Triple Creek Ranch - Part 35

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
Here I am again at another conference. This time we're in Wichita, KS. Yesterday we spent the day setting up and then came back to our hotel room, ate supper and watched the Scrips National Spelling Bee. It was a lot of fun to watch. There were some great spellers!

Nothing very unusual went on this week. I mowed the yard and worked on writing Triple Creek Ranch. And for those of you interested, I "think" I might be "done" writing this first book, but I'm not quite sure. I don't think I like the ending and Mom hasn't read it and told me what she thinks, so I may have to re-write the last part or add more to it. What would you all, as my readers, like to know by the end of the first book? That might help me know if I've reached the end or not. :)

Right now S went over to the conference hall with Brother while Mom and I wait to get a call from Sis-in-law saying that some of the kids need to go eat breakfast.
For those of you who enjoy children's cute sayings and doings, here are some vocabulary words you can add. Doodle Bug has such a fun way of saying some things. :)
You can "slim" in the "slimming pool" if you have one.
And at night you sleep on a "plillow."
Singing can also be different when you sing, "This is My Father's 'Weerald'." 

And now, Part 35 of Triple Creek Ranch. Enjoy!

Part 35

    The fierce heat of the summer had abated and the nights now held a bit of coolness, a hint of the approaching autumn, while during the bright sunny days there was often a cloud or a breeze which offered just a hint of chill, a tantalizing, invigorating, refreshing tang of air to quicken the blood, lighten the eyes and put a new spring in the step. The season was beginning to change and those on Triple Creek Ranch, hired hands, those living in the house and the animals in the barn or pasture felt a new lease on life. Some days were rainy, but when the sun shone again, not to bake the ground and suck any moisture from the earth, but to change the dry, brown grasses into bright green pastures where the cattle and horses ate with delight, then indeed did the ranch seem alive with life.
    The change was enjoyed by all and Jenelle, feeling more refreshed than she had for weeks, went about the house or worked in her gardens among the flowers with a song on her lips and the ever ready smile or bubbling laugh for those she saw.
    Orlena, having never experienced the changing of seasons away from the noise, bustle and hurry of the city, found herself almost skipping down the stairs each morning, eager to be finished with her chores so that she might enjoy the day with a book in some secluded place where she would be undisturbed. These books she carefully hid from her brother, for she had a feeling that he would not approve of them. True, her work often suffered from being sloppily and hastily done, the dusting, which Orlena despised, would often be neglected for days until Mrs. O’Connor or Jenelle spoke to her about it, but, when once her neglect of the chickens had taken Jenelle out to feed them and gather the eggs herself and Norman had discovered it, Orlena had been made to clean out the hen house while her brother stood sternly by watching her. Though she had complained and cried, her brother remained unmovable until the job had been finished. Ever since that time, Orlena had taken care that whatever other chores might be neglected or hurried over, the chickens never were.
    As for Mrs. O’Connor, that good woman relapsed more often into her native tongue and the bright lilt of her Irish melodies danced across the yards while she hung up the wash. “For,” she remarked to Hardrich one evening after the Monday night feast, “Tis like a bit ‘o the old country entirely. Tis green and bonny. I’m a thinkin’ ye can’t know how I’ve missed the grasses growin’ entirely.”
    Hardrich nodded. “I lived in a city two years, and I never will go back if I can help it.” He shook his head decidedly and strolled away from the house with the rest of the hands.
    Seated alone in her room, watching from behind the plain muslin curtains, Orlena frowned. “Wouldn’t go back to the city. What wouldn’t I do to go back!” Turning pensively away, she sat down in her chair and thought. Autumn was rapidly approaching and school would be starting soon. Where should she go? She only had a dim hope that Norman would relent and send her to Madam Viscount’s Seminary, but if he didn’t, where was she to go? “I’ll ask him tomorrow at breakfast,” she decided and began to undress for bed, though her stomach rumbled loudly for its missed supper.
    In another room, some time later, the master of the ranch turned from the open window to his wife who was busily brushing out her long golden hair. “Jenelle,” he said, “we have to decide where.”
    “True,” Jenelle agreed quietly. “I’ve been praying about it.”
    “So have I,” Norman put in. “But the decision has to be made now. I don’t feel right about putting it off any longer.”
    Laying the hairbrush back on her dressing table, Jenelle moved softly over to her husband who had turned back to the window, a worried expression on his face. “Why not here,” she whispered, slipping an arm through his and leaning her head on him.
    Norman looked down. “You mean in town?”
    Jenelle nodded.
    For a moment all was silent. “It would be simple,” he at last replied slowly. “But not Sheldon’s?”
    “No. Not yet. Let’s wait a while for that. Perhaps next year would do.”
    Bending his head, Norman dropped a kiss on his wife’s bright hair before slipping his arm about her. Silently, together, they stood watching the last of the evening light fade from the sky and the stars come out one by one to twinkle brightly now that the king of day had gone to bed.

    It was the following morning, one bright and fresh from a dew that had fallen during the night, and the air which blew the curtains was slightly chilly. The family was seated at the breakfast table when Orlena, turning to her brother, asked in the patronizing voice she had begun using, “Norman, have you yet made up your mind about which academy I am to attend this school term? I do wish you would hurry and decide for I must have time to order my school uniforms and my books and get my trunk packed.”
    Setting his coffee cup down and exchanging a quick glance with Jenelle, Norman smiled at his sister. “I have decided. Jenelle and I talked it over last night.”
    “And?” In spite of herself, Orlena was curious about this place where she would be spending the school year. Wherever it was, it would be better than staying out in the middle of nowhere on the ranch she decided.
    “You’ll be attending school in town this term so you won’t need any uniforms. As for books,” he went on, not noticing Orlena’s surprise and growing anger. “You and Jenelle can go into town with me tomorrow, and we’ll find out what you’ll need.”

What would you like to know before the first book ends?

Questions or comments about this part?

Would you like to read more?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 34

Good Morning FFFs,
At a hotel this morning down in Arlington, TX for a huge book fair/homeschool conference. This is one of the very busy ones so I shouldn't be wandering around wondering what to do and wishing it were almost over. :)

Let's see, last week . . .
Friday - I stayed home in the morning and then after lunch we headed out to the camp where the wedding was going to be held. It was cold. The rehearsal went well even if one of the groomsmen wasn't there yet. After the rehearsal, we helped with a few other things and then most people headed out. There were still some of us young people there. My best friends, a younger sister and friend and the groom, one of the bride's brothers and another guy friend. The girls all went for a walk out through the woods to where the wedding had been planned, but the rain changed it. Then brother and guy came out in a car and all five girls piled in the back. It was rather crazy. :) We had supper at the bride's house. It was grilled hot dogs, mac & cheese, baked beans and chips with s'mores for dessert. Such fun.
Saturday - It rained some during the morning, but then only lightly misted some. I don't know how many of you have been involved with weddings, but the few I've been involved with tend to be rather stressed before it happens. Well, this wedding was different. The bride and groom even went for a walk through the woods together that morning. :) I got to help make our bouquets, and even the bride's bouquet It was a wedding not many people will forget because it was chilly and outside. We did do it in a pavilion just in case it rained. The guests wore their coats and we had piles of quilts for people to use. And they did get used. Since my other best friend (bride's twin) and I really wanted to wear the flip-flops we had made, we put a heater right behind where we would be standing. It wasn't too bad. 
Sunday - A much looked forward to day of rest! I was about to fall asleep during church.
Monday - Got some things done that had been piled up for weeks. And that evening we went roller skating with friends from church. We had a great time, like always.
Tuesday - Got other things done and relaxed. Walked that evening with best friend since her other friend had left. It was strange just having us two. We are so used to being three since we've been best friends for 24 years!
Wednesday - Drove down to Arlington, TX.
Thursday - Set up for the conference.

Writing? I haven't written since  . . . When was it? Before we went to Silver Dollar City? I am really hoping to get back into writing and lots of it, when we return from this trip.
Since I haven't posted a Triple Creek Ranch Story since March, I thought it was time I posted another one. :) Do you agree? Enjoy it!

Part 34

    Did Jenelle really like her a little, even though she herself had never liked Jenelle? Sitting in her chair near the open window, Orlena came face to face with the possibility that most of the misery she had experienced since coming to the ranch was her own fault. She hadn’t even tried to like it. All she had done, she realized, was compare this life with the one she had always known. Could she come to like living out in the middle of nowhere if she tried hard enough? Orlena wasn’t sure she really wanted to like it at Triple Creek, but— “At least I can tolerate it until time for school,” she thought with a deep sigh.

    Downstairs Norman was on his knees beside Jenelle. “Darling, please stop crying,” he begged, drawing her into his arms. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything. Sweetheart!” He kissed her, smoothed back her hair and then glanced about the room. It was empty except for the two of them. For several minutes he continued talking softly until Jenelle had calmed down enough to listen. “I’m going to have a talk, a calm one, with Orlena.”
    Jenelle put in a protest. “Don’t, Norman, I—”
    Gently Norman put his finger over his wife’s lips. “I think it is time I did. I won’t have you spoken to like that.” Then before Jenelle could say anything else, Norman changed the subject. “Has Mrs. O’Connor been a help to you, Sweet?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “I’m thankful to hear it. Now,” he kissed her once again and stood up, “you are going to eat something and then go up to bed.”
    With a tired sigh, Jenelle leaned against him and clung to his hand. He was so strong and thoughtful, so wise; he always was thinking of her and the ranch. How did she get the most wonderful husband in the world, she wondered.
    “Jenelle?”
    “I’m not hungry,” she whispered, closing her eyes. The dining room was warm, and she was tired.

