In the Kitchen
After unpacking, Maria tried to lie down for a ten-minute nap, but it was useless.
She was too excited to fall asleep. Instead she found the bathroom down the hall, splashed cold water on her face, and re-did her hair.
It had been straggling out of her ponytail and falling in her face, and she twisted it into a French braid.
If she was going to meet her new supervisor and her good-looking, popular cousins, she’d better look tidy.
She went to find Uncle Russell. He was in the living room, using a laptop.
“How’s it going?” he asked. “Settling in okay?”
“Yes, thanks,” Maria said. “Sorry to bother you—you’re probably working—but I thought I could go meet my supervisor. Do you guys usually walk down to the other buildings? Or—”
Uncle Russell laughed. “Hardly,” he said. “We’ve got ATVs in the barn. These days, a lot of ranchers are using ATVs instead of horses. Easier on the back! Just write your name on the pad on the wall so people remember which one you’ve taken.”
“Oh, okay,” Maria said. “Thanks, Uncle Russell.”
He didn’t offer to show her around. Maybe his kids were really independent. Well, Maria could be independent. She went out toward the barn.
A small side door was unlocked. Maria went in, expecting horses or other animals.
But there was no sign of animal life, although three stalls showed that horses could be stabled there.
Instead, most of the main floor of the barn was parking for ATVs, low vehicles with fat wheels and no top.
Maria picked one and wrote her name on the whiteboard above the place where she got it.
She’d never ridden an ATV before, but how hard could it be?
She wrestled the big barn door open, cautiously took her new ride out the door, and stopped to shut the door again.
It made sense for the family to keep their ATVs in there, but it certainly took a number of steps to take them out.
Probably quicker than saddling a horse, though.
Slowly, she went down the winding path toward the other buildings. The gravel path was bumpy, and the shaking of the ATV made her teeth feel funny. Someone was riding a horse on a faraway meadow. She still hadn’t seen any cattle.
She arrived at the lower buildings, suddenly overwhelmed by their size. A couple were obviously barns. A long, low building with a lot of trucks parked in front of it was probably the ranch hands’ bunkhouse. Maybe that big square building was the kitchen and eating area.
She’d guessed right. She pushed open a screen door and ended up in a long room with tables and chairs.
On the other side of the room, a door led into what looked like a kitchen.
Someone was playing country music. Maria headed toward the music, and as she neared, the warm, savory scent of meat and spices wafted through the air.
Maria peeked into the doorway. It was a medium-sized industrial kitchen, not as big as the Virginian, with a large range, a big work island, and pots, pans, and ladles hanging above the island.
Cupboards and counters lined the walls, along with sinks and a dish machine.
All the surfaces shone—a far cry from that awful pizza place!
A middle-aged woman was bent over, checking something in the oven. Maria didn’t want to scare her. She waited for the woman to straighten up. Then she tapped on the open door, clearing her throat.
“Oh!” The woman looked up, startled.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Maria said. “Sorry. I’m Maria, the new cook.”
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” The woman hurried over, extending a hand.
She was about Maria’s height, sturdily built, with no-nonsense blue eyes and a firm handgrip.
“I’m Jessie. I could sure use some help around here, especially with the bunch of guests we’ve got on the ranch right now.
These people expect 5-star restaurant service in the middle of nowhere.
They don’t want chili and stew and hash all the time. ”
“Chili and stew and hash sound pretty good to me too,” Maria said. “What’s that on the stove? It smells amazing.”
“White chicken chili,” Jessie said. “I just got my cornbread in the oven.”
“What can I do to help?” Maria asked.
“Well, I’ve just about got everything for this meal sorted,” Jessie said, “but would you go in the walk-in and get some things for me? Sour cream, green onions—actually, if you’d cut those up, it would be a big help. Shredded cheese.”
“No problem,” Maria said.
The walk-in refrigerator was tidy, with containers neatly labeled. Dad had been right, this kitchen was well-run.
Maria gathered the chili toppings and set to work cutting green onions.
“I heard you’re Pat’s granddaughter,” Jessie said. “How come you haven’t been out here before? I’ve been here ten years, and I never even heard of you!”
Maria would have figured her name would have come up sometime. Didn’t Patricia ever talk about her daughter Amy and her family? If the disagreement ran so deeply that Patricia didn’t even want to bring it up, then why on earth had she invited Maria here?
Maria shrugged. “It’s a long story,” she said. “Family quarrels. But Grandma Austin sent me a letter a couple weeks ago, inviting me to work here in the kitchen. So I decided to come and experience where my mom lived.”
“Well, it was about time,” Jessie said. “I can’t believe you haven’t ever gotten to see the ranch where your mom grew up.
And I’ve been pestering Pat for a while to get me some help.
Russell thought we could hire somebody from town, but all I get are green kids who think this is a vacation.
Anybody capable around here is working cattle.
My husband usually works here with me, but he hurt his back, and he’s gotta sit it out for a few days. ”
Her tone was grumpy, but her face was cheerful. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got twenty minutes until I call the men for supper. I’m gonna get out the desserts before I forget about it.”
She whisked a large bin filled with chocolate chip cookies from a shelf. “I’ve got pies somewhere,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe the meat and pie these cowboys eat.”
Maria laughed. “I believe you.”
Jessie bustled into the walk-in, and Maria was left with the green onions.
She was chopping vigorously when she saw a motion out of the corner of her eye. It was a hand reaching into the bin of chocolate chip cookies.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Maria whirled around and nearly crashed into a tall guy in cowboy gear. He was holding an incriminating handful of cookies.
“Well, howdy.” The stranger gave Maria a mischievous smile. He was young, probably in his late 20s, and tall, with thick blond hair parted on one side. “Didn’t know we had a new cook.”
