Free The Measure of Katie Calloway,: A Novel by Serena B. Miller Page A

closely—afraid he would find fault with it. He nibbled an edge, looked at it, took a full bite, and gobbled the rest, reaching for a second.
    “Not the best I ever et,” the old man mumbled. “Not the worst, either.”
    She figured that was as close to a compliment as she could hope for from the old cook. She retrieved the kettle from the stove and walked around the table, pouring the scalding hot tea into mugs.
    “Have you ever cooked for a lumber camp before, ma’am?” Skypilot asked, holding his cup out for her to fill.
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “Then I guess you don’t know the way us shanty boys like our tea brewed.”
    “How’s that?” She had merely dropped a large fistful of green tea leaves into a kettle filled with boiling water. How else could it be made?
    “Well, first, you need to find an old axe head,” he explained. “You got one of them things lying around that she could borrow, Foster?”
    Robert solemnly agreed to loan her an axe head.
    She couldn’t imagine how it could improve the flavor of tea, but she was eager to try. “Then what?”
    “After you boil up the tea, you put the axe head in the water.” Skypilot paused.
    “Please go on.” She had always been fascinated with new ways of preparing food. Could there be some sort of reaction between the iron in the axe and an ingredient in the tea that made it taste better?
    “If the axe head falls to the bottom of the pot,” Skypilot said, “the tea is too weak.”
    Katie noticed that several of the men were grinning.
    Skypilot’s eyes were dancing, but his expression was sober. “And if it floats on the top, it’s pretty good.”
    “Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest, realizing that Skypilot was joshing her.
    “And if the axe head dissolves—it’s just right.”
    Cletus snickered, and Katie smiled. She glanced around the table and saw that even Jigger was enjoying the joke—at her expense, of course.
    Skypilot took a long slurp from his cup. “I believe an axe head would dissolve pretty fast in this brew, ma’am. It’s near perfect.”
    “Thank you.” Strong tea it was, then. One large fistful per two-quart kettle. “I apologize that there’s no coffee. I couldn’t find any in the supplies.”
    “Shanty boys drink green tea.” Jigger made a disgusted sound. “Everybody knows that. Keeps ’em from gettin’ sick—that and plenty of chaw tobacco.”
    “I wouldn’t mind some coffee now and then,” Sam offered. “Got kind of used to it when I was a mule skinner in the army.”
    “We drink tea in my camp!” Jigger glared at Sam. “Always have. Always will.” He reached for another meat pie as he warmed to his subject. “Next thing you know, you’ll be sucking on those fancy sticks called cigarettes. Real men drink green tea and chaw their tobacco.” He pointed the meat pie at everyone in turn. “I ever catch any of you smoking those little sissy sticks, I’ll kick you outta my camp!”
    Katie noticed an amused smile playing around Robert’s lips at the old man’s belief in his ability to control the lumber camp, but he didn’t correct him.
    Jigger, having voiced his opinion to his own satisfaction, resumed his meal.
    The mound of meat pies was disappearing, and most of the cobbler. She had hoped there would be something left over for her, but at the rate the men were inhaling their supper, it didn’t appear likely. At least Ned was getting his belly filled. He sat beside Robert, concentrating on shoveling in as much food as possible. It did her heart good to see him getting plenty to eat.
    All but the last pie was gone. Ernie reached for it, but Robert grabbed his wrist in midair. “The lady hasn’t eaten yet.”
    “Oh.” Ernie blushed through the peach fuzz on his face. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t thinking.”
    To her surprise, Robert arose from the table, grabbed a clean plate, placed the meat pie on it, dished up what was left of the cobbler, and added a spoonful of sweet