Part 11 (1/2)

”They have been through a lot,” Nate said.

”Then why not just tell everyone about the snake tomorrow and warn them to be on their guard?” Evelyn suggested. ”That should do.”

Nate looked at the snake's head and scowled and threw it at the pile of boulders. ”I am so sick of rattlesnakes. But I reckon you're right. I don't need to be a laughingstock twice in one month.”

”No one laughed at you, Pa.”

”Your uncle Shakespeare did. He said that if worry was gold I'd be covered in yellow warts.”

Evelyn laughed.

”It's too bad a rattler hasn't bitten him.”

”Oh, Pa.”

Chapter Eleven.

The cabin began to take shape.

All the logs were trimmed and cut. Those for the front and the back walls were fourteen feet long; those for the sides, twelve feet. All the notches were a foot from each end. Since the logs weren't the same diameter, Nate and Shakespeare alternated those with slightly thicker ends. That way the walls were even.

Lifting the heavy logs went smoothly until the walls were about chest high. Then they had to resort to skids; smaller logs were braced against each wall, and the cabin logs were rolled up into position. When the walls were head high, they used ropes and the skids.

A fireplace was a necessity. Without it, the Worths would be hard-pressed to survive the bitterly harsh mountain winters. Accordingly, Nate cut slits in one of the upper logs on the wall where the fireplace would go so that when the cabin was done they could insert a saw and make an opening for the fireplace stones.

The roof logs were the longest of all, to allow for an overhang. Getting them up took coordinated effort, and once they were high enough they had to be carefully slid into place. It was a slow process, which was why the roof alone took four days to complete.

Nate and Shakespeare had also left slits in the walls for the door and the window. They cut the door opening down to the ground, and Emala mentioned that she would like it a bit wider.

”May I ask why?” Nate asked.

Emala put her hands on her wide hips and answered, ”So I don't get stuck. I'd rather not have to go in and out of my own house sideways.”

”I don't blame you, madam,” Shakespeare said.

”It is a trial being plump,” Emala informed them.

Shakespeare grinned and gave a courtly bow and winked. ”But you jiggle so nicely.”

”Why, Mr. McNair!” Emala exclaimed, and laughed heartily.

They made the window a foot and a half across, and Emala remarked that she would like it wider, too.

”I don't advise that,” Nate said.

”I am a big woman,” Emala responded. ”I'd like to have a window that all of me can stand in front of.”

”The wider it is, the more cold air it will let in,” Nate warned her. ”Curtains and shutters won't help much when it's cold enough to freeze your breath.”

”I hope to get gla.s.s like Winona and you have.”

”Gla.s.s lets in the cold, too. Didn't you notice that our windows are the same size as the windows I am making you?”

Emala reluctantly settled for a small window.

Every day they stopped work at noon to eat and rest. The women cooked food, coffee and tea were brewed, and everyone sat around talking and joking and having a friendly time.

It was during a noon break one day that Randa got up and strolled off with her hands clasped behind her slender back, admiring the splendid scenery. She loved the sweep of the high mountains. She loved the colors of the vegetation that covered the valley floor. She loved the lake with all the waterfowl cavorting about. In short, she loved everything about their new home.

Randa's ambling brought her to the gully. She was standing watching a bald eagle soar high in the sky when Zach King came out of the trees with his rifle over his shoulder, carrying a rabbit. She remembered him going off earlier and had wondered where he got to. ”More food for the pot?” She hadn't heard a shot.

Zach nodded.

Randa had noticed he didn't talk much. He wasn't always gabbing like Chickory did. She liked that. She liked, too, how handsome he was. Not that she would ever let him know, him being married and all. ”How is Louisa doin'?”

Zach stopped. ”Fine,” he said. ”She gets a little sick in the mornings, but she is eating like a horse.”

Randa grinned and said, ”You shouldn't ought to talk about your missus that way.”

”It's the truth,” Zach said. ”I can barely keep enough food in the pantry, she eats so much.”

”I hear ladies do that,” Randa admitted.

Zach stared at her waist.

”Is somethin' the matter?” Randa asked, uncomfortable under his gaze. ”Why are you lookin' at me like that?”

”Where are your weapons?”

”Pardon?”

”You don't even have a knife.”

”I do so have one, but I took it off to work,” Randa told him.

”No gun?”

”Not yet. My pa says he's fixin' to get me one just as soon as he can afford to,” Randa revealed.

”Come over to our cabin later,” Zach said. ”I have a spare pistol you can have.”

”I couldn't.” Randa's mother had warned her about accepting gifts even from people she knew and liked.

”I wasn't asking. You can't traipse around out here unarmed, woman. You're asking to be torn to bits or have your throat slit.”

Randa felt an odd sort of tingle when he called her ”woman.” ”It can't be as bad as all that.”