The Milch Bride (19 page)

She set her bowl down, shed the dirty clothes with her back
to him, and quickly donned the chemise and blouse, turning around only when she
had it nearly buttoned up. Smiling, she held up the petticoat and skirt. Both
drug along the ground.

“You need more clothes. The closet’s full. Sooner or later
you’ll have to hem them all.”

She sat there, primly eating cornbread and beans, only
pausing to wash it down with the milk. Jackson refilled her glass, then took a
deep drink.

She shook out the skirt again, noticing the wide ruffle at
the hem. There was a similar ruffle on the bottom of the slip. She rolled
across the bed and rooted through the sewing basket until she found the small
pair of scissors. Carefully she used the tip to snip a thread on the petticoat,
then slowly and carefully worked to detach the ruffle. This time she didn’t
turn her back, but dropped the skirt and slip quickly before donning the clean
petticoat. Standing up, she lifted a foot for his inspection.

Jackson nodded. “Perfect.”

She finished the petticoat, and then repeated the procedure
on the checked skirt. When she slipped it over her head, she turned neatly so
he could fasten the back buttons. He did slipping, an arm around and turning
her to face him.

“I’m sorry for frightening you.”

“It was the look in your eye, and the voices of the men in
the other room.”

He tugged her onto his knee, the smile back. “I’ll try not
to leer again.”

She smiled, leaned closer to kiss his cheek, and then
stood.  “Do you think it’s too baggy?”

He rose from the chair, putting the empty dish down inside
hers. He tugged at the band of the skirt, pulling away more than six inches of
excess fabric. The blouse was equally loose and baggy.

“Maybe I can figure out how to take them up too.”

“I’ll get Donna’s book. She learned all of it from the book,
since Irene Dawson never did her own needlework.”

She stared at the pretty blouse and skirt noticing the
cross-stitch pattern on the skirt pockets for the first time. Jackson pointed
at the top and Hattie turned to see the yoke.

When he returned, he had the book and the baby. He handed
her the baby first, took the dishes, gave her a wistful look and a soft kiss on
the top of her head and left.

Hattie tended to J.D. first. When he was asleep for his nap,
she settled down with the book, carefully reading directions on how to hem.
Leaving the door to the bedroom cracked a little to draw a breeze from the open
windows, she settled down beside the sleeping boy and slowly and frustratingly
hemmed the skirt. She put the skirt on, then removed and hemmed the petticoat,
working faster now that she had the hang of it and knew the stitches would not
be seen.

<><><> 

Hattie carried the last basket of clothes to the house,
happy that James and the dog Sam were both on duty while J.D. played on his
blanket outside. The clothes that didn’t need ironing she had carefully folded
as she took them off the line and they were already put away. Unfortunately,
that left both clothes baskets full of ones that would need to be starched and
ironed. Although, Rubye or Irene Dawson would probably not approve, she had
carefully folded sheets and both her and Jackson’s underwear instead of putting
them in the stack to be starched and ironed. She had no intention of ever
starching or ironing either of them again.

She managed the hemming, baked a cake, and put the roast in
the oven before the baby woke from his nap. James peeled potatoes and turnips,
though he disagreed with cooking them together the way she planned. There was
still a pot of soup beans left. Over James protest, she added three ripe
tomatoes, a large dried onion chopped fine, and a generous dollop of molasses
to his beans before sticking them in the oven with the roast to bubble and
bake. Sighing, she looked around the room. She was tired, but she needed to
boil starch, dip and roll the clothes, ice the cake, and cook the potatoes and
turnips. She would wait until tonight when the dishes were done to start the
ironing.

<><><> 

Before it was time for the men to arrive, Hattie was
exhausted. She still needed to make starch and roll the clothes. J.D. had to be
teething again, since he wanted to bite and slobber on everything. At least
this time, he hadn’t needed her to sit under him all the time, just most of it.
She had held him on her hip while she made caramel icing, then added cream and
cracked pepper to the potato/turnip dish. She had left James to set the table
and get the finished food dished up while she tried to get Jackie to nurse and
stop fussing.

