She heard several trucks coming down the road and turned. They were Three Bars trucks and she saw a flatbed behind the two pickups bearing the wranglers who she’d work with today.
Lifting her hand in hello as they parked nearby, giving the flatbed the road, Dana walked over to the lead truck. It was Chase himself, and she was surprised.
“So?” she said, smiling. “You’re going to build a corral with us today?”
Chase grinned. “Yes, and I brought our women wranglers out to help you.” He gestured toward the five women bailing out of the trucks. “And I’m not staying long, Dana. My forewoman, Tracy Hartimer, is going to lead the charge here.”
Walking with him, she saw the five women wranglers gathering and waiting for them to arrive. Dana shook Tracy’s gloved hand, and Chase introduced her to the other four women. They all had firm grips. All looked lean, like wolves. Easy smiles. Excitement in their eyes. This was a happy crew.
Chase waited until the intros were done and then said, pointing toward the flatbed slowly coming their way, “Dana, we figure that the wranglers will be done about noon with both corrals. You and I talked about a barn that needs to be raised nearby.”
Nodding, Dana said, “Yes,” and she pointed to the other end of where the corrals were going to be created, “and it was going over there? Right?”
“Yep,” Chase said. “We got a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” She looked from Chase to Tracy, who stood nearby.
“We thought,” Tracy said, “that you might like a henhouse? Fresh eggs?”
“Ohhhh,” Dana said, smiling, “that would be wonderful!”
“Me and the ladies can build you a sweet little henhouse after we get done with the corrals,” Tracy said. “You just tell us where you’d like to have it. Plus, we need to lay out the barn foundation, too.”
“Wonderful,” Dana said, deeply touched by their generosity. She knew Chase was paying his wranglers for coming over here. Grateful, she added, “If we finish around noon? I’d like Colin to talk about the positioning of the barn.”
“Of course,” Chase said. He pointed to the flatbed that had stopped at the Quonset hut, and three wranglers were taking off a lot of lumber and storing it within the building. “If you’d like, I have blueprints for my barn in my truck. We can look over the dimensions and layout, From that, we can figure out how much lumber and concrete will be needed. Plus”—he hooked a thumb toward Tracy—“she’s an ace at barn building. Her father is from West Virginia and he and his crew do nothing but go around the state reclaiming old log structures like your own. She knows barn building from the inside out.”
“Indeed, I do,” Tracy said. She pointed to the log cabin. “Dana? Maybe you and I, after we get the women assigned to jobs on building the corrals, could mosey over to your little cabin and talk about it in detail. I’d like to hear your ideas and what you’d like to do with it.”
“Is it salvageable?” Dana asked the forewoman.
“From what I can see from here? Sure, no problem. There’s a log cabin crew in Silver Creek and I know the owner, Charley Swanson, really well. Once you and I discuss the cabin, and with your permission, we’ll get Charley out here. He’s the owner of Swanson Log Builders.”
“I’ll need to know what he charges.”
“He’s fair in his pricing,” Tracy said. “I can give him a thumbnail of what you want, then he’ll come out and give you an estimate of how much it might cost to repair it.”
“That sounds great,” Dana said, feeling excitement run through her. “I was thinking of a nice place to meditate.”
“For that size?” Tracy said, nodding, “that would be a perfect place.”
“I really want to save it. There’s so much history with it.”
Tracy patted her heart with her gloved hand. “Music to my ears.” She turned to Chase. “Okay, boss, you’re outta here. The girls and I have work to do.”
Chuckling, Chase gave her a humored look. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get a lift back to Three Bars with the flatbed crew. You know my cell number if you need me, Tracy.”
“Sure do, boss.” Tracy turned, waving to the women wranglers to follow her. Dana smiled, feeling right at home, following the boss lady past the log cabin and where all the postholes had been dug two days ago. It was a thrill to see women doing it all because she’d helped build corrals with her father, as well as other small buildings a farmer always needed. In some ways, it felt so good . . . as if she were home once again . . .
* * *
Colin saw how flushed Dana’s cheeks were when he came in for lunch from the field he’d just plowed. The tilled soil would have to lay fallow for a couple of days, to oxygenate, before planting. These were cool-weather crops he’d be putting in: Kale, broccoli, cabbage, spinach, chard, arugula, collards, and peas. He had sketches that showed where to plant each of them.
He’d come home first, washed up, and was fixing them some tuna sandwiches with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese on each. The door opened behind him and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Looks like you got those corrals up,” he said as Dana shut the door.
“Put six hardworking women on a task, and it gets done,” she said, giving him a grin while she took off her baseball cap, dropping it on a peg near the door.
“Looks fine. Hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted, heading for her side of the mobile home and her bathroom.
“One sandwich or two?” he called.
“One, please.”
Colin was used to their daily routine. Every time he got to see Dana, it was like a breath of air fanned through his dark soul. With her red braids, she looked like a much younger woman, cheeks a bright pink, those freckles across her cheeks and nose a darker brown. He was glad to see her forest-green eyes was sparkling with life. Maybe happiness? He’d find out, washing his hands after placing the three sandwiches on two plates.
By the time Dana arrived at the kitchen table, he’d added a bag of chips and hot coffee in mugs, along with the sandwiches.
“Looks good,” she said, thanking him as she pulled up a chair and sat down.
“There’s more tuna if you want another sandwich,” he offered, sitting at her elbow. He’d rolled up the long sleeves of his blue denim work shirt just below his elbows.
“I think this will do it,” she murmured, giving him a warm look of thanks.
“Got everything plowed. Wasn’t as muddy as I thought it would be.”
“Whew, that’s great. Is everything done, then?”
He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, nodding his head. Pulling the bag over, he poured some chips on his plate. “I figure two days of letting the soil sit and oxygenate, I can go back with the planting.”
“Great. We’re right on time.””
“I have to take a closer look at the corrals. You ladies kick butt and take names. Over at Three Bars, Chase would pit men against women on similar jobs that needed to be done.” He grinned. “The women always won.”
“Of course they did,” she said. “We’re sticklers for details and we think it out and organize everything before we start the project. Doesn’t matter if it’s sewing a dress, quilting a quilt, or making supper for a bunch of family members.”