From Pass to Pass: A Tale of Adventure from Wyoming to India

By Abby Ripley

"From Pass to Pass: A Tale of Adventure from Wyoming to India" is a historical novel about the life of young Millie Jenkins who works alongside her parents and four older brothers on a Pass Creek cattle ranch in northern Wyoming. It is time for twenty-year-old Millie to be married. Her parents, Tom and Trixie Jenkins, are hopeful she won't become just another rancher's wife. There is Zeke, the handsome cowboy, who works on a neighboring ranch. He writes poetry and dances better than any partner Millie has had. Then a rich Englishman, Oliver Halbard, comes into her life. He has airs and talks with an accent. His only talents seem to be his sense of humor and the ability to draw. Otherwise, Millie thinks he's a snob, though a rich one. Oliver's father, Samuel, sees Millie as the perfect travel companion for his teenage daughter on a trip to Ladak, the land of passes, in the Indian Himalaya. The invitation to go with the Halbards causes Millie a personal crisis, but her father sees it as an opportunity for his daughter to find a proper husband. Does she find the perfect mate? Will it be Oliver or her cowboy sweetheart, Zeke?
"From Pass to Pass" is comprised of four books. Book I is about Millie's life on the Pass Creek ranch. Book II covers Millie's journey from Wyoming to Chicago, where she attends the Columbia Exposition then to London where she joins the Halbard family; the party then travels on the Mail Express to Brindisi, Italy, where they board a steamship to Bombay. Book III covers Millie's onward journey to Karachi, Lahore, and Rawalpindi by train then by pony cart along the Jhelum Road to Baramulla on the outskirts of Srinagar, Kashmir, and into the city of Srinagar, where the party prepares for their pony trek to Ladak. Book IV follows Millie through the infamous Zoji pass to Leh. There, she and the Halbard daughter board with Moravian missionaries, while the others go on their hunting expedition to the Tibetan plateau.
"From Pass to Pass" is loosely based on Abby Ripley's great-grandparents who homesteaded a cattle ranch on Pass Creek in northwestern Wyoming. No one in her family should construct a genealogy from the characters named in the story. Many family names are used but not necessarily for the real persons who lived during 1892-1893. The author, herself, spent nearly two years in Ladakh (the modern spelling of Ladak) doing anthropological research. The information given in the final book of this debut novel is based upon her experience and knowledge of the area and its people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667880044

Book preview

Copyright © Abby Ripley, From Pass to Pass: A Tale of Adventure from Wyoming to India.

ISBN: 978-1-66788-004-4

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events depicted are entirely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. That said, some of the characters bear the name of real people who lived in the period and places in which the novel is set—the early 1890s on Pass Creek, Wyoming, and in Srinagar, Kashmir, and Ladak (Ladakh). The author found the names of the residents of Pass Creek in Charles C. Rawling’s Our Neck of the Woods (1972). The missionary doctors and some other characters that the novel’s principals meet in India are historical figures mentioned in the literature of the period. Their names are invoked to honor them and for verisimilitude.

The design element at the bottom of the title page incorporates a basic water turbine flanked by images of a Tibetan prayer wheel. This particular prayer wheel is owned by the author, who is also responsible for the drawing of the turbine. The prayer wheel is commonplace in Ladakh and other Tibetan Buddhist regions. Inside the horizontal metal cylinder are Buddhist prayers or mantras written on a roll of thin paper. The cylinder is mounted on a metal shank, inserted through a disk of conch shell into a wooden handle. The cylinder spins when the shaft is rotated. A weighted attachment from the middle of the cylinder keeps the wheel turning and spins out the mantras to the world for the benefit of all humankind. The action also accumulates wisdom and merit for the operator of the prayer wheel. Prayer wheels date from the fourth century of Tibet and China.

Spinning out is also the principle of the water turbine, which uses the power of flowing water to turn the blades of the tub or basin turbine buried underground. This, in turn, causes a tapered vertical wooden shaft to rotate as well as the wooden sweeps or arms attached to it. From the sweeps hang seats on the ends of poles. Thus was the design of the primitive carousel built by the author’s great grandfather at his ranch on Pass Creek in Wyoming in the late 19th century to entertain his family and friends. The actual carousel no longer exists so the author has imagined the carousel as it was remembered by her mother.

Cover: Designed by the author, using one of her photographs taken in 2015 of prayer flags in the remote area of Ladakh called Zanskar. Tibetan prayer flags serve the same purpose as the manual prayer wheel, i.e., sending mantras into the atmosphere for the benefit of all sentient beings. The main mantra is Om mani padme hum, which contains all the Buddha’s teachings.

Synopsis and Review

From Pass to Pass: A Tale of Adventure from Wyoming to India is a historical novel about the life of young Millie Jenkins who works alongside her parents and four older brothers on a Pass Creek cattle ranch in northern Wyoming. It is time for twenty-year-old Millie to be married. Her parents, Tom and Trixie Jenkins, are hopeful she won’t become just another rancher’s wife. There is Zeke, the handsome cowboy, who works on a neighboring ranch. He writes poetry and dances better than any partner Millie has had. But a rich Englishman, Oliver Halbard, comes into her life. He has airs and talks with an accent. His only talents seem to be his sense of humor and the ability to draw. Otherwise, Millie thinks he’s a snob, though a rich one. Oliver’s father, Samuel, sees Millie as the perfect travel companion for his teenage daughter on a trip to Ladak, the land of passes, in the Indian Himalaya. The invitation to go with the Halbards causes Millie a personal crisis, but her father sees it as an opportunity for his daughter to find a proper husband. Does she find the perfect mate? Will it be Oliver or her cowboy sweetheart, Zeke? From Pass to Pass is comprised of four books. Book I is about Millie’s life on the Pass Creek ranch. Book II covers Millie’s journey from Wyoming to Chicago, where she attends the Columbia Exposition then to London where she joins the Halbard family; the party then travels on the Mail Express to Brindisi, Italy, where they board a steamship to Bombay. Book III covers Millie’s onward journey to Karachi, Lahore, and Rawalpindi by train then by pony cart along the Jhelum Road to Baramulla on the outskirts of Srinagar, Kashmir, and into the city of Srinagar, where the party prepares for their pony trek to Ladak. Book IV follows Millie through the infamous Zoji pass to Leh. There she and the Halbard daughter board with Moravian missionaries, while the others go on their hunting expedition to the Tibetan plateau. To say more would be to ruin the conclusion of the book.