    After helping his wife up to bed, Norman returned to the dining room to find Mrs. O’Connor. As they sat together eating their cold breakfast, Norman recalled the many mornings he had taken his breakfast in the kitchen at his grandmother’s with Mrs. O’Connor. And as then, he needed to talk.
    “Mrs. O’Connor, what am I supposed to do? I can’t talk to Orlena without one of us losing our temper, usually both of us. I can’t find out from Jenelle what’s been going on in the house, so how can I know what needs said? I don’t even have the faintest idea what Orlena was so upset about this morning. It’s almost as though Jenelle were trying to protect Orlena. Am I that harsh?”
    Setting down her tea cup, Mrs. O’Connor shook her head. “Ah Norman,” she said, “tis a sweet wife you have. She’s not protecting Orlena, she’s trying to protect you.”
    “Me? From what?
    “From yourself.”
    For a moment Norman puzzled over that statement. How could Jenelle be trying to protect him from himself and why did she think she should? He must be missing something, but what?
    “And here I was thinking you had a fine head on your shoulders since you went to college and graduated with such high honors.” The housekeeper chuckled over the perplexed look on the rancher’s face. “Tis from yer temper she’s protecting you. She knows how jealous you are of her and that Miss Orlena has a way of saying things that rile yer temper but have no effect on Jenelle. Her patience is great, though I’ll admit this morning was a wee bit too much.”
    “I’ll say it was too much,” Norman muttered. Then, with a long, drawn out sigh that was almost like a groan, he began drumming his fingers on the table. Turning suddenly to Mrs. O’Connor, he asked, “Do you think I should talk to Orlena now?”
    Thoughtfully the housekeeper shook her head. “Not yet. Wait a bit. I believe Jenelle’s tears did more to soften her heart than any words you could say. Go to your work on the ranch.”
    “But Jenelle . . .”
    “I’ll see to it that she rests.”

    After Norman departed reluctantly, Mrs. O’Connor stepped up to Orlena’s room. “Tis not right she should be left hungry entirely,” she thought as she tapped softly. A subdued voice answered and Mrs. O’Connor opened the door.
    Orlena turned from the closet, her young face sober, her manner hesitant. “I’m not hungry, Mrs. O’Connor. Please don’t make me eat. I couldn’t swallow anything.”
    “Tis a state of things to be sure,” the good woman murmured to herself as she descended the stairs to clear away the breakfast that was only half eaten. “And it’s unsure I am if tis a good state of things or not.”

    It was indeed, as Mrs. O’Connor put it, a state of things. Orlena hung up her dresses and took care of the chickens in a subdued manner. Even sewing on her dresses, which were nearly finished, was a silent time, for Orlena didn’t complain as she usually did; in fact, she scarcely said two words. Jenelle came down later in the morning, also quiet though not in the same way her young sister was. Several times during the day, Mrs. O’Connor would glance first at Jenelle and then at Orlena. Neither one was moody, Jenelle even smiled, though there was not as much brightness in it as there had been only the day before.
    This state of things lasted for several days before Jenelle was once again her bright, sunny self with a cheerful smile and a kind word for everyone. Orlena accepted, at least for the time, her life on Triple Creek Ranch and resigned herself to at least tolerating her assigned chores and eating with Mrs. O’Connor. As for eating with the hired hands, Orlena’s lip still curled, and she longed for the day when she could put Lloyd Hearther in his place.

Questions, comments?

I'd love to hear what you think is going to happen next.

Or your thoughts on this part.

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 33

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans!
It's the third day of spring and we have sleet and snow on the ground. Not much, but enough to know it doesn't feel like spring outside. It snowed and sleeted quite a bit yesterday afternoon. We were just glad not much of it stuck. How about you? Did you get some late winter weather?

After writing for 10 evenings in a row, I got rather stuck. On everything. One evening I looked at each file on NEO and discovered a problem. I couldn't write on any of the seven stories I had started on it. One story I need to do some research since I've never lived on a ranch or watched a fall round-up. Story 2: I'll probably end up deleting this one since I've decided to change the situation. Story 3: I had a great starting description, but had no idea what what going to happen or why the person was doing what he was doing. Talked it over at the supper table and problem solved. Story 4: About half way through this story, but got stuck because I wasn't sure how to resolve the problem. A little more talking with the right people should fix it. Story 5: This is a Christmas story that I started late in December and just didn't get finished. It might stay on there until this December. :) Story 6: A story for "Project 12" that got stuck because I had other ideas thrown at me, but I realized they won't work, so it's back to the original story and it's now moving along. Story 7: Well, this one has been on for quite some time. I'm kind of stuck because I'm not sure where the story is going. I mean, I can make it just go, but there has to be some sort of plot line and I haven't come up with one yet.
     So there you have my writing update.
As for what I've been doing, not much. The four kiddos are coming over this morning to stay until nap time. I've been checking papers from my writing students, drawing and other little things. Not much going on.

I decided to give you a Triple Creek Ranch today and thought you might like to know what is happening with the story. I've decided that if I were to continue to write this like I had first thought, the book would probably be as large as Home Fires. So, I thought I'd cut it and make two books. But the question arose, how do I cut this book and make each one a "stand alone" book? Each one needs a plot line to string the story on. I wasn't sure I could do it, but after thinking and trying out an idea or two, I've come up with a way. :) That means that I'm working very hard to try to get this first book written and to test readers soon. BUT . . . I won't publish it until I get the second book nearly finished. I don't want to make you readers have to wait a year or two because I got distracted with some other book. :) As far as posting TCR, I'll keep posting it every once in a while. I'd hate to post all the first book but the last two parts. :) If you are wanting to know how long the first TCR is going to be, lets just say that right now is is more than 1/2 of The Unexpected Request and with the unwritten parts still to be done, I'm guessing it might be just a little shorter than that book, but I can't say for sure since I haven't written them. :)

But now, here is Triple Creek Ranch Part 33. Enjoy!

Part 33

    “I suppose you’ll just have to work harder on sewing your new dresses. Jenelle’s dresses don’t seem to have suffered from the care of the chickens.” Norman glanced critically at his wife’s dark blue dress. “Perhaps if you asked politely, Mrs. O’Connor or Jenelle would help you with the sewing. But, the chickens are now your responsibility and,” he added firmly in low tones, “I don’t want to hear of Jenelle having to take care of them because you forgot. Is that understood?”
    His sister’s only answer was a glare. She was learning that an argument with her brother didn’t usually get her what she wanted.

    The next few days were trying ones. More than once Mrs. Mavrich thanked God for her new help and sighed over the problem of her young sister. Orlena, not used to working, not even on such simple things as making her bed and hanging up her clothes, seemed determined to make life as miserable as she could for herself and those around her. She hated the chickens and, on her second day of gathering the eggs, when a hen pecked her hand drawing blood, she shrieked and flung the entire basket of eggs she had already gathered, out the door of the hen house. Of course every egg was smashed and it took some time before the chickens were calm enough to return to eating. Jenelle would have gathered the rest of the eggs that morning had not a grim faced Mrs. O’Connor marched a furious Orlena back outside to finish the job.
    “If she had been a brother instead of a sister—” Norman growled when he learned of it.
    “I know,” Jenelle tried to smile. “You would have taken a trip to the woodshed a long time ago.”
    Not only did Orlena object to the chickens but also to every other chore she was given. She did more complaining, pouting and criticizing then sewing and, had not Jenelle had wonderful patience, all progress on the new clothes would have halted.
    Previously, Jenelle had regularly slipped into Orlena’s room to straighten it up and make her bed; however, after a talk with Mrs. O’Connor, Jenelle carefully avoided Orlena’s room. She knew that if she were to enter it, she wouldn’t be able to leave without tidying up. Only Mrs. O’Connor and Orlena knew what state that room was in, until one morning nearly two weeks after the housekeeper’s arrival.
    Jenelle was in the dining room setting a pitcher of milk on the table when Orlena flung herself into the room.
    “Jenelle Mavrich!” she shouted, “You lazy, irresponsible, good for nothing, sister-in-law! How dare you treat me this way!”
    Opening her eyes in astonishment at the sudden outburst, Jenelle turned to the irate child. Her first thought was, “I hope Norman is still out in the barn,” then aloud she questioned, “What are you talking about, Orlena?”
    “Don’t try to sound so innocent,” Orlena fumed. “You know very well what is wrong. Just look at this dress!”
    Jenelle blinked and gazed with puzzled eyes at the lovely black dress. She didn’t see anything wrong with it except for some wrinkles, except for it being completely out of place on the ranch. With a shake of her head, Jenelle said patiently, “I still don’t know what is wrong. What is it about the dress that you want me to notice?”
    Her quiet voice irritated Orlena still further. “The wrinkles, you dumb person! You—”
    “Orlena Mavrich, what is it you are calling your sweet sister?” Mrs. O’Connor had entered the room and now stood with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.
    Whirling on this new person, Orlena gave her a scathing look before retorting with fury, “You are just as dumb as my ‘sweet sister’ as you call her. You are both dumb, selfish, ignorant beasts! It’s your fault that I haven’t a decent thing to wear.”
    “What is wrong with the one you are wearing now,” ventured Jenelle.
    “Wrong with it!” Orlena’s voice rose with a shriek. “Wrong with it? It’s wrinkled! I already told you!”
    “If you would pick up your clothes and hang them up instead of leaving them lying around in heaps, they would not be wrinkled.” This calm fact from Mrs. O’Connor was spoken in a normal tone of voice.
    “I leave them? That is not my job. I am a guest and I consider myself insulted!”
    What was she to say to such a child, Jenelle wondered as Orlena’s voice continued. How do I stop her before Norman comes in? She sent up a swift, silent prayer for help and wisdom and then said softly, “Orlena, on this ranch, everyone picks up after themselves.”
    “Well, I don’t! You are just a mean, selfish, horrid, ill-bred—”
    “Orlena Mavrich! That is enough!”
    Instant silence flooded the room. Jenelle quaked inwardly, for she had never heard her husband speak in such a stern, furiously cold voice. The silence went on. No one dared speak. Stealing a quick glance at her husband, she saw his eyes locked with Orlena’s and noticed his clenched jaw. Oh, was there nothing she could do? Suddenly she felt as though she couldn’t breathe and gripping the table she sank onto a chair gasping for air.
    “Darling!” Norman was beside her in an instant. “I’ll carry you to your bed,” he offered, preparing to lift her.
    But Jenelle shook her head and pushed his arm away. “I’m all right, really. I just . . . Oh Norman, what can I do?” And the mistress of Triple Creek Ranch buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.
    For several long minutes Orlena just stood and stared. Never had she seen a grown person cry like that. And to think that Jenelle, of all people— She didn’t know what to think. Slowly, without a word, she turned around, moved past Mrs. O’Connor and made her way back to her own room. Was she the cause of Jenelle’s misery?

