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"Have you considered the possibility of your real bride not wanting a cook? I mean, what if she wants to do things herself?" She asked.
He turned around to give her his full attention. Coming closer, he shook his head. "That wouldn't be the case. Priscilla has maids of her own, she isn't used to putting her delicate hands in dishwater. So, I'd say no matter what happens, your job is secure. She's from Boston, an old aristocratic family." He reached to dot her nose with his finger. "But through all this there is one thing I don’t want you to forget."
"Oh, what's that?"
"It's you I'm married to!"
"But it was a mistake!" she barely managed those words the way he was staring at her.
His smile widened, "Was it?"
Then he walked off leaving her to ponder that.
When he left, she went to the back-kitchen door, and watched him ride off. He was a man in his element. The way he rode a horse was like he'd been born on one. Third generation, he'd told her. And all cowboy!
Chico walked by and saw her staring after him. "The boss, he's a good man, no?"
"Yes, I think you are right, Chico, he's a good man. Oh, later I'm going to run some food out to the men, would you pick out a horse for me?"
"I'll be glad to Señora, the men they will be very happy."
"Thanks so much." She told him. "I've got work to do, see you in a bit."
"Yes, Señora in a bit. Oh," Chico paused to tell her, "the boss wanted me to tell you if you need anything, let me know. I will see to it, or if you need me, I'm usually close by. I see after the ranch when he goes to the pastures. I see after the ranch all the time."
"That's good to know, thanks Chico." She smiled, "I'll have you some more biscuits and bacon in a while."
"Thank you Señora. Rogers."
She turned and shot him a smile, "Call me Trudy."
She went to work, grabbing the last bite of egg and a biscuit, and then she finished up in the kitchen.
She'd never had the pleasure of working for so many thankful men before.
She wouldn't be telling her husband that back home in St. Louis, most of the men she worked around were not very nice, and they thought of her as a lowly employee, who deserved neither respect nor thought.
They'd laugh at her, taunt her and make fun of her dress she wore nearly every day. Why did men have to notice things like that. Before long, these men would too, and she wished she had a suitcase full of clothes.
It was refreshing to meet nice men, though.
Her father had been a good man. He drank, but it was just about his only vice. She cooked, cleaned and helped him when he came home drunk, and she considered it a pleasure as she loved him so. He was a man who spoke Irish poetry, who played games with her when she missed her Ma, who told stories that sent her to sleep. She had loved him so much. When she was down, he would dance an Irish jig with her. He'd tell her tales of the sea. He told her that happiness was the most important thing in the world.
She sighed happily. She walked out to the garden and looked to see what was planted, there was tomatoes, green onions, okra, peas, and beans, some squash and in the back, she found some mush-melons and watermelon. She even found some Irish potatoes. She watered the plants, and that took a while since it was a big garden. She went to collect the rest of the eggs from the hen house and came back, picked some tomatoes that were ripe, and a good size bowl of peas. She'd shell them and put them on the stove to cook.
She liked it here. This kitchen was the biggest she'd ever cooked in. She could be happy working here, except she was married to the boss and that would take some getting used to. Perhaps she shouldn't think too permanently on it, but it was a fact for now, and he wasn't letting her forget it either. It wasn't so much as getting used to it but keeping her heart safe from a man like Lance. Surely Priscilla would show up soon and he could get this taken care of.
But deep down, in some odd corner of her heart, she knew that the day Priscilla showed up, her heart might actually break. For a man that could sweep her off her feet with his kisses would be hard to forget. And how could she remain here after they married, and watch his new wife kiss him. No, she'd have to leave.
She knew she couldn't keep working here after Priscilla showed up. She only hoped she'd come in the next few days.
She certainly didn't feel married, but she did feel an attraction for her husband. He always surprised her with a kiss, and she enjoyed every one of them.
She enjoyed his kiss this morning, and it did make for a happier day, but she knew she couldn't get to liking him too much. She told herself this over and over. She was waiting for it to sink in.
She wondered what Priscilla might be like. And what still floored her was that he thought she was Priscilla at the train. Did they look that much alike? Or had it simply been like he said, a bad picture, and her being there on the train that day in that dress!
The one thing that didn't fit in her mind was why he hadn't married already, someone he knew. He was handsome, well to do and plenty smart. He didn't seem to fit the men she knew that would send for a mail order bride. Of course, he did say he worked all the time. She knew how that was, too. Scrubbing floor until late in the evening then going home to cook supper for her father or gather him from the saloon and take him home. There wasn't time to shop for a husband, she'd had offers, but none she took seriously. The one thing she wanted in a marriage was a good sense of humor. And love, lots of love, like her parents had. Money wasn't important, she'd work hard if she had the right man.
