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What would it have been like to grow up in a place like this? To look into the distance and see nothing but rolling hills and the distant Sierras beyond instead of buildings? To breathe fresh air instead of inhaling the smoke belching from the ever-increasing number of factories in Chicago, like the small one where she and Dillon had worked?
A newcomer would stand out here, though. She’d have to be mindful of that. The less people knew about her, the better. If Dillon was to show up, she wouldn’t want to make it easy for him to find her. Not that he would, but she couldn’t shake the fear that made her want to look over her shoulder whenever she heard a man with an Irish accent. She was mighty glad Mr. O’Brien didn’t have one.
“I should pick up your order. I’ll just be a minute.”
Becky returned from the butcher shop a short time later, stowed the meaty-smelling package in a crate behind the seat and climbed aboard.
Mutti directed her to a road heading south. “It’s only half a mile or so, and it’s flat from here. I can’t wait until you see the orchard in bloom. It’s a sight to behold.”
“What kind of trees are they?”
“Apple. There are five different varieties, and James plans to add another next year.” Sadness clouded Mutti’s blue eyes, as though she realized she wouldn’t live to see that day. She brightened quickly. “My boy isn’t content to leave things as they are. He’s always seeking ways to improve the orchard and make tasks easier. He figured out a way to give me running water in the kitchen.”
“Running water? I can’t imagine having such a thing.”
“I know he can seem a bit gruff at times, but he really is a fine man. You’ll see.”
Since Becky didn’t know how to respond, having only her initial impression to go on, she kept quiet.
Before long they approached rows of trees crowned with pink and white blossoms. “How beautiful!”
Mutti patted her arm. “I knew you’d like them.”
“This is your orchard? It’s wonderful. The bees like it, too. I can hear them buzzing from here. And the fragrance...” She inhaled deeply. “It’s delightful.”
Pride shone in Mutti’s eyes. “William started the orchard when we first arrived. James helped until he left for college, but my boy’s the boss now. He hired Quon and Chung Lee to help him. He met the brothers while he worked on the railroad.”
“They’re Chinese?” She’d never met anyone from China before, although she’d walked past two Chinese men working at a laundry in Placerville. They wore unusual clothing—loose-fitting, hip-length tunics, flowing trousers and pointed wicker hats. What she’d found most interesting were their long black braids and lovely singsong way of speaking.
“They are. They’re hard workers just like James and are fiercely loyal to him. He thinks the world of them.”
“Will I be cooking for them, too?”
“No. They live in one of the two cabins beyond the barn and get their own meals. Get ready for another turn.” Mutti pointed to a wooden sign bearing the name O’Brien Orchard. “That road ahead is ours.”
Becky led the team down a narrow lane to their left, with the O’Brien’s property on the north and an oak-studded field on the south. Before long there was a break in the apple trees. A house came into view, a darling place with white clapboard siding and a redbrick chimney. Green shutters with hearts cut out of the centers hung at every window.
She parked in front of the house, looped the reins over the porch railing and helped Mutti from the wagon. A whiff of peppermint from an herb garden on either side of the two steps gave Becky a sudden longing for a cup of tea and a nap. She might be able to enjoy the first, but the second was wishful thinking. The next few hours she’d be busy getting settled in and doing her best to convince Mr. O’Brien she could handle the job.
Mutti propped open the door and invited Becky inside. “Welcome to your new home. I would show you around, but the trip tired me out. I think I’ll lie down for a few minutes. If you’ll get your carpetbag, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
Excitement swirled in Becky’s chest. For the first time in years, she wouldn’t have to worry about waking in the night when her brother stumbled in drunk.
It didn’t take her long to stow her few items in Mutti’s bedroom, the far one of the three that occupied the western half of the house. She took a quick peek out the window. A huge wooden tank supported by a sturdy base towered over one end of the backyard—the source of the running water, no doubt. A clothesline had been strung across the other end. Beyond the yard were trees, trees and more trees. She couldn’t begin to imagine how many apples they would produce. “Would you like me to close the curtains, Mutti?”
“Yes, please. And then feel free to get acquainted with your new home.”
“I’ll see to the horses first.” Although Dillon had never let her drive, he’d left her to see to the team many times.
“One of the Lee brothers should be around and would be happy to take care of that for you. Now, you must promise you won’t let me sleep too long. I want to help with supper.”
“By all means.” Becky closed the bedroom door and smiled at the cheery scene that greeted her. A breeze fluttered the red-and-white gingham curtains at each of the three windows. Sunlight bathed the spacious room, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms filled the air. Four chairs formed a half circle in front of the impressive rock-faced fireplace that took up a large portion of the back wall, giving the room a homey feel.
The most well-appointed kitchen she’d ever seen occupied the other end of the room. A modern stove with a hot-water reservoir sat in the corner, with varnished counters stretching several feet from it in either direction. Shelves and hooks above the counters held a seemingly endless supply of pots, pans and utensils. There was even a pie safe. She put the meat inside, where the cooler air from below would rise up through the mesh shelves and keep it fresh.
She opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboard just inside the front door and stared in disbelief. She’d never seen so much food in one pantry before. No more racking her brain to come up with decent meals from next to nothing. Working in a kitchen as pretty and well stocked as this one would be a real treat. “Thank you, Lord.”
The horses whickered, reminding her they were waiting. She went in search of the workmen. Wooden barrels were stacked under the eaves of a massive barn to the east. Hens clucked and pecked at the ground in a fenced area in front of a sturdy chicken coop. Smoke curled from a soot-black chimney pipe at one of two cottages beyond the huge building.
A short man wearing a plaid shirt, trousers and slouch hat wielded a hoe in a good-sized plot between the barn and the orchard. If it wasn’t for the long black braid hanging down his back, she wouldn’t have known he was Chinese. She made her way to him. “Good afternoon.”
He jumped.
“I’m sorry I startled you. Are you Quon?”
He shook his head. “I Chung. Who you?”
“I’m the new nurse Mr. O’Brien sent for—Becky.” She wouldn’t provide her last name unless necessary. The fewer people who knew it, the better. Not that Dillon would be asking for Becky Martin, but just in case... “His mother said I could ask you to help me with the horses.”
“Yes, miss. I go.” The short man dropped the hoe and sprinted toward the wagon. Mutti had said the Lee brothers were helpful, but Chung’s quick response went beyond that. No wonder Mr. O’Brien thought so highly of his hired hands.
She should go inside and get to work, but the apple trees whispered her name, begging her to pay them a visit. After her days cooped up on the train, she could use a walk. Mutti wouldn’t need her for a while, and Mr. O’Brien wasn’t around, so she could do a little exploring.
Becky strolled beneath trees bursting with pale pink blossoms. A single flower floated from a branch overhead, the soft petals brushing her cheek as it passed. She caught the beautiful bloom in midair, buried her nose in it and inhaled nature’s perfume.
Several rows in, she spotted trees frosted with white flowers. She started toward them, but a movement in the distance caught her eye. Squinting, she tried to make out what it was. An animal. Not too large, but quick. It flew toward her, a streak of grayish-brown with a gleeful bark. She smiled. “Oh, it’s you. Come here, boy.”
She dropped to her knees, opened her arms and welcomed the friendly dog she’d seen earlier. He gave her a sloppy kiss. “Aren’t you a charmer? I wish you could stay, but...”
Mr. O’Brien didn’t want the dog, but the least she could do was give the poor fellow a bath. Maybe if he was clean, someone would take him in.
She found the supplies she needed in the barn, filled a pail with water and set to work behind the empty cabin, where she couldn’t be seen from the house. She scrubbed the dog until all traces of mud were gone. He gave himself a good shake, splattering her with water droplets.
“I knew it. You are a handsome fellow. Look at your shiny red coat. If Mr. O’Brien could see you now, he might change his mind. I need this job, though, so you’ll have to go.”
The dog nuzzled her and looked up with such trust in his eyes that she couldn’t send him away. She petted the friendly animal. “I could get in trouble for this, but I’m going to do what I can for you while I try to find you a home. I’ll slip you some table scraps later. In the meantime, you’d be wise to keep out of sight.” As though the handsome fellow understood her, he bounded off toward the rolling hills at the eastern edge of the property.
She put away the items she’d borrowed and hurried inside to change and start supper. If all went well, no one would find out that she was feeding the stray.
Chapter Four (#ulink_eebcc6f5-9b61-5702-a1db-c3f0fff094a8)
“You come back late, boss.”
James started at Quon’s words, and the wrench he was cleaning clattered on his workbench. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t heard the elder of the two Lee brothers enter the barn. “It took a while to make the repairs.”
If only Ralph Stratton had shown his young son how to operate the release valve James had installed. Instead, Davy had gotten frustrated and whacked the spigot with a shovel, breaking it off, when all he’d needed to do was twist the handle. Water had gushed from the pipeline James had installed that led to both his orchard and Stratton’s farm, creating a small lake in no time.
Quon sat on an apple barrel, his heels drumming a steady beat as they struck the empty container. “You very dirty. Need to take bath before you go in house. Must look good for new lady.”
“New lady? Oh, you mean Miss Martin.”
“Is she your special friend?”
“No!” James lowered his voice. “She’s Mutti’s nurse. She’ll be taking over her chores, too.”
Quon stilled his feet. “Good your mother have helper. Not good she need one.”
“I wanted an older woman. Miss Martin is seven years younger than I am.”
“You talk with mad voice. Why? She pretty? Make your head move?” He swiveled his in an exaggerated imitation of a man watching an attractive woman walk past, with his eyebrows doing a ridiculous dance.
James chose not to encourage Quon. “Did everything go all right while I was gone?”
