dignified the dining area, and somehow a rocking chair was squeezed between the table and the Victrola. It was tiny and crowded but impeccably clean. She groaned inside. I am the dirtiest thing in this cabin, she thought in dismay.
A woman came toward her, holding a towel in both hands. With a smile of welcome, she draped it over Julia's head and began to gently squeeze the water from her hair, all the while scolding Julia's employer. “Paul, shooting is far too good for you! What were you thinking? Why didn't you just get some rooms in Gun Barrel for the night? I'll be surprised if…” She paused and looked at Julia, her eyes kind.
“Julia Darling,” she said, her voice muffled by the towel that the woman was applying more vigorously now.
“ … if Miss Darling doesn't hop right back on the C&N tomorrow.”
“She did buy a return ticket to Cheyenne,” Mr. Otto said.
“Then obviously Miss Darling is too smart to cook for you and those bandits you call hands,” the woman scolded. “Is that better, my dear?”
Julia nodded, feeling an absurd urge to fling herself into the woman's arms and sob.
“Introduce us properly, Paul, and then you and Max give us twenty minutes.”
“Darling, this is Alice Marlowe. Alice, this is Darling, my new cook.”
“My first name is Julia,” she said. She stepped back in surprise when Mr. Otto took the towel that Max had handed him and wiped off her face. She wanted to protest when he tipped her head to one side and scraped away the mud from her ear.
“See there? That's why I didn't stay in Gun Barrel, Alice,” he said after he peeled several blades of grass from her cheek and stepped back. “She's already had one proposal in town and two offers of employment, but by Jupiter, I aim to have me a cook.”
The three of them stared at her—Mr. Marlowe thoughtful, his wife with a frown, and Mr. Otto with what appeared to be resignation. Mr. Marlowe was the first to speak.
“I see why you avoided Gun Barrel,” he said. He poked Mr. Otto in the ribs, a liberty she couldn't fathom. “You're a dirty dog, Paul! I didn't know you changed that ad to include ‘pretty.’ “
My stars, Julia thought in amazement.
Her employer shook his head. “ ‘Mature.’ That was the word I used. M-A-T-U-R-E.” To her chagrin, he spelled it out distinctly.
“Paul saw an article about the cooking school in one of my magazines,” Alice said.
Tears welled in her eyes. Before Julia could embarrass herself further Alice Marlowe grabbed the towel from Mr. Otto and snapped it at the men. “Out of here! Now!”
They laughed and went out into the rain. Julia sniffed back tears, as Alice started on the buttons of her suit jacket. “What you need is to get out of these clothes. I'm afraid this lovely suit is beyond salvaging. It's starting to shrink. Let me help you wash your hair, Miss Darling. Please, may I call you Julia?”
Julia barely kept her tears to herself. In a moment the dress was off, her shirtwaist was unbuttoned and pulled down, and Mrs. Marlowe was helping her to the lean-to. Julia blew her nose. Alice poured water from the stove's reservoir, tested it with her elbow, and instructed her to lean over. In another moment, her hair was lathered, and Mrs. Marlowe was murmuring something comforting. Julia sniffed back her tears and got suds in her nose for her pains.
She didn't care. Alice poured warm, clean water over her hair. “I know I always feel better when my hair is clean. What lovely hair, Julia.”
“Thank you,” she said, pleased all out of proportion with the compliment.
Alice helped her skirt past the table and opened a door into the next room. Before she had time to be shy, the woman had stripped the clothes from Julia and pulled a nightgown over her head. “Now you get in bed, and I'll give you my comb.”
“I can't take your bed, Mrs. Marlowe,” Julia protested, even as she settled back against the feather pillow that the woman spread with a dry towel and
A woman came toward her, holding a towel in both hands. With a smile of welcome, she draped it over Julia's head and began to gently squeeze the water from her hair, all the while scolding Julia's employer. “Paul, shooting is far too good for you! What were you thinking? Why didn't you just get some rooms in Gun Barrel for the night? I'll be surprised if…” She paused and looked at Julia, her eyes kind.
“Julia Darling,” she said, her voice muffled by the towel that the woman was applying more vigorously now.
“ … if Miss Darling doesn't hop right back on the C&N tomorrow.”
“She did buy a return ticket to Cheyenne,” Mr. Otto said.
“Then obviously Miss Darling is too smart to cook for you and those bandits you call hands,” the woman scolded. “Is that better, my dear?”
Julia nodded, feeling an absurd urge to fling herself into the woman's arms and sob.
“Introduce us properly, Paul, and then you and Max give us twenty minutes.”
“Darling, this is Alice Marlowe. Alice, this is Darling, my new cook.”
“My first name is Julia,” she said. She stepped back in surprise when Mr. Otto took the towel that Max had handed him and wiped off her face. She wanted to protest when he tipped her head to one side and scraped away the mud from her ear.
“See there? That's why I didn't stay in Gun Barrel, Alice,” he said after he peeled several blades of grass from her cheek and stepped back. “She's already had one proposal in town and two offers of employment, but by Jupiter, I aim to have me a cook.”
The three of them stared at her—Mr. Marlowe thoughtful, his wife with a frown, and Mr. Otto with what appeared to be resignation. Mr. Marlowe was the first to speak.
“I see why you avoided Gun Barrel,” he said. He poked Mr. Otto in the ribs, a liberty she couldn't fathom. “You're a dirty dog, Paul! I didn't know you changed that ad to include ‘pretty.’ “
My stars, Julia thought in amazement.
Her employer shook his head. “ ‘Mature.’ That was the word I used. M-A-T-U-R-E.” To her chagrin, he spelled it out distinctly.
“Paul saw an article about the cooking school in one of my magazines,” Alice said.
Tears welled in her eyes. Before Julia could embarrass herself further Alice Marlowe grabbed the towel from Mr. Otto and snapped it at the men. “Out of here! Now!”
They laughed and went out into the rain. Julia sniffed back tears, as Alice started on the buttons of her suit jacket. “What you need is to get out of these clothes. I'm afraid this lovely suit is beyond salvaging. It's starting to shrink. Let me help you wash your hair, Miss Darling. Please, may I call you Julia?”
Julia barely kept her tears to herself. In a moment the dress was off, her shirtwaist was unbuttoned and pulled down, and Mrs. Marlowe was helping her to the lean-to. Julia blew her nose. Alice poured water from the stove's reservoir, tested it with her elbow, and instructed her to lean over. In another moment, her hair was lathered, and Mrs. Marlowe was murmuring something comforting. Julia sniffed back her tears and got suds in her nose for her pains.
She didn't care. Alice poured warm, clean water over her hair. “I know I always feel better when my hair is clean. What lovely hair, Julia.”
“Thank you,” she said, pleased all out of proportion with the compliment.
Alice helped her skirt past the table and opened a door into the next room. Before she had time to be shy, the woman had stripped the clothes from Julia and pulled a nightgown over her head. “Now you get in bed, and I'll give you my comb.”
“I can't take your bed, Mrs. Marlowe,” Julia protested, even as she settled back against the feather pillow that the woman spread with a dry towel and
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