Dewey wiped the sweat from his brow as he hammered the last nail into the new addition. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. In barely a week—and with Frederick Hayes’ help in raising the walls—he’d significantly enlarged the cramped, modest cabin.
With a bedroll and lantern waiting for him each night in the temporary, three-sided lean-to he’d erected in the clearing where the new barn would sit, Dewey hadn’t needed to travel back and forth to town each night. Mister Linden had been kind enough to allow whatever time was needed in which to complete the work on the Hayes property.
Now the cabin boasted a new wing, making it into a more comfortable dwelling. Though crude on the inside, Frederick’s assurance that he could finish the inner walls himself afforded Dewey the freedom to return to Deadwood and continue working for Mister Linden as well as starting an apprenticeship with Wild Bill.
As Dewey wiped the sweat from his brow, a familiar feminine voice called out, “Supper, if you’re ready.”
Turning, he saw Melanie emerging from the cabin. She carried a roughly woven basket, her steps light and graceful on the uneven ground. Her father followed behind her, holding a few horse blankets to use as a place to sit.
“Evening,” he greeted them, his voice echoing slightly in the open space.
Frederick clapped Dewey on the shoulder. “It’s such a beautiful sunset, we thought we’d enjoy our meal outside.”
Melanie set the basket down on an old stump doubling as a makeshift table. The mouthwatering fragrance of meat wafted out. “One of the miners gave us three hares in exchange for some of the quince preserves I brought from Georgetown.” Her dimples flashed in the lowering light. “There’s also corn cake and apple butter. I hope you’re hungry.”
Dewey couldn’t hide his grin as his stomach rumbled. “I could eat.”
Frederick spread out the blankets, one of which held tin plates and some forks. They served themselves, finding comfortable positions on the cushioned ground. The rustling of the wind through the trees provided a soothing backdrop, occasionally punctuated by the distant yip and lonely howl of a coyote.
Dewey paused mid-bite, tilting his head slightly at the coyote’s call. “The wildlife seems to be speaking to each other tonight.”
Melanie smiled, her pretty eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. “I love to listen to them. It reminds me that we’re just a small part of this world, sharing it with everything from the tiniest critters to the mightiest beasts.”
Frederick gave an approving nod. “You’ve got the right of it, daughter.”
The next few minutes passed in companionable silence as they enjoyed their meals against the backdrop of nature’s best music.
With a final scrape of his fork, Frederick laid down his plate on the edge of the blanket. “Delicious as always, my girl.” While Melanie blushed at the compliment, he turned his attention to Dewey. “Young man, how is the extension coming along?”
“Just finished up. Tomorrow, I’ll start working on framing the barn.” Dewey gestured with his fork. “Might need to rustle up a few men from town to help raise the trusses once they’re built.”
“You’ve accomplished so much in a short amount of time,” Melanie commented as she collected their empty plates. She cast him a smile that lit up the world. “It’s hard to believe it’s the same place.”
He met her gaze, warmth expanding in his chest. “Thank you, Melanie. It’s been a good challenge.”
As the sky further darkened, Frederick stood. “Well, I suppose we should call it a night. It’s getting late.”
Melanie nodded, helping to fold the blankets. “Yes, Father.”
“I can’t thank you enough for including me in your evening meals. It’s a true kindness.” Dewey addressed them both, though his eyes lingered on Melanie as he hefted the basket. “I can carry this for you,” he added, gaining him another sweet smile.
And he realized the sense of camaraderie and belonging both Melanie and her father had afforded him made the harshness of life in Deadwood far less daunting.
Together they walked the short distance to the cabin, a lantern’s glow spilling softly from the uncovered windows. “I heard it’ll be a month or longer before any buildings around here will have actual glass,” Frederick said, laying the horse blankets over the new hitching post. “Is there any oiled canvas left in town?”
“There is, sir,” Dewey answered. “I’ll fetch some tomorrow before I get started on the barn frame. Might not be enough for the add-on but I know how to make shutters. It’ll help fill in those openings.”
As they reached the cabin door, Melanie stopped and faced him. “Goodnight, Dewey,” she murmured.
“Goodnight, Melanie.” Dewey held out the basket. Their fingers brushed momentarily, a spark of connection in that brief touch. As she stepped across the threshold, the light from the cabin’s interior outlined her silhouette.
Just before the door closed, Dewey caught Frederick’s eye. The older man offered a knowing chuckle, a gleam of approval in his eyes, before he followed his daughter inside.