Chapter 15 #2
When Red finished his story, Belle seized the opportunity of talking to a man who might have some sense, to see if she could learn anything. “How’d you build this sod house? How do you make it weathertight?”
Red leaned forward. “Is your house giving you trouble? Maybe Cassie and I could come up for a day and give you a hand. I don’t suppose Anthony?—”
“Anthony is nothing.” Was that completely fair, though? “And you can’t come because the pass is getting ready to blow shut. You might find yourself trapped in there for the winter.”
“So why are you out here? Aren’t you afraid of getting snowed out?” Red looked straight into her eyes.
Belle had dealt with too many weasel men in her life. She wasn’t used to this kind of straight talk and respect. She could give Red nothing less than the truth. “I just needed to make sure about Cassie.”
“I’m all right, but thank you for worrying.”
Belle turned to Cassie. “I—I haven’t been able to stop worrying about you. You remind me of myself when I was younger. Married to a man who wasn’t much use. Then alone and forced to marry again. It was hard. I felt like I could protect you from that life.”
“I don’t need protection from Red.” Cassie’s cheeks pinked up again.
Indeed…what Cassie needed was a husband who would kiss her.
Well, Belle could give her no advice or guidance that didn’t include a skillet.
She saw the way the man looked at Cassie and the way Cassie looked back and suspected Red would figure everything out on his own and soon enough.
She’d be switched if she’d give advice on that.
And anyway, she’d never tried to get a man to do such a thing in her life.
Avoiding a husband was the trick she’d perfected.
She laid her hand on her belly. Nearly perfected.
“You’re going through the winter with a house that isn’t tight?” Red sounded worried, as if he were considering following her home and helping out.
“We’ll be fine.”
“Do you know how to drive straw into the chinks to stop the wind?”
Belle shook her head.
“Come on outside, and I’ll show you what I do. It makes a big difference. And I use mud to plug up holes.” Red stood without a single grunt or groan, no whining that Belle was making work for him or nagging him.
Cassie asked, “Can I come too?”
Red smiled at her, a private kind of smile that made Belle’s heart ache in a way it never had before. She didn’t even know why it hurt.
“Sure. Come along, Cass, honey. Get your coat, though. It’s sharp out today.” He even helped Cassie on with her coat.
Red insisted on telling her about how to chink the cracks in her house.
Belle had never had a man—outside of someone from the Bates’ store—do anything to help her. She went home alone, no kidnapping necessary, riding hard in case of a sudden storm, confused by Red’s kindness and Cassie’s longing for her husband to kiss her.
The gap hadn’t closed, but a storm was brewing in the west, and Belle’s heart pounded to think she’d have been trapped away from her children all winter. She did a ragged job of tarring the house and chinked the holes with hands full of straw, showing her girls how to help her.
Anthony had gone back to sitting on the roof, but their activity so close seemed to disturb him, and he climbed down and walked up to the Husband Tree to find peace.
She watched him go, trying to imagine wanting him to kiss her.
She put up with what she had to because a man had his rights, but she avoided it whenever she could.
If all husbands weren’t no-account, then she’d either picked poorly in ignorance or deliberately married bums. And either way, it added up to her being an idiot.
And a tiny, guilty part of herself wondered if she hadn’t been so bossy and rude, if maybe William or Gerald or Anthony might have stepped up.
Just maybe she’d give the man a chance to be a man.
“You like me, don’t you, girl?” Cassie leaned her head into Rosie’s flank.
The ornery cow slowed her kicking if Cassie wedged her head in the exact spot Red had shown her. Rosie kept chewing on the hay filling her manger, but her tail quit twitching for an instant, and Cassie took that for a yes.
Rosie liked her. And miracle of miracles, Harriet seemed to be beginning to like her.
It wasn’t that the sow wasn’t fully prepared to kill Cassie at the drop of the hat.
That was a given considering a mama sow’s temperament.
But Cassie was slopping Harriet every day and staying well away from the little pink piglets, and as her part of keeping the peace, Harriet had quit rushing the fence, woofing and snarling with her jaws gaping.
It was a start.
The chickens didn’t seem to care about her one way or the other, but Cassie had learned chickens were close to the dumbest creatures God had ever put forth upon the earth.
Red told her they were only close to the dumbest because he’d worked with sheep before.
He said sheep were just waiting, watching for any possible opportunity to kill themselves with their stupidity, which was the reason he didn’t have any—they’d all died.
Even Buck was starting to like her. Sort of.
Red had given her riding lessons every morning that week, and she was learning that there was no great trick to riding a calm, well-broken horse.
A horse was a living creature, though, with a mind of its own, and Buck had boosted Cassie out of the saddle once.
When she’d fallen, Red had almost had a heart attack, and he’d declared no more riding until after the baby was born.
But Cassie had wanted to continue, and in the end, he let her ride, but he insisted on leading Buck every step of the way.
She was now riding him twice a day down to the creek when Red took him for water.
She was also leading Rosie down, which Red let her do completely alone, and she had taken over the milking and most of the barnyard chores so Red was free to ride herd on his cattle. Red acted like Cassie was his dream come true because she was helping him so much.
Cassie had also found a barn cat that had the temperament of a rat rather than a pet.
The cat slinked around the edges of the farm, only showing itself by accident.
Cassie started putting out milk for it, but Red said not to bother.
It lived on mice and that was how it should be.
Cassie sneaked and put milk out, anyway.
The tiny defiance made her almost giddy.
The milk was now gone every morning, but the cat still wasn’t a lick friendlier.
Rosie chose that moment to kick the bucket of milk right into Cassie’s face. Dodging the hooves, Cassie fell backward onto her seat.
Red was just entering the barn. He rushed over to her side and stepped between her and Rosie. “Maybe it’s time for you to give up some of your outside chores, Cass. Now that the babe’s getting closer, you oughta be more careful. I think?—”
Covered with milk, Cassie wailed, “You think I’m too stupid to learn anything.”
She clamped her mouth shut on the criticism of her husband. How had she dared to speak to him like that? Belle would certainly criticize if she thought it was deserved. But she certainly wouldn’t whine.
“Now, Cass, honey.” Red slid his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. “Stupid’s got nothing to do with it. Think how long it’d take me to teach the chickens to milk Rosie.”
Cassie was on the verge of tears, but the image Red drew made her giggle instead.