You will if you want to eat them.”

“Then you best like beef and pork because I’m not slaughtering any chicken.
 
Don’t know how and don’t want to learn.”
 
She crossed her arms over her chest.

Tom stared at her for a long moment then grinned.
 
“I like beef and pork.
 
If I want chicken I’ll get Orvie to slaughter them.
 
Fair enough?”

She nodded.
 
“Yes, thank you.”

“Did you notice the bin on the side of the coop?”

“Not really.
 
But I do now that you point it out.
 
What’s it for?”

“That’s where we keep the feed.
 
You’ll put three of the cans full around the ground, like this.”
 
He filled the can with grain and flung it around the yard and then handed her the can.
 
“Okay, you try it.”

She did just like he did and was inordinately pleased that she’d done it right.

“Great.
 
You have the chickens down pat.
 
Now for the cows.”

“Cows?”

“Milking and feeding the cows.”

“Oh, yeah.
 
Well, lets get at it.”

She followed him to the barn.

CHAPTER 6

The next day Rosie started with the cows first before breakfast.
 
It was Rosie’s first day doing chores alone.
 
Tom went through everything she was supposed to do and showed her how to do them.
 
It took her much longer than it did him to milk the cows.
 
She kept pulling and squeezing.
 
Unfortunately, she was not getting anything.
 
She was using just two fingers to pull, afraid she’d hurt the cow and yet she knew that if she didn’t get the milk out the cow would really be in pain.
 
She started to panic and finally remembered that Tom had used his whole hand.
 
He’d been so good at it he could squirt the cat in the face with the teat.

 
She tried again using all her fingers and thumb like she remembered him doing.
 
Still not much.
 
Then she remembered he’d sort of punched the udders to get them started.
 
Not hard, just a solid nudging.

After she nudged the udder, she pulled down on the teat and low and behold milk squirted out.
 
She did it with the other hand and the same thing happened.
 
Woohoo!!
 
She was milking the cow.

After she got done with the cows, she took the milk to the kitchen where she still had to put it through the cheesecloth and strain it, then separate it into the jugs and put it into the ice house.
 
She was ready for a break but had to gather the eggs and feed the chickens first and then had to make breakfast.

She went out to the chicken coop.
 
The rooster charged her as soon as she opened the gate.
 
She still felt the peck from yesterday.
 
He’d gotten her good, more so than she let on to Tom.

Today she kicked at him but he moved too fast.
 
He followed her into the coop and as soon as she started gathering the eggs, he started pecking her.
 
She went out into the yard and threw some corn around the yard, hoping to distract him while she gathered the eggs.
 
She wasn’t that lucky.
 
He stayed in the coop and was lying in wait for her.

Rosie took a deep breath and steeled herself before entering the coop again.
 
She was prepared for the little bastard.
 
He waited on the upper level of the coop, though how he got there she didn’t know.
 
As soon as he saw Rosie, he sailed down directly at her.
 
She took the basket in her hands and batted him away.
 
He hit the wall and was a little dazed but got back up quickly.
 
A little wobbly, he walked out of the coup looking like he’d had a few too many drinks.

She hadn’t meant to hit him hard.
 
Didn’t want to injure him, just keep him away from her, so she was glad to see that he was back to normal when she came out of the coop.
 
He charged her, like always, but stopped just short of actually hitting her.
 
So she got lucky and it worked.
 
He was afraid enough of her to stay away.
 
At least for now.

It took Rosie almost all day to milk and feed the cows, gather the eggs, feed the chickens, and fix the meals.
 
And then she still had to do laundry.
 
It made for a very long and tiring day.
 
She boiled the water on the stove, as it got hotter and got the clothes cleaner.
 
She tried to use the water from the faucets at the sink, but the boiler wasn’t that big and she ran it dry in no time.
 
She stirred the laundry in boiling water with a large paddle, used the washboard to scrub each piece of clothing with homemade lye soap and then used a wringer attached to the tub to get the water out.
 
She rinsed in cold water.
 
It seemed to get rid of the soap better and it was easier on her hands than the hot water.
 

She looked down at her poor hands.
 
They were red and cracked and this was only the second day of chores and the first time doing the laundry.
 
Another week of this and they’d be bleeding if she didn’t have her cream.
 
She was going to have to get Sadie down at the mercantile to order the rose cream she used on her hands by the gallon.
 
Between the laundry and scrubbing the house, her hands were a wreck.

Tired.
 
Lord, she was tired.
 
Her first laundry day wore her out completely.
 
She’d put the kids to bed and then collapsed in bed herself.

Saturdays were laundry day.
 
Sunday was a day of rest.
 
For everyone except Rosie.
 
She still had to do all the meals and her other chores, which on Sunday included the ironing.
 

And so it went week after week.
 
Sure she’d get used to it, she was surprised when even after a month she was still exhausted every night.
 
It seemed like she forever fell behind.
 
Never enough time to finish everything and goodness knows never enough rest.

There were some things she found ways to improve.
 
For instance, she discovered that while cooking she could do lessons with the kids at the same time.
 
She’d have Ben write down a passage from the book he currently read, then read it out loud to her and together they identified the parts of the sentence.
 
After that she gave him equations to do in arithmetic.
 
For Suzie, she’d started teaching her her letters.
 
She was only three after all.
 
Mostly she just drew pictures on the slate while Ben did his work.

Even on Sundays, she quizzed the children.

“Ben, tell me about the book you’re reading,” Rosie said as she checked the iron to see if it was hot enough.
 
She sprinkled the shirt with water from a small mason jar with tiny holes poked in the lid.

“Well, I’m reading about Captain Nemo and his ship the Nautilus.”

“Yes, go on,” she said as she ironed one of Tom’s shirts.

“The Nautilus is a really special ship.
 
It can go under the water.
 
Can you imagine?”

Rosie smiled.
 
“What do you imagine?”

“Well, I figure there must be all kind of wonders.
 
Different kinds of fish and animals.
 
It says they farm seaweed and use it for food.
 
What do you think it tastes like?”

“Suzie, sweetheart, don’t eat the chalk.
 
It’s for drawing.” she said, as Suzie looked up guiltily.
 
“I’m sorry Ben, what about seaweed?”

“Just that I wondered what it would taste like?”

“I think it would be very salty because it’s in the ocean and the ocean is salty.
 
What else might it be like?”

“Well, it’s green, so maybe like turnip greens?”

“Good.
 
You’re thinking, following a logical step based on its color.
 
I’ve seen it.
 
It looks a lot like giant blades of grass but is much darker in color.
 
My brother, Robert, took me to the seashore in New Jersey once.
 
Some seaweed had washed up on the shore.
 
The piece I saw was about a foot wide and three feet long.
 
Robert said it was only a quarter of the fully grown plant.”

“Wow.
 
That’s big.
 
Rosie, is your brother our uncle since you married Papa?”

“Yes, I guess he is.
 
I’ll have to write him and let him know that he has a wonderful nephew and niece.
 

“Now we know that the seaweed is big.
 
Just how big is it if one quarter of its height is three feet?”

Ben thought about it for a moment then took out his slate and wrote it out.
 
“Well, three feet divided by one quarter equals four times three equals twelve feet.”