“We can start smoothing it out,” John said. They’d emptied the house and started at the back. Grandy, a cowboy from a nearby ranch, had done masonry in the past. He’d pointed out two bags of cement had no sand or gravel with which to mix it. A dried creek bed provided both, and his calculations assured Todd they could pour both a floor in the house and a porch. Todd looked at the rippled, wet muck at the back quarter of the cabin and glanced around the place. Floor, walls, and roof – those were his to worry about. The stuff on them and in between – that was woman territory. Well, except for what went in the pot. Maggie made the food, but he still needed to put meat on the table. Yesterday he’d snared a brace of hares Maggie fried up for their Sunday supper. Every last piece was gone . . . and he’d done his part in making it disappear. Knowing Ma needed rest, Maggie had hauled Ma’s mattress to the barn. With Ma bedded down, Maggie kept herself busy. Walking around the work, she carried a bucket and gave the men dippers of cool water and wiped Todd’s face with a damp cloth.
