“That Quonset hut is very close to the trailer. It would be tough to get in there, with or without a dog.”
“I’ll worry about that when our date to meet the Gonzalez representative in June happens. Until then, we’ll leave this place alone,” Richfield said.
“For sure . . .” Hauptman muttered.
“They’d better not knock it down and get rid of it or we’re all fried.”
“I’m going back up the slope,” Hauptman grunted, scowling darkly at Richfield’s comment. “You stay another couple of hours and give me a report later today.”
“Will do, boss.”
April 29
“What’s on your to-do list today, Colin?” Dana sipped her third cup of hot coffee at the dining room table. He was fixing them pancakes for breakfast. They had decided to swap out every other day to do the cooking, and it seemed to be working well for them.
“Plow the rest of the other field,” he replied, scooping four light brown pancakes onto a nearby plate. “I’ve got to go out and check the dryness of the soil to make sure, first. I don’t want to get the wheels stuck. That’d ruin my day.”
“That rain was pretty light the other day,” she said, hope in her tone. “I’m going to build corrals today with the wranglers coming from Three Bars to help us.” She watched as he brought the pancakes over, sliding two onto her plate and two on his, then sat down at her elbow.
Colin didn’t shave every day, but on him, a day or two of beard accentuated his high cheekbones and made him even more desirable to her. They’d been living in the mobile home for the last week and there was a new ease that had just naturally seemed to grow between them. She didn’t know why because they were basically strangers in one way, but in another, he had made the transition from the Three Bars bunk barracks to here, seamlessly.
The décor Mary had chosen pleased her and she wondered if the elder was psychic or something. There was homey country furniture throughout, reminding her of her parents’ home. She had always liked light blue pastel colors; anything that would brighten or lighten up a space. The walls were a pale cream color, the drapes in the living room a cream with a bright wildflower design, with accents of tangerine, another one of her favorite colors. How did Mary know that?
Colin had already fried up the bacon, and they both dug into the vanilla-scented pancakes with eagerness. Today, as every other, they had worked from dawn to dusk. Her muscles were sore, and every night, after a hot shower, she would fall into bed at nine p.m. Only to be jarred awake at six a.m. the next morning by her alarm clock. But Dana liked it this way because it was how she’d grown up. Dawn to dusk.
“These are good,” she said between bites.
“My mother insisted on me learning how to cook.”
“She did a great job, Colin.” Glancing over at him, she saw a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, and then it was gone. How badly she wanted to ask about how he was feeling at that moment. With all the other wranglers coming and going from various ranches, making this a working ranch, Dana usually didn’t see him much during the day. She did most of the plowing and seeding. He was directing how to get the Quonset hut set up and stabilized. Or, he was on the other side of the log cabin where they planned several large, grassy paddocks. For horses? Cows? Gosh, she hadn’t even had time to ask!
“Your waffles yesterday were heaven,” he said, sliding three more slices of well-cooked bacon onto his plate.
“Belgian waffles. It’s a treat. My mother taught—” She abruptly snapped her mouth shut. Tears rushed to her eyes and she turned away, a flood of grief filling her. She could feel Colin’s intense gaze upon her, but also, his genuine concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Umm . . . yes . . . fine . . . just . . . well . . .” She pushed the chair back, her plate empty, heading for the kitchen sink with it, an excuse to get away from his intense gaze. Blinking several times, she gulped and forced her tears back. She was still swamped with untimely and unexpected grief about her parents. Every time she mentioned their names, this reaction would happen.
Turning on the faucet, she washed the plate off and put it in the dish drainer. Turning, she saw Colin studying her, but the look wasn’t one she could decipher. He was so closed up. Care, maybe? Unsure and not wanting to encourage any conversation, she hurried to the other side of the living room where her bedroom and bathroom were located.
Shutting the door quietly behind her, Dana pulled a tissue from the box in her bedroom, blotting her eyes. How badly she wanted to cry! Far too soon, the Three Bars wranglers would arrive and she needed to be out there to help them with the corral. Swallowing hard, she dropped the tissue in a wastebasket and went to brush her teeth. Her red hair had already been plaited into two braids, keeping it out of her eyes and face as she worked.
Her heart twisted in her chest, replaying the concerned look on Colin’s face as she had abruptly left the table. Her heart told her that he cared deeply for her. That was silly; they barely knew one another. Yet, her heart persisted. She’d been so alone for those years, that she felt dehumanized in some respects due to her past. Dana tried to shrug off that caring look from Colin as she quickly brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out.
The temperature outside was forty degrees and she was going to bundle up for a day of corral building. Still . . . when she didn’t focus on the work, she instantly thought about Colin. How she wished they had time just to talk and get acquainted. She knew so little about him. And she always felt that asking him a personal question was invading a privacy wall he kept up to keep everyone out. Even her.
Wiping her mouth, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked tired. And stressed. Well, why not? They were right on top of plowing and planting. Spring was always an intense time for a farmer. This was no different; only this time, it was her farm, not the family farm in Oregon.
Barely touching some tendrils on her right temple, she pushed them behind her ear. As she exited her bedroom, she heard a door close. Colin had just left, and she caught sight of him in his thick denim jacket, heading down the road toward the Quonset hut where the tractor and plows were now kept and protected from the weather.
She sighed inwardly. Yearning for some quiet time, Dana knew they wouldn’t have any. At least, not in the next two or three weeks. Once the fields were plowed and planted, which would be this week, provided they weren’t turned to mud by the rain, the focus then turned to building a barn, a tack room, and a few box stalls. She picked up her jacket, pulled on a baseball cap, and then settled a bright red knit cap over it to keep her ears warm. Next, a pair of gloves and a knit muffler around her neck. She was wearing a pair of knee-high rubber boots because where the corrals were being built, the rain had probably made things muddy.
Looking up at the sky as she left the mobile home, there were low hanging, ragged-looking gray and white clouds. The front had passed and with it, the rain. The day was chilly, the wind blowing off and on.
The warmth of the sun’s rays on her back as she walked down the road toward the old log cabin, lifted her spirits. She had so much to be happy about. And yet, it reminded her sharply of her parents and the life she’d had with them. Wildflower Ranch was looking just like their farm in the Willamette Valley. That brought her grief, an ache in her heart and at the same time, a comforting reminder of her growing-up years. It was a trade-off.