feed this—”
He stopped short when he caught sight of Maummi, who knelt on the other side of the fire pit from Emma, flipping hotcakes on a griddle.
Bushy eyebrows dropped down to rest on his eyelids. “What in tarnation’s going on here?”
Maummi slid a long-handled spatula beneath a hotcake and tossed it on top of a giant stack being kept warm on a flat rock. “You helped with the cows. I helped with the breakfast.” She switched her attention to a pan full of sizzling bacon without looking up.
Emma stirred the bubbling pot in front of her, decided the apples were ready, and swung the arm to move it out of the direct heat. She felt the cook’s stare burning into her, but she couldn’t meet his eye. In this case, she would take the coward’s way out and leave him to Maummi’s capable handling.
“Hey!” He stabbed a finger toward the extra-long griddle. “That’s mine. And that turning fork’s mine too. You’ve been in my chuck wagon!”
He turned and ran toward his wagon. Maummi picked up a metal plate, loaded it high with hotcakes and bacon, and then ladled gooey sweet apples overtop. She took it to Jesse’s chair and thrust it in his hands.
“Eat.” The command was issued with a stern stare that no one would dare defy. Then she turned and issued another command to Emma and Rebecca. “Ready the plates.”
Morris and Charlie were still out with the herd, but the rest of the men approached the camp as McCann charged out of the chuck wagon. He glared at Maummi and then ran over to thrust his purple face into Luke’s.
“That woman”—he pointed backward at Maummi—“went into my chuck wagon. She went through my fixins’ and used my pans.” He drew himself stiffly upright to announce her ultimate sin. “She cleaned.”
In light of her recent realization, Emma couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Luke, but she tensed, waiting for his response.
“Dirt is a poor seasoning,” Maummi commented mildly as she layered a stack of hotcakes onto a plate.
Every eye was fixed on Luke. He opened his mouth, but his response was preempted by Jesse, who had shoveled in a forkful of hotcakes. “Mm-mmm! You gotta try these, Luke. You never tasted hotcakes like these.” Cheeks bulging, he chewed with happy abandon.
Emma held a loaded plate in her hands. She shoved it toward Rebecca with a whispered, “Take this to Luke, quick.”
Rebecca did, delivering the plate with a curtsey. Looking a little sheepish, Luke sliced off a bite and shoved it in his mouth. His expression transformed to one of bliss.
“Have you tried this?” he demanded of McCann when he had relished the bite and swallowed.
McCann drew himself stiffly upright, sputtering. “Don’t make no difference what—”
“Hey, give me some.” Charlie approached Emma, his expression eager. “The front of my stomach’s gnawing on the back, it’s so empty.”
Emma ladled a heaping portion of sweet, thick apples over a stack of cakes and handed it to him. He shoved a steaming bite into his mouth and then went into ecstasies of delight.
“Them’s the best hotcakes I ever ate, ma’am.” He ducked his head toward Maummi before taking his plate to a spot near the wagon and sinking to the ground to enjoy his breakfast.
“I’m up for more.” Jesse half turned in his chair to hold his empty plate out in an appeal. “I need my strength to rebuild this bone, you know.”
McCann glowered all around as the rest of the crew settled into their breakfast. Emma speared a few chunks of bacon out of the pan to finish off a cake-filled plate and took it to him. She offered it with a quick smile.
“Humph.” He grumbled as he took it and turned away from the fire to try the first bite.
Maummi flipped another hotcake on the griddle and pretended not to watch for his reaction. Emma couldn’t be so nonchalant. She saw his expression change from angry to skeptical, and then relax into amazement as he chewed. By the time he swallowed, she knew he’d been won over. And no wonder. Maummi wasn’t known as the best cook in Apple Grove for nothing.
“Hey, what about us?” The shout came from one of the rustlers tied up in the middle of the clearing. “You gonna let us starve while you stand there shoveling food in your faces?”
“Shut up,” Jesse said. “You’re lucky I don’t blow your Adam’s apple out of your throat.”
Papa, who had been standing quietly off to the side, took