Jane had some time to appreciate that as the boys shared the piano bench in the front room and fingered the piano keys in every combination they could think of. First all the white keys, then all the black, then alternating, then every other. In thirty minutes, they had not happened upon a tune, and she was starting to twitch.
From the kitchen, she called to them, “Why don’t you come in here, boys, and keep me company? I’m making potato cakes.” She winced as the bench crashed to the floor. “Are you all right?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Longstreet,” Rabbit called back. “That was Finn.”
“Was not,” said Finn.
“Was.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jane said, raising her voice above theirs. “Pick it up and come in here.” She directed them to opposite sides of the table when they slunk in.
“It’s real nice of you askin’ us to sit with you,” said Rabbit.
“Yeah,” Finn agreed. “Mostly our gran wants us out of the kitchen. Same with Mrs. Sterling when we’re up at the Pennyroyal, but at least she gives us somethin’ to eat when she sends us off. Gran shows us her broom.” He craned his skinny neck to see what Jane was doing at the stove. “We havin’ anything besides potato cakes?”
Jane turned a little sideways as she worked so she could keep an eye on the boys. “I have what’s left of yesterday’s roast warming in the oven. I thought you would have smelled that.”
Finn sniffed the air. “I think I have apple pie in my nose.”
Rabbit snickered. “That’s what you’re callin’ your boogers now?”
Before Finn came out of his chair, Jane put her hand down hard on the table. Except for coming to sharp, military-like attention, neither boy moved. “Good,” said Jane. “I have a broom, too. I also have cookies. Think about that.”
They fell quiet as Jane began shaping cold mashed potatoes into small cakes and rolled them in flour. “Do you boys generally visit the marshal on Saturday mornings?”
“Sure,” said Rabbit. “After we get our chores done. Sometimes we drop by on our way home from school.”
“We’re pretty much deputies now,” Finn said.
Jane saw his small chest puff. Only the fact that he was seated kept him from strutting. “So Marshal Bridger probably looks to you for help from time to time.”
Rabbit nodded. “Sure he does. He came for us this morning. Ain’t that right, Finn? He had to wait around while we finished up, but I don’t think he minded much. Gran had coffee and crumb cake for him.”
“I see. Marshal Bridger must have had an important assignment for you today.”
Finn sat up on his knees and leaned forward, supporting himself by the elbows. “Did he ever. Swore us in special.”
“Goodness. I have to believe you brought us the best apple pie in Wyoming. The best cookies, too.”
“That’s a fact,” said Rabbit.
Finn nodded. “’Course the pie and cookies are what you call a red hair. Ain’t that right, Rabbit?”
Rabbit shrugged. “Something like that. That’s when Marshall Bridger was talking to Gran. I wasn’t really paying no mind.”
Jane asked, “Did he say red herring, perhaps?”
“Might’uv.” Finn sniffed the air. “Butter’s melted in your pan, Mrs. Longstreet. Just about ready to burn. That would be a shame.”
Jane saw he was right. She quickly began adding the potato cakes. They sizzled immediately and started to brown on the edges. Picking up the turner, Jane gave her attention to her cooking.
Red herring, indeed. She had a good mind to serve Morgan from that kettle of fish.
Morgan knelt beside the copper tub where Jane was sitting with her knees almost tucked under her chin. The water was not quite deep enough to cover her breasts. “Bend your head,” he said. When she complied, he raised a kettle of warm water and poured it over her hair while she sifted through wet strands to squeeze out the last of the soap.
“That’s enough.” Jane pulled her hair to one side and began wringing out the water. “May I have a towel?”
Morgan set the kettle on the floor and handed her one. He watched her deftly wrap it around her hair and make a tuck that kept it securely on her head. He picked up a second towel and held it up for her to take.