"If you want a novel that encompasses life on a western ranch in the U.S to life in a remote area of India, all taking place in the late 19th century, From Pass to Pass is the book for you. Abby Ripley creates a world of change for young Millie Jenkins, who is on the cusp of adulthood. Experience Millie’s life on a ranch in Wyoming, her cross country travel, then traveling by ship halfway around the world, and finally her interaction with the fascinating life of the Ladakhi people in northern India. The entire Indian experience and the reaction a young western girl has to that experience was my very favorite part of the book, but the broad range of the entire story was captivating. If you like historical novels that offer an entire palette of adventures, you will love this story."

Sally Tornow, Former Director of New Milford Public Library, New Milford, CT

Dedicated to my late aunt, Alice Fuller

I can hear her voice in many of the lines,

and to

Anne, without whose support I wouldn’t have finished.

Contents

Copyright

Title

Synopsis and Review

Dedication

BOOK I

Chapter 1

Wearing Trousers

Chapter 2

Rounding Up

Chapter 3

Branding

Chapter 4

Meeting the Halbards

Chapter 5

The Carousel

Chapter 6

Rehearsing

Chapter 7

The Picnic

Chapter 8

Zeke’s Mistake

Chapter 9

Heart-to-Heart

Chapter 10

Dayton Dance

Chapter 11

Rendezvous with Zeke

Chapter 12

Trixie’s Pharmacopoeia

Chapter 13

On the Reservation

Chapter 14

Pretty Moccasin

Chapter 15

Everybody Has a Report

Chapter 16

It’s Time to Court

Chapter 17

Millie’s Doubts

Chapter 18

Samuel Makes a Proposal

Chapter 19

The Boys Weigh In

Chapter 20

Either/Or

Chapter 21

News for Zeke

Chapter 22

Zeke’s Atlas

Chapter 23

End of Summer

Chapter 24

The Letter

Chapter 25

An Ultimatum

Chapter 26

Holiday Antlers

Chapter 27

‘Tis the Season

Chapter 28

Typhoid or Influenza

Chapter 29

Dressmaking

Chapter 30

Calving Time

Chapter 31

Millie’s Birthday

Chapter 32

Time for Goodbyes

BOOK II

Chapter 33

Adjusting to Train Travel

Chapter 34

Discussing the Future

Chapter 35

Columbian Exposition, Day 1

Chapter 36

Columbian Exposition, Day 2

Chapter 37

New York Bound

Chapter 38

Bon Voyage

Chapter 39

Seasickness

Chapter 40

Paderewski

Chapter 41

Meeting Frances and Kate

Chapter 42

Millie Begins to Notice Oliver

Chapter 43

St. Paul’s Cathedral

Chapter 44

Let’s Get One Thing Straight

Chapter 45

Westminster Abbey

Chapter 46

Channel Crossing

Chapter 47

Express Train

Chapter 48

Unexpected Delay

Chapter 49

Frances Complains

Chapter 50

From the Alps to the Adriatic

Chapter 51

Farewell to Italy

Chapter 52

The Ruse

BOOK III

Chapter 53

Karachi

Chapter 54

Millie and Oliver Connect

Chapter 55

Preparations for the Onward Journey

Chapter 56

The Saloon Car

Chapter 57

Elizabeth and Rowland

Chapter 58

Lahore

Chapter 59

Baramulla or Bust

Chapter 60

Up the Jhelum River

Chapter 61

Entry into Srinagar

Chapter 62

Counting Bridges

Chapter 63

The Barrack in Munshi Bagh

Chapter 64

The Residency

Chapter 65

Conflict with Frances

Chapter 66

Cockburn’s Agency

Chapter 67

Exploring Srinagar

Chapter 68

Tour of the Mission Hospital

Chapter 69

Millie and Elizabeth Disagree

Chapter 70

Expedition Equipment

Chapter 71

Strolling Through the Garden

Chapter 72

News from Home

Chapter 73

A Letter from Zeke

Chapter 74

Talkative Locals

Chapter 75

Buying Shawls

Chapter 76

Tea for Two

Chapter 77

Dal Lake Excursion

Chapter 78

Water, Water All Around

Chapter 79

A Portrait at Sonamarg

Chapter 80

Zoji-la At Last

BOOK IV

Chapter 81

First Hours in Ladak

Chapter 82

Dry, Hot, and Dusty

Chapter 83

Ladakis in Ladak

Chapter 84

Too Hot to Ride

Chapter 85

Kargil or Die

Chapter 86

Atop an Irrigation Ditch

Chapter 87

The Colossus at Mulbek

Chapter 88

Lamayuru Monastery

Chapter 89

Samuel’s Interdiction

Chapter 90

Commitment

Chapter 91

Arrival in Leh

Chapter 92

Divvying Up

Chapter 93

Leh Bazaar

Chapter 94

The Tryst

Chapter 95

Rigzin

Chapter 96

Walking around Leh

Chapter 97

A Ladaki Home Visit

Chapter 98

Birthday Party

Chapter 99

Polyandry

Chapter 100

Oliver’s Letter

Chapter 101

Millie Writes Zeke

Chapter 102

Helping in the Hospital

Chapter 103

Ladaki Lhamo

Chapter 104

A Ladaki Wedding

Chapter 105

News from the Chang Thang

Chapter 106

Good News Turns Bad

Chapter 107

Kate’s Disbelief

Chapter 108

Caring for Oliver

Chapter 109

Oliver Tells the Story

Chapter 110

Zoji-la Once Again

Chapter 111

Five White Birches

Chapter 112

Back to a Ruined Srinagar

Chapter 113

Returning to Bombay

Chapter 114

The Shock of Her Life

Chapter 115

A Brooding Millie

Chapter 116

Another Surprise

Chapter 117

Wahoo

Chapter 118

Reunited with Her Father

Chapter 119

Keeping Each Other Company

Chapter 120

What of Millie’s Future

Chapter 121

Forced Layover

Chapter 122

Preparing for Home

Chapter 123

A Dream Solution

Chapter 124

The Real Ending

Reading List

Acknowledgments

Meet the Author

Author’s Statement

Glossary

BOOK  I

Chapter 1

Wearing Trousers

  June 1892, Pass Creek, Wyoming

MILLICENT BLY JENKINS, what are you doing in Nate’s trousers? How many times must I tell you proper ladies only wear dresses? Now go back to your bedroom and change before you eat breakfast, Trixie ordered.

