Free Big Sky Rancher by Carolyn Davidson Page B

chickadees, he decided, small and sassy, yet neat as a pin, even with her hair down and bare feet stuck into her slippers.
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    â€œH ELLO THERE , MISSY ,” Mrs. Bronson said as they found her sorting through the pantry shelves. The jars and cans seemed to be in a different order, Jennifer thought, and indeed they were. Lined up by content, they made the pantry look like a mirror image of the room just off her mother’s kitchen. Although not as complete a store of food as her mother’s cook kept on hand, Lucas’s supplies were adequate for their use.
    â€œI see you’ve got you a lard barrel,” Mrs. Bronson said to her employer. Lucas stood in the kitchen, looking past Jennifer at the small, stout lady who had set about putting his kitchen in order.
    â€œIt’s full of pork,” he said. “From the last pig I butchered, in November.” And then he corrected himself. “Well, not full exactly, but there’s enough meat in there to feed us for some time to come.”
    â€œMeat in a barrel of lard?” Jennifer asked. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
    â€œWell, you have now,” Lucas told her. “How do you suppose we manage to keep meat without it spoiling?”
    â€œI suppose that’s never been at the top of my list of things to worry about.”
    He frowned. “Well, you’d better start thinking a little more about such things. If you’re planning on being a good wife, you’ll need to take hold and work at it.”
    â€œNow, don’t be giving the girl a hard time.” Mrs. Bronson came to Jennifer’s defense. “She’s only gotten her feet wet, so to speak, and you’re pouncing on her and expecting her to be up to snuff in one day. It doesn’t work thataway, Lucas O’Reilly.” She smiled at Jennifer. “Here, let me fix your hair,” she said, reaching for the brush and bit of ribbon. Lucas’s forehead creased in a frown and his lips tightened as he watched Ida Bronson set to work.
    â€œI can see I’ll be battling the pair of you,” he said finally. “Well, just go ahead and do as you please while I take care of things out in the barn.”
    His blue eyes flashed as he settled his gaze on Jennifer, whose hair was now all braided and ribboned. “I suspect you will anyway,” he said, and then he grinned, in a quick reversal that stunned her. “It’s gonna be interesting,” he said, “this living with two women, both of you ready to take my head off if I make a misstep.”
    â€œI already told him he was a jackass and I doubt I’ll be changing my mind anytime soon,” Jennifer said as the screen door slammed behind her husband. In the pantry, Mrs. Bronson only laughed beneath her breath and continued to sort out the shelves.
    â€œWhat are planning on fixing for supper, girl?” she asked, scooping up two jars from the bottom shelf of canned good. “And where do you suppose that man got these vegetables, all nicely put in Mason jars. I’ll warrant you he didn’t can up the garden himself.”
    â€œProbably smiled at some pretty lady and persuaded her to feed him.”
    Ida sniffed and passed through into the kitchen. “Can’t say that I’ve ever heard a word of gossip about the boy, now thatI think of it. ’Course, that doesn’t mean he hadn’t done any wandering around in someone’s rose garden on a dark night.”
    She set the jars on the table and returning to the pantry. “How about some fried pork chops?” she asked. “Unless you have something else in mind?”
    â€œHow about ground glass?” Jennifer suggested, then regretted the words as Mrs. Bronson shook her head.
    â€œDon’t be nasty about the man, girl. He’s just a man, don’t forget. And that part of the population don’t always use their heads. Except for a hatrack, my momma used to