Chapter Ten
Malika
Never once, in Malika’s entire life, had she stopped to consider where eggs came from. They appeared on her plate—sometimes boiled, sometimes sunny-side up, sometimes in an omelet.
“It’s not difficult,” Tilly said. “You shoo the hen off the nest and pick up the egg. If the hen won’t move, you reach underneath her or give her a little push. They aren’t all that smart.”
The hens didn’t worry Malika. The rooster, however, had an attitude problem.
He began to express it every morning shortly before dawn, or immediately after, and the unholy noises he made would startle the dead back to life.
Malika approached this egg-gathering venture with extreme prejudice against him.
The chicken coop sat in the middle of Mavis’s backyard.
The long nest box that comprised the main body of the coop sat on a platform raised a few off the ground.
Holes in the front of the box opened into each nest. The back area of the nest box was communal.
How clever. Because the hens weren’t very bright, they each believed they had their own private apartment.
A ramp led to the nest box so the hens could get in and out without stumbling over each other.
The ramp could also be raised to keep the hens secure for the night.
A wire enclosure surrounded the coop. Cayenne pepper had been sprinkled on top of the sawdust that covered the ground inside fencing.
The pepper didn’t bother the chickens, Tilly explained, but other creatures disliked it.
Heavy mesh wiring underneath the sawdust further discouraged small predators from burrowing under the fence and into the coop.
The rooster alone should be enough of a deterrent. He watched Malika and Tilly from the other side of the fence—white feathers puffed up, chest out, red comb erect—spoiling for a fight.
“He can be a little aggressive,” Tilly said, understating the matter.
She carried a stick and a basket. She passed them to Malika.
“His feathers make him look bigger than he is. Don’t be fooled. He only weighs about twelve pounds at the most. You have to show him who’s boss. Chickens have a hierarchy and he’s at the top. It’s his job to protect the ladies.”
Malika felt kindlier toward him. How could she not appreciate him for that?
A loop of rope fastened the crude chicken-wire door to the fence. She slipped the basket over her arm, held the stick in her hand, and unhooked the loop. The rooster remained very still. All that moved were his hostile, beady little eyes, tracking her movements.
Show him who’s boss.
She could be bossy.
She stepped inside the enclosure and started to fasten the door.
“Don’t turn your back on him,” Tilly cautioned, but the warning came a second too late.
Wings outstretched and flapping, the rooster lunged at Malika. He’d gained about twenty pounds in the span of a heartbeat. He thrust out his neck and pecked at her arm.
“Ouch!” Malika cried, indignant. She swung the stick and rapped him smartly across his puffed-up chest. He backed off.
She shook the stick at him. “There’s more where that came from.”
“That’s it. Stand your ground,” Tilly said, calling out encouragement from the sidelines. “He’ll give up before you do. Guaranteed.”
Malika edged toward the nest box, keeping her eye on the rooster and the stick in between them, making sure he could see it. She reached inside the first box.
And discovered that hens were smelly and dirty and took little pride in their homes.
“Good heavens,” she said, withdrawing her hand and covering her nose. “How can they live in such filth?”
“You raise an excellent point.” Tilly sounded as if she were enjoying herself. “Guess who gets to clean out the coop?”
“Servants?” Malika said it with more hope than real expectation.
“Western women are handy and resourceful. Remember?”
Malika kept her hand over her nose. The smell was appalling. “If we were really resourceful, we’d convince a man to clean it for us.”
“Or you could stop talking and gather the eggs. Then we can clean out the coop and get the job over and done with,” Tilly said, because she was heartless.
Getting the job over and done with as quickly as possible did seem the best option.
The rooster continued to watch her, but he remained at a safe distance.
She thrust her hand inside the box, pushed the first indignant hen to one side, and scooped up a warm egg.
She dropped it into her basket. Her eyes watered, but she persevered, and a few minutes later, she’d gathered a dozen eggs and her basket was full.
Now to make it back to the fence with her bounty.
She was five feet from freedom when the rooster attacked.
Malika, however, wasn’t about to be defeated by a chicken, and she was ready for him.
She set the basket down, and in the same motion, swung the stick.
She aimed for his chest, the same as before, but he was smarter than Tilly had led her to believe, and he swerved.
Instead of his chest, she cracked him on the side of the head.