When Jackson rode in, she and the baby were lying on the
bed, fast asleep. Carefully, he lifted the bottom of her skirt, noting the
precise little stitches in the hem as he removed her shoes. Gently, he eased
both over, then hung his gun belt on the headboard and removed his boots before
lying down next to them. Slowly, easing into it, he rubbed the narrow shoulders
and slim back, picturing it as she had looked earlier, standing bare before
him, and trying on Donna’s blouse. She had a beautiful back, all lean muscle,
smooth, silky white, and perfectly arched.

Despite the awareness of all the people in the next room, he
realized he was growing restlessly stirred by her. Even more dangerous, he
realized two pair of blue eyes were staring at him. They were now both awake.
He sat still, waiting to see the fear flood her face as it had earlier. Instead
she surprised him by leaning in, and kissing him warmly until J.D. protested
and they broke apart.

“Do you want me to bring supper in here, or do you want to
join me and the men to eat?”

“Join everyone. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep;
it’s just been such a long day.” She continued to talk, giving him a detailed
account, as she rose and pinned her braids to circle her head like a little
crown. She stared at the shoes, looking puzzled, but made no move to put them
back on. When she realized that he was just smiling, not saying anything, Hattie
stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rattle on.”

He laughed. “Why? I like hearing about your day.” Both in
their stocking feet, he opened the door, held J.D. and kept his arm around her
back.

The men who were gathering all rose until she was seated
beside him at the end of the table. When several complimented her, Jackson took
the time to stare at her, all pink from her nap. The color in her cheeks
emphasized the angles of her face and the blue of her eyes, the braided hair
seemed perfect for the lovely gingham dress. She hadn’t taken it in, but he
noticed that she had found a belt to take up some of the fullness of both
blouse and skirt. If he could keep the terrified girl hidden, Hattie was really
a pretty woman.

He listened to his tough hands complement her, even James
bragged about the baked beans. His favorite had been the creamed potatoes and
turnips. Hattie smiled shyly, apologizing ahead of time that the cake might not
match the quality of Rubye’s. Jackson smiled as each of the men had to reassure
her it was as good or better than the best cake baker’s in the county as they
said good-night.

While James cleared the table and washed up, Jackson held
and played with the baby. They both watched Hattie go through the rag bag James
had brought from the bunk house until she settled on a leg panel from some old
Levis and the dark blue sleeve of a shirt that was printed with white stars. He
could remember Cliff wearing it when he was Tony’s age as his go-to-town shirt.
She used a worn yellow bandana to cut out a miniature one for the doll. In
minutes she laid the doll down on top and cut the denim, then repeated the
process to cut the shirt.

James brought them both another cup of coffee, and settled
down beside them, setting the coffee pot and the last quarter of the cake in
the middle of the table. Hattie smiled at him in gratitude and leaned back.
“Maybe I should just cut a denim barn coat for him, forget about the leather
vest.”

“Naw,” he rose and brought a small handful of leather and
laid it on the table. “This should work well for boots, vest, and maybe even a
hat.”

There was a howdy from the door and Hank stepped back in.
“Saw the lamp was still lit. Oh, so that’s what happens to leftover cake.” He
pointed to the cake plate and the waiting saucers.

“Join us,” Jackson said and J.D. waved his arms and Hank
took him as he sat down.

He laughed when the baby shook the naked doll at him. “I
see. Your pretty momma is going to make your naked Jasper some clothes. He
nodded at the scraps on the table. Good choice, maybe we ought to call him
Cliff, Jr.”

James shook his head, divided the cake into four pieces and
gave them each a fork.

Hattie positioned the doll’s feet on the leather, but rose
to get a pencil to trace with before cutting the soft kid skin. She made a wave
along the top of the boot leg, and carefully cut out four pieces. She traded
J.D. a small blob of icing for the doll and traced a pattern for the vest. She
looked across at James. He nodded and she put down the scissors and handed the
doll back to the boy. “Okay, but I don’t think I can figure out the hat.”

