"Ma'am, that's the last one. If you don't need anything else, I'll be on my way." She handed him a glass of cooled tea. "Thank you. Your captain would be proud." A small smile popped onto his face as he swatted his brow of sweat. The fifteen or sixteen year-old guzzled the liquid. Hopefully it was a good reward for hauling eight jars of freshwater from the bay to the house. He yawned and rubbed his reddish blonde mop. "I'll sleep good tonight at the fort." "You've done good. Go on and get your supper. I've packed you up some stew in the kitchen." The lad's face brightened as he bounced down the hall toward the back kitchen. Mid stride, he stopped, rotated, and sprinted out the front door. What in the world could he be doing? So far, everyone loved her cooking. Even Ralston, Gareth's first mate came off his post twice yesterday for another dip of her fresh bread and fish. The first time, he probably nosed around on Gareth's behalf. But the second time had been pure gluttony. Maybe when Gareth restored the peace, he could let her open the house for a Sunday meal, sort of like the field hands coming to Grandmama's.
