Page 10 of Heart of Mystic Valley
A murmur of agreement went around the table. The changing seasons dictated the rhythm of their lives, and everyone understood what was coming.
“We still have the last cutting of hay to finish,” said Cody, the second oldest. “Weather holds, we can knock it out in a couple of days.”
“Calves need weaning,” added Parker, the youngest Beckett brother.
Grayson nodded. “We’ll split the crews, mixing the older hands with the boys. They don’t have school tomorrow. Cody, you take the ranch hands for the hay. Parker and I will handle the calves.”
“What about the barns?” Annalee interjected. “Roofs are still leaking, and the south wall of the big shed is about to give.”
“I can take the barns,” said Joshua. “The boys need the practice. We’ll shore things up.”
“Firewood’s low,” Nathan said. “I’ll tackle it after checking the fences.” Everyone knew there weren’t many, mostly the corrals and around the homestead.
All eyes turned to Naomi, who weighed the plans with the authority of a judge deliberating a verdict. “That leaves the garden,” she said. “We’ll need all the vegetables in, and the bedsturned over.” She looked to the women, who nodded. “We can manage.”
The division of labor settled, everyone relaxed. This was how the Becketts worked, with each person knowing their role.
“We should put Gavin to work,” Joshua said, casting a look at the quiet boy.
“He could help me stack wood with his good hand,” Nathan offered. “And feed the chickens.”
“He needs to heal,” Naomi said, her tone brooking no argument. “There’s plenty of time for work.”
The table fell quiet for a moment, the only sound the clink of silverware on porcelain. Joshua knew Nathan would offer Gavin something to do instead of sitting around the bunkhouse.
Annabell stood. “How about dessert?”
The sun rose hesitantly, veiled in a thin layer of clouds that smeared the sky with pastel hues. Frozen dew sparkled on the grass, quickly disappearing as the Becketts set about their work.
In the north pasture, Grayson and Parker moved among the herd, separating cows from their calves with practiced ease. The air was filled with the plaintive cries of the young cattle, a chorus of protest against their enforced independence.
Down in the lower fields, Cody, two older ranch hands, and a couple of the younger boys worked in unison, their scythes rising and falling like the pistons of a great engine. They shouted and laughed, their camaraderie palpable as they made short work of the last standing hay.
At the main compound, Joshua stood atop a ladder, surveying the roof of the big barn. He had a hammer in one hand and a roll of tar paper in the other.
“Need more nails up here,” he called down to Little Joe, one of the boys. “And be quick about it.”
The lad sprinted off. Joshua slid the hammer into his work belt and took a moment to stretch his back. The view from the roof was expansive, giving him a brief sense of mastery over the land. He spotted Nathan fifty yards away near the tree line, wielding an axe with measured strokes. A growing pile of split logs testified to his morning’s labor.
Nathan paused to wipe his brow, then looked over the growing pile of wood. Joshua knew he’d be coming back for the wagon before lunch to transport the firewood to spots near the house and bunkhouse.
He glanced over at Joshua, who was directing two young boys on how to replace a rotted door. Joshua caught his brother’s look and shrugged, causing Nathan to laugh.
In the garden behind the house, the women worked with swift, sure hands. The earth was cold and resistant, but they dug and pulled with the tenacity of miners extracting the last vein of ore. Carrots, potatoes, and turnips filled their baskets, dirt clinging to the vegetables like unwilling tenants.
Jolene stood and stretched. “That’s the last of it,” she announced, wiping a strand of hair from her face. “Thought we’d never get done.”
“We’re not done yet,” said Naomi, ever the taskmaster. “Still need to blanch and jar these.”
Annalee and Lilian, the youngest of the Beckett sisters, exchanged weary glances. At twenty-three and nineteen, both were full of restless energy, though for different reasons. Annalee wanted to be out with the men, and Lilian wished she were curled up in her room, reading the book she’d borrowed from Joshua.
The women moved inside, where the heat of the wood stove created a welcome contrast to the crisp outdoor air. They peeledand chopped, their motions rhythmic and hypnotic. Steam rose from pots, filling the kitchen with a savory haze.
Little Cody, Jolene and Grayson’s infant son, lay on a quilt in the corner. He alternated between watching his mother work and kicking his legs into the air. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or a budding fever, no one could yet tell.
The day wore on, each hour a testament to the Becketts’ enduring work ethic. In the pastures, Grayson, Parker, and ranch hands finished their weaning, the calves now corralled and the mothers grazing quietly. They rode back to the main compound, their silhouettes merging with the landscape.
Cody and his crew had stacked the hay high, creating towering walls of fodder that would see the livestock through the winter. Their shirts were soaked with sweat, their faces bronzed from the intensity.
