Page 26 of Chasing Liberty

“How hard can it be?” She watched him deftly peel the apple, then went about peeling one on her own, but much slower.

“What does this make? My three to your one?” he teased as he placed another apple into the bowl.

“Just worry about your own apples, cowboy.” She finally finished one.

“How about we divide and conquer? You slice and I’ll peel. Otherwise, we won’t have any fruit left.”

Glancing at the tossed aside peel, she noticed she had left a lot of fruit still attached. "That seems sensible," she remarked. She collected the peeled apples onto the chopping board and proceeded to slice them.

“Here. This’ll work better.” He handed her a larger knife. “Just don’t cut a finger off.” He chuckled, but he was serious. “It’s a shame you have this remarkable kitchen and it’s rarely used.”

She paused the knife mid-air. “Growing up, Dolly always prepared the meals. I guess us girls could have helped and learned a few things, but we were outside learning things that interested us. Like birthing animals. Mending fences. And as we started racing, we spent a lot of time wrapped up in training.”

"You've certainly lived a life of hardship."

She lifted her head slightly. "It has had its own unique set of challenges."

"Really?" He placed an apple in the bowl.

"With what you know of my father, do you doubt what I say?"

With each slice she made her tongue came out to curl around her bottom lip as if all her focus was on the task.

“Was he hard on you?”

"Indeed. It’s not that I'm questioning his abilities as a good father, but he had aspirations for us to fulfill."

"Your frustration is in his intention to curtail the mischief you and your sisters are involved in."

“That proves you’ve been hanging out with Daddy way too much.” She laid the knife aside and stretched her fingers as if they were already aching. “It’s chauvinistic and outdated for him to force us to marry.”

"Had he ever told you and your sisters to maintain professional boundaries with the workers, to avoid becoming locker room gossip?"

She raised her gaze to his, her bottom lip protruding a bit. "Yes, he's warned us. Are we a topic of discussion at the bunkhouse?"

He wondered if she truly didn’t realize how men tended to talk. “Think about it.”

With a sigh, she picked the knife up and went back to her task. “Are you saying that Daddy’s demands are justified? Would you force our child to marry?”

He mulled the question over. “Okay. Point taken.”

“Let’s go in a different direction. Why didn’t you continue the dream of becoming a chef?”

He shrugged and smoothed his hands along the purple apron she had given him from the pantry. "It wasn't so much a dream but rather a necessity. I loathed dishwashing and seized an opportunity when it presented itself. Cooking was better than having soft hands. Working land is the dream.”

“It’s an addiction,” she said thoughtfully. “Once you get a taste of it you can’t get enough. Growing up with a father who thought his daughters should be as tough as men, I guess it backfired on him. He wanted sons and got girls, wanted us to be self-reliant and tough, and here we are. Tough princesses. I don’t think that was quite what he wanted.”

"Nah, I don’t believe he would exchange any of you for a son. I think he simply did the best he could as a single dad."

“My sisters and I always saw Daddy as invincible. Superhuman almost. As kids we’d watch him lift two fifty-pound hay bales onto trailers in the fields. Wrestle wild horses and come out on top. He was once wounded while working farm equipment. Dolly about passed out when she saw him walk into the house, blood flowing from the deep gash on his leg. She wanted to take him to Doc to have him patched up, but Daddy wouldn’t hear of it. He sat down at the kitchen table and stitched himself up, and I didn’t see him flinch once.”

“You watched?” Wyler asked.

"Each one of us girls did. It captured our interest. As I mentioned, our upbringing on the ranch was rooted inresilience. When injuries occurred, as they tend to do on a ranch, we were instructed to remain with the injured party until assistance came. There was an instance when a hand was impaled by a bull. At ten years old, I was freaked out, but I stayed by his side, applying pressure to his wound until help arrived. Strength, for us, developed over time."

“You admire your father. It shows in how you speak about him.” He laid the last apple on the cutting board.

"I love him, yet he struggled to allow his daughters to have much input in their life choices. Daddy has always been overly steadfast."

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