in an oval washtub on the table in front of Dinah. “Keep an eye on the baby. If he wakes up tell me, all right?”
Dinah stood up on the seat. “I’ll watch him real good, Sissy.”
Her smile widened at the seriousness in Dinah’s voice. “I know you will, sweetie. Thank you.” She walked to the cabinet and pulled out a tin of beans. “Here, Dinah, why don’t you make sets of five beans? Be sure and pull out all the rocks and dirt clods.”
“All right, Sissy. I like playing with the beans.” Dinah took them and began sorting them. It seemed she’d decided to separate them by color and size today.
Maggie grinned, happy that Dinah was unaware she was learning how to count and doing a simple chore at the same time. Grabbing a tin scoop, she heaped flour along with two generous pinches of salt into a large creamware bowl. Maggie then pressed her fingers into the mound of flour mixture and dug out a hole. After brushing her hands on her apron, she reached into the pie safe and pinched off a corner of yeast, crumbling the moist leaven into the center of the flour. With the milk properly scalded, she added a spoonful of bacon grease, stirring until the ingredients melted together.
While the mixture cooled, she wiped down the counter with a damp rag, set a bowl in front of Dinah to put her sorted beans into and then returned to her baking. She gently tapped the side of the pan to ensure a lukewarm temperature, then poured the thickened milk into the well of flour. Waiting for the yeast to dissolve, she gradually added a generous handful of sugar.
Weariness eased into her sore muscles as she worked. She forced her thoughts away from her discomfort and focused her attention on the liquid mixture foaming merrily in the center of the flour. Satisfied she’d waited long enough for the yeast to develop, Maggie folded in the dry ingredients.
Bread-baking day was her favorite day of the week. She loved the silky texture of the flour, the way the dough gradually came together beneath the heels of her hands to form a smooth, flexible ball. The way the yeast smelled reminded her of days spent in the kitchen with her mother before their world fell apart, happy and comforting. She put the dough into pans and then slid the two loaves into the oven.
“Baby James is awake, Sissy.” Dinah rubbed the baby’s head.
“Thank you, Dinah.” Maggie lowered herself into the chair beside her sister and picked the baby up out of the washtub. The growing fatigue of the simple action of making bread pulled her to slump in the chair. She pressed the baby to her chest. He snuggled into her neck, bringing a sweet feeling of deep love for the infant.
“Is he hungry again?” Dinah asked. She studied the small rows of beans in front of her.
Maggie checked the baby’s diaper. He was still dry. She cuddled him close and leaned her head back as he nursed. Her eyes felt heavy, so she closed them. She’d just rest them a little while the bread baked.
“Sissy?”
Maggie jerked awake. How long had she been sleeping? The baby rested in her arms. “I’m sorry, Dinah. I fell asleep.” The smell of baking bread filled the small kitchen.
“I think the bread is finished.” Dinah stood in front of the stove holding a dish towel.
She tucked the blanket around the baby once more and placed him in the washtub. Her back ached as she stood. “You’re right. It is ready to come out.” Maggie pulled the bread from the oven and sighed. “Dinah, I think I’ll take the baby and go lie down.”
“You want me to do the dishes?” Dinah asked.
“No, sweetie. Why don’t you come upstairs with me? You can play with your doll and blocks while I take a nap.” She tugged on the girl’s ponytail. “Then we’ll get up and put those beans on to boil.”
Dinah put the beans into the bowl Maggie had supplied earlier. She yawned. “Maggie, how come baby James sleeps so much?”
“He’s new to the world. He’s going to be doing a lot of growing, so he needs to sleep. You used to sleep a lot, too.”
Carrying the baby, Maggie made her way back up the stairs, each step painful and slow. Dinah tagged along behind her. “You remember when I was a baby?”
“It was only five short years ago,” Maggie reminded her. She continued placing one foot in front of the other until she finally reached the top of the stairs.
The front door opened below them. Maggie turned to see who had entered her house. Gus stepped inside. She frowned. When had Gus become so bold as to enter without knocking?
“Aw, Maggie. It’s good to see you are up. I take it the baby is in good health?” Gus walked across the room and stopped at the foot of the stairs.
Maggie tightened her hold on the baby. “Yes. What did you come to the house for, Gus?”
He laughed. “Always getting straight to the point, huh, Maggie?”
She didn’t answer him. Maggie waited for him to continue. From experience, she knew he’d continue whether she answered or not.
“Now that the baby is here, you have even less time to invest in the ranch. Sell it to me, Maggie. I’ll give you a good price and you and the kids will be able to live a life of comfort for years to come.” He advanced farther up the stairs.
Dinah hid behind Maggie’s skirt.
Maggie understood the little girl’s fear. Most often Gus’s eyes blazed his anger at whatever situation they were confronted with, but today, cunning and desire to own the Fillmore Ranch shone clear as day. She shook her head. “Thank you, Gus. I’m sure that your offer would be generous, but I promised to keep the land for baby James. I can’t sell it.”
His jaw clenched. “Jack is dead. He’ll never know if you kept your word or not.” He leaned a hip on the stair railing.
“You’re right. He is dead. But I am not. I made a promise to him and I will not break it. This ranch belongs to Jack’s son and I won’t sell it, not to you, not to anyone.” As confident as her words sounded, inwardly Maggie trembled.
Gus’s face turned bright red. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times. He stood taller and fisted his hands at his sides. His eyes blazed with anger and loathing.
Maggie tightened her hand on the railing. “Please let yourself out, Gus.”
He jerked around and headed to the door.
Just as his fingers touched the bar to open it again, Maggie said, “Oh, Gus. I’d like to see the ranch ledger. Please have one of the men bring it to the house this evening.”
He jerked the door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Baby James awoke with a start. His small face puckered as if he’d bitten into a persimmon. Then he opened those same lips and wailed out his displeasure at being awaken so rudely.
Maggie wanted to join the baby in his tears but knew she had to stay strong for Dinah’s sake. She patted the baby’s back and made shushing noises.
“Come along, Dinah.” Maggie led the way to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and locked it. Her hand trembled as she changed the baby’s diaper.
“Maggie,
