Teaching Miss Maisie Jane (13 page)

Jake came out of the barn, an ax in one hand and file rasp in the other, his mind on the work that had to be done. When he heard Maisie Jane screaming and a-screeching, he didn’t look up or blink an eye. This was another of Maisie Jane’s I’m-scared-of-the-chickens fits she had every morning when she had to go into the chicken coop to gather eggs.

Jake
had retrieved all the stock from Levi Campbell’s place and offered to pay him for keeping them but the old man wouldn’t take a penny. Jake had made several trips over to the Campbell’s homestead, getting practical advice from Levi; he appreciated that the man was willing to help. Jake also enjoyed going over because although Mrs. Cora Campbell couldn’t move about too much because she had a case of gout in her foot, that didn’t stop her from being a terrific cook.

Maisie
Jane couldn’t cook. She undercooked, overcooked, burned, scorched or incinerated whatever she put in or near the stove. He was thinking of building a stone fence with her biscuit attempts and they were still cleaning up after her one attempt to make bread. It had been three weeks since he’d bought her those books and the results weren’t getting any better.

Three
weeks, and she was still scared of the chickens. He had to go out and check the nests everyday because she would only get the eggs if the hens weren’t on the nests. Three weeks and she burst into tears every time he tried to show her how to milk the cow. He couldn’t fault that she was trying, though. If he milked the cow, she diligently stood over the churn to make butter and she had learned that from one of those books. She was good at washing their clothes and she was good at keeping the house clean. It was the kitchen that was the problem.

Jake
went back to chopping wood. He had to get near ten cords chopped and stacked before the first snows started.

When
the scream ripped though the air, Jake dropped his ax and ran. That was a terrified scream, a painful scream. By the time he got to the back door, the kitchen was full of smoke and flames were spreading across the stovetop. He jerked the drop bucket out from under the dry sink and dashed it across the flames to put them out. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t even see Maisie Jane but he could hear her crying. He pulled the door to the front room shut and opened the two kitchen windows.

“Maisie
Jane, where are you?  Are you hurt?” Jake demanded. The smoke was following the path of least resistance and clearing out through the open windows.

Maisie
Jane was huddling in the corner, cradling her hand and shaking.

Jake
pulled her to her feet and inspected her. He picked her up, carried her outside, his eyes checking the room to make sure all the flames were out. “Where are you hurt, darling?”

Maisie
Jane held out her hand. There was a silver dollar-sized burn on the back of her hand and thumb. A patch of her skirt was burned through to her petticoats, and blackened. Jake lifted her petticoats to see if she was burned but her skin was perfect.

Levi
rode up on an unsaddled horse, and slid off. “I saw the smoke, is the little one all right?  Is the fire out?”

“Maisie
Jane’s more scared then hurt, I think,” Jake answered. “She has a burn on her hand. The fire’s out, but I need to check it, there may be hot spots.”

“Take
Maisie Jane over to my Cora; she’ll take care of her and settle her down. I’ll see about the damage,” Levi ordered.

Jake
didn’t even hesitate to obey. He lifted Maisie Jane up on Levi’s horse and then slid behind her to ride the half-mile between their properties.

Jake
delivered Maisie Jane into Cora open arms. Cora had heard about Maisie Jane but she never met her before. That didn’t stop her from clucking over Maisie Jane like a mother hen. Cora had Jake put Maisie in small bedroom. She shooed Jack back to the cabin to check on the damage. She’d take care of the child.

By
the time Jake got back to the house, Levi had all the doors and windows open. He’d thrown out the burned pan of whatever Maisie Jane had been trying to cook out into the yard where it was still smoldering. He was inside with bucket and steel brush cleaning the stovetop.

“Maisie
Jane okay?”  Levi demanded.

“Looks
like it, Cora took over,” Jake said grabbing another bucket and pumping it full of water.

“My
Cora will take care of her. Ain’t nothing in here harmed that a little soap and water won’t clean up.”

By
the time the two men had cleaned up the kitchen damage the odor of smoke was cleared out and replaced with the strong smell of lye soap.

Jake
took his riding horse out of the barn and they walked back to Levi’s place.

Cora
was in the kitchen when they came in. One look at Jakes face and she answered his unspoken worry. “She’s alright, Jake. A little scared. I salved her hand up good, but it was just blistered. It’s not a deep burn. Little thing cried herself to sleep.”

“I
have to see her for myself,” Jake insisted.

“Go
on, then” Cora said gently.

Jake
went in and pulled a chair over, and sat by Maisie Jane’s side. She was drowning in one of Cora’s oversized nightgowns. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She opened her eyes and they filled with tears.

“I’m
so sorry, Jake.”  Maisie Jane cried. “I can’t do anything right.”

“Now,
that’s not true,” Jake said with weak grin. “You’ve got some things you do real well. It’s just cooking not one of them, yet. I just had to see for myself that you weren’t hurt. You rest a little while I spend some time visiting and then I’ll take you home.”

“Did
I ruin the house?”

“No,
honey, it’s all cleaned up and it will be fine.” Jake promised.

When
Jake returned to the kitchen Cora motioned him into a chair. “Jake you needn’t be so worried, she’s not hurt bad.”

“Not
this time, Cora, but what about next time. I know Maisie Jane’s trying, but I haven’t had a thing to eat that hasn’t been turned into charcoal for weeks. I bought her some books on cooking, but they don’t seem to be helping.”

Cora
put a large helping of roast in front of Jake and her husband and watched as Jake ate like a starving man. She refilled his plate.

“Why
wasn’t that child taught to cook?” Cora asked.