He dropped in his tracks and flipped to his side, feathers quivering.
Malika froze. “I’ve killed Mavis’s rooster.”
“You’ve only stunned him. But if he were dead, I could show you how to pluck and clean him, and we could have him for supper. That’s at least twelve pounds of good meat,” Tilly said, proving exactly how heartless she was.
“I couldn’t eat him.” Not when she was responsible for his demise.
“You’ve got his kids in your basket. You eat those for breakfast. And I hate to break this to you, but you ate a decent helping of one of his sisters for supper last night.”
It was true that she’d eaten chicken for dinner the previous evening, and sadly, it was delicious.
Since she’d never been formally introduced to the sister, she had no need for these cannibalistic feelings of guilt.
The basket of eggs was a cause for concern, but she’d eaten many of them over the years, and the jury remained out as to when life began. Her conscience was clear.
Andy vaulted the low fence that separated Mavis’s small, tidy plot of land from the wilderness that threatened to consume it.
“Morning, ladies. What are we up to?”
Tilly answered. “Malika thinks she killed Mavis’s rooster.” The rooster’s legs jerked. He flapped his wings and made a feeble attempt to stand up. “But see? What did I tell you. He’s only stunned.”
“You aren’t supposed to beat him to death with a stick,” Andy said to Malika. “It bruises the meat. Try wringing his neck.”
“I don’t want to kill him. I want him to learn manners.”
She picked up the basket of eggs and escaped through the door in the fence, then hooked the rope back in place and tested it to make sure it was secure. She didn’t need the rooster escaping and exacting revenge.
She didn’t need Andy hanging about, either. He wasn’t the cowboy she wanted to see. She missed Jayce, who was more fun to tease.
But she’d heeded Mavis’s warning, because Mavis was right. How could Jayce not have expectations if she continued to tease him? No man could resist her.
Andy was no different. She’d prove to Tilly how resourceful she could be.
She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said warmly, injecting helplessness into her tone and a flirtatious tilt to her head. “Mavis asked me to clean out the chicken coop, and I have no idea where to begin. Could I ask you to help me?”
“How about if I grab a shovel and a wheelbarrow, and I do it for you. It will take me ten minutes,” Andy said. He winked at her, flirting right back. “It would be a shame for you to get that pretty dress dirty.”
“I told her no one wears pink to do chores,” Tilly said, who wore an ugly brown calico dress and equally hideous boots. She had about as much aptitude for flirting as Jayce. “Why are you here?”
Andy showed no signs of taking offense at her brusk manner. “To ask if you lovely ladies might like to go on a hayride this evening. Grady’s organizing one for the kids.”
“Who else is going?” Tilly asked. “Because if I’m invited along just to babysit, I’ll give it a pass. I spend the school year with those little monsters and I’m on vacation.”
“Adam, Jayce, Grady, and I are driving the wagons. Pearl and Loretta will be there. You two would make up the four we need to have an adult riding in each of the wagons to keep the little monsters under control. You’d only have three to deal with at the most,” Andy said.
Malika loved the idea.
Adeel had given her a picture book as a child that included a hayride, and it had looked like such fun. He used to read the book to her, complete with barnyard animal noises. She’d forgotten about it.
She hoped baby Callen would be there. She loved cuddling his warm little body and breathing in his soft, warm baby smell.
And Tilly could complain all she liked, but she loved cuddling him too.
She also adored each one of her students, who idolized her in return.
She seemed to think no one knew what a softie she was.
Jayce would be there, too. This was another excellent opportunity for her to show him how unimportant he was.
“Mavis is constantly encouraging me to get out of her house and get some fresh air,” she said. “A hayride will be perfect.”
*
The hayride did not turn out exactly as described in the book. Important details had been omitted.
For instance, the wagon had wooden wheels that did not absorb shock.
Malika was afraid to loosen her hold on baby Callen for fear she might drop him.
She had to keep her other hand free to ensure Linda and her cute little friend Emily weren’t tossed to their deaths under those same cumbersome wheels.
As for showing Jayce how unimportant he was…
It was difficult to do when the massive beast hauling the cart that trailed hers obstructed his view. Draft horses were huge.
Her cart led the small caravan. Andy was driving.
Jayce and his cart were next. Three young boys rode in it with Tilly.
