Her smile was sly and triumphant. “Then I imagine they could manage feeding a bunch of horses all by themselves. Couldn’t they?”
He couldn’t think of an answer. Amanda motioned to the pills with her hand.
“I’m not feeding you till you take them.”
Jake had a pretty impressive scowl, even for the condition he was in. “One.”
Amanda glared right back. “You know the difference between a terrorist and me?” she demanded. “You can negotiate with a terrorist. Now, take the damn things so I can get some dinner myself. I’m starved.”
His expression crumbled into surprised humor. Amanda held her breath. She saw him jiggling the pills in his palm, as if weighing options. She saw something like relief skitter across his eyes, and her suspicions grew apace with the pain. In the end, he popped the pills into his mouth and took a sizable gulp of water to wash them down, and the relief was Amanda’s. At least she’d found a way to get him to take the medicine.
“Two every four hours isn’t going to kill you,” she taunted. “Just make sure if you ride, it’s on Buck. That way if you fall asleep, he can always find the way home.”
“Don’t push it, Amanda.”
She grinned and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her robe so Jake couldn’t see that they were shaking. “Come on out to eat. After the rest of the hands head out, I’ll show you the folk remedy I just remembered.”
Jake’s eyebrow lifted. “A folk remedy?”
She nodded. “I should have thought of it before. It’s a miracle-worker.”
“There’s no wildlife involved, is there?”
She smiled. “No wildlife. Now, get your pants zipped and get in to dinner, young man.”
Amanda saw Clovis look up when Jake followed her into the kitchen, and knew how very worried he’d been for his boss. When the older man saw that Jake was actually smiling—well, as much of a smile as Jake ever afforded Clovis—his relief was almost palpable. The conversation picked up, and Amanda joined the men at the big table for stew, bread and coffee.
“You’re hired, Miss Marlow,” Willy praised her, his voice low and his plate empty. “This is the best stew I’ve ever had.”
“I do rabbit and squirrel, too,” she assured him.
“A real Renaissance woman,” Jake growled into his own quickly vanishing dinner.
“That’s right, Mr. Kendall,” she retorted happily. “I’ve been known to shoot my dinner, as well.”
Jake’s grin was sly. “Remind me to keep her away from the barn cats.”
The chuckles were easy and comfortable. Amanda dished out the apple pan dowdy and poured more coffee to groans of appreciation.
“How’d you manage this, girl?” Clovis demanded, his gesture taking in the food and warmth and light Amanda had managed to provide. “You a city girl and all.”
Amanda sneered. “City girl. Watch your language, Clovis. Besides, it’s amazing what you can do in an electrical outage with a gas stove and a closet full of backup supplies.”
“Did you refill the kerosene heaters?” Jake asked.
Amanda’s nod rode on an impressive scowl of her own. “A real handy thing to have,” she said. “You might think of keeping one in the cabin.”
He lifted an unconcerned eyebrow. “I do. But I pull it out to help keep the foaling barn warm in the winter. Since nobody stays in the cabin then, anyway.”
“This isn’t winter,” she reminded him.
“It’s winter here until the last snow. And that’s sometimes May. I guess the Appalachians don’t do it that way.”
“No,” she answered. “They have a strange phenomenon there they like to call spring.”
The food disappeared, the coffee was enjoyed with the discussion of how they’d managed to handle the surprise blizzard, and then Clovis led the men back out into the night. He didn’t say a word when Jake announced that he wasn’t going to help, but Amanda saw the quick glance of gratitude the little man flashed her. Hats were slapped on, coats donned, and the wind snaked in the back door as the voices drifted back to the barn.
“Need some help?” Jake asked as Amanda cleared the dishes. His voice was already more relaxed. So, come to think of it, were his features. The flickering yellow light from the lantern washed over his face in gentle waves now.