What did you think?

Any questions or comments?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 32

Hello Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
It's cloudy here and cold. Yesterday it was in the 30s all day and cloudy. No snow. I wish :) but Dad needs to work on some roofs, so . . . Maybe we'll get snow later.

This week was rather busy. Or at least we had extra things going on.
On Saturday it was so nice out that I got to go walk with my best friends. That was great! We hadn't walked since before Thanksgiving!
Sunday we had a small group for church since several families were either sick or had people sick and one family was out of town.
It was great to have a normal Monday and I got a lot done! I like those kinds of days.
Tuesday was Salsa day here. My sis-in-law and the kids came over late morning and helped us make and can 13 quarts of salsa. I know, for those of you who have larger families or can in larger quantities, we hardly made any. Just remember it's for a family of four. :)
On Wednesday we went to Connie's to take some things, but decided once we arrived, not to bother. You see, Connie's is going out of business. We had been planning to stop our booth since it just wasn't worth it any longer and then got a phone call saying they had to close. Anyway, we discovered about 1/2 of the booths were either cleared out or being cleared out.
Then Wednesday evening we babysat the kiddos over here along with Sweet-Pea, J-J and Sweet-Heart.  It was a lively but fun evening. What else to you have when you have a 10 month old, a 1 1/2, an almost 2, an almost 3, a 3, a nearly 5 and a 6 year old? :D
Yesterday afternoon Dad took S and me in the truck to pack up our stuff at Connie's. We're now out and have stuff we have to sort through here.
Today we clean house and then this afternoon I'm going with my best friends to go buy shoes for BF1's wedding in May.

I've have been writing some. Mostly on "Project 12" this week. I'm trying to get the first story finished. Then I can go back to TCR and Dr. Morgan and other short stories. At least until I have to get the next story written for "Project 12."

Christian, I must commend your bravery! It seems as though the games I created were too much of a challenge for the rest of my readers for no one has played them. Or if they did, they didn't admit their status on the blog. :) But thank you, Christian for playing! And here is the story you requested. I hope you enjoy it.

Part 32

    He smiled in the dark at his own thinking. If Hardrich couldn’t run the ranch for a few days without Norman in the fields too, he would have to change a lot since he saw him a few hours ago. “I’ll stay here at least tomorrow and see how things go,” he decided. Then he turned over, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

    “Come, Miss Orlena.” Mrs. O’Connor entered the room to find Orlena awake. “The doctor said you were to be getting up this morning and breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” She had bustled about as she spoke and opened the curtains so that the light of the early morning would enter.
    “Oh, I can’t get up this morning, Mrs. O’Connor,” Orlena objected, trying to look pitiful. “Perhaps by this afternoon I’ll have enough strength to get up for a time. I’ll sleep a little longer and then you or Jenelle can bring my breakfast.”
    “We’ll do no such thing.” Mrs. O’Connor turned to the bed and pulled the sheet off.
    “How dare you!” exclaimed Orlena, bouncing upright and glaring, seeming to forget in her anger that she was “still weak and sickly.”
    “The sheet needs washing. Your clothes are on the chair. You’d best be putting them on, for Norman and Jenelle will be waiting for us.”
    “Us?” Orlena repeated. “I will eat in the dining room, and you will eat in the kitchen. I refuse to eat with hired help.”
    “You won’t be eating anywhere unless you get dressed,” Mrs. O’Connor replied calmly.
    Orlena moved over to the chair. “You’ll have to help me get dressed, Mrs. O’Connor, or I’ll never be ready in time and then Norman will be angry at me.” She whimpered like a child afraid of his own shadow, but Mrs. O’Connor wasn’t deceived.
    “What you need, Child, is some sensible clothes you can dress yourself in without keeping your brother waiting.”
    The dress was soon on and Orlena sat down before her mirror and held out her brush to Mrs. O’Connor. “Now fix my hair,” she ordered. “Remember, I should have fourteen curls.”
    But Mrs. O’Connor was not going to cater to the young tyrant any longer. “Tis not likely I’ll be doing your hair for ye,” she exclaimed, letting her Irish tongue speak with it’s old lilt.  “I didn’t come to play nurse maid to ye when yer old enough to be doin’ it yerself. Tis time I was down helpin’ Mrs. Mavrich with the breakfast entirely!” And without so much as a by your leave, Mrs. O’Connor disappeared from the room.
    “How . . . how . . . how dare you!” Orlena spluttered. “Mrs. O’Connor!” she hollered. “You come back here this minute. Do you hear me?” She flung open her room door and shouted as she had never done even in her grandmother’s house. There she would have rung for another servant and then, when her grandmother was present, she would have pouted, whined, complained or cried until the one who had displeased her had been properly punished. “Mrs. O’Connor!” Never had the housekeeper dared to ignore her wishes before. She would speak to Norman about her.
    Leaning over the railing, staring down the stairs, Orlena was about to shout again when the door below opened and her brother appeared.
    “Good morning, Orlena,” Norman looked up to greet her pleasantly.
    For a brief moment, Orlena remained standing and stared down. Then she remembered what she was going to tell him and ordered, “Send Mrs. O’Connor to my room at once!”
    Norman’s eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t exactly a pleasant morning greeting,” he remarked, adding, “Mrs. O’Connor is busy helping Jenelle get breakfast on the table and I’m afraid can’t come now. Is there anything I can do?”
    Orlena glared down at him. “No!” she snapped and started to storm back to her room.
    “Breakfast will be in five minutes, Orlena,” Norman called after her.
    The sound of her door slamming was her only reply.
    “Hmm,” Norman scratched his head. “I wonder if she will come down this morning for breakfast? She certainly isn’t still sick in bed.” Shaking his head, he returned to the dining room to stand by the window and drum his fingers on the sill. “This could be an interesting day,” he mused.

    And so the day started. Orlena did come down for breakfast with a hurt look on her face and complained to her brother in a teary voice about Mrs. O’Connor’s rudeness.
    His only response was, “We don’t always get things our own way. Pass the butter, please, Orlena.”
    Orlena passed it, muttering under her breath.

    To Jenelle’s surprise Norman remained about the house all day. Not always inside, but being only out in the barn or in one of the outbuildings, he was often stepping inside for something. As for Mrs. O’Connor, Jenelle’s worries about her fitting in were wasted, for before the day was over Mrs. O’Connor felt like one of the family.
    “She fits in better than Orlena has yet,” Jenelle sighed to herself as she latched the chicken coop and prepared to follow her new housekeeper and Orlena back to the house.
    Norman, coming from the barn, fell into step beside his wife. “Have you explained the care of the chickens to Mrs. O’Connor and Orlena?”
    Jenelle nodded.
    “Good. Orlena,” he called, lengthening his stride a bit to catch up with his sister, “starting tomorrow the care of the chickens will be your responsibility.”
    Stopping short and wheeling around, Orlena stared at her brother. Surely he was joking! He didn’t really think that the granddaughter of Mrs. Marshall Mavrich would take care of chickens, did he? One look at his face, however, told her that he was not teasing. “I have nothing suitable to wear for such a despicable job,” she told him haughtily.
    If Orlena thought her lack of proper clothing would deter her brother and make him change his mind, she was sadly mistaken.

Have you any questions or comments?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 31

Good Morning FFFs!
It really feels like spring outside even if it is still January. Tomorrow evening it is supposed to get cold and we could get some ice, sleet or maybe snow. Winter again.

It was a lot of fun to get all your guesses. :) No one got close for how many books I had read. I surprised even myself with that number. Christian was the closest to the correct answer. His guess - 85. Right number - 109!!! Have I mentioned that I like to read?

And as for the number of books we have at home, not counting the cookbooks, song books, books on PaperBack Swap or the four boxes of books we have to get rid of, we have a lot. Angela, you were only one off! Our grand total for books in the house is 6004!
Thank you all for your guesses and I hope you enjoyed it. :) I did.

Wow! I thought that since I had written two more parts of TCR, I'd post one this morning. I wasn't sure which one I was ready to post so I went back to look. I had no idea that the last TCR that was posted was back in September! No wonder you want another one. Sorry.

Life has been busy, but not too much. Last Friday I went over to help a friend paint her new house and I'm heading back over there again today for a few hours. The only other thing of interest is that for the rest of today, my 3rd book, "Pirates of Rocky Crag Bay and Other Stories" is available for free download on Amazon! So, if you don't have a copy yet, know of people who might like to read it, or just want to share about it with friends, family or strangers, go right ahead, but do it soon! I've already had over 800 downloads!

But, I don't have much time now, so here is TCR! Enjoy!