Oh, for pity’s sake, Mother, I was hoping to ride Banji to the hill above the house and watch the sun rise. Can’t be wrong to sneak in a brief ride wearing my brother’s pants when no one is going to see me, Millie answered angrily and continued walking toward the porch door.

Don’t expect any breakfast if you’re still wearing those trousers, Trixie called after her.

Mother, must you spoil my rare solitude, Millie thought as she hurried to the barn. She felt irritable now, but when Banji snickered and raised his head to acknowledge her entry into the barn, Millie began to feel better. You want to go for a ride, my pet? she called to him.

From the familiar spot on the hillside where Millie and her favorite mount frequently paused for observation, the song of the yellow-breasted meadowlark caught her ear. Banji seemed to hear it too, flicking his brown ears to and fro. The antiphonal response of the female meadowlark caused Millie to look for both birds, but they were not where she expected them to be, on the fence posts. The meadowlark song never failed to thrill her. She and her brothers, during the boring winter days indoors, often tried to imitate the meadowlark’s ornamental melody. They never came close. Their father would laugh cheerfully and say only Bach could match a meadowlark, note by note. He wasn’t being facetious. He would play a phrase with turns on his violin if it were handy.

Millie hadn’t quite dispelled the irritation her mother had stirred in her. Why does wearing pants become such an issue for Mother when she knows I’m going to ride a horse? It’s cockeyed that anyone should think wearing a dress or skirt is practical when throwing a leg over your horse. She shrugged her shoulders to cast away her annoyance and directed her attention to her father’s interconnected trout ponds, his fish nursery. Next, she took in the large cottonwood trees below her. They obscured the alfalfa meadows, but she could smell their lush green scent. They would raise a different smell at mowing time in August.

There’s the whirring sound of the red-winged blackbirds, she said to Banji, who was already twitching his ears. She looked for them among the cattails growing along a creek bank in the adjacent bull pasture, but didn’t see anything.

Her attention turned to the sky, its marine blue blooming into a rosy pink as dawn peeked over the distant red hills. It was peaceful. Before long, she heard her brothers in the barnyard. Although she couldn’t see them, Millie knew exactly what they were doing: Jerry would be feeding the horses, Phinn refilling the water troughs, and Eli milking the cow. It was Nathaniel’s turn to gather eggs if the bull snake hadn’t gotten to them first. She remembered the first time Nate found only flattened shells. He ran into the kitchen and thrust the shells into his mother’s face, asking, How is this possible? Trixie explained that an egg-eating snake had spines between its throat and stomach that punctured the egg as it swallowed it, allowing the contents to flow into its stomach while regurgitating the mashed shell. Millie thought it disgusting and always refused to collect eggs in the chicken coop.

She expunged the unpleasant image from her mind and heard Banji snort his impatience and switch his tail.

He wasn’t appreciating the view. Hold on pet. I see Old Man Little Nest kicking up the dust with his buck wagon—no, it’s his squaw holding the reins. She wondered what he’d need this morning and was glad her father was still at home, although an encounter with the old man would allow her to practice the smattering of sign language he had taught her. Her fond memory of their time together, squatting on the grass near the house, brought to mind her mother’s story, the one her mother told about seeing Little Nest for the first time. Wearing only a breechcloth, he appeared at the house one afternoon and stood outside the kitchen window where she was washing dishes. Frightened, she called me to her side. When Trixie found the courage to go outside and find out what he wanted, he signed to her with his fingers, while grunting and nodding his head. Trixie could only respond in English, saying that Mr. Jenkins wasn’t home. He paused, lowered his hands, and walked over to the river and crossed it. That had been five years ago. Now he was a family friend. Maybe he’s not coming here. Maybe he’s going to Parkman, the place where the house leans, as the Crows say.

Something moved in the bull pasture, but it turned out to be the sun chasing away a shadow. When they were younger, Millie and her brothers Eli and Nate would burrow into the snowdrifts in the bull pasture. When the snow could be packed, they made bricks and built an igloo. It was always difficult to get the roof bricks to form an arc, but after a day in the sun, ice formed between them, and the roof became solid. Inside the igloo, the sun shone through the bricks and created an ethereal, glowing interior. They would stand in silence, enraptured by their handiwork.

Tomorrow will be branding day, a week late because of the long winter. I will be one of the team this year, and Cousin Victoria from Sheridan will help Mother. Millie had soaped her saddle and bridle in preparation. Nate razzed her, saying only first-timers would be that fussy. He was such a tease. Her father, Tom, praised her for keeping the tack in good shape. Finally, Banji would be put to work. The boys called him an old plug and wouldn’t ride him anywhere. She hoped he still remembered how to round up dogies. He was a sweet horse, perfect for her. None of the tough cowboy stuff her brothers strutted.

MILLIE. Oh, Millie. Breakfast is ready!

Millie kicked Banji into motion, and down they went over the hillside to the house. She wrapped the reins around the hitching post at the side of the porch and hurried into the kitchen, forgetting she was wearing pants.

It wasn’t but a moment when she was reminded. Millie, I promised you no breakfast if you were still wearing those trousers. Why are you trying my patience?

Mother, I think you are being unreasonable. Should I remind you I will be twenty years old next year?

Yes, twenty years old and unmarried. How do you expect to find a beau looking like one of your brothers? Trixie asked, flipping the hotcakes on the Majestic stovetop.

Now, Trixie, Tom said. No one has seen her but us, and you know how much easier it is to ride a horse in these new denim trousers. I mean, even I am partial to them, and if she’s going to be of any help to me tomorrow, she’s going to shed those encumbering skirts! 

But, Tom, she doesn’t walk like a lady in them! 

Her brothers had returned from the barnyard and overheard their little spat. They had something to say about it.

Mother, Nate said. She didn’t get permission from me to wear my pants! They are too big for her anyway. Look, she has to roll up the pant legs and wear a belt. He slapped the tabletop.

Phinn said, If you allow Millie to wear trousers, even around home, someday she’s going to embarrass us. It’s not right!

But Eli disagreed: If she’s going to do a man’s work, she can wear a man’s clothes. I agree with Father.

Jerry, however, who was the most cautious, said, We’re going to be marrying her off one of these days. Maybe it shouldn’t get around she wears trousers. And he snickered.

With pursed lips and a heavy-footed stride, Millie went to change into one of her gingham dresses.

