Chapter 8

"Well, this is it," Jessi Elmhurst grinned nervously as she swept her hand around to indicate the small mansion, the huge red barn, two corrals and a long wire fence that began behind the barn and disappeared in a relatively straight line of round, wooden posts up into the distance, paralleling the road where the cab – a laughably ancient horse and buggy – retreated back to town after depositing the girls at the front gate a few moments earlier. Several brown cows were munching on the tall grass beyond the fence. "My little ranch. I can't believe I've never brought you here before."

"Wow. How big is it?" Vannessa asked, her wide eyes trying to take in everything!

Jessi pointed up toward the 'horizon' to a definite change in terrain – from tall, wavy grasses where two dozen cows grazed, to wild brush and trees – and told her, "This is the land I was allocated after the 'Great Migration'. That's maybe a couple miles up, then a couple miles down that way. Beyond that is the Mayfield place. You can just about see the house – if you squint. Ol' Harv's been after my place for a couple years, now; wants to expand and take over the venison market. Up north of the fence line I have a herd of deer, and he sometimes poaches them."

"And the rest is forest?" Vanessa asked, squinting against the brightness of Northern Crystal as she took in the trees vanishing up into the distance.

"Uh, yeah," Jessika replied. "And the Phoenix Preserve is up there, North of those trees. You'll be going up there soon, I imagine – to continue your training?"

"Yeah, I guess. At least, I won't be too far away," Vanessa replied, smiling nervously. "I'm supposed to become a full-fledged Phoenix, whatever that might entail, and I imagine that's where it'll all happen..."

The pair walked silently toward the front entrance of Jessie's imposing front porch, Vanessa's eyes flicking around as she tried to take in her new surroundings. After all, this was where she was going to live, along with her new master, Jessi, and...

"Emma." Vanessa said, out loud. "Is she here? No one came out when we arrived. You have hired hands to help out, don't you? Why don't we see anyone?"

"Mayfield's chased 'em off – or bought 'em off – or hired them away from me," Jessika admitted, a frown darkening her face. "He don't 'cotton' to 'fee-mails runnin' a farm'. Thinks we ought'a stay 'barefoot and pregnant' and let the men run things. And he's got several of the ranchers around here thinkin' the same way."

"So," Vanessa began, "why don't you go to the local temple and get some help?"

"You know Greenville doesn't have a temple goddess," Jessika explained. "And the only other town close by is Utopia. The locals around there aren't real 'girl friendly', if you get my drift ... And there's no goddess there, either."

"I suppose that might be a problem," Vanessa murmured, confused that Mighty Jessika might actually have trouble dealing with a man. Maybe she didn't know Jessika as well as she thought. Before today, this little ranch had only been the mysterious place where Jessi went when she had to work. She hadn't really paid much attention to what Jessi did for a living, more concerned about keeping her lover happy and content so she wouldn't flee in terror like so many others had.

"Okay, that explains the lack of help," Vanessa realized, "but what about Emma? Isn't she supposed to be here, waiting for you ... I mean, waiting to meet me?"

"Well, she should be," Jessi admitted as their travel boots clomped across the aged wooden floor of the porch. "Hey, Emma?" she called out as they opened the front door. "You here?"

There was no answer. Vanessa could see an open entrance to what looked like a kitchen so she went that way. Jessi went down the hallway toward the back of the house, no longer calling out for anyone, the pleasant silence of the house settling around Vanessa's shoulders like a warm cloak that told her she was home.

'This will be my kitchen, ' Vanessa thought as she explored the cabinets, finding little bags of grain, a jar of honey, a bin full of potatoes and colorful (hopefully edible) roots and, finally, some plates and cups. Taking down a couple of cups, she went over to the sink, surprised to find an actual, functioning faucet jutted out of the wall over the basin. Turning the handle on the faucet, she jumped back, laughing in surprise at the spray of air and water that spattered down into the sink. After a few seconds, the water was running smoothly and, she noticed happily, clear. 'Running water! Wow! More modern than the townhouse!'

Checking out the tin bins on a shelf next to the sink, she found ground up soap, fresh coffee and some sliced or pulverized grain – maybe barley or oat, she wasn't sure – probably intended to boil in water or maybe for making pan bread. The next container was half full of a whitish grease or lard, possibly even fresh butter – after all, Jessie had cows here. To prove that, there were two large metal containers, both full of a bluish-white liquid on the floor by the door.

"Hm! Fresh milk!" Vanessa grinned. All she needed now was some flour, sugar and I heard chickens, too! eggs ... and she could bake a cake! She grinned as she remembered her grandmother telling a pair of visitors (cousins she hadn't been particularly happy to see) on her doorstep, 'You should'a called! If'n I'da knowed you was comin' I'da baked you a cake!' meaning, of course, if she'd known those two were going to suddenly show up on her doorstep, she'd have made sure she was in the next county when they arrived. She smiled, a bit sad as she remembered her Dad's parents.

Remembering one set of grandparents reminded her of the other set. Her maternal grandparents had been Hopi and her true grandmother – her mother's mother – had taught her many things about the spiritual parts of life.

But – neither set of her grandparents (or her parents either) had taught her how to cook. In the years spent on her own, however, she'd managed to figure out simple stuff, the most adventurous being pan bread – a lump of lard (melt it before mixing it with the flour), some milk to smooth it out and a dash of salt. (If she didn't mix the lard in with the flour first, it would stick to the pan, you see.) Cook 'til the bottom scorches (the only way to make sure it was done in the middle), transfer from skillet to plate, sprinkle with nuts and cover with honey. Oh, and don't forget eggs – one for each cup of flour, somebody once told her. 'Oat bricks!' one boyfriend used to call them. But he did eat them, and that's what mattered.

'I hope Jessi likes it... ' she thought as she eagerly set to work.

Emma was pleased with the two men she'd just hired. She found it was necessary to travel farther and farther from Greenville to find men who might be willing to work for a woman. These two were brothers who lived on a farm with their parents, three sisters and two more brothers just beyond town – large families being the norm in an agricultural society where manual labor was required to get anything done. The exchange for their work would be a portion of the meat produced at Elmhurst.

It was time to get home, now. Jessi would be arriving with her new 'houseguest' and would expect her to be there. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the image of Jessi's mansion, then she was there, standing in the dusty road just beyond the front porch.

The three bags at the gate indicated that Jessi and company had already arrived, but 'Crud. Couldn't they have at least taken their bags inside?' She bent down, grabbed everything and concentrated on the living room. Closing her eyes, she teleported, then looked down to make sure everything had arrived with her. With a sigh of relief at her successful teleport, she picked out the bag she recognized as Jessi's and headed back toward her host's bedroom.

As she passed the kitchen, she paused at the eye-watering stench of something burning and was undecided for an instant on which way to go – continue on toward the shower she could hear running, or find out who was burning down their kitchen. She chose the kitchen.

"Hey!" Emma grinned as she stuck her head through the doorway into the smoky room. "What'cha cookin'?"

Vanessa jumped, then spun around to see who was talking to her. "Oh, hi! You Emma? I'm Vanessa! Glad to meet you!" she yelped as she tried to contain her nervousness. She took the two steps needed to get to the door and stuck out her hand. "Would'ja like a piece of fresh-fried bread?"

"A 'piece'?" Emma asked, sounding dubious about the idea that whatever had caused this smoky stench was called 'bread'. But, she was hungry – teleportation did that to nearly everyone. "Uh ... sure?"