“She
didn’t a momma to teach her,” Jake said. “Her mother died when she was coming up on two years old. Then, she lost almost all her family in the war back east. She was left with her Grandma until she died. She doesn’t have anyone but me now, and I made due on beans, bread and camp cooking for years while I doing my deputy duties so I can’t teach her. I bought her those books. I thought they would help.”

Cora
put two plates of pie on the table in front of the men and refilled their coffee cups.

“You
can’t learn how to cook from a book,” Cora exclaimed. “I never heard of such a thing. Cooking requires doing not reading about doing. I’ll tell you what, Jake. Let that burn heal for a day or two and then you bring that child over here in the mornings and pick her in the evenings. In between that time, I’ll teach Maisie Jane how to cook.” Cora said.

“That’s
a lot to ask of you, ma’am,” Jake said. “But, I sure would like to take you up on that offer. Levi?”

“If
anyone can teach her it would be my Cora,” Levi agreed. “It ain’t up to me, Cora would be the one doing the doing. And, if you don’t mind my opinion, someone’s got to teach that gal how to cook before you wither away and die.”

“Then,
I’ll gladly take you up on that offer,” Jake said. “Hallelujah.”

Jake
rode over to Campbell’s three days later with Maisie Jane riding in front of him and dropped her off with kiss and a warning. “You behave yourself and mind what Mrs. Cora tells you to do. I’ll be back before sundown.”

Taking
the time to ride over in the morning and ride back before dark took Jake away from work that needed to done. He wasn’t real happy about that, but he got happier real fast with the results. Every day, when he picked up Maisie Jane she was toting a basket containing something that was actually edible. By the end of the first week, she’d even made a passable biscuit.

Maisie
Jane loved going to Cora’s. She took to the older woman instantly, and although the older woman petted and teased her, she also had a no-nonsense streak that made Maisie Jane stick to her work. Cora dispensed with the title of Mrs. Cora and told Maisie Jane to call her just Cora and she took on more teaching than just cooking and baking. She made Maisie Jane face those awful pecking chickens, and to learn how to feed and gather the eggs with almost no squealing. Milking took a couple of days to master, but she did it. And she was so proud of herself, when Jake came into the barn to milk the cow and she’d already done it. It turned out that a cow might be big, but not quite so scary. Maisie Jane followed Cora around watching and doing. It was a whole lot easier than trying to cook out of book.

Maisie
Jane was watching Cora’s face hopefully as she inspected her chicken potpie and beamed when the older woman looked up, nodded and smiled.

“Your
Jake is going to be mighty proud of you, honey,” Cora said. “Now, let’s get these into the oven and have us a sit-down and a cup of tea. I sit here and do some churning, and you wash up the dishes.”

“Yes,
ma’am. Cooking is sure is a lot of work,” Maisie Jane said putting on the kettle and stacking the dirty dishes.

“But
it’s worth it child when your husband loves to eat what you fix. There’s an old saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. There’s a lot to that, but you don’t have to worry none about that, your Jake loves you something fierce.”

Maisie
Jane swallowed. “Do you think so?”

Cora
stopped churning. “Child, don’t you know he loves you?”

Maisie
Jane shook her head and a tear ran down her cheek. “Jake married me to keep me from being hurt by a really bad man. He didn’t marry me ‘cause he loved me; he married me to protect me. Jake’s never said he loves me.”

“Come
here, child,” Cora said and opened her arms to give Maisie Jane a big hug. “Honey, sometimes men can be real stupid. Now, we can’t tell them that of course, but sometimes they are. Most of ‘em have a hard time saying feeling words to a woman. I don’t know why that is, but it is. Men are just different. They show what they feel. Your Jake looks at you with eyes of love. He shows it by trying to be patient, and not yelling, and not getting mad just ‘cause you don’t know a lot about working on a farm. You two are just at the beginning of a long life together, and you’ll work these things out. But, you can trust me on this—that man loves you.”

“I
hope so,” Maisie Jane said hugging the older woman.

“Enough
that now, we got work to finish up,” Cora said.

“Yes,
ma’am.” Maisie Jane said and she got down two cups and made tea. “Cora can you teach me how to sew?  Jake said I needed to mend one of his shirts that he tore but I don’t know how.”

Cora
smiled. “Bring that shirt over tomorrow and we’ll work on it. You’ll be needed to learn to sew; men tear things up awful bad. You’ll need to sew if you need to make baby clothes too.”

Maisie
Jane blushed. “I probably should learn how to use the sewing machine.”

Cora’s
head came up in surprise. “You have a sewing machine?”

Maisie
Jane nodded. “It belongs to Mrs. Madison. Jake said we could use what we need of their things, but he didn’t want to get rid of any of their things in case Mr. Madison changes his mind and wants to come back.”

“From
what I understood from Levi, Brett gave everything to Jake.” Cora said.

“He
did, but Jake’s going to write a letter and give him a chance to change his mind. Jake said Mr. Madison might have done that in a temper and he wouldn’t hold him to it, if he changed his mind.”

“That’s
a real fair thing to do,” Cora agreed. “Sounds like something my Levi would do.”

“I
hope we get to keep it,” Maisie Jane said. “Not the things, I don’t care about those, but the house and homestead. It makes Jake happy. I’ll ask Jake if I can bring the sewing machine over here so you can teach me how to use.”

Cora
laughed. “I’ll have to learn how to use it myself, but we’ll put our heads together and figure it out. It sure would be nice using a sewing machine to make a dress or a shirt instead of hand stitching. But, I’m assuming too much. It’s your sewing machine.”

“Oh,
you could keep here, or use it anytime you want,” Maisie Jane exclaimed.

“You
are a sweet, child. I wouldn’t have got that offer from Mrs. Madison.”