On Her Way Home by Sara Petersen Page B

returned. Leif and Charlie had looked hopeful, but it was short lived as Kirby, insulted, had squashed her request. Watching Charlie’s head drop forlornly and stare at the mess of gravy on his plate this morning, Jo had to pick up her napkin and hide her smile behind it.
    Now, glancing at Charlie, she listened to him animatedly talk about the new calf born this morning. Mattie’s dinner had obviously bolstered his spirits.
    Placing her napkin on the table, Jo said, “That was delicious. Thank you, Mattie.”
    “You are more than welcome. Charlie informed me all about the cook that replaced me while I was away. Ranch work requires good food,” she teased, placing her hands on Kirby’s shoulders with a light press.
    Kirby replied, “I never heard any complaints from this bunch.”
    “Ha, I was too weak from hunger to complain.”
    “Well, I don’t recall anything you cooked in the last two weeks that was exactly edible, Leif,” Kirby rebutted, glaring hotly at him.
    Mattie settled the argument. “It’s nice to be missed even if it is just for my cooking.”
    Kirby reached up to pat Mattie’s hand that still rested on his shoulder. “It’s not just your cooking we missed.”
    Mattie smiled down into his eyes. Jo was touched by the sweetness between them. All she had witnessed of Kirby in the last two days led her to believe he was an unsociable and slightly grumpy old man. It appeared the one weak spot in his crusty demeanor was Mattie.
    After dinner Jo took her dishes to the kitchen, where Mattie was washing the others, and picked up a towel to begin drying. Appreciative of the help, Mattie handed each dish to Jo and then told her which cupboard it belonged in.
    “How was your visit in Great Falls? Kirby said you have a sister there?” Jo asked.
    “It was nice, but I am glad to be home. I don’t like being gone too long from Kirby.”
    Again, Jo was surprised by their open feelings. She knew her parents had loved each other, but it was rare that they openly expressed it. A few times a year she would see them hug, and once right before Pa had passed away, Jo had been walking in the orchard when she came across Pa and Ma sitting on the bench under an apple tree, mother resting her head on Pa’s shoulder and holding his hand. Jo thought it was mainly Pa who wasn’t openly affectionate; it wasn’t in his nature. Even when Johnny had come home from the war, Pa had only extended his palm in a firm handshake and pulled Johnny in to slap him on the back. That was as close to an embrace anyone ever received from Pa. Mother, on the other hand, had barged past Pa and enfolded Johnny in a long hug, relishing the feel of him alive and well in her arms. Mother had always been tender to the children. Before Jo had stepped onto the train to head west, Mother had held her tightly and stroked her hair, then pulling away with loving eyes, she’d cupped Jo’s cheeks in her soft hands, saying, “My Jo, my Jo.”
    “I met Kirby the summer I turned sixteen when he was on the threshing crew that came to help with harvest. We’ve been together forty-five years now,” Mattie said, handing Jo a dish. “He wasn’t always so surly. Aging is tough on a man who enjoys working hard; that and the range wars the last few years have taken their toll.” Mattie paused, holding the wet dishrag, and turned to look at Jo. “Don’t let his bark scare you; it’s an act. He’s already fond of you. I can tell.”
    How Mattie could tell, Jo would never know, and truthfully, she didn’t know how much Kirby’s approval mattered. Leif was the one who had hired her, and this job was only for the summer. It would be wise to avoid becoming too attached to the ranch and the people here. Of course, Mattie’s easy manner was already making that difficult.
    They finished with the dishes, and being tired and well fed, Jo retired to her bedroom. It was cozier now with her bright quilt lying across the bed and her comb, brushes, and other