Ellen pulled on her black
stockings and secured them around her knees.
Then considering the patter of rain she heard above her head, she added
a pair of Madeline’s knitted wool stockings.
The wagon was open, not a covered coach or buggy. The wind would blow
around her feet and down her neck.
As a final step before she went
down her ladder she combed her wild hair.
Somehow she had never gotten it thoroughly restrained yesterday. When she had gone out on the porch to move
the big kettle she had only had it twisted into a coil over one shoulder. Moving the kettle had loosened it.
When she saw Slade and Joseph
coming down the slope she had stepped to the edge of the porch and the wind had
whipped it wildly around her head. From
there on her hair had been the last thing on her mind. She smiled. Slade hadn’t seemed to mind.
Ellen twisted her hair into a
long coil and wound it into a figure eight on the back of her head. The long smooth stick with its cluster of
vines and flowers that Slade had carved for her weeks before went through the
coil and held it to her head. The short
wisps still came loose and frizzed out, but she had no pins to hold them down
so she had stopped worrying about them.
She added her comb to the top of
the stack and carried the whole thing to the top of the ladder. In a moment of
common sense she ran back to the bedside and pulled the other of her old skirts
from the stack there. She put it on over
the green dress to protect it around the house and on the road. Traveling generated splashes of mud and
sometimes greasy spots or other things to mar a light colored dress. She went
back to climb down the ladder, leaving her things for the journey there beside
it. There was a pot of coffee steaming
gently on the stove. She heard the
horses stomping out in front and the jingle of the harness as Slade hooked them
up.
Ellen hurried to the pantry. She had been trying to keep the leftovers to
a minimum. During the course of a week
she always planned on using a leftover the second day out to provide a little
more variety without so much time spent in preparation, but if they were going
to be gone for two or three days no one would use up the left over beans or
meat.
Two weeks before they had let
poor Sarah go dry and all of their milk supply was gone. She had made the last of the cream into
butter. There was a good sized roll of
it left. Ellen smiled to herself. Butter was one of One Who Laughs’ favorite
foods. She had learned how to make the
sourdough bread that Ellen had babied along from the surprise find in
Madeline’s box. The yeast sealed in the
jar had lost much of its potency, but a few spores had remained, enough to
start a batch of sourdough that she had fed and babied and guarded with her
life to keep it growing. Now she had a
good supply and with Joseph’s help, she had taught One Who Laughs how to care
for it as well as make bread.
At any rate, she glanced around
the pantry. The shelves were still well
stocked with things that would either keep easily or were not perishable. She took the plate with last night’s roast on
it and the butter into the kitchen. She
had a wrapped round of cornbread that she had made for their trip. There was also a pitcher of canned milk to
which she had added enough water that it was equal to regular milk. She wrinkled her nose. It was all right, but she still liked ‘real’
milk better.
She set everything on the table
in the kitchen and started her water for breakfast mush. While that was coming to a boil she sliced
the roast and wrapped several pieces in each tortilla for lunch. She folded all of the tortillas into a flour
sack and set it aside. From the shelf
above the cupboard she took down several biscuits that she had made a couple
days before. She split each one and put
a pat of butter inside. Then she stacked
all of them in the baking pan. She
covered them with a damp clothe and set them in the dying coals at the side of
the fire. By the time breakfast was they
would be warm and the butter melted.
Ellen opened the peaches and set
them on the hot stove to begin boiling.
As soon as they came to a boil she thickened the juice with flour and
turned them into heavy syrup with extra sugar.
They could have some on their biscuits for breakfast and take what was
left along for something sweet at lunch. The heavy syrup would soon be
congealed into a jam like consistency.
By the time Ellen had stirred the
cornmeal into the boiling water she heard Slade’s boots on the porch. He came in with a big grin on his face.
“Good morning, Future Mrs.
Slade!” he greeted. “Are you ready to
go? What’re we eating this morning?” Then he came across the room with open arms.
Ellen turned to meet them as naturally as if she had been doing it for years.
He held her close.
“Did you sleep good?” He wanted to know. “I was so exhausted I was asleep before my
head hit the pillow. But I did think of
you as soon as I woke up this morning!”
Ellen’s voice caught in her
throat. She was delighted that he would
walk in the door, hold his arms out to her and she could simply walk into them
to be held close to his heart. It left
her speechless. She couldn’t answer but
buried her face in his chest. Slade
leaned back and raised her face with his hand.
“Don’t cry now.” He told
her. “Things are good, there’s no need
for tears.” He wiped her face with his
hands and kissed her tears away. “Come
along now and let’s eat. We’ve got a
ways to go today.” He kissed each
eyelid and wiped her face again.