Behind them was Adam, driving Tilly’s sister Loretta, and two teenaged girls.
Grady brought up the rear. Pearl had three more young boys with her.
Linda had insisted that she wasn’t riding with her parents, and Pearl was happy to let Malika take Callen off her hands too.
Malika had envisioned gazing up at the starry night sky from a soft bed of hay while the ride lulled the children to sleep.
There would be no such lulling.
The caravan began at the town stable. They would detour around Burning Scrub, then cut back into town, with the ride culminating at the church, where hot cocoa and cookies awaited.
To cap off the event, the children would be given a tour of the cemetery and a few ghost stories to sweeten their dreams. Didn’t that sound like fun for their parents.
By the time they arrived at the church, all of the bones inside Malika’s body had been rearranged, and Linda and her friend had escaped certain death a total of five nerve-wracking times.
Andy helped the little girls from the cart. They were so wired from the ride that adding sugary treats didn’t seem wise, but it wasn’t Malika’s call, and she didn’t have to put them to bed.
She passed Callen to Andy, who held her hand while she dismounted, and then returned Callen to her.
“Gotta run,” he said, grinning widely. “I’m supposed to hide behind tombstones and grab the kids as they walk by. They’ll be afraid of the dark for the rest of their lives.”
Malika had nieces and nephews. They would adore the entertainment, and she was sorry to miss it, but Callen was nodding off in her arms, and he was too heavy to carry for long. She decided to sit on the church steps while he slept and let Pearl have fun with her daughter for a change.
Lantern light spilled from the open doors at the top of the steps where the hot cocoa and cookies awaited. Callen’s head drooped on her shoulder and his diaper-padded bottom draped over her forearm.
Jayce dropped onto the step beside her. She hadn’t been alone with him since the day at the bunkhouse.
Drat him and his beautiful blue eyes and rugged cowboy physique. She would not flirt with him, despite how hard he made it. He smelled wonderful too. Like laundry brought indoors after a day spent drying in the sun.
Her willpower was not carved from stone.
“Did you enjoy the ride?” he asked.
Oddly, she had. “I once rode a camel when I was a child. The experience was much the same,” she said. “Very invigorating.”
“Invigorating’s a good word for it.”
Jayce’s crooked smile further tested her strength.
Shrieks of terror, then laughter, floated from the night-shrouded cemetery behind the church.
“I can hold Callen if you want to go hear the ghost stories. I’ve heard them before,” Jayce offered.
What a good suggestion. She should leave, since he showed no signs of departure himself. She gave Callen one more quick little cuddle, then carefully, so as not to wake him, she eased him into Jayce’s waiting arms.
She saw at once that she’d made an unwise decision. She couldn’t leave now. Jayce holding a baby merely enhanced his male beauty and she lost all interest in children’s ghost stories. There was nothing left to do but torment him.
She cast about for something especially annoying. “Andy is wonderful with children, don’t you agree?”
“He’s the irresponsible uncle who shows up drunk for Christmas dinner, passes beer to the teenagers and power drinks to anyone under twelve, including the toddlers, then steals everyone’s wallets.”
Jayce didn’t sound annoyed. More as if stating a fact. He very well could be. Andy didn’t strike her as responsible, either. Tilly had supervised him while he cleaned the chicken coop out because she said he’d cut corners if he wasn’t watched.
“You have completely misread his character,” Malika said. “He’s a gentleman. Reliable too.”
“Sure, he is.”
“And so handsome,” she continued. “Not beautiful, the way you are. But very masculine.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not masculine enough?”
He still wasn’t annoyed. He knew how attractive he was, and that Andy didn’t compare. Only Beau Jones could get under his skin.
“When do you suppose Beau and Belle will return from their honeymoon?” she asked, because that was guaranteed to get a reaction.
His right eye twitched. “How should I know?”
Her heart wasn’t in this. She liked Jayce, despite his moroseness and determination to cling to his honor. If only he could be more like Andy—just a wee little bit—they could have fun together.
But he would never be able to lie to Adeel. And she would have a difficult time lying to Mavis.
More screams from the cemetery rang through the night.
She stood and brushed wisps of hay from her skirt and the light jacket she wore.
“If you really don’t mind holding Callen, I think I’ll go check out those ghost stories,” she said. “They sound very exciting.”