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

Author:Miller, Serena B. [Miller, Serena B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2011-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

15

She was blessed with a bright little youngster

a pretty and sweet-natured lad,

whose voice was the joy of the pinery,

whose laughs made the wilderness glad.

“Jim Brooks”

—1800s shanty song

He was headed to the barn, intent on telling Mose that he needed to make a trip into town for supplies. He was hoping on getting a head start on the trip, maybe leaving right after their Sunday noon meal. As banged up and sore as the fight with Mainer had left him, he wasn’t going to be much help in the woods tomorrow. Now that the camp was up and running, his plan was to leave Skypilot in charge and get some business finished in town.

At least that was his plan.

Then he saw Katie and stopped in his tracks. She was sitting on the top step of her cabin, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, drying her freshly washed hair in the sun. He had never seen her hair unbound, and his mouth went dry at the sight of the shiny, copper mass cascading down her back.

Even though she was fully dressed, this moment felt strangely intimate. He had rarely seen her outside of the cook shanty, where she was usually swathed in a giant white apron. He stood, drinking in the lovely, feminine sight of her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “While I can.” She reached up to twist her hair into a bun.

“Don’t,” he said.

Her hands paused. “Excuse me?”

“Go ahead and let it dry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“If you say so.” She dropped her hands.

With her glorious hair about her shoulders and her big blue eyes looking up at him with such trust, he could barely remember where he had been headed before he saw her. This was a different, softer woman than the one he watched wielding a rolling pin and meat cleaver in the cook shanty.

“Was there something you wanted?” she prompted.

He tried hard to remember what it was that he had come for.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m headed into town to finish getting in supplies before the weather gets bad. Is there anything you want?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “We’re going to need a whole lot more potatoes and flour before the winter’s over.” She began to tick items off on her fingers. “Sorghum, of course—the men practically drink the stuff. At least two more tubs of lard. Maybe some cabbages and rutabagas and carrots—they would keep well in a cellar through the winter.”

“Anything else?”

“Well . . .” Katie’s voice took on a teasing tone. “I miss my cows. If you brought me one, we wouldn’t have to rely on canned milk anymore, and I could make fresh butter. That stuff your men have to eat doesn’t taste right. I think it’s all the brine and saltpeter it comes packed in.”

“No chance of getting a milk cow way out here. You might as well wish for chickens to lay fresh eggs.”

Katie jumped into the game of make-believe. “And a couple of pigs to throw the leftovers to—not that the men leave much in the way of leftovers.

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