Part 31

    “She is to get up tomorrow,” Dr. French said. “And see that she has something to do besides sit around all day. She’s not an invalid.” It was evening, and Jenelle and Mrs. O’Connor had followed the doctor down to the front room where Norman was waiting for them. “What that child needs now is some exercise, and you,” the doctor wheeled suddenly to Jenelle, “could do with less exercise and more rest.”
    “That is why Mrs. O’Connor is here, Doctor,” Norman answered, putting an arm about his wife. “She’ll see to it that Jenelle gets her rest when I’m out on the ranch.”
    “And that Orlena has things to do?” Doctor French shook his head and picked up his hat. “I hope you are a strong woman, Mrs. O’Connor, for I have a feeling Mr. Mavrich is handing you a full time job.”
    Mrs. O’Connor smiled, “I’m used to working. A sad thing it would be indeed if Margaret Patrick O’Connor had to sit and rock all the rest of her days. A sad thing entirely!” Now and then a bit of Mrs. O’Connor’s Irish upbringing would slip into her speech bringing a smile to Norman’s face.
    “Good!” was the emphatic reply of the doctor as he slapped on his hat. “Good evening.” And Dr. French took his leave.

    “I’ll just step up to settle Miss Orlena for the night before retiring myself.”
    “Oh, Mrs. O’Connor,” Jenelle protested, starting forward, but Norman held her back. “You’ve been busy ever since you arrived this morning; I can see to Orlena. You must be tired.”
    “And me just finished saying I didn’t want to be sitting down with folded hands,” exclaimed Mrs. O’Connor lifting her hands and looking from Norman to Jenelle.
    “Darling,” Norman chided softly, his grey eyes laughing, “you wouldn’t want Mrs. O’Connor’s first night here to be difficult, would you?”
    Jenelle turned her face to her husband’s with a look of surprise. “No, but—”
    “Then I think it would be best if you let her take care of my sister this evening.”
    For a moment she looked at him, then turned to look at the ranch’s latest addition, and her ready laugh bubbled out though it wasn’t as light as usual. “Of course,” she agreed. “You must have missed Orlena when Norman took her away. I’m just can’t seem to think for I’m so—”
    “Tired,” Norman contributed.
    Not waiting for anything further to be said, Mrs. O’Connor slipped from the room leaving the master of Triple Creek Ranch alone with his wife.
    After the door closed, Norman drew Jenelle over to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. For several minutes neither of them spoke.
    “Norman,” Jenelle said at last, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder, “what am I to do with Mrs. O’Connor? I don’t know how . . . I mean, I’ve never had anyone old enough to be my mother . . . Well, . . . Oh, Norman, why did you ask her to come?”
    There was the sound of tears in Jenelle’s voice and Norman looked down at the face half hidden on his shoulder and pulled her closer. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “Mrs. O’Connor was the only real friend I had when I went to visit Grandmother. I knew she didn’t have any place to go after the house in town was rented, and you needed help. Darling, she knows what Orlena is like, she knows her moods, her attitudes and her whims. Mrs. O’Connor also knows how to cook and keep house. More important, she knows how to pray. You won’t have to tell her much except maybe how to take care of the chickens unless—” He paused in thought, tapped his fingers on his knee and then resumed. “Perhaps it would be good to give the chickens into my sister’s care.”
    Jenelle sat up suddenly, “Norman, she’s my chicken too!”
    “What?”
    “I . . . I mean, my sister,” Jenelle giggled, and Norman laughed.
    “All right, Dear, our sister,” Norman conceded when his laugh was over.
    Jenelle leaned back against his arm. “Norman, if Mrs. O’Connor is in charge of our sister, does the cooking, washing and keeping house, what is left for me? Shall I go out and work in the fields with you and the men? You know I can rope a cow and mend a fence.”
    “Not a chance.” Norman bent his head and kissed the tip of his wife’s nose. “You are to do whatever you feel like doing. If you wish to wash the clothes or cook or sew with Orlena, why do so, but if you are tired or feel a sick headache coming on, then you are to go to bed knowing that the house will continue to run smoothly. How does that sound, Sweet?”
    “Delightful. But I’m afraid it will take some getting used to.” Jenelle sighed softly and nestled in her husband’s arms.
    The clock on the mantel ticked the minutes slowly by, the only sound in the room, until Mr. and Mrs. Mavrich rose to kneel beside the sofa and spend some time in prayer.

    That night Norman lay awake for some time listening to Jenelle’s soft, even breathing beside him and staring into the dark, thinking. He knew Mrs. O’Connor would be a wonderful help to Jenelle and would settle in to the ways of the house easily, but he wasn’t so sure about Orlena’s actions. “I’m never sure how my young sister will act,” he sighed to himself. “She is puzzling and difficult.” Should he leave the adjusting and settling of everything, Jenelle, Mrs. O’Connor, Orlena and the work, to settle itself somehow, or should he try to help? Would he only add to the confusion he felt sure Orlena would cause if he tried to help? It would be easier for him if he let things work themselves out. “But perhaps I should stay,” he mused. “I might help Jenelle if I stayed here, but what about the work on the ranch?”

Thoughts? Questions?

Comments?

P.S. Don't forget to come back next week because it will be Party Time!

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 30

Here is the last Triple Creek Tuesday. At least for now. Enjoy!

Part 30

    “I can clean, cook, tend to Orlena, make beds and wash clothes. I’m not sure but I could feed chickens or gather eggs though never have I done so before.”
    Jenelle was speechless. The thought of having someone to talk to who wouldn’t always be complaining, not to mention the help she would have, was a relief so wonderful that she couldn’t say a word for a full minute. Then she laughed. Rising she said with another laugh, “I’m delighted to have you here, Mrs. O’Connor, really. I wasn’t expecting help and—” her eyes filled suddenly with tears of joy and relief. Blinking them back she smiled and turned to her husband. “Norman take Mrs. O’Connor’s trunk up to the west corner room. I haven’t had a chance to dust it today and the bed needs aired and--”
    Shouldering the trunk, Norman interrupted Jenelle. “See what I mean?” he chuckled to Mrs. O’Connor. “Trying to plan more work already.”
    Laughing, the ladies followed Norman up the stairs and down the hall. Orlena’s voice could be heard calling for Jenelle.
    Once they reached the west corner room and Norman had set the trunk down, remarking that he would go unhitch the team, Mrs. O’Connor glanced about her with an approving smile and said, “Now, Mrs. Mavrich, which would you be liking me to do first, see to Miss Orlena or unpack my trunk?”
    Jenelle paused in the doorway and spoke somewhat hesitatingly, for she was not used to giving orders regarding the house to strangers. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping in to see Orlena, it might be pleasant for her to see a familiar face. I could dust your room and air the sheets. But,” she added, hearing Orlena’s raised voice calling her, “perhaps I should go to Orlena. . .” Without thinking, her hand moved to her aching head at the thought of her fractious young sister.
    “No, I’ll see to Orlena,” Mrs. O’Connor said briskly, noticing the tired look on Jenelle’s face. “I am used to her and will settle her quickly and then come back and settle this room. Why don’t you sit down and rest, Child?” And Mrs. O’Connor bustled down the hall to answer Orlena’s demands.
    Left alone, Jenelle gave a sigh and smiled faintly. “I have a feeling Norman brought me an angel. With her to help, perhaps I won’t be so tired by the middle of the day.” She meant to start dusting the room, but instead sat down for just a moment, in a low rocker, and when Mrs. O’Connor returned some fifteen minutes later she started up in surprise.
    “I must have fallen asleep,” Jenelle yawned. “I almost never sleep during the day unless I have a sick headache.” She started to get up but her new housekeeper waved her back.
    “No, Mrs. Mavrich, just sit there and if you feel up to it, we can talk. This room can wait till tomorrow to be dusted and it won’t take long to unpack my trunk entirely.” She was busy as she spoke, unlocking the trunk and raising the lid. “If those few minutes were enough time for you to sleep in, it is tired you are.”
    “But I shouldn’t be tired,” Jenelle protested. “I’ve hardly done any real work this morning for Orlena has needed . . .” she paused to consider what it was that Orlena really had needed and ended at last with a soft, “me.”
    Mrs. O’Connor nodded wisely. “And how often was it that she sent you for a drink this morning when the pitcher of water was beside her bed?”
    “Maybe half a dozen times, but the water in the pitcher wasn’t as cool as—”
    “As Miss Orlena would like,” finished Mrs. O’Connor dryly. “I know. I’ve lived with her most of her life.”

    Norman remained at the house for the noonday meal, and while they ate he explained that Orlena was not the one giving orders about the ranch and Mrs. O’Connor needn’t give in to her every whim.
    “Jenelle,” Norman turned to his wife, “I saw Dr. French in town this morning and he said he’d be out this evening unless he receives a call elsewhere.”
    Jenelle nodded. Perhaps the doctor would say that Orlena should get up. Would it be easier then or more difficult to deal with her?
    “—Mrs. O’Connor. Won’t you, Dear?”
    Jenelle turned a blank face to her husband. “Won’t I want?” she asked. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
    “I really should send you to bed,” Norman smiled at her. “Or I could have Dr. French look at you.”
    Jenelle shook her head, returning the smile. “I was only thinking. What did you say?”
    “I said you were going to go lie down and rest this afternoon and leave Orlena to Mrs. O’Connor. Won’t you?”
    Looking astonished, Jenelle shook her head. “Why Norman, Mrs. O’Connor only arrived this morning! I wouldn’t dream of pushing Orlena off on her. She should be the one to rest.”
    A rich chuckle sounded across the table and Mrs. O’Connor spoke, “Ah, Norman, you have a thoughtful wife, indeed. But Deary,” and she turned to Jenelle, “I’m not the least bit tired and I imagine a good long rest would do you good. Orlena can tell me all about what has happened since I last saw her and you needn’t fret a wee bit about it.”
    “But—”
    “Darling,” Norman said gently, placing a hand tenderly on her arm, “please. For my sake, get some rest and don’t worry about Orlena or Mrs. O’Connor. Tonight, after the doctor comes, we can have a long talk it you want and plan everything, but this afternoon . . .” His grey eyes were soft and pleading as they gazed into his wife’s tired face.
    Giving a sigh, Jenelle closed her eyes a moment and then looked up to say with a slight laugh, “I am out numbered, so I’ll rest. If,” she looked at Mrs. O’Connor, “you are sure you feel up to it.”