“I have mush ready and hot
biscuits! Oh my!” She deserted his arms and ran for the
fireplace. Using her skirt tail she
grabbed the biscuit tin from the coals and turned it upside down on the
table. When she picked it up the
biscuits steamed fragrantly on the cloth.
“Breakfast is ready! And I didn’t burn part of it.” She turned to the stove and stirred the mush
there. “Yes! It’s ready. Wash up and sit down.”
Slade loved it when she rushed
around to get things together for his meals.
He hurried to wash his hands.
The mush was seasoned with sugar
and generous pats of butter. Ellen had
added additional canned milk to the pitcher to make it richer. Any that was left could be used in their
coffee canteens. So the mush was good,
but the buttered biscuits and peach sauce were a greater success.
As they chatted over breakfast
Ellen asked for something to pack her things in and Slade’s suggestions for
transporting the meat filled tortillas and the cornbread. She put the remaining peach sauce in a small
jar with a glass lid sealed in place with a rubber circle and a wire bail.
“I want to take the Dutch oven
with us in case we are caught over night and have to cook,” he told her. “You can store the tortillas and cornbread in
there. I have a box already on the wagon for the remains of the beef. I have a bag of flour with a can of baking
powder and a bag of coffee. That should
get us through an over night camp if necessary.
You can put the peaches in there.”
He stopped to grin and wink at her.
“The coffee canteens can be filled with sweet coffee and then the pot
added to the box. I’ll take those things out as soon as I’ve got you a chest
for your clothes.” He climbed to the
loft and she could hear him thumping around while she put the things in the Dutch
oven.
He came down with a little trunk
over his shoulder. “I put those things
at the top of the ladder in here, but there is still extra room. Maybe fold this little quilt and put it in on
top. Extra warmth is always good to take
along.” He set the trunk on the seat of
the chair and added the quilt.
The Dutch oven was ready and the
jar of peaches sat beside it with the coffee pot. She had the canteens filled and the milk jug
emptied. There was little left to do.
Ellen picked up her shoes from their place by the fireplace and squeezed
her feet with two pairs of stockings into them.
The green shawl looked very nice with the pale dress; she wrapped it
around herself and tied it in the back as she had worn it so often. She could wish for a more appropriate coat than
the big old stained and decrepit leather one she had taken from Viejo, but
there was nothing better so she put it on. At least it was warm. She still had the
long scarf she had worn so many months before.
It too, was tattered, but she wrapped it around her neck and head
anyway. She would need its warmth on the wagon trip.
As she walked out the door she
stopped and went back for Madeline’s heavy boots. She couldn’t conceive of why she might need
them but it would be better to have them if she needed them. She slid her feet in them and put her
slippers in the top of the trunk.
Slade turned around as she came
out the door. He was still in a daze
that she had actually agreed to marry him.
The trip to Santa Fe
“Don’t step off the porch, just
stretch right across to the wagon.” Instead
of letting her step to the wagon, he took her around the waist and swung her
from the porch to the seat. Ellen squealed
in surprise. “Stay there. I’ll take care of everything else.” He left her sitting on the blanket covered
seat and carried her trunk and the last things to the wagon.
Slade re-tied the tarp over the
wagon bed then turned and went back inside.
When he came back he had the heavy quilt from the foot of his bed. He took one long step across the empty space
between the porch and the wagon and sat down beside her. Very carefully he wrapped the quilt around
her legs tucking it in snuggly between her hips and the seat back.
Slade released the brake on the
wagon and flipped the reins over the horses’ backs. As the drove past the corner of the house
Ellen saw Joseph and his family gathering at their door. Slade pulled the wagon up beside them.
“We are leaving you in charge,
Joseph. Here is a letter to show anyone
who may come by and challenge your right to be here.” He handed Joseph two triple folded sheets,
the inner one was the letter, the outer for protecting it. “Put them away in a safe place. They tell the reader what your name is and
that I have left you in charge during my absence. I say it’s been necessary for me to go to Santa Fe
“One Who Laughs,” Slade turned
toward her, “there is food in the pantry you can get whatever you want from
there. Ellie has left a big piece of
butter there. You don’t have to share it
with your menfolks if you don’t want to.”
The old lady laughed loudly when her grandson translated for her.
“Be careful all of you. Joseph, you know what has to be done while
I’m gone.”
“Adios!” He clicked to the horses again and swung them
into the two-track road leading away from the house and eventually off to the
east where they would meet road to Santa
Fe
Ellen turned and looked over her
shoulder to wave one last time as the buildings got smaller in the morning
light.
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