“No trouble here.”
He wiped the mud off the last of the tools he’d sent Bobby to get and suspended the pipe cutter between two nails on the board over his workbench. “I see you and Chung finished plowing the garden plot this afternoon. Good work.”
“Miss Martin will plant soon?”
“I suppose so, but I’ll have to show her how. Since she’s lived in the city her whole life, I doubt she knows one end of a rake from the other.”
Quon thumped his chest. “I will teach her. I good teacher.”
“I know, but...”
“What? She not like Chinese people?”
“I don’t think she’s ever met any before.” James wasn’t sure how she’d react. Many people maligned the Chinese. Some went so far as to threaten them—or worse. He wouldn’t subject Quon and Chung to any mistreatment.
“She seem nice.”
“You’ve met her?”
“She look out kitchen window, see me and... I not know how to say it.” Quon waved.
James supplied the word. “I’ll talk with her about the gardening and let you know.”
Quon jumped to the ground. “I think Miss Martin have supper ready for you soon. It smell good. I go.”
James entered the lean-to at the back of the house minutes later and yanked off his muddy boots. The large washtub they used for bathing sat on the floor with steam rising from the surface of the water.
The door from the great room opened, and Miss Martin stepped inside, lugging a large pail. She sent hot water splashing into the tub. “Did you get everything fixed?”
“I did.”
“That’s good. I figured repairing a water line would be a dirty job and you’d want to bathe. I put clean clothes up there.” She tilted her head toward the shelf over the coat pegs. “I’ll have supper on the table shortly.” She left and closed the door.
She’d anticipated his every need.
“Thanks. I won’t be long.” The mouthwatering scents in the air had set his stomach to growling. He was eager to sample her cooking.
Minutes later he entered the kitchen. Miss Martin bustled about with confidence. A thick brown braid hung down her back, swinging from side to side as she moved, a captivating sight. He forced himself to stop staring.
She must have helped Mutti with her hair because the braid coiled atop his mother’s head was neat and tidy. Such tasks had grown increasingly difficult for her, although she had a hard time admitting it.
His mother sat at the table stirring a creamy concoction. He appreciated the young woman’s consideration. By including her, Mutti would feel as if she were making a valuable contribution.
Miss Martin turned from the stove and smiled. “You look a whole lot better, but...”
“But what?”
She tapped a finger to her head. “You might want to brush your hair.”
“Yes. I’ll do that.” He hadn’t meant his words to have such an edge. It wasn’t as though he cared what she thought of him, but he didn’t like that hint of amusement in her eyes.
“Be quick, Sohn. It is past suppertime.”
“I told you not to wait.”
Miss Martin set a pitcher of milk on the table. “We didn’t want you to have to eat alone.”
He completed the task as quickly as he could and took his place on the end of one of the two benches flanking the rectangular dining table, opposite Mutti. Miss Martin set the dishes before him. Jägerschnitzel and Spätzle with gravy—a good German meal.
She sat beside Mutti, her hands in her lap and her head down. Mutti bowed hers, too. “Would you please give thanks, Sohn?”
James bit back a sigh. Mutti knew he had difficulty praying, but she asked him to say grace every night. She couldn’t seem to accept the fact that he wasn’t on speaking terms with God. But as he had before every other meal, he would do his duty.
“Thank You, Father, for the food we’re about to eat. Please give Mutti a restful night and help Miss Martin’s ribs heal quickly. Amen.”
He heaped generous portions on his plate. The Jägerschnitzel tasted every bit as good as Mutti’s. The veal cutlets were tender, the small dumplings served with them were cooked to perfection and the mushroom gravy he’d ladled over everything was as rich and smooth as buttermilk. Miss Martin smiled when he helped himself to seconds.
“Becky is a good cook, ja?”
“Almost as good as you are.”
Mutti chuckled. “You do not have to humor me, Sohn, but I love you for it. You will soon see that she is the better baker.”
When everyone had finished eating, Miss Martin cleared the supper dishes, opened the oven door and flooded the room with the tantalizing aroma of peaches and cinnamon. She topped each slice of peach pie with a dollop of the whipping cream Mutti had made. He wasn’t going to have any complaints about his food with Miss Martin in the kitchen.
A short time later he shoveled in the last bite of the fruity dessert and tossed his napkin on the table. “Mutti’s right, Miss Martin. The pie was delicious.”
She focused on her plate, but a hint of a smile lifted her lips. “I’m glad you like it, Mr. O’Brien.”
Mutti’s brow creased. “I am glad you two are talking, but I do not like the stiffness. You both call me Mutti, so I think you should call each other James and Becky.”
Miss Martin’s fork froze in midair.
Leave it to Mutti to interfere. She meant well, but he couldn’t let her take charge. “She has a good point. Quon and Chung are my employees, and I use their first names. If you don’t object, I’ll use yours, and you may use mine.”
