“Missus cried for a week, too,” Alfred Jenkins added; even he showed signs of being perked up by the company.
“Please, won’t you all sit down,” Emma invited.
Alfred insisted that Mary and Lorna sit in the two chairs while Ely and Benteen sat on the boxes. Alfred and Emma Jenkins scooched together on the traveling trunk with little Elizabeth on Emma’s lap. In addition to the chicken, there were potatoes, cornbread, and hominy. Before they dished their plates, Alfred bowed his head and said grace.
“Dear Lord, You took our crop, but You gave us fuel for the winter and brought nice folks to our table. We thank You for that. Amen.”
The simple words made Lorna feel very humble. Their eagerness to share what little they had caused her to look twice at herself. She noticed the small helpings of food they took so there would be plenty for everyone else.
Of course, Emma Jenkins was too excited and too busy asking questions to eat. Alfred seemed just as interested to find out what was going on in the world. There was so much crosstalk going on—man to man and woman to woman—that it was surprising any of it made sense.
After the meal, the men went outside to smoke. Emma was appalled when Lorna and Mary offered to help with the dishes. They were company; she couldn’t let them help. She very carefully stacked the china in a pan and insisted she would do them later.
It was dusk when Benteen stepped into the sod house to state it was time they were returning to camp. An emotional Emma hugged them and thanked them for coming. As Lorna walked away with Benteen, she glanced over her shoulder. The woman was standing in the doorway, just as she had seen her the first time. Lorna waved, as she had done before.
This time it was Alfred Jenkins who came hurrying after them. They waited for him to catch up with them. When he did, he spoke low so his voice wouldn’t carry as it so easily did on the flat terrain. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did for my missus by comin’ here tonight.” He spoke in complete sentences, which seemed to show how sincerely moved he was. “She hasn’t smiled in a long time. You helped her. Thank you. That’s all I had to say.” He seemed embarrassed by how much he had said, and turned quickly to retrace his steps to the woman in the doorway.
“Isn’t there something we can do for them, Benteen?” Lorna murmured. “Something more than leaving behind a bunch of cow chips?”
Benteen was a long time replying. “We’ll see what we can do, come morning.”
When they reached camp, Lorna retired directly to her wagon. Besides being all talked out, there were too many things on her mind, mainly a determination that this land wasn’t going to do to her what it had done to that woman, mentally or physically.
She slept alone in the wagon. Since leaving Dodge City, Benteen had spread out a bedroll on the ground with the other drovers. The change in the sleeping arrangements hadn’t gone unnoticed, but no one speculated aloud about the possible reasons.
When Lorna climbed out of the wagon the next morning, her glance went first to the sod house. The scarlet-orange hue of breaking dawn shaded the roof thatched with dirt and willow. She turned her gaze on the lonely grandeur of the plains with a kind of defiance then walked with a free-swinging stride to the chuck wagon for the morning meal.
“What’s with the kid?” Shorty Niles was asking Rusty as she walked up.
Both men slid short glances at Joe Dollarhide, sitting off by himself in a moody silence. Usually he came back for seconds, but the
food on the plate balanced on his knee didn’t appear to have been touched.
“Beats me.” Rusty shrugged, but the grimness of his mouth showed concern. “Last night I offered to let him grind the coffee, but he didn’t want to.”
There was never a shortage of volunteers to grind coffee, since the Arbuckle Coffee Company put a peppermint stick in its one-pound bags. All the cowboys had a sweet tooth, and whoever ground the coffee got the candy. There was obviously something wrong if Joe Dollarhide had turned down his chance.
“Good morning.”
Lorna turned to find Benteen standing behind her, a cup of coffee in his hand. There was an awkward moment when she couldn’t quite meet the dark study of his eyes. He lowered his gaze to take a swallow of coffee, and it was gone.
“How are you this morning?” she asked.
“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” His voice was dry, neither condemning nor complaining. She felt the flash of sexual tension and knew exactly what he meant. But he didn’t expect a reply, because he spoke again, this time addressing Shorty. “When you’re through eating, I want you to ride out to the herd. Spanish tells me two cows dropped calves in the night. Give the calves to the Jenkins family.”
“Right.” Shorty nodded and took his plate, moving away to sit on the ground.
“His milk cow should have enough to keep two calves alive,” Benteen said to Lorna. “The Jenkins family will have a beef to butcher this winter.”
“Food as well as fuel,” she said, and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the cows.” A sunburst of lines radiated briefly from the corners of his eyes.
“Mr. Calder, sir?” Joe Dollarhide set his plate on the ground when he spied Benteen at the chuck wagon. He rose and rubbed his hands down his thighs in a nervous gesture now that he had Benteen’s attention. He approached with a degree of uncertainty.
“What is it, Dollarhide?” Benteen thought he knew. Last night he’d seen the boy gazing at the lighted windows of the sod house with a kind of homesick longing.
“I was just thinking … since that farmer let us graze the herd on his land, maybe we should do something in return. A favor for a favor,” he suggested lamely.