Page 41 of The Preacher's Bride

Feeling sure that she and the cow had a mutual understanding, she set the pail under the cow, took an utter in each hand, and the cow kicked her, sending her flying backward into the slushy mud where people had walked through over and again.

Determined not to let the cow get the best of her, she set the stool beside the cow again, took an utter in each hand, and pulled. Only one little squirt of milk came out. “Well, now! That won’t do! That just won’t do at all!”

“Would you like some help?” a feminine voice asked behind her, sounding like a proper Georgia society lady.

Mia jumped to see an older woman with silver, curly hair watching her.

“Oh!” Mia gasped as she attempted to smooth her hair in place. “I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come up!”

The woman suppressed a smile. “I’m sorry to startle you, but I’m Mrs. Abigail Jenkins. I own the boardinghouse. So sorry for the intrusion, but I heard that Preacher Henley got married, and I wanted to come over to meet you and to see if you needed any help.”

Mia looked at her sheepishly. “Do you know how to milk a cow?”

The elder woman nodded, but to Mia’s relief, she didn’t laugh. “I do, but most folks around here keep their milk in the root cellar. The preacher may have already milked the cow this morning before he left. Now, let’s go inside and get you cleaned up. Besides, the children should be waking up soon.”

Mia put the cow back in the barn, along with the milk pail, rubbing her chest where the cow had kicked her. “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

The elder woman slid her arm in hers. “I’ll show you how to milk a cow later, if you like.” She looked her over and pulled a feather out of her hair.

“I’m so sorry,” Mia said, embarrassed. “I must look a fright.”

Creases formed around the woman’s eyes as she smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ve all had our moments when we were just starting out. Are you from the city?”

Mia nodded. “New York.”

“I see,” Mrs. Jenkins said, guiding her toward the henhouse. Upon seeing Mia, the chickens started fussing again. “Life in the west is a bit different.”

“I’d say!” Mia chuckled as she attempted to brush some muck off her coat.

“Before we go in, would you mind if I show you how to gather the eggs without disrupting the hens?” Even though Mia was sure she looked funny, the woman was kind, maintaining a straight face as she spoke to her.

Mia sighed with relief. “Yes, please.”

Mrs. Jenkins showed her how to walk around the outside of the henhouse and slip her hand in through the slats on the outside of the henhouse for the eggs. The chickens fussed a little, but they weren’t in a complete tizzy as they were earlier. “That way, you don’t have to go inside the henhouse to collect the eggs.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” Mia said as they walked toward the house. “I knew there had to be a better way.”

Mrs. Jenkins chuckled. “There usually is, but we have to learn them. I guarantee you that before long, you’ll be a professional at all of this.” She waved her hand around them dismissively.

“I sure hope so,” Mia said as they approached the back door. “Would you like to come in?” She could see that the woman meant well, and that she wasn’t there to snoop or to collect information to carry back to her friends. “Also, would you mind keeping this between us?” Mia pointed to her hair.

The elder woman laughed. “What?” she teased, a sparkle in her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mia laughed. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“What happened to you?” Shane scoffed, standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips, still dressed in his long johns.

“Go get dressed, Shane Henley,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “You should know better than to come out here dressed like that around ladies.”

Shane’s eyes grew wide, and he ran off to his room right away.

“How did you do that?” Mia asked appreciatively.

Mrs. Jenkins whispered conspiratorially, “The trick is not to show any fear.”

Mia laughed, knowing that she already liked the woman. “I’ll clean up and will be right back.”

“Take your time.” Mrs. Jenkins was already making herself at home as she put a pot of coffee on to brew when she realized what she had done. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m so used to making myself at home in the kitchen. Do you mind?”

---