Chapter 2

Rounding Up

The indigo night lightened at its edges when Tom Jenkins and his branding crew rode from the ranch on Pass Creek toward the Divide. The Divide was on the crest of the Jenkins’ rangeland which was a series of rolling hills covered with bunch grass. Between some of the hills were coulees, sometimes called draws if they weren’t so deep. What trees stood at the bottom of a draw were juniper and wild berry. Millie rode at her father’s side, and her four brothers and three cowboys from neighboring ranches spread out on each side of them. Tom, in his flinty style, gave everybody their orders: what coulees, corners, and creeks to check for cattle.

Earlier, when Millie saddled Banji, she threw the horseblanket on his back, and he stepped back in surprise. She cooed to him and straightened the blanket and used both arms to heft the saddle high enough to align with the blanket. In contrast, the men steadied their horse with one hand and threw the saddle onto the horse’s back with the other.

Millie grabbed the left stirrup and tossed it over the saddle and reached under Banji’s belly to pull the girth toward her. She was about to cinch the saddle when she noticed Banji puff up. Can’t fool me. I know you don’t want the cinch tight, she said, and led him around in a small circle.

Eli was already saddled and sauntered over to his sister to provide assistance.

Today you become a ‘cowpuncher’, sis, he said. Did old Banji swell up when you went to tighten the cinch? Millie nodded and smiled. If he remembers that trick, he should remember how to ‘punch’ cattle. Good luck. Give your beloved pet a workout. He’s getting fat.

When Millie was ready to mount, she moved Banji forward again, then grabbed the cantle and swung herself up. She was grateful he stood still. With the tips of her boots in the stirrups, she couldn’t help remembering the warning her mother had once given her about not sliding the whole foot into the stirrup. If she fell off, she might not be able to remove her foot from the stirrup and could then be dragged to death. Millie had never forgotten that advice.

There was a chill in the air and she was glad she wore a denim jacket, another loan from Nate, in addition to the trousers. This time she asked him. He let her know he appreciated being asked and said, Any time. Like all his brothers, he adored his bossy sister. They would do anything for her, as she would do for them. As she grew up, each one took a turn at being her best friend and right now it was Eli.  But Nate had always been her long-time pardner in crime. As a new member of the branding crew, he gave her a bag of Bull Durham tobacco and some matches he found in the bunkhouse. They had earlier tried to roll their own cigarettes with little success, but a lot of laughter. He promised to save them for her until branding day. It seemed to her the day wouldn’t be authentic unless, like most cowboys, she had a smoke while tailing up a cow and calf or two. Of course, she had to be alone.

Smoking was discouraged by Tom and Trixie, and she had never seen her brothers smoke, but once in a while she would catch the scent of tobacco in the barn. Although Nate had told her that a cowboy overnighting had left the Bull Durham in the bunkhouse, Millie suspected it belonged to one of her brothers. Now the white muslin bag was snug in her jacket pocket with a small box of matches. She would have to choose the moment carefully. Heaven forbid, if anyone would catch her.

The further up the wide slope they rode, the further apart the cowboys became, until all but Tom and Millie remained. When they finally reached the Divide, her father told her to go to Lottie’s Draw and pick up any livestock she found there. He yelled after her, Don’t spend too long eating the sarvisberries, and gave her an angular grin.

It made her feel grown up to be given the responsibility of rounding up her own little herd and trailing them to join the main herd. By the time Millie reached Lottie’s Draw, a pink spray of light was slowly replacing a bright yellow one. The grass in the draw was dewy and green.  Three head of cows, their calves, plus a dry cow were having a feast. They barely moved when she circled behind them to flush them out and begin the drive. She had seen none of the cowboys when she dipped down into the draw. This was the time to roll her cigarette.

Millie withdrew the orange packet from the little cloth bag and removed one thin, white paper. She tapped out enough tobacco bits to fill the creased paper, then wet one edge of it with her tongue, rolling it between her thumb and fingers, like a genuine cowboy, she thought, after which satisfaction spilled over her.

The next test would be to light it! A stir of air would be enough to extinguish the match, but she had watched an old man light his pipe. He had struck the phosphorous tip of the match with his thumbnail, and when it ignited, sheltered it with his other hand. Such a neat action! She and Nate had scavenged some matches from the kitchen and practiced lighting them in the bunkhouse’s lee. If only I’m as successful as I was that day! Father has always stressed the rule of a one match fire, saying that may be all you have. With that thought, Millie struck the match, and it flared up, burning her fingers, but she held it to the pinched tip of the cigarette and lit it. In a hurried motion, she blew out the match and puffed on the cigarette. After a long draw, she held the smoke in her mouth and inhaled it like she had seen the men do. Ugh, she sputtered, slapping her chest. The pain in her chest burned, causing her to cough violently and gag. She felt dizzy and leaned forward over the saddle. It seemed forever before all the unpleasant sensations ceased. She snubbed out the cigarette on the saddlehorn and threw it into the bushes. When she picked a sarvisberry, hoping it would replace the tobacco taste, she found it too sour. They’re not ripe yet. Father should’ve known. Maybe he meant to trick me, and she smiled to herself. Let’s go, Banji and do some cowpunching.

Millie didn’t find her father again until all the cowboys approached the hill above Lottie’s Draw. He and Zeke, one of the helping hands, were bringing in a bunch of yearlings picked up on Cub Creek. Millie, herself, had gathered nine head and driven them into the back of the herd.

She paused to tie the jacket at the back of the cantle. The sun was high, and she was warm. Her mother’s wide-brimmed hat kept the sun out of her eyes and her head cool. Trixie had worn it on the wagon trip from Missouri to Wyoming Territory. It was special, and when her mother had given up wearing it, Millie took it over, remembering her mother’s happiness during the journey. It wasn’t a cowboy hat, and when she dressed this morning, she knew she would not escape the teasing her younger brothers would give her about it. She knew she could talk back to them, but she wasn’t sure how she’d deal with either Phinn’s voiced disapproval or Jerry’s unvoiced one. She didn’t really care what other people thought, but her older brothers’ opinions mattered.

Everyone was now focused on funneling the livestock down the hill and toward the Flats where the corral was located. This was where Millie was likely to prove herself an excellent horsewoman or not. She knew her father was watching.

She knew from having watched behind a post in years past, that before the cattle got into the corral, all hell broke loose. Calves, which had been separated from their mothers, made a last-ditch run for the Divide looking for their mothers, while cowboys would gallop after them to turn them back. It was always surprising how fast some calves were, how far they could get away. She guessed a cowboy felt foolish losing or almost losing a calf. I wouldn’t let that happen to me, the shame of it!