Thoughts on the story so far?

Triple Creek Tuesday - Part 29

Okay, it is still morning and I'm posting TCR, but I want to give you heads up. I'm going to have to stop posting Triple Creek Tuesdays after next week. One reason is I'm too busy and it is really hard to remember to post them right now. Another reason is that I'm running out of TCR parts to post! I've been so busy that I have hardly had time to write and since I've been trying, in those few evenings, to get the last few stories for my other short story book written, I haven't gotten to work on TCR. I also know that I'll be writing at least a Christmas story and maybe a Thanksgiving story soon so TCR just might get pushed aside for a while. However, I will continue with Fiction Friday.
So enjoy today's post and next Tuesday's.

Part 29

    “I will be arriving on Wednesday on the 10:47 train. If you cannot come for me yourself or send one of your men, no doubt I can find someone who will take me out to Triple Creek Ranch. . .”
   
    “Good news, sir?” Hearter asked, for he had been anxiously watching Mr. Mavrich’s face and had seen the relieved look which came over it as he read..
    “Excellent news, Hearter!” Norman exclaimed. “It’s an answered prayer. Where’s Hardrich?” He had refolded the letter and replaced it in the envelope which he now tapped on his hand.
    “I haven’t seen him since I rode in, sir, but I’ll check the barn when I take the team in to unhitch them.”
    Mr. Mavrich nodded and after hesitating a moment, he strode towards the nearby pasture where some of the men were working.
    It was there that his foreman found him, and the two men talked for some time. At last Hardrich said, “That would do. What time are you planning to leave?”
    “Oh about ten I’d say. But I think I’ll remain at the house in the morning and will just hitch up the team myself. There’s that new horse that needs worked with. We’ve been so busy no one has had time.
    Hardrich nodded and, after a few more words, Norman moved towards the barn.

    “Jenelle,” Norman began as the two of them were sitting at the supper table that evening, “I’m going to have to go into town in the morning; is there anything you need me to pick up for you?”
    “I don’t think so. We picked up supplies not very long ago. Didn’t Lloyd just go into town today?” she asked.
    Norman nodded.
    “Then why do you have to go in tomorrow?” his wife pressed.
    “It’s just something he couldn’t do today,” and Norman shrugged. He had thought of mentioning the letter to Jenelle but had second thoughts. “She’d wear herself out trying to get ready,” he reasoned and decided to keep it a secret.
    The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, for Jenelle was still not her usual self and didn’t have the energy to talk much.

    The clock in the front room was striking ten when Norman drove out the lane leaving a puzzled wife behind him, for before he left he had come in and put on a clean shirt.
    “I do hope he isn’t going to town looking for someone to help me,” Jenelle sighed, watching the dust settle behind the wagon. “It’s not that I wouldn’t like a little extra help,” she said aloud to the empty front room as she turned from the window. “But I can’t think of a single person who could be spared for such work.” An imperative voice called her just then and Jenelle gave up trying to understand her husband’s errand in town and hurried to Orlena’s room.
    Orlena was making the most of her sickness. Since she was in bed, she didn’t have to sew or do anything else she didn’t want to do. Her demands to be amused, have a cold drink brought to her or to be fanned, were endless, and there were times when Jenelle refused to follow her whims. These refusals, always given gently and because Jenelle had other matters to attend to or because some requests went against the doctor’s orders, were received with indignation, for Orlena had not learned to accept any way but hers without a fuss.
    It was after Mrs. Mavrich had brought a glass of cold water to Orlena for the seventh time that morning, that the sound of wagon wheels was heard in the yard. Stepping to the window, Jenelle looked out, remarking, “Norman has returned and—” then she paused.
    “And what?” the demand sounded from the bed.
    Jenelle didn’t turn her head. “He has someone with him.”
    “Who?” Orlena persisted.
    Jenelle didn’t answer but turned swiftly from the window and hurried from the room.
    “Jenelle Mavrich!” Orlena called after her. “Don’t you dare leave me until you tell me who came!”
    The words were wasted for Jenelle was already half way down the stairs. Who had Norman brought? It was a woman, Jenelle had seen that plain enough from the window, but who was she and why was she here? Hurrying to the door, she flung it open and met her husband on the steps.
    “Darling,” he said, kissing her, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. O’Connor. Mrs. O’Connor, my wife.”
    “Ah, it’s a pleasure at last to meet you,” the former housekeeper of Mrs. Marshall Mavrich exclaimed, shaking hands with Jenelle first and smiling warmly.
    After returning the greeting, Jenelle turned puzzled eyes on her husband. What was his grandmother’s housekeeper doing here?
    “Ah, Norman,” Mrs. O’Connor chuckled, seeing the unasked questions in Jenelle’s eyes. “I see you have not told your sweet wife of my letter.”
    “I didn’t tell her of either letter,” Norman chuckled. “I knew if I did, she would work herself sick trying to get ready in the event that you should come. Come now, let us go inside. The heat out here is too much for you ladies.” So saying, Norman opened the door and bowed as Jenelle and Mrs. O’Connor entered, then he followed with a small trunk.
    “I still don’t understand, I’m afraid,” Jenelle said, somewhat bewildered and sitting down in the first chair she came to.
    “It is a simple matter really,” Norman replied. “I realized you were right about no one around here being able to come help. I also knew we needed someone who understood the situation and could help. That is when the Lord brought Mrs. O’Connor to mind. So, I wrote to ask if she would come, and here she is.”
    Jenelle was evidently not her usual quick self, for she still stared confusedly at her husband. “But what is she here for?”
    “Child,” Mrs. O’Connor spoke before Norman had a chance to. “I’m here to do anything you need done.”

What do you think of this part?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 28

Okay, here is Triple Creek Tuesday. Sorry I didn't get it up earlier. I had some new writing students coming over for a class this morning so I was busy getting ready. But it is still morning on Tuesday, so I thought I'd post. Hope you enjoy it!

Part 28

    Suddenly she sat down and put a flour covered hand to her head. She felt strangely tired. “Come on, Jenelle,” she scolded herself. “This is not much more than you normally do. What is wrong with you?” After a few minutes the feeling passed and she went back to work.
    The sun came out in the afternoon and the air grew heavy. “I don’t know which is worse,” Jenelle murmured, wiping her hot face with a damp towel as she prepared supper. “The dry heat and stillness before the storm or this heavy air after the storm. At least there is a breeze.”

    It was during supper that Norman, after watching Jenelle closely, said abruptly, “You need some one to help you.”
    Jenelle laughed. “You sound like your sister,” she told him. “And what would I do with help? And who would help?”
    “Maybe Mrs. Carmond would lend us Flo for a few weeks.”
    With a smile, Jenelle shook her head. “I’m sure she couldn’t. Not with the new baby and Mr. Carmond’s invalid mother coming next week. She is the one that needs help.”
    Norman frowned. “Maybe I’ll check some of the other ranches. Surely someone could come.”
    Again Jenelle shook her head. “Darling, don’t you remember that the other ranches have as much work as we do? I’m sure no one could be spared. Please don’t worry about me. Orlena will be out of bed in another day or so, the doctor said, and she can help some.”
    “I have a feeling that she will cause more work instead of helping with it,” Norman predicted with a frown.
    Inwardly, Jenelle agreed with him, but it wouldn’t help matters to say so, therefore, she laughed and rose to clear the dishes away.
    In the kitchen such a wave of tiredness swept over her that she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes.
    “Jenelle!” Norman had his arms around her before she could open her eyes. “Darling, you aren’t well.”
    “I’m only tired, Norman. Please don’t make a fuss,” and her blue eyes looked up into his grey ones. “It’s been a busy day but—”
    “But nothing. You are going to bed.”
    Jenelle made a feeble protest but the thought of bed was too inviting to really argue. “As soon as I do the dishes,” she started.
    “I’m washing the dishes tonight. I may not be much of a hand with cooking, but Uncle Hiram made sure I knew about dishes. Now you,” he kissed the fair, pale face in his arms, “are marching straight up to bed, or shall I carry you?” he offered.
    “I can walk,” Jenelle giggled

    “There has to be someone who can come help out for a few weeks. At least until Jenelle is rested and Orlena has settled into life here,” Norman thought as he washed the dishes. “Jenelle is right though, every ranch is just as busy as we are. Perhaps there is someone in town who could help . . .” Here a new thought struck him. Did he really want someone from town coming and then spreading stories about his sister? It was hard enough going into town for shopping or church without an added person looking on every day. “We need one who won’t be shocked by Orlena and who won’t need to be trained in what needs done.” Norman spoke aloud in the empty kitchen as he began to wipe the clean dishes and put them away in the cabinets. When the kitchen was spotless, he stepped to the door and looked out as the evening light fell quietly on the barn, corrals and fields.
    Looking up into the sky full of soft colors, Norman prayed, “Lord, we need help. You know Jenelle needs a rest but she can’t get one unless we have help. It must be just the right help, for wrong help would only add to our difficulties with Orlena. There must be someone who can come help—” Norman blinked as a thought struck him. “That was a quick answer, Lord. Thank you. I’ll go right in and write.”

    It was half an hour later before Norman entered his bedroom. A light was on and quietly he moved over to his dressing table. Pulling out a drawer, he began rummaging through it.
    “Norman, aren’t you coming to bed?”
    Norman turned. Jenelle lay looking at him from her pillow.
    “What are you looking for?”
    “Just a paper I had. Ah, I have it now.” He took up a pen and copied something down. “I will only be gone a minute. I must just take this out to Hardrich.”
    Jenelle watched him, puzzled. At last she settled down, murmuring, “It was probably something for the ranch.”

