Sea Of Grass by Kate Sweeney

the kitchen. Her dark hair was pulled back, and her hips swayed to some old song coming from the radio on the counter. Tess raised a curious eyebrow as she leaned against the doorjamb.
    Tess grinned as she listened to the waltz rhythm; it had her swaying, as well. With that, Mrs. Redmond turned from the stove and stopped dead. She blushed from her head to her toes, and Tess’s grin grew even wider.
    “Good morning,” Mrs. Redmond said. “It’s early.”
    Tess walked into the kitchen. “I know, but the smell was heavenly. What are you making?” she asked excitedly as she looked beyond Mrs. Redmond.
    “Cinnamon rolls, and no, you can’t have one. I haven’t iced them yet,” she scolded as Tess reached for the hot rolls cooling on the rack.
    Tess pulled a face and stepped back. “I’m your employer, Mrs. Redmond,” Tess tried and got a smirk. “No go, huh?”
    “No. Besides, you’ll burn your mouth. Sit, I’ll get your coffee.”
    Tess sat at the long table and smiled her thanks as Mrs. Redmond set the steaming cup in front of her. “What’ll it be?” she asked over her shoulder.
    “I’m so hungry, I don’t care,” Tess said happily as she blew at the steaming cup. “So tell me about yourself, Mrs. Redmond.”  
    With her back to her, Tess thought she saw Mrs. Redmond stiffen momentarily. It was forgotten as she watched her drizzle the icing over the warm sticky rolls.
    “There’s not too much. I was born in Portland, Oregon. Married, had Jack, and my husband was killed in a car accident.”
    Tess frowned for a moment at the abrupt tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
    “No. I’m sorry. You weren’t prying. It was just a painful time.”
    “I understand. And I’ll never ask again if you would please let me have one of those.” She motioned to the cinnamon rolls, newly iced.
    “Deal. You can have one.”
    Tess grinned and licked her lips, grabbing a sticky roll off the rack. “Oh, my God!” Her exclamation was muffled by the mouthful of warm cinnamon, brown sugar, and the lightest dough she ever tasted, the topic completely forgotten as she concentrated on breakfast.
    “Mrs. Redmond, that was the best breakfast I… Well, Maria has her work cut out for her when she gets back. Thank you,” Tess said, wiping her mouth.
    Mrs. Redmond eyed the cleaned plate. “You’re welcome. And Maria’s job is very safe. I have no problem moving on in August.”
    Both women were silent for a moment. Tess saw the faraway look as Mrs. Redmond drank her coffee. “Well, I’m grateful for you. It’s amazing how quickly you and your son eased into the family routine. And it’s only April, let’s not talk about leaving,” Tess said as she stood. “Would you tell my father I’ll be back later in the day, maybe around suppertime? We’re going up on the high ridge to do some branding, which I haven’t done in almost six years, the poor calves. If you see a calf with a double R branded on its forehead, you’ll know who did it.”
    Mrs. Redmond laughed again as she cleared the dishes. “Why do you still brand them? I mean, isn’t there a more humane way of keeping track of them?”
    “We ear tag the calves when they’re born to match the tag on their mamas, so we can make sure we know which calf belongs to what cow if they get separated.”
    “Doesn’t it hurt them? The branding, I mean.”
    “If I had to guess, I’d say yeah. Hell, if I were stuck with a red hot poker on my ass—” She stopped when Mrs. Redmond laughed; she laughed along. “You know what I mean. Anyway, I have to go into town later and see Tom about our order. I’ll take a ride out to the south pasture on my way back. I should be back by supper,” she said quickly, avoiding Mrs. Redmond, and slipped into her buckskin jacket.
    Tess caught her staring at the fleece-lined coat. “You like it?” she asked and modeled it. “I snagged this buck, skinned it, and had it made.”
    “Really?” Claire said dryly as she