Banji’s dark-brown ears twitched forward and back. He was alert and ready. Millie leaned over the saddlehorn and pulled her fingers through his foretop. He had rounded up cattle many times before, but was she ready? In front of her was an unsettled herd of cows and calves, stirring up the dust. They were being driven toward the corral gate. If there was one cow who knew what it was all about, she would lead the others through the gate into the corral. If not, Jerry would ride in front of the herd and show them what to do. Millie had seen this maneuver before and was always amazed it worked.

She was nervous though. Several calves darted in and out of the herd, smelling for their mothers. Any moment, one of them might break away. Millie hoped it would be near another rider. She didn’t want to be tested. Suddenly Millie heard Phinn shout to Eli, There’s that fighting cow. The one with her head in the air, looking for us. Can’t believe she’d be up to tangling with one of us while her calf is missing, but she’s crazier than hell. She almost got me this winter when I was throwing hay off the bobsled.

"But wouldn’t you be agitated if a bunch of cowpokes interrupted your morning graze? Spooking your calf, making it run off, Eli asked. Remember these calves are seeing us for the first time."

Here she comes, yelled Phinn. She’s not worried about her calf. He raised his rope and ran his horse right at her. That did the trick. She swerved back into the herd. I’m telling you. Look out for her, especially if you’ve dismounted, and she’s anywhere around.

Millie thought the moment had passed when a panicked calf would make a run for it. But no. A gamboling calf tried to get by Banji and Nate’s horse, Cayuse, a cutting horse. It made sense that Nate should pursue the calf. However, he pulled up his horse and yelled, Let Banji bring it back.

Enough time had elapsed that Banji would have to go all out. The calf was already three-horse lengths ahead. Millie kicked him hard, and he jumped out in pursuit. They were gaining on the calf when Millie noted a barbed-wire fence in their path. Does Banji see it? What will the calf do? Turn left, turn right? The distance to the fence shrank with every leap. Banji was right on the heels of the calf when the fence blocked them. The calf made a sharp right turn and Banji did the same, but Millie’s upper body moved in a straight line toward the taut wire. Just in time, her hand found the saddlehorn, and she yanked herself upright. The pain made her gasp, but she had saved herself. Banji came to a full stop after he swerved, and the calf was tangled in his legs. When Nate and Cayuse rode up to Banji, the calf got out and ran toward the distant herd.

Millie felt cheated and ashamed. The fence had prevented Banji from turning the calf, but she had let him gallop full out instead of pulling him up. His momentum had nearly propelled her into the wicked wire and a horrible accident. Banji did what he was trained to do. I wasn’t prepared. Didn’t think to control the situation. She wanted to blame Nate. Cayuse would have turned the calf before they ever got to the fence.

Her father came from behind and startled her by shouting, Well done, Millie. You showed us what a damn good rider you are. She smiled, knowing well that it could have been disastrous. I guess he didn’t see how foolish I was. They rode toward Jerry, as he tried to get the herd into the corral, and she couldn’t stop imagining what would have happened if she had lost her grip and gone headfirst into the wire. It was not an image she wanted to dwell upon.

Later, Eli and Zeke told her she had been breathtaking to watch, even with Mother’s hat on, Eli said with a loud peal of laughter. It sure didn’t feel breathtaking, especially wearing a woman’s hat. She thought they were exaggerating, just being nice.

Jerry had shown the way through the gate, and soon all two hundred and fifty-six critters were milling in the corral. They were tired and hot, as was the branding crew. This was when serving lunch gave everyone, including the cows and calves, a rest. By branding time, the calves would have found their mothers, and the crew, renewed energy.

Chapter 3

Branding

Branding day was a special event: family and neighbors came together to eat and laugh, to catch up on each other’s lives. Millie had always been her mother’s helper with the food and had always enjoyed the occasion to be outside in the fresh air of late May or early June. This day, June 3, 1892, would be memorable: she was a full-fledged member of the Jenkins’ branding crew. She patted Banji on the withers and rode him to the watering trough.

After he satisfied his thirst, she hobbled him and turned to the arrival of wagons and buggies. While she watched Trixie and her niece, Victoria, rattle up in the spring wagon, pulled by the matching mares, Polly and Molly, the smell of burning wood came to her. They had driven from the ranch a half hour away. The two women and Millie had been up much of the night cooking venison stew, which they would now reheat.

One set of ranching friends brought a portable table with chairs. When these were set up, Trixie spread a blue cotton tablecloth. The ladies would sit at the table. The men would sit nearby, cross-legged on the ground.

At Trixie’s request, Millie retrieved two iron tripods from the wagon and set them over the separate campfires one of her brothers had made. Trixie herself was fixing a salad with fresh lettuce from the garden, while Millie and Victoria sliced and buttered bread. One of the visiting men hung the Dutch Ovens, filled with stew, from the tripods over the fires. It wouldn’t be long before the food was warm enough to eat.

Victoria rang a triangle to call the cowboys who had lined up at the wagon tailgate to get their tin bowl, spoon, salad, and bread. At the tripods, Millie and her cousin filled each bowl with steaming stew. While everybody was eating, Trixie put handfuls of ground coffee in the metal coffeepot.  By the time the coffee was ready (and it was good coffee—a far cry from the cowboy’s usual boiled and reboiled mud), everyone had gotten a slice of seasonal rhubarb pie. The pies were a treat for everyone.

As the fires smoldered, people relaxed for a while, feeling full and happy. Overhead, two large crows rode the air currents. Closer to the ground, magpies flew from fence post to fence post, looking for scraps of food. Millie was tempted to throw them some pieces of bread, but she knew how pushy they could be and resisted. She liked magpies for their clever ways, their striking black and white coloration, and their long iridescent tails. A neighbor kept one as a pet. He could say a few words—although only curse words a mischievous person had taught him.

By now, the cows and calves were settled. The horses, tied to the corral, switched their tails to keep the heel flies from biting. Some cowboys were smoking. One was asleep under a buggy. The women were sharing bits of gossip, and the men talked among themselves.

Sitting apart from either group, Millie picked up snatches from one side or the other: a new line of cheap wallpaper at the Sheridan Drug Store where Mrs. Church was seen buying several rolls; southern cattle on their way after being unloaded at Gillette—Mexican steers covered in lice.

Her uncle told a joke: Heard say, Hades only lacked good society and a supply of water to make it a pleasant winter residence.

It certainly wasn’t pleasant around here this winter, said someone over the laughter.

