Chapter 15

The next morning, I was first up again. I was in the kitchen, brewing coffee when Suzy joined me. “I’ll bet you’ll want me to handle to morning barn chores today?” She asked.

“Your choice, honey. What do you want, bacon or ham? Pancakes or johnnycakes?”

“Pancakes please, over hard on the eggs. We should have some wild honey out. If not, there’s a new jar in the cellar.”

“You got it, sweetie. I’ll hold the best for you, as usual.”

Suzy started to get the boys organized. They were only partly aware of the required tasks. And might have resented having to do those tasks before breakfast. That is until Suzy informed them that the eggs they were gathering and the milk they were getting from the goats were going to be on the menu. It was with a renewed sense of urgency that the required tasks were completed.

Meanwhile, I was organizing for breakfast, starting with a pep talk. “Young ladies, yesterday you got the chance to help with the critters. And you did an excellent job of it. Today, you get to help out on the job the boys had yesterday. Today, you help me with breakfast.”

I started introducing them to the tasks involved in not only preparing a meal but the planning and organization of running a kitchen. Frying eggs and bacon, whisking pancake batter is one thing. Add into the mix, using a wood-burning stove. Something that is an art form in itself. The dirty little secret I sprung on those young ladies was that they were my scullery maids for the day. I spent the entire day going from one task to the next. Breakfast, followed by cleaning up and tending the fires, getting fresh water, picking the fixings for the noon soup. Chopping, slicing. Sweating, sautéing, simmering. Then the roasts for dinner, how many, are they lean, fat, in between. Is the oven too hot, too cold? Do we need wood, of course, we do. We always need firewood. Who’s getting fresh water, yadda, yadda, yadda. By the time dinner was served, these ladies knew they had done an excellent job. And I made sure they knew it.

And I knew that Suzy had the boys equally busy. Mucking out stalls, putting down fresh straw, filling feed racks. Picking eggs, feeding the chickens. “quick, run see if Matt plans on chicken for dinner. No? Well, we’re a little short on fowl in the cold storage anyway. Pay attention boys. This is how you butcher chickens. Then, of course, they need to be plucked. And other, equally disgusting tasks.” then there are the repeated requests for freshwater and firewood. Then there was digging pathways in the snow, to the barn, the outhouse, down to the creek.

Through all of this, Nigel sat in my chair. Staring at the fire or glaring at anyone who asked him a question. He was served the same food the rest of us ate. But nothing was required of him, that having been said, I kept my eye on him, the best I could.

That evening, after dinner and the evening chores were finished, I reminded everybody that, if everything went according to plan, the snow sleds would be up in the early afternoon, and they would be with their families and loved ones soon after. The mood was bright and enthusiastic. While everybody was going over their packs and making sure everything was in order, I decided to step outside for a break.

With all this youthful enthusiasm, his highness Nigel sulking in my chair. Suzy was having a grand old time playing den mother, and I needed some solitude.

Winter in the high country is the easiest place in the world for solitude. Everything has a soft, sound-absorbing cushion of snow. And when the snow is falling as it had been, it’s easy to sit back and lose yourself, which is precisely what I did. Getting dressed in my outdoor gear, Shadow and I went outside. While he ran around investigating smells and making some of his own, I sat down on the glider chair on the front porch.

I had been sitting there, enjoying the quiet, for about 20 minutes when I was joined by one of the girls, Susan, I believe, was her name.

“Mr. Reynolds, can I sit with you?”

“Are you sure? According to Mr. St. Gaudens, I can’t be trusted. I’m dangerous.”

As she sat down, she said, “Well, that’s part of what I wanted to talk about. I, the other girls and I, well, you scared us to death. You were this bigger than life figure. We were half afraid you would hurt us or kill us.”

“Then, on the trip here. We were cold and hungry and wet. We were certain that we wouldn’t ever see our families again. But then you got us here, safe and sound. And Ms. Williams took us in and checked us over, fed, and clothed us. That night I felt the safest I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Well, Ms. Susan, I’m glad that you feel that way.”