“Those are for dessert,” Maria said.
“What if I eat them now and skip dessert later?” The cowboy grinned, revealing straight teeth in a handsome, tanned face.
“Nonsense. Put them back. Actually, you’ve already been holding them in your bare hands. You’ll have to keep them. What are you doing here, sneaking cookies before dinner?” Maria shook her head at him, hands on her hips. “What will Jessie say?”
“Jessie’s a sweetheart. She’d let me have them. You’re a kitchen tyrant.” He winked and disappeared out the kitchen door. “Say hi to Jessie for me,” his voice floated back.
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or stick out her tongue at his retreating back. “Well, I never!” Maria said to no one. “At least customers can’t do that in a restaurant!”
Jessie returned with a pie in each hand.
“Hey, Jessie, some guy just waltzed in here and took a handful of cookies,” Maria said.
Jessie laughed, shaking her head. “I have to keep a sharp eye out whenever there’s anything good in the kitchen,” she said. “Who was it this time?”
“It was a tall blond guy,” Maria said.
“Oh, just Tim. He’s the foreman,” Jessie said. “Don’t pay any mind to him. He’s got a free pass.”
“Why does he have a free pass?” Maria asked.
“He sweet-talks me,” Jessie said, “but he’s the quickest guy to do a favor if I need one. And he’s so charming, how am I gonna say no when he raids the kitchen?”
She looked guilty, but Maria laughed. From her brief interaction, she could see how Tim’s mischievous attitude and his confident air might convince someone to let him sneak a few cookies.
“I guess ranching is hungry work,” she said.
“I’m surprised we don’t have a mob waiting out there for their dinner. ”
“Wait a few minutes, and you’ll see,” Jessie said. “We get a stampede. They’re all polite and say ‘yes please’ and ‘yes ma’am,’ but they’re just a bunch of ravenous boys trying to get their food as fast as they can.”
§
Ten minutes later, Jessie sent Maria to clang the triangle that served to summon the men and guests to dinner. “They all know dinner’s at six,” Jessie explained, “but we always hit the triangle anyway.”
Maria went out where a big triangle hung outside the door. She clanged the triangle with all her might, feeling like a character out of one of the Western movies she’d watched growing up. You could probably hear the racket at the big house.
Guys appeared from all directions, and Maria ducked into the kitchen. “They’re coming.”
“All right,” Jessie said. “I’ll serve chili. Would you do the cornbread and fruit salad? The toppings are out there on a table.”
“Sure,” Maria said. “No problem.”
She was new to serving people, and the thought made her palms sweat.
She’d always been hidden away from restaurant customers in the kitchen (except for her two weeks at that pizza place, when she’d had to work the front counter as well as making food).
Here on the Rocker A, the cook was also the dishwasher, server, and hostess.
How had Jessie managed by herself before Maria got there?
It was a good thing her husband was usually there to help.
The cowboys formed a line outside the large kitchen window. Jessie stood at the window, a huge pot of chili and a ladle before her. Maria stood next to her with pans of cornbread and a huge mixing bowl of fruit salad.
The cowboys began to come down the line, and as Jessie had said, they were polite. Most said “yes please” when Maria offered them cornbread and fruit salad. The pieces of cornbread were enormous, but that was the size Jessie had said to cut.
Blaise, the one who had driven Maria to the ranch, came along, laughing and chatting with a few guys around his age. “How’s it going?” he asked Maria.
“Oh, good, so far,” Maria said. “Are these your buddies?”
Blaise grinned. He introduced three friends: Will, a mischievous-looking cowboy with sandy hair and freckles; Danny, a cheerful-looking guy with curly brown hair and a mustache; and Luke, a short king with blond hair and a sarcastic grin.
Maria greeted them all politely. Hopefully she’d get used to all the names soon.
The cowboys ranged from their late teens and early twenties, like Blaise and his buddies, to their seventies, like one cheerful, grizzled guy with a white handlebar mustache who introduced himself as Dale.
A few people in line were clearly guests, not ranch hands.
There were a couple of families—well-to-do, by the looks of their clothes—and a few married couples, also well-to-do.
It must be nice to vacation here, if you had a lot of money.
Maria wondered how much Pat charged for guests, and whether they were on their own during their visit, or if the ranch offered scheduled activities.
Tim, the cookie-stealer from earlier, came down the line, joking with the guy behind him. He grinned at Maria.
“I hope those cookies didn’t ruin your dinner,” Maria told him crisply as she served his cornbread and fruit salad.
“No worries,” Tim said. “It takes more than a few cookies to ruin my appetite.”
Maria tsked at him, fighting back a smile. She could see how Tim was able to sweet-talk Jessie into letting him sneak food before dinner.
“Hey, boss, who’s the girl?” the guy behind Tim asked as they moved on. “She’s cute, right? You gonna ask her out?”
“No way! She’s Pat’s granddaughter, Annabelle’s cousin,” Tim said. “I’ve got enough trouble with Annabelle as it is.”
They moved away to the tables. Maria stood still, heat burning her cheeks.
Well, good to know he would never ask her out.
She wouldn’t have gone out with him if he’d asked, anyway.
Did guys think girls who came to work at the ranch were just ready to fall at their feet?
That had been Seth’s attitude toward women, alpha-male and overbearing, and she’d thought it was an honor that he had chosen her.
Never again would Maria make that mistake.
These modern guys just weren’t to be trusted, no matter how handsome and charming they were.
It sounded as though there was a story between Tim and Annabelle though. Maybe they didn’t get along. Maria could easily imagine someone clashing with Tim, and from Annabelle’s social media, she could imagine someone clashing with Annabelle too. Where were those cousins of hers?