No, it was a helluva winter. Not as bad as ’86-87, mind, but there was a night in January, forty-eight below zero. Days or nights that cold sure remind us winters in Wyoming are worse than practically any other place.

There was a pause in the talk when Zeke, one of the cowboys, played his harmonica, a plaintive, soothing sound. Millie tried to locate him in the crowd but was distracted when she heard a meadowlark singing nearby. There it was, perched on a fence wire, twitching its head and tail. What glorious songbirds they are. One reason to love summer.

The women began cleaning up. All the tinware and spoons were placed in a basket to be taken home for washing. The Dutch ovens and coffee pots, now empty, were put in the wagon. The women hurried to finish their chores. They wanted to continue visiting and watch the branding. When they were done, Tom wasted no time in calling out, Let’s brand.

Inside the corral, Tom surveyed his crew and discovered he hadn’t designated the primary roper. Looking at Zeke, he asked, Hey, cowboy, are you a good roper?

I think so. I’ve roped for other outfits, said Zeke.

Fine. You’ll be the main roper, but let my son here, he said, gesturing to Nate, rope a few calves. He’ll be your backup. If you miss a throw, let him try.

Tom had already told Millie she would relay the branding irons from the glowing coals to Jerry and back. He would also castrate the bull calves. Phinn and Eli would be one team of calf wrestlers; a second team, a pair of cousins. Tom himself would do the earmarking. His left hand was crippled from a gunshot wound at the Battle of Shiloh, but he could still earmark.  He hung onto the calf’s left ear with his bad hand and cut a triangle out of it with his right, using a sharpened pocketknife—a tool he always carried. He earmarked every calf. The practice had recently been initiated, and not every rancher felt it was necessary. An earmark without a brand meant little, but since cattle thieves could alter brands, an earmark helped in identifying the animal’s owner.

According to Tom’s calculations, there should be seventy-six calves, which would take about three hours to handle. At this point, he didn’t know how many males there would be. A rancher always hoped for more females than males because the females increased the herd with their calves. However, the pattern seemed to be more males one year, more heifers the next. If that held true, he should have more heifers this year.

Jerry prepared two buckets of disinfectant: a mixture of spring water, carbolic acid, and linseed oil. One bucket would be used to sterilize the cutting implements, and the other to dress the gaping wounds after castration and the raw sores created by blowfly maggots infesting the undersides of some calves. He showed Millie a new disinfectant they would test this year: iodoform powder, which would be sprinkled dry on open wounds. If it worked, it would save time. No more preparation and mess with the liquid disinfectant. Everything was ready, it seemed to Millie. She was beginning to feel impatient. Men take a long time to start work. If Mother and I took as long to shake out the feather ticks, we’d get nothing else done all day.

Tom had used Trixie’s EU brand on the few who would get the powder and his 7K brand on the others. Millie admired her father for his exactitude, his thoughtfulness, and planning. It was evident in everything he did. She felt she had picked up some of his good habits.

Zeke and Nate quietly rode their horses to the periphery of the corralled herd. Though the cattle bunched toward a corner, there were two or three calves straggling at the back. Having picked one to rope, Zeke twirled the lariat loop above his head, slowly at first, angled it off to the right side, then threw it toward the calf’s hind feet. It was a well-executed throw. The loop snaked under the tiny hooves, and Zeke jerked upwards in one continuous motion. It was like fishing: when you felt a tug on the line, you knew you had caught a fish and reeled it in. Zeke pivoted his horse in a half circle, while urging him forward into a trot. With the rope secured to the saddlehorn, he dragged the calf free from the herd, but not from its mother. She pursued the bellowing calf, neck outstretched, trying to remain in contact with its smell. Millie felt great pity for the calf and more so when it was grabbed by the wrestlers and thrown on its side. This maneuver stirred up the dust and flies, which hung over the scene until the branding was over. To minimize the flies and dust, Millie pulled a veil on her mother’s hat down to her chin. Not exactly cowboy fashion. Where is Eli? Surely he’d have a smart-alecky remark about the veil.

The work went into high gear, accompanied by the smells of burning hair and disinfectant and the sound of bawling cows and bellowing calves. Phinn quickly pulled the rope loose from the feet and extended his left leg to brace the heel of his boot on the back of the hock. The other calf leg he pulled backwards toward himself. This cross tension prevented the calf from kicking free. At the same time Eli pinned the calf’s head to the ground with his right knee and leaned over to press its legs down. Tom grabbed the calf’s ear to take his slice, while Millie handed off a branding iron to Jerry. He pressed the scorching hot 7 iron onto the calf’s left hip, long enough to burn off the hair and give the skin a leathery patina. Millie took that iron back with her left hand and gave Jerry the K iron with her right. The same was done with the Bar iron which he dragged along under the 7K. The brand would read: 7K bar. Since the first calf was a heifer, she was released to run off and find her mother. Each branding took a few seconds, but it created a flurry of smoke.

Millie loved the teamwork of branding, but she had to harden her senses to deal with the reality. In his wisdom, Tom knew she would be too busy handling the hot irons to pay much attention to the mechanics, especially to the castration procedure.

While the first calf was being branded, Nate roped a second calf and pulled it within reach of the wrestlers. We’ve got a bull calf, Phinn yelled out. Unfortunately, the animal had several maggot perforations. These weren’t easily seen at first, but when Jerry swabbed the calf’s chest and belly with the wet disinfectant, some of the maggots slid out of the sores. He wiped them off. The sores would have to be treated, but first Jerry grabbed the scrotum and pulled the skin down far enough so that he could cut a patch off the bottom of it. Since the testicles hung high in the scrotum, he had to push them down far enough to expose the cords attached at the top. These he cut through, tossing the testicles aside, then immediately bathed the wound with the liquid disinfectant. The maggot sores were similarly dressed. The cutting resulted in a quantity of blood, which flowed more readily when the calf got back on its feet.