    Several days passed. Jenelle felt rested and refreshed each morning but by mid day was often so tired that she had to sit down and rest for a little while. Orlena continued to improve in health but not in disposition. She was fretful and cross at the slightest thing. Her sister took her sharp words and cutting remarks without a show of irritation, always trying to shield her husband from knowledge of them, for she well knew his indignation and sense of honor would make it harder for him to love his sister as he ought.
    As for Norman, he tried to help his wife when he could and often St. John prepared meals for both the ranch house as well as the bunk house.

    It was four days after Norman had sent Jenelle to bed and washed the dishes himself that he found a letter addressed to him when Lloyd Hearter returned from town. Eagerly he ripped it open and scanned the short note it contained.

“Dear Mr. Mavrich,
    It’s honored I am that you have thought of me. I have all my affairs taken care of and can stay with you as long as you have need. Have no worries about me, I know what to expect.”

Comments,

Questions or Thoughts?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 27

Okay, I remembered! Here is Triple Creek Tuesday! Hope you enjoy it. If you do, I hope you'll let me know. ;)

Part 27

    It was later than usual when Norman came back to the house. Jenelle went down to him as soon as she heard his footsteps.
    “I thought you had decided to stay out there all night,” she told him with a smile.
    “Nope.” Norman hung up his hat, “Alden, Scott and I were fixing a fence in the back pasture and it took longer than I thought. Didn’t St. John or Hearter stop by?”
    Slowly Jenelle shook her head. “I don’t think so, but they could have come in softly and I didn’t hear.”
    “How’s Orlena?”
    “Fretful. The doctor said she is no worse.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Mavrich had mounted the stairs as they talked and entered their room. Noticing the paleness of his wife’s face, Norman frowned.
    “What is it?” Jenelle asked him, sinking into her rocking chair with a slight sigh.
    “You,” was the unexpected answer.
    “Me?” Blinking in surprise, Jenelle stared in astonishment at Norman’s reflection in the mirror.
    For a minute only the splashing of water was heard, but when Norman could speak again he replied, “Yes, you. You are pale and look tired. As soon as St. John rings the bell, I’m sending you over to eat. I’ll remain here with Orlena until you return. Then I’ll go eat.”
    “Norman—” she began.
    “Sweetheart,” Norman interrupted her, “have you eaten anything since breakfast?”
    Jenelle nodded. It hadn’t been much, but it was something. “It’s the heat,” she began her protest again. “I just don’t feel like eating anything.” She looked pleadingly at her husband.
    Suddenly a rumble of thunder was heard and Norman dashed to the window with Jenelle close behind him. “Look at those storm clouds, Jenelle!” he exclaimed. “Those weren’t there when I came home. Thank God! We need rain,” he added fervently.
    The trees around the house began to sway in the wind, and the curtains, which had hung so still and motionless for so many days, danced on the breeze. Jenelle dropped to her knees before the open window and closed her eyes, letting the refreshing air stir her dress, whip her hair and cool her hot cheeks. Another rumble of thunder sounded, closer this time and Norman, who was watching the sky, saw the fork of lightning in the dark clouds.
    The sound of the dinner bell from the bunk house followed the thunder and caused Norman to step back from the window as Jenelle reluctantly rose to her feet.
    “Norman,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to be stuck out in the bunk house when the rain comes. Suppose you go over and bring me a plate of supper and then you can go eat with the men. I’ll just eat with Orlena and try to get her to eat some more.”
    Before he replied, Norman brushed his hand caressingly down Jenelle’s face and cupping her small chin in his hand lifted her face. “You’re tired,” he remarked. “All right,” he added. “But you have to promise to eat,” and he tried to look stern but failed completely.
    “I promise.”

    Jenelle did eat when Lloyd brought a plate, heaped with St. John’s wonderful cooking, to her, but her appetite was poor and feeling the need to be with Orlena since she was awake, made it more difficult to settle down to an empty kitchen and dining room for a large meal.

    Orlena lay silent, watching the brilliant lightning streak across the sky in jagged paths, lighting up the clouds, and listening to the thunder rumble and roll now in the distance, now close at hand while the wind, as though trying to make up for the stillness of the past days, bowed the tree tops, lashed the branches and whipped the leaves about; it was a fascinating display and Jenelle, sitting beside Orlena’s bed, watched out the windows with her. It was there that Norman found them just as the clouds seemed to split wide open and the rains poured down on the dry, thirsty earth.
    “Quite a storm, isn’t it?” he remarked in a lull between crashes of thunder.
    Jenelle turned. “I was afraid you had gotten caught in the bunk house when it began to rain.”
    “No, I made it back before it let loose, but I rather think that Hearter and Scott may be stuck in the barn a while unless they don’t mind being drenched.” He stepped across to a window and tried to look out, but it was only when the lightning flashed that he could see much. “This rain ought to cool things off a bit,” he remarked after several minutes, as the thunder lessened and the wind calmed down somewhat.
    There was no answer from the other occupants of the room and Norman turned.
    Orlena, lulled by the sound of the rain, had fallen asleep and Jenelle had leaned her head on the back of the chair and was staring vacantly at the ceiling.
    “Come on,” he said, touching his wife’s arm, “Orlena shouldn’t need you until morning.”

    It rained all night and the air felt clean and fresh instead of hot, dry and dusty. Jenelle felt more rested than she had in days and, since there were many things that needed done, she was grateful for the cooler weather.
    The day was a busy one for Mrs. Mavrich. There was laundry to wash, bread to make, rooms to dust, chickens to feed, as well as trying to amuse and nurse Miss Orlena. Jenelle didn’t know why, but after ten minutes spent in her sister’s room, she felt more tired then after washing a tub full of clothes. “Perhaps,” she mused, “it is because I can think when I wash clothes, while in Orlena’s room, she scarcely gives one time to think,” and Jenelle began kneading her bread. “I wonder if Orlena would enjoy making the beds? Dusting? Taking care of the chickens?” At every chore she shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Orlena enjoying any thing that looked like work.

What do you think now?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 26

I didn't figure anyone got on here before 9:00 anyway, so I figured I could post this later. In fact, I'm not sure anyone gets on here at all. If anyone does, I can't tell for there have been no comments and only a few reactions. Perhaps they are tired of Triple Creek Tuesdays already. ;)

Part 26

    When Orlena didn’t appear for breakfast the following morning, Norman rose from his seat with a frown.
    “Where are you going, Norman?” Jenelle asked, coming into the dining room at that moment.
    “To get Orlena. I told her she was to eat breakfast with us now.”
    Jenelle laid a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. “Let me go, Dear. She could be just late as she was Sunday morning.”
    “I don’t want to push my responsibility on to your shoulders,” Norman began but Jenelle’s soft laugh cut him short.
    “You aren’t. Didn’t you hear me volunteer to go?” Rising to her toes, Jenelle kissed him quickly and slipped from the room. She was feeling much better than she had the night before though when she stopped to notice it, there was still a faint throbbing in her head.
    Knocking softly on Orlena’s door, Jenelle wasn’t surprised to hear no answer. Quietly she opened the door and looked in. Orlena still lay in bed.
    “Orlena,” Jenelle called, as she gently shook the girl’s shoulder.
    A moan was the only answer.
    Placing her hand on her young sister’s forehead, Mrs. Mavrich’s face grew troubled. Slipping silently from the room, she returned to her waiting husband in the dining room.
    “Well?” Norman asked as she entered. “Is she coming?”
    Jenelle shook her head. “I think she’s sick. She feels warm and I only got a moan out of her when I tried to wake her.”
    “Sick?” Norman turned towards the stairs. He couldn’t help but wonder if Orlena was pretending to be sick so as to get her own way. However, upon reaching her room, he no longer doubted. The pale face on the pillow, the hot hands and restless movement convinced him.
    “I’ll have one of the men ride into town for Doctor French,” Norman spoke quietly, turning to his wife.
    Jenelle nodded.

    The doctor pronounced Orlena sick, but not seriously so. She was to remain in bed and he’d be back to check on her that evening.
    Mr. and Mrs. Mavrich followed the doctor downstairs and to the front room.
    “What is it, Doctor?” inquired Norman, his arm about Jenelle’s waist.
    “Well, I’d say it could be a combination of many things. Tell me, has she eaten three meals a day regularly?”
    “No.”
    “Has she had any fits of fright or anger?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yep,” the doctor nodded his head. “Thought so. Temper, obstinacy and a rather delicate constitution can be a difficult combination. Now I’m not saying,” he hastened to add, noticing the looks on Norman and Jenelle’s faces. “I’m not saying that her every whim must be satisfied, for a city bred girl like her would sooner eat cake and drink coffee then wholesome bread and milk.”
    Jenelle couldn’t hold back a smile at the doctor’s accurate picture of Orlena.
    “Now I’ll give you a list of what she can and should eat and it’ll be up to you to see that she does. Her temper and obstinacy might cause some difficulty in that regard but the Mavrich’s aren’t known around here for giving up during hard times, eh?”
    “I hope not, Doctor,” Norman returned the older man’s smile and held out his hand. “Thank you for coming by, sir.”
    “Not at all, not at all, Mr. Mavrich. Now,” and he sat down at the desk and wrote rapidly for a minute on a piece of paper before handing it to Jenelle and standing up again. “The list of food for the child. I’ll call again this evening, but should she grow worse don’t hesitate to call me sooner.”
    After he was gone, Norman sighed. “Well, I suppose I ought to go and tell Hardrich he’s in charge for the day.”
    “Nonsense!” protested Jenelle. “What would you do if you remained at the house? You would be no help in the kitchen, and I have had more nursing experience than you. I’m afraid you would only worry Orlena by constantly tramping up and down the stairs.”
    “All right,” Norman agreed, reluctantly. “You are right as usual. If you are sure you feel up to it.” And Norman looked closely into his wife’s face. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her at the house with his sister sick, but what she had said was true. “I’ll come back or send one of the hands to check on you during the day.”
    Jenelle agreed to this and handed him his hat. “I’m going up to Orlena,” she told him with a smile, “Have a good day, Dear.”

