Page 44 of A Whiskey River Princess

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. She headed toward the spare bedroom and then glanced athim over her shoulder, her blue eyes prominent in the firelight. “Good night.” He nodded, and she turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“What am I doing, Buster?” he asked as he hung her coat up on the peg next to his. “She’s going to leave after the holidays.”

Wagging his tail, Buster walked across the room and licked his hand.

“But she’s here now.” Deep down in his heart, he wondered what fate had in mind and how he was ever going to survive it… with his heart intact.

Chapter 11

Gabriella

Gabriella spent the next few days going over Dirk’s cookbook, trying to find recipes for Thanksgiving. She had never experienced a Thanksgiving meal before, let alone cooked one. It was bad enough that she was to cook the meal for just Dirk and her, but now the sheriff and his family were coming over, as well. She just hoped that what she cooked was edible.

Determined to make a good impression, Gabriella rose early Thanksgiving morning, dressed, and headed into the kitchen.

“Ahh!” Gabriella screamed. In the sink lay a dead turkey.

Dirk ran in from the bedroom, his eyes wide with panic. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Gabriella’s heart pounded as she tried to catch her breath, pointing to the dead turkey in the sink.

Dirk tried to keep from smiling. “It’s called a turkey.”

Gabriella placed her hands on her hips. “I know it’s a turkey! I just didn’t expect to see one lying in the sink!”

Dirk laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to dress it.”

“Dress it?” Gabriella’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I hope you don’t plan on putting anything on it—”

“Nothing other than stuffing.” Dirk smiled as he walked over to the sink. “I’m not going to put a dress on it.”

She huffed. “Oh, I know that!”

“By dressing it, I meant that I’ll show you how to clean off the feathers and take off the feet.” It was obvious that Dirk was enjoying her discomfort a bit too much.

Gabriella lifted a wing, pinching it between two fingers. “I tell you what. You dress it and I’ll cook it.”

Dirk smiled. “Sounds reasonable. But I’ll show you how to do it anyway, just in case I’m not here to do it for you.” Dirk thought for a moment and then asked. “What did you do before if you never dressed a turkey?”

She shrugged. “My Uncle Charles or my cousin, Albert, ordered the meal and the servants cooked it.”

“You have a lot to learn about country life.” He chuckled.

Gabriella lifted an eyebrow. “And you said you would teach me, right?”

“Yes, I did.” Dirk smiled at her affectionately, enjoying seeing life through her eyes. “So, let’s get started.”

Dirk began the lesson on how to dress a turkey and soon Gabriella was helping him pull the feathers off, something she had never thought she would do. But she found that she enjoyed working beside Dirk. He was so kind, thoughtful, and patient—the most patient man she had ever met.

After the turkey was thoroughly cleaned and washed, they placed it in a ceramic Dutch oven, seasoned it, and slid it into the oven.

“Now, we’ll wait,” Dirk announced when he closed the oven door.

All of a sudden, there was a knock at the front door. Dirk’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. “You wait here, and I’ll see who it is.”

Gabriella’s heart fell, knowing that it might be the Dougherty Boys, coming for her again. “Be careful,” she murmured, grabbing his arm.

Dirk glanced down at her hand digging into his arm and she quickly released it. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

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