Millie caught glimpses of the procedure as she passed branding irons back and forth. She was interested in the calf’s physiology but knew too much interest might seem inappropriate. She would only admit it to herself, but she was squeamish about watching such a bloody procedure, which seemed barbaric to her, and wondered if there wasn’t some alternative. Of course, she understood the purpose of it. Stock raising required the service of a limited number of bulls, about one for every twenty-five females. Too many bulls created problems at breeding times, because they would fight, often tearing down barbed-wire fences, getting wire cuts, and escaping into a neighbor’s herd of cows. Moreover, bulls, while necessary, were not intrinsically valuable, and they required as much grass or more than the cows. No wonder ranchers preferred to make them steers, for which there could be considerable compensation when shipped to Omaha or Chicago.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that this was a heifer year. It was a cloudless day, unusually hot for early June, and Millie was grateful to be wearing her mother’s hat. Her only discomfort was the throbbing in her arms. She wasn’t accustomed to moving heavy branding irons forward and backwards. She wasn’t sweating, but she noticed the wrestling teams were. Jerry and her father appeared tired, but Nate and Zeke, sitting astride their horses, looked fresh compared to the other cowboys. Zeke looks cool as a cucumber, as Mother would say. He’s a handsome-looking fellow, though I don’t care for all the hair on his face like I don’t fancy Jerry and Phinn’s! I wonder how old he is? Probably older than Jerry, maybe twenty-six. I guess he hasn’t married for being too busy working for successive cattle outfits. Not the beau Mother and Father would approve of, I’m sure! Her gaze had followed him a little too long when she realized they were looking right at each other. At that moment, she heard, Millie, are you sleeping on the job? I guess Father noticed. I hope I don’t hear about this later. How careless of me!

After branding the last calf, Nate let out a loud Ye haw! which spooked Cayuse. Let’s rodeo. For the last three years, the Sheridan newspapers had announced demonstrations of calf-roping, steer wrestling, and bucking bronco riding for public entertainment. These were called rodeos. Nate thought it would be a fitting end to the branding, since all the livestock were in one place. It would be play after a hard day’s work and give the younger cowboys a chance to show off—or not—to each other, the womenfolk, and the visitors who climbed a corral fence to watch from on high. Their first rodeo was last year, and, indeed, everybody had fun.

Phinn was ready to ride one of the yearling steers. A surcingle from a horse’s harness had been strapped around the animal, behind its shoulders, and he was trying to jump onto its back while Eli pulled on its tail and the other calf wrestlers pulled on an ear each. When Phinn landed on the steer’s back he yelled Let him go. The steer exploded, first in a sideways buck and then in a series of bucks the length of the corral. When he jumped off, he spewed the dirt in every direction, but he stayed on his feet. Everybody hooted and laughed, even Phinn, as he retrieved his hat and walked back.

Zeke wasn’t about to be shown up by Phinn. He waited until Nate roped another steer. Hey, you didn’t have to rope the biggest one in the herd, he said in jest, but he was lanky and had no trouble getting aboard. The big steer spun, and Zeke tightened his long legs around the critter until it straightened out into a series of high bucks. Within seconds he went flying off, headfirst into a pile of manure! That tickled everyone. It was horse manure and not as messy as it could have been. Zeke had no choice but to grin and pick up his hat, a fancy Boss of the Plains Stetson he must have bought in Cheyenne. He pulled off the bandana from around his neck and cleaned his face and hands as he swaggered back to join the others.

How’s your dignity about now, Zeke? Eli said with a loud laugh.

What dignity? Zeke said and made a show of putting his hat on at a rakish angle. Millie was impressed he was such a good sport. Trixie was, too.

As the men continued to banter, Millie saw her father walk along one side of the corral, with Jerry close behind. They located a cow Nate had seen with an enormous growth on her neck. Millie was wondering what was wrong with the cow when she heard Zeke call out to her. Hey, Miss Jenkins, as first-time member of the crew, you must be properly initiated by riding one of the calves. She pretended she hadn’t heard.

Nate, who was tying his horse to a corral pole, took up the taunt. Zeke’s right. You must show us you’ve earned your position. Come on. I’ll find a small calf for you. He went into the herd with a halter rope. Tom and Jerry were now examining the cow with the tumor so Millie looked to Phinn and Eli for help, but they stood motionless, with silly grins on their faces. She realized she couldn’t lose face by calling on her mother. If only Father would return, he’d put a stop to this foolishness. The calf wrestlers helped Nate pull the resisting calf into position, then he turned to Millie. Come on, sis, don’t be a coward. Get it over with. Other voices joined him. Millie didn’t think that refusing would make her a coward, only a poor sport, but she strode to the calf’s left side and hopped up with Nate’s hands to steady her. The halter rope slid to the ground, and the calf bolted. Since there was no surcingle to grasp, she didn’t stay on long. She hit the ground hard and yelled, Dammit, and grabbed her wrist. As the men applauded and cheered, Tom returned in time to see Millie fall off.

What in the hell is going on here? He sprinted toward Millie, who was sitting in the dirt. Eli and Nate followed him, looking worried. Are you hurt? Tom asked Millie.

I don’t know. I felt some pain when I hit the ground. It can’t be anything serious, Father.

Tom whirled around and shouted, Who’s responsible for this idiocy? The anger he felt shone as redness in his face. No one answered. If I find out who put her up to this stunt, there’ll be hell to pay.

You might as well give me hell now, Mr. Jenkins. I challenged your daughter to prove she was one of us, said Zeke in humble tones.

She doesn’t have to prove anything to us, and especially to you. Who the hell are you, anyway? I’ve heard my sons call you Zeke. Who do you work for? Tom demanded.

Sir, I am Zeke Shriner, and I work for Frank Marshall, over the Divide beyond your spread on West Pass Creek. I apologize for stepping out of line.

I don’t want your apology. I want you to get on your horse and ride on out of here. That’s not to say I’m not grateful for your help. Give Frank my thanks.

There was silence all around. The first sound was Trixie’s voice. Millie, come here this instant. Eli helped his sister to corralside, where Trixie waited. Why in the world did you take the bait? Where do you hurt?

"Mother, calm down. I don’t know whether I’m really hurt. Probably just shaken, but my wrist is sore when I move my hand. She held it out to Trixie. I put out my hands to break the fall," she said.

After Trixie examined Millie’s wrist, she said, I think you’ve dislocated your wrist. I need to wrap it tightly to prevent it from swelling. You must rest your arm. I’ll prepare a sling when we get back so you won’t have to move it. If it doesn’t improve in a few days, we’ll have Dr. Simpson come to the ranch.

While her mother was talking to her, Millie heard her father opening the gate and shooing out all the critters, which ended branding. They’d go back to the hills tonight, the calves more than a little traumatized.

Phinn, check if your mother needs any help packing up, Tom said. Eli, find out if Millie is going to ride back with us or go with her mother. If she’s riding back with us, you’ll have to unhobble Banji and help her into the saddle. I can’t think that riding a horse would be worse than riding in that rough wagon."