    The day wore slowly away. Orlena was fretful and cross. She didn’t want any chicken broth and the toast was too dry or too soft and all in all acted as the doctor had said. Jenelle kept her voice gentle and sweet and Orlena never guessed just how tired her sister was. The sun continued to blaze and there was no breeze to relieve the heat of summer. As Jenelle sat bathing her young sister’s face, she wished she could lie down for a bit for her own head ached.
    Norman sent a message to his wife that afternoon telling her that St. John would cook their supper. That was a relief, for Jenelle had been dreading going back to the hot kitchen. As it was, she didn’t feel as though she wanted to eat again.
    When the doctor came later, he said Orlena would come around all right he felt sure, but she should remain in bed for several more days at least. Then he looked sharply at Jenelle. “And what about you? You ought to be in bed yourself.”
    “It’s just the heat, Doctor,” Jenelle insisted. “I’ll be all right once it cools off a bit.”
    “Humph,” was all the answer the doctor gave before he climbed in his buggy and drove off.
    “I wonder if it is just the heat,” Jenelle whispered to herself as she slowly mounted the stairs once more. “It has to be. I can’t get sick now.

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Triple Creek Ranch - Part 25

Oops, sorry Triple Creek Tuesday Readers. I thought about posting yesterday and that was the last I had thought of it. I've been busy trying to work on Pirates of Rocky Crag Bay and Other Stories. It's almost done!
But here is Triple Creek Ranch. :)

Part 25

    “It wouldn’t be far away if you moved to the city. You said there were several reasons, what other reasons do you have?”
    Should he, dare he tell her the entire reason? He didn’t want to, for he was afraid. Not of his sister’s temper but of his own. “Always speak the truth, Norman, always!” The words of his uncle Hiram echoed in his mind. Very well, he would tell the truth, but he sent up a swift cry for help from the One who always hears.
    “That is one reason, Orlena. Another is the cost. That school is very expensive, not including the train fares to and from town for vacations and holidays. But the biggest reason is that I have seen graduates from that school and . . .” here he paused and drew a breath. “I have no desire to see my sister act or look like one of them.” There, the whole truth was out. Norman braced himself for an explosion.
    “You would rather see your sister, the granddaughter of one of the most respected families in Blank City brought up as a country drudge instead of an accomplished young lady?” Orlena’s voice had risen to a shout. “I told you you only cared for yourself! All you want is a slave to do your bidding. Well, I won’t be a slave! I won’t! I won’t!” Springing to her feet, the spoiled, pampered, outraged girl hurled her book across the room at her brother. “Bring down my trunk at once,” she screamed, looking wildly around for anything else to throw. “You don’t love me! No one loves me!”
    Norman crossed the room and grasped his sister’s shoulders. “Orlena!” He gave her a light shake to get her attention, “Stop that screaming,” he ordered sternly. “It is because I do love you that I won’t let you go back to that school. Now that is enough. You’re acting like a baby.”
    At that Orlena stopped her screaming and stood still at once. “Did you call me a baby?” she demanded furiously.
    “No, I simply said you were acting like one.” Or like a spoiled brat, he thought to himself.
    Twitching away from her brother’s hands the irritated girl turned away. “I want to go home,” she pouted.
    Feeling exasperated by Orlena’s constant selfishness, Norman knew he had to end this conversation quickly or he would lose his temper. The room was now quite dark, for the sun had set, and after a hard day of work, the master of Triple Creek Ranch was tired. This did not help any.
    Then, into the darkness a light sprang on and a quiet voice spoke. “Aren’t you two ever going to stop talking and get to bed?”
    Norman and Orlena both looked up startled. There in the doorway stood Jenelle. Her light hair was loose about her shoulders and she smiled. Seeing Norman open his mouth, Jenelle gently shook her head and beckoned to Orlena. “Come dear. You must be tired. Would you like a glass of milk before going to bed?”
    Like one in a daze, Orlena nodded and followed her sister-in-law without a word.
    Left alone in the room, Norman dropped exhausted into the chair Orlena had vacated and leaned his head wearily on his hand. Would this be life for the next ten years, he wondered. Why was this job of helping Orlena left to him? And Jenelle wasn’t feeling well, and they needed rain soon and . . . Norman Mavrich groaned.
    “My poor Norman. Why did you try to talk to her now when you were already tired and so was she?” the gentle chiding of Jenelle’s voice sounded sweetly at his elbow.
    “What are you doing up?” he asked, putting out his hand and drawing his little wife to his knees and ignoring her question. “You should be in bed.”
    A soft little laugh was the only answer and Jenelle laid her head on her husband’s shoulder.
    “What did you do with my sister?” he asked at last.
    “She’s my sister too,” his wife quietly reminded him. “I gave her a glass of milk and let her go up to bed. Poor girl, I feel sorry for her, Norman.”
    “Sorry for Orlena?” And Norman peered down into his wife’s face.
    “Yes, sorry. She doesn’t know what she really wants. She thinks she wants to be in society because she thinks that is what is going to satisfy the longing of her heart.”
    “What longings does she have besides for fine things and her own way?”
    “Didn’t you hear her cry?” Jenelle sat up, her face troubled and the tears in her eyes gleaming in the gas light. “She wants love. I heard her from upstairs, Dear. That is what she is missing.”
    The rancher’s face was puzzled. “But Darling,” he protested, “she had Grandmother’s love. She was given everything she wanted.”
    “That is just my point. She had a sort of love. No doubt your grandmother thought she was giving her all her love, but true love doesn’t give you everything you want, but what you really need. The problem with Orlena is that she doesn’t know what true love really is and so when she doesn’t get her way, she thinks that love is missing.”
    “And it doesn’t help if I lose my temper with her either,” Norman sighed.
    Jenelle leaned her head once more on Norman’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Her head still ached and she was tired.
    After a few minutes Norman spoke quietly. “Let’s get up to bed instead of falling asleep here in the chair.”

    Leaving the light off in her room, Orlena undressed quickly and flung herself onto her bed. Never did she remember being so miserable. Her head ached and her heart ached. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she didn’t have it. The lump in her throat grew bigger and at last she let the tears come and cried herself to sleep.

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Triple Creek Ranch - Part 24

Welcome to the first Triple Creek Tuesday!
When you read this (if you read it on Tuesday) I'll be sitting at the polls all day long. It will be a LONG day since I have to be there to set up at 5:30 am and then I have to help close the polls at 7:00 pm and then drive to Carthage to take the ballots before I can come home.
But I hope you all enjoy this next part of Triple Creek Ranch.

Part 24

    “Walk with me to the house.” Then aloud, “I need to get some tea and toast made for Jenelle, but—” he looked around rather helplessly.
    “I’d make her some, but tea just isn’t in my line,” St. John apologized.
    “I’ll go make it, sir, if it’s all right.” Lloyd shoved back his chair and stood up. “My mother always told me I made a good cup of tea.”
    “I’d be much obliged if you would, Hearter,” Norman nodded. “I’ll meet you over at the house in a few minutes.”
    “Mr. Mavrich, sir,” Alden said as Norman and Hardrich moved towards the door after the young ranch hand, “Please tell Mrs. Mavrich we’re all sorry to hear she’s feeling poorly.”
    An echo seemed to go around the table at Alden’s words and Norman smiled a real smile for the first time that evening. “Thanks men. I’ll tell her.”
    Walking slowly towards the ranch house, Norman poured out his trouble into the sympathetic ears of his older foreman. Somehow, just sharing his problem and feeling the pressure of his rough hand on his arm and hearing his quietly spoken words, “I’ll be praying for you,” lifted Norman’s spirit.
    “Thanks for listening, Jim. You’ve been a real friend since my uncle passed away.”
    Jim Hardrich smiled quietly. “I may not have the answers for you, but you know where to find them. And don’t think you’re in this alone. We’re praying for you and the missus out in the bunk house every night.”
    There was no time for more words for Lloyd stepped from the kitchen door. “The tray is ready, Mr. Mavrich.”
    “Thanks, Lloyd. I know Jenelle will be thankful I didn’t make it.” He held out his hand to each of the men and entered the house with lighter steps. He couldn’t ask for a better group of hands to work with.
    Carrying the tray upstairs, he quietly entered the bedroom to find Jenelle awake. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, setting down the tray.
    “A little better. Don’t tell me you made the tea,” Jenelle half pleaded, half questioned.
    “No, Hearter did. Made the toast too. And the men at the bunk house send their regards and hope you’re feeling better soon.”
    Jenelle smiled.
    Neither one spoke much as she ate her toast and drank her tea. Jenelle was too tired and Norman’s thoughts too occupied.
    “Thank you, Norman,” Jenelle whispered as she lay back on her pillow after her simple repast was finished. “Now what are you going to do?”
    “Do?” Norman bent and kissed his wife, picked up the tea tray and sighed. “Go and finish my talk with Orlena. At least,” he added, “if she hasn’t gone to bed yet.”
    “How is it going?”
    “I’m not sure, Darling, I’m not sure.”

