The Randolph men poured through the door like miners from a tunnel at the sound of the closing whistle, but Rose’s calm “Good evening” slowed their rush to the table. The sight of napkins at their plates slowed them even more. Jeff stared at Rose, looked at George, and back at Rose.
“You’re supposed to put them in your laps,” Zac said, unable to resist imparting his newly-acquired knowledge. “It keeps the food from messing up your clothes when you drop it.”
“If you drop it,” Rose corrected.
“They will,” said the irrepressible Zac.
“Hurry up and pass the turkey,” Monty said. “I can taste it already.”
“The turkey’s too big to pass,” Rose said. “Tell George what you want, and he’ll carve it for you.”
“I shot three of them. That’s enough so that every two of us can have one.”
“George will carve,” Rose repeated. “We’ll pass everything else.”
Monty looked like he was going to protest, but since George cut off a huge slice of breast and passed it to him first, he didn’t complain.
“I want a drumstick,” Zac reminded his brother.
“Why did you cook all three turkeys?” Jeff asked.
“They won’t keep,” Rose said, faintly irritated that Jeff would question her.
“What will we do with them?”
“Eat them. We’ll have sliced turkey, turkey and gravy over rice, or turkey hash until it’s gone.”
“Then I’ll kill three more, and we’ll start over again,” Monty said.
“I don’t like turkey that much,” Jeff said.
“Then I’ll feed it to the dogs,” Rose answered so sharply George looked up from his carving.
The younger boys may have missed the look George gave Jeff, but Rose didn’t. Neither did Jeff. He turned his attention to his food.
“We have to send to town for supplies,” George announced. “Anybody in particular want to go?”
“Rose ought to go,” Hen said. “She’s the only one who knows what she needs.”
“I have too much to do to spend several days going into town,” Rose said. “I’ll make a list.” She didn’t mean to tell them she had no intention of going back to Austin until she had to. She was even considering asking George to take her to San Antonio when her quarterly trip came due.
“We need lumber and nails for the chicken coop as well as a month’s supplies,” George said.
“We’ll need a smokehouse if you mean to cure your own meat,” Rose reminded him.
“And seeds,” Zac said, his mouth full. “Rose wants a garden full of everything.”
“You ought to send Tyler if it’s building you want done,” Hen said. “He’s a terrible cook, but he’s the best builder we got.”
“Okay, but he can’t go alone.”
“Don’t look at me,” Monty said. “I haven’t lost anything in Austin.”
“Same here,” said Hen.
“That leaves you, Jeff.”
“Is driving a wagon all you think I’m good for?” he demanded.
Rose didn’t know what got into her. Maybe the encounter with George rattled her nerves so much she forgot her promise to herself. Maybe Jeff’s question about the turkey had irritated her more than she thought.
“Are you going to force George to send the wrong person just because of your sensitivity about your arm?”
There was an audible gasp, and everyone in the room seemed to freeze in place. George looked at her, shocked.
“Even I can tell you’re the obvious choice,” she went on. The look in George’s eyes scared her, but it was too late to stop now. “Monty doesn’t know how to talk to anything but cows, and Hen is bound to find somebody to shoot. That leaves George, and you know he’s the only person who can get this cantankerous, pigheaded, stubborn bunch to work together.”
Monty’s face split with a roguish grin. “You like us a lot, don’t you?”
“It has nothing to do with liking you. It’s just the way things are. Just as your arm is the way things are,” she said turning back to Jeff. “If you keep seeing what everybody says as having to do with your arm, your whole life is going to be upside down. And if you can’t give George credit for thinking of you rather than your arm, how are you going to believe anyone else can?”
Okay, so Jeff would never like her, but she wasn’t worried about Jeff. George was looking at her like he wanted to strangle her. She knew it wasn’t her business to tell Jeff to stop striking out at everyone, but even Hen and Monty, who if looks could kill would have slain their brother days ago, walked around him like they were walking on eggshells.