Hank nodded at James. “Boyd can make it, can’t you James,
maybe even a gun belt.”

James made a face at him as he finished his small slice of
cake.

“Yeah, you can do it, carve him a couple of little tiny pistols,
too.”

They all laughed. James stood to carry the empty cake plate
and fork into the kitchen. “Hank, anything else you want to volunteer me for
before you leave, you dang cake thief?”

Hank grinned. “I didn’t come back for cake and I’d watch who
you go calling a cake thief. Seems you already had plans for it when I came
in.”

J.D. turned to Hattie and she quickly stacked the cut out
pieces and returned the other scraps to the rag bag before standing to take the
baby and blow out the lamp.

Jackson rose as well, gathering the coffee cups and pot to
carry out to the kitchen. Hank rose, bowing as she passed. “Boss, the reason I
came back was I forgot to tell you about the roan mare. Noticed she was getting
ready to foal and wondered if you wanted me to bring her in tomorrow.”

“Probably best. Goodnight men.” He followed Hattie and
didn’t wait to see if they left or stayed.

<><><> 

The next morning, Hattie was ironing clothes when the men
rode in with the mare on a lead, a tiny strawberry foal behind her. She
returned the iron to the hot stove, wiped the sweat from her face and picked up
Jackie to follow them over to the main corral. The breeze cooled her and J.D. baby
talked all the way over, holding his pony and alternately shaking it and biting
on its nose or hooves. Jackson led the mare inside and tied her to the corner
of the corral, running a hand down her neck and talking soothingly to her.

Hattie whispered, “J.D., see the baby horse, the pretty
little red pony.”

He shook his toy and grinned and she pointed to the mare and
foal. Jackson walked widely around the mare keeping well out of range of her
heels in case the motion spooked her. He smiled as her baby instinctively moved
around and leaned against the mare’s far side so she was out of sight.

He climbed up and over the corral, talking to his son as
well. “It’s a filly, Jackie, you see the pretty baby.” He took his son and walked
down along the rail, stooping so the baby in his arms could peek through the
rails. The mare whinnied in fright and the little horse kicked up her heels in
a kind of jump. J.D. squealed in delight and Hattie smiled, running a hand
along the rail and stopping to take the boy from Jackson. Jackie leaned around
her, seeing the little filly, and again squealed in delight.

She and Jackson hugged and together held him up, laughing.
“She’s so perfect,” Hattie whispered, “a perfect little strawberry.”

He smiled at the joy on both their faces, and hugged her
again. “Almost as pretty as my little strawberry,” he gave her a quick hard
kiss, and Hattie leaned back in surprise.

Flustered, she forced herself to relax. She was probably as
red as the gingham dress she wore. “I was ironing.”

He sighed, disappointed again at the quick tension in her
body at the sudden kiss. When was he going to remember in time to avoid
spooking her? His head knew that with Hattie it would always need to be slow
and gentle, but his body hadn’t learned yet.

“Glad you stopped to bring the boy out to see them. Here, I
can take him if you need to go back to your work.”

Hattie wanted to protest, to hold on to the baby and the
shared joy from minutes ago, but she couldn’t. Once again she had pushed him
away. Smiling bravely, she surrendered the baby and turned to walk back to the
house.

<><><> 

That night they lay together, her head cradled on his
shoulder. Once again he had listened as she talked about the day, then he had
surprised her by talking about the mare and filly. He had spent an hour in the
morning and another in the evening with the pair, just stroking and talking to
both. He wanted the little filly to be gentle enough for J.D. to pet and ride
around the corral by next year, his first real horse. As she listened, he told
her of his plans to raise blood horses as well as cattle. With the natural
spring on their land, he could invest in some brood stock without having to
worry about losing it during droughts.

“How was the house when you went there the other day?”

“I wondered when you would ask.” It’s all right, but it
would be better if someone lived there. Now you won’t be going back, maybe
you’ll want to sell it or rent the place out.”

“I won’t be going home?” she asked, sitting up. “Why not?”

“Because we’re married and this is your home now. J.D. and I
are your family.”