    No light had been turned on in the parlor and the light from the setting sun cast a rosy glow on the room. At first glance Norman thought his sister had gone up to her room, but upon a second look he noticed her curled up in the same chair with her face towards the window. He wondered what she was thinking. Could her mood have softened? How should he reopen the conversation?
    Clearing his throat softly, Norman entered the room. Orlena didn’t move. “I’m sorry if I took a while, Sis,” he said gently. “I had to take Jenelle’s tea and toast up to her room.”
    The voice that replied from the depths of the armchair was cool and calm, too calm, Norman thought. “No matter, just fetch my trunk from the attic. And if Jenelle isn’t up to packing my trunk tomorrow, you can ride over or send one of your men to fetch the girl who was here when I arrived. She probably doesn’t know much about packing, but I will supervise. I suppose you have a train schedule?” Without waiting for a reply nor turning her head from the window, the child continued, “Find out when the next train leaves for Stockton or Blank City. Perhaps it would be better to go to Blank City after all, for then I can get my wardrobe refurnished. I suppose all Grandmother’s money is in the bank in my name? I’ll have to use some for my clothes.”
    When she at last paused for breath or perhaps because she had run out of the things she had planned to say, there was a brief moment when the ticking of the clock and the evening twitter of the birds could be heard.
    Sighing, Norman leaned wearily back on the sofa. He wished he didn’t have to disturb the peace of the evening, but— and here he interrupted his own thoughts. It would be far better to interrupt one evening than to disrupt many days because he put off what needed to be said.
    “Orlena, the money Grandmother left you is in a trust fund in my name and you won’t have access to it until you are of age. As for train schedules, there is no need of one for no one is going anywhere and I will not bring your trunk down. I told you once, but perhaps you didn’t hear me. You will not be going back to Madam Viscount’s Seminary, ever.” Norman had kept his voice calm but, as he went on, it became more and more firm and that last word had such a definite tone of finality to it that Orlena turned her head and stared at him.
    “Not going back?” she managed to gasp in surprise. The thought of not going back had seemed so ridiculous that she had never taken her brother’s words seriously, until now. “What do you mean I’m not going back?” She demanded hotly, sitting up swiftly. “Why not?”
    “There are several reasons. One is that it is too far away.” Norman knew he was not giving the real reason, and he felt half vexed with himself. Must he tell her everything?

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Triple Creek Ranch - Part 23

Good Morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
We got a bit of rain yesterday! It was so wonderful. And it only got up to the upper 90s yesterday! I know, when you have to say "only upper 90s" it tells you how hot is has been. The rain is all gone and it looks like today will be another really hot day.


This week has been busy so I haven't gotten much writing done at all.
On Monday evening we attended the Lincoln Ladies Ice Cream Social to hear the candidates who are running for office in the county and some state wide offices speak while we enjoyed cookies and ice cream. We always enjoy the Ice Cream Social. By the way, if you live in Missouri, you want to vote for Todd Akin for U.S. Senate!
On Tuesday afternoon a good friend and her three little ones ages 2 and under came over to hang out. Sweet Pea and J-J had a wonderful time playing with the toys. They loved the play food and Sweet Pea made "chocolate cake to share." :) Sweetheart was just that. Even if she is only 4 months old, she seemed to think she should be in on all the action too. :)
Wednesday came and we had the kiddos over so Brother and Sis-in-law could go out on a date. The kids were here for supper and so were my best friends and their sisters. It was fun having them all here for homemade pizza. The girls didn't leave until about 8:00 while the kiddos were here until after 9:00. We had fun though.
Yesterday no one came over and I got some writing done. But I had to work on Priscilla's letter and it's still not done.
The rest of the days this week were "normal."


Writing. Last Thursday I got out my research books, my notebooks, my idea page, NEO and sat down to really work on "Ria and the Gang." Usually when I get my books out and start doing some research, I get lots of ideas and am able to write some that night and the stories just come. Well, I was able at last to get past the block I had for that one story in "Ria and the Gang," but when I went to write on Friday, I was stuck again. What was going on? Why couldn't I get this story to work? I had all kinds of ideas for stories for it and I wanted to know what happened, but for some reason, that book is just not coming together. I've tried to think of another way to write it, but my mind is blank. It is almost a chore to have to write "Ria and the Gang" now, and if you've ever written anything because you "had" to, you know that it usually doesn't end up very well written. I reread what I had written of that story and it was boring. :( Usually if I get stuck and I force myself to write a few more sentences, I'll suddenly be able to write again. Kind of like hiking on a trail and coming to a tree or some large rocks in the path. You can force your way over and then it is easy again or you can remain there. I've tried to cross the obstacles but I think the trail is completely washed away on the other side. So, I talked about it with Mom on Saturday. I felt like I had to write it, but every time I tried, I got stuck and things didn't flow. They were choppy and rough and I might get 200 words written in one evening whereas usually when I sit down with "TCR," "Dr. Morgan," or even a short story I can get 500 - 1,000 words in one evening without really trying.  Mom told me that I should give myself permission to not write "Ria and the Gang." So I did. I'm sorry for those of you have been looking forward to reading more about Emma Foster Mitchell. I was too. But now this story is stopped. Perhaps someday I'll get inspired to write it again. Perhaps I'll discover what is wrong and why I can't write. Perhaps someday I'll be able to sit down and the words will just flow as they do for other stories. But for now at least, I'm putting it aside. Thank you all for your questions, your interest and your patience. I hope you will enjoy the other stories that are being written now.


I debated for quite a while about what story to post this morning. Should I post TCR or start another story? At last I decided to give you another TCR. I hope you enjoy it. Next week I'm going to start a story that I got many good laughs out of writing it. I hope you'll be back.

Part 23

    “We will be eating in the bunkhouse with the men tonight since Jenelle is not feeling well.”
    Then Orlena’s indignation come forth in a burst. Her book fell to the floor with a thud as she sprang to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. “I will tell you what I told your wife. I do not associate socially with hired help!”
    Norman had risen also and now stood facing his angry sister. “Would you rather not eat?” he questioned quietly.
    “I would rather starve than eat with the help!” she snapped.
    “So be it then,” and Norman turned to go.
    “Norman Mavrich, don’t you dare leave until I’m through talking!” Orlena stamped her foot.
    Turning, Norman regarded her with a feeling of irritation and anger struggling for mastery. “I wasn’t aware that you had anything left to say.” His voice was low and he could feel his temper slowly rising. He sent up a swift though silent prayer for help and waited.
    Orlena was furious. All the emotions which had been stewing inside her for several days had risen, and seeing her brother’s outwardly calm face only added to her wrath. He didn’t care a thing about her or he would never calmly tell her she could starve! All he cared about was himself, his darling wife and his precious ranch. Well, she would set him straight!
    “What more do you want to say, Orlena?” Norman broke into her thoughts. “Please say them quickly for even if you don’t wish to eat, I am quite hungry.”
    “Of course that is all you care about. All that matters to you is that you have everything your own way. You don’t even make your hired help treat your own sister with respect and let your wife speak rudely to me when I have done nothing.”
    Norman’s eyebrows shot up, “Jenelle, speak rudely?”
    “Yes, Jenelle, your precious wife, who it appears, in your eyes, can do no wrong has rudely spoken to me and forced me to do things which are disagreeable because she won’t spend the money to hire someone else to do them. She seems to think that I’ve come to be her personal slave and I tell you I won’t stand for it any longer!” Again she stamped her foot.
    “What things did my wife make you do, Orlena?” Norman’s eyes flashed but he managed to keep his voice quiet though his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
    “Sewing! Now fetch my trunk from the attic; I wish to pack tonight. Then tomorrow you may take me to the train. I’m going to Madam Viscount’s and will board there until school starts.”
    Instead of replying, Norman strode across the room and stared out the window. For several minutes the only sound in the room was the ticking of the small clock on the mantle in the front room. Then the sound of a dinner bell rang through the still room where the brother and sister stood, each waiting a move or word from the other. At last Norman turned. When he spoke, his voice was still low. “We will discuss this after supper. Are you coming to eat?”
    For answer Orlena gave a snort and glared at her brother’s back when, without another word or look at her, he walked from the room and she heard the kitchen door shut.
    Left alone Orlena paced about the room muttering, and then giving way to the hunger and the loneliness which pressed upon her, she burst into tears.

    It was with heavy steps and a troubled heart that Norman walked to the bunkhouse. How could he cope with a sister who was as spoiled as Orlena? Would it not be better to send her to some good school? Pushing your work off onto someone else, his conscience chided. Perhaps he should let her go to Madam Viscount’s Seminary this coming term, if she did her share of work now. “Rescue Orlena from herself, I beg you.” The words from his grandmother’s letter rang through his mind. “No,” he muttered, “I will not send my sister to that school! I’ve seen the ‘young ladies’ they turn out!”
    Someone touched his arm.
    He gave a start and looked up quickly. Lloyd was standing beside him at the door.
    “Is Mrs. Mavrich worse, sir? Should I ride for the doc?”
    Norman managed a slight smile. “No. Thanks though, Hearter. I was just thinking.”
    “Must be some heavy thinking the way your shoulders stoop and with that frown on your face,” Hardrich said, motioning to an empty chair near him at the long table.
    Sitting down in the offered chair, Norman sighed. “You’re right. It was pretty heavy.”
    St. John brought in a plate of food for the ranch boss and joined the others at the table. There was no talking for several minutes as the men ate hungrily. Even Norman forgot his worries momentarily, but they came back in full force with the continued silence.
    “Boss?”
    Norman turned, “Sorry, St. John, what were you asking?
    “Isn’t your sister coming?”
    “No.”
    Again silence filled the room except for the sound of knives and forks. Norman didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the men around the table but ate without thinking about what he was doing. Had his plate held sawdust and water instead of mashed potatoes and gravy, it is doubtful he would have noticed. Conversations sprang up among the men as the keen edge of hunger was dulled. But Norman, usually one of the men, full of talk and plans, was silent.
    “Mr. Mavrich!”
    Blinking, Norman looked up. Every eye was fastened on him, some questioningly, others with concern. He smiled wryly. “Sorry, men. That’s the third time, isn’t it? Was someone talking to me?”
    “St. John just asked if you would like more to eat,” Hardrich replied. Then he added in a lower tone after Norman had declined seconds, “Is it something you can share, sir?”
    Norman hesitated a moment before replying.

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