When Eli came over to ask Millie how she was getting back to the ranch, she said, The same way I got here, but you have to help me with Banji. Eli looked at Trixie who nodded her head.

Soon, Eli led Banji up to Millie. "Before I lift you up, sis, I want to say how sorry I am for not having intervened earlier. I guess I wanted you to show Nate and Zeke you could ride that calf. When they let go of him, he shot out like a bullet from a gun. I’m sure I wouldn’t have stayed on either."

Eli, sweet brother, you don’t have to apologize to me. I went along with them. She leaned her shoulder against his. He turned to face her and tightened the hat string under her chin. After he lifted her onto the saddle, he said, Do you realize you said ‘dammit’ when you hit the ground? A look of dismay washed over her face I would have said the same, probably worse, so don’t worry about it. Mother didn’t hear you. He waved her off.

Chapter 4

Meeting the Halbards

The branding crew was a quiet group as they rode back to the ranch in the late afternoon. Tom rode ahead with Jerry and Phinn. He was in a hurry. Nate stayed back with Millie and Eli. The three of them were silent, until Eli asked about Millie’s hand. She found it difficult to extend her fingers to their full length. When he asked her to compare hands, they could see the left hand was swollen.

Do you feel any pain? Eli asked.

Only when I move my hand, but it’s not unbearable.

You’re favoring it. See how you’re pressing it against your body, Eli said.

If Mother makes a sling for me, I won’t have to hug it to my chest. I worry it will handicap me, prevent me from helping Mother in the kitchen and garden.

Hey Nate, why are you silent? Along with Zeke, you’re to blame for the injury of our sister.

A frown appeared on Nate’s face. You don’t think I know that. I didn’t have the courage to admit my part in it. When Zeke spoke up, it took me by surprise, and I stood there like a knucklehead. Millie, I’m sorry. I should apologize to Zeke, but who knows whether we’ll ever see him again.

We’ll see him, Eli said. He fancies our sister here. I think he was trying to get her attention, but it backfired. I feel sorry for him. To be dressed down by Father in front of the branding crew and our visitors must have been humiliating. I think you should tell Father you also dared her. It was you who caught the calf and called her a coward if she didn’t ride it.

As they approached the ranch, Tom saw that the guests he was expecting were already there: a buggy and horse were tied to the hitching post, while three men sat on the porch.

What happened? Tom called out.

Our horse pulled up lame, came the answer.

Tom stepped off his horse and offered his hand to a hefty man with a graying mustache and sideburns. I’m Tom Jenkins. You must be Samuel Halbard.

Yes, indeed. I’m pleased to meet you at last. Only sorry we have missed your branding.

This young man looks like you except for the blonde hair, Tom said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Jenkins. I’m Oliver Halbard. He quickly stepped backwards in order not to be the center of attention.

Tom shook his hand and gestured toward the third man, And I know you, Hank.

We were certainly happy Hank was driving, Samuel said. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed the horse’s lameness right away.

I’ll have my oldest son check your… oh, he’s doing it already. Pull the shoe if you have to, Jerry.

Turning back to his guests, Tom said, You sure missed a fine branding and some rodeoing.

I am very disappointed, Samuel said. I expected to spend a splendid day watching a real Wild West Show.

This is the season, Tom said, so I’m sure you’ll have other opportunities.

By this time, Trixie had driven Polly and Molly into the barnyard. She hurried over to the men, and Tom introduced her. She said, Please come into the house. You must be thirsty and hungry. The visitors followed her inside.

Tom and Hank walked over to the buggy. Jerry had unharnessed the horse to walk it around. We shoed this horse yesterday, said Hank, but the farrier must have come too close to the quick. He sure didn’t want to walk on it after a while.

Jerry bent the hoof back so he could see the bottom of it and took out his knife and ran the blade between the hoof and the shoe. Ah, I think we’ve got a stone.  He worked it out with the knife.

You guys have got it, said Tom. Hank and I are going in for some coffee and grub. You come as soon as you can.

Millie tried to unsaddle Banji, but it was impossible with her wrist. Nate stopped what he was doing and helped her. Eli came, too. The two of them brushed down Banji, watered and fed him, while Millie went into the house. She no sooner walked in when Trixie whispered, Go right up to your room and put on a dress and brush your hair.

Yes, Mother. But Millie was annoyed. Who are these people, anyway? You didn’t tell us they were coming.

I’m sorry, but we weren’t certain they would. They are the Halbards, father and son, from Wolverhampton, England. They’re staying with Malcolm Wallace while they do some hunting. Mr. Halbard and Malcolm are old school friends.

How long will they be staying with us? Millie asked.

At least tonight. I’ve made up Jerry and Phinn’s room for them. Eli and Nate can sleep in the bunkhouse with Hank. Hurry and change and come back. I need to wrap your hand and make a sling.

The heat and humidity had taken the bounce out of Millie’s natural curls. She hurriedly ran a brush over her reddish-brown hair and looked at her sturdy form in the mirror. She decided, English guests or not, to wear a simple house dress made of blue-striped seersucker. When Millie heard Jerry and Phinn come through the back porch into the kitchen, Trixie sent them to join the others in the parlor. Millie wiped her face and noticed how sunburned she was. Naturally fair, she burned easily. As she hurried downstairs, her father called her into the parlor, Millie, come meet our distinguished guests.

Tom spoke proudly: This is my daughter, Millicent or Millie. She’s my wife’s right hand. Millie smiled and shook their hands vigorously. There was nothing shy about Millie. She always met and talked with people straight on. Perhaps some meeting her for the first time were offended by her boldness, but Tom knew she always won people’s hearts. It didn’t take long for people to find Millie refreshing rather than ill-mannered.

Indeed, Samuel’s eyes lit up as he took Millie’s hand and declared, I’ve got a daughter about your age, I think.

Oh, yes, and how old is that? Millie thought he held her hand too long and was about to pull back when he released her.

Eighteen. That’s the age of my Kate, Samuel said.

I’m nineteen, Millie said.  She then politely excused herself and went into the kitchen.

You might have put on something dressier, Trixie said to her in a half voice.  Please refill the washbasin and put it on the table in the kitchen porch with fresh towels.

Anything else? Millie asked. If you’re going to serve leftovers from lunch, don’t announce they are leftovers. That’s really embarrassing.

Trixie smiled at her daughter’s sensitivity. "They’re getting the venison stew we had for lunch, but it’s what I saved for us here and not leftover from the branding.