Well, here comes the next chapter. Keep those reviews comin', and I might just keep the chapters comin'. :)
Chapter 4
Anne Marie's seventh birthday came and went, and in the blink of an eye the entire next year passed. The little girl grew taller and wilder and spent most her days on the wide open prairies of the Ponderosa, often accompanied by Rachel, whose mother spent her days in the small schoolhouse. But after school let out, Diana would drive out to the Ponderosa and the two would spend many happy evenings laughing and singing and telling stories with the Cartwrights. As time passed, Anne Marie couldn't help but notice the difference between herself and Rachel. Rachel was a very dainty girl and knew how to sew and cook and keep house. She, on the other hand, couldn't sew a single stitch and knew nothing about the kitchen. She could fish and climb trees and beat anyone who dared to challenge her in a game of checkers (her grandfather had even started teaching her chess), but femininity was not her strong suit. Still, she wanted to be ladylike and tie her hair with a ribbon and learn to cook. On days when Hop Sing did the laundry she insisted on helping him hang it on the lines outside and then fold it in neat stacks according to owner. She was willing to surrender anything, even the freedom of the great outdoors, in order to learn how to style her hair or hem a frock, but the one thing she would never give up was the time she spent in the barn with the horses.
Just as he had promised Avonlea, Hoss taught Anne Marie everything he knew about the majestic animals. He taught her what to the feed them and just how much. He taught her how to brush them down at the end of the day and occasionally let her feed them a lump of sugar or an apple. Her favorite horse was her mother's, Wildfire, who she was determined to ride as soon as she was big enough. The shimmering chestnut coat of the mare which sparkled a deep red in the sunshine reminded her of her own hair, and its great brown eyes, though they were soft and friendly, filled her with a compelling desire to mount up and race off across the hills of the Ponderosa under the bright blue sky into the golden rays of the shining sun, running faster and faster until she could barely breathe. Hoss saw this excitement in his niece's eyes and it warmed his heart to sees hers beating in perfect time with her mother's.
"Annie's birthday's comin' up," Hoss said to Joe one afternoon, pounding another stake into the fence they were mending.
"Yeah, don't remind me," Joe said with a chuckle. "The little rascal's growin' so fast I can't keep up with her."
"Well, I think she's gettin' old enough to start ridin', so I thought I'd get her a pony for her birthday."
Joe was silent as he continued his work, considering the proposition. "I guess you're right," he said finally.
"Now, Joe, wha'cha afraid of?"
"I don't want her hurtin' herself."
"I won't let her do nothin' like that. Ya know I won't let her outta my sight."
"I know that. I'm just worried, that's all."
"She's gotta learn sometime. 'Sides, this is somethin' Avvie wanted for her, and I reckon ya know that as much as I do."
"I do," Joe said softly, turning his head away from his brother. He looked up into the great expanse of cloudless blue above them and sighed, then a gentle smile graced his features as he turned back to Hoss. "I can't argue with her mother, can I?"
Hoss grinned.
Anne Marie peeked her head around the corner of the doorway that led to the kitchen before entering. She knew Hop Sing went out every day at this time to feed the chickens, but she wanted to make doubly sure the coast was clear. The Chinese cook rarely ever allowed her in his kitchen, much less any of the other Cartwrights, and when he did she was never, under any circumstances, permitted to touch anything. Sometimes he let her watch him when he was cooking a roast or baking a cake, and if she caught him in an exceptionally good mood he might even let her dip her finger into the bowl to eat the last morsel of frosting. Still, the kitchen was Hop Sing's domain and the idea that Anne Marie would need to learn how to cook for a family of her own one day had never even occurred to him. He was a touchy man and easily aggravated, and so, though she loved him dearly, Anne Marie was somewhat afraid to ask him to show her the ropes since she was almost certain he would refuse.
But her patience had worn thin. After hearing Rachel talk about baking a cake with her mother the previous weekend, she decided she would just have to try it herself. She was sure she could manage, having observed Hop Sing on several different occasions. She would do it all by herself, and when he saw how beautiful it was and tasted how light and fluffy and sugary sweet she had made it, maybe then he would realize that she wasn't a child anymore and certainly old enough to start learning how to cook. She could smell the beef he had just put in the oven and knew it would cook for a good while longer, so she assumed she had a fair amount of time to accomplish her goal. Still, she couldn't help looking over her shoulder as she hunched over the recipe book Hop Sing had left lying out on the counter. Ben was at his desk quietly going over the month's figures, Joe and Adam were out with the hands, and Hoss had gone into Virginia City for the day. She would have no better opportunity.
Several large cupboards ran along the back wall on either side of the great oven. Anne Marie rummaged through them until she found a bowl she deemed large enough for her endeavor. She pulled out the jars of flour and sugar and took several eggs, the jug of milk, and the tub of butter out of the icebox. After selecting a wooden spoon to mix with, she got to work. She pulled a wobbly stool up to the long, tall counter and perched on top of it, tucking her skirts underneath her knees. Only then did she realize that she couldn't read a word of Hop Sing's chicken scratch. The recipes in the book were in English, but he had edited them with his own notes and corrections (all in Chinese, of course) and marked the pages up so much that she couldn't make head or tail of it. But she had decided to bake a cake, and bake a cake she would.
She scooped several lumps of flour into the bowl then dumped two times as many scoops of sugar on top of it. After mixing these together and succeeding in coating herself in a thick layer of the white mixture, she added the butter, but it was so hard and sticky that she lost even more flour and sugar trying to blend them together. After replenishing the ingredients she had lost, she turned to the eggs. She had seen Hop Sing crack them open and deposit their membranous insides into many a dish, but doing it herself was another matter entirely. Her dress was stained with at least five yellow splotches when she was through, and the contents of the bowl were slimy at best with several large fragments of eggshell floating in them. She didn't think it looked quite right, all lumpy and slimy, but she was certain the milk would help.
The large jug was heavy, but she steadied one side against the counter and began to tip the opening toward the bowl. She hadn't noticed the stool gradually slipping further and further away from the counter, skidding along the floor in a pool of egg whites and melted butter. Suddenly it slid out from under her, and Anne Marie toppled to the floor, losing her grip on the milk jug and the bowl, which came crashing down around her and doused her from head to foot in the soggy mess. She heard thundering footsteps running through the main room, and the next thing she knew Ben was standing in the doorway.
"Anne Marie!" he shouted, rushing to her side and yanking her up off the ground. His eyes darted up and down her body frantically, searching for any sign of injury. "What in the world?"
"I, I wanted to make a cake," she said sheepishly, unable to look her grandfather in the eye.
"And you couldn't ask Hop Sing to show you how?"
"He wouldn't show me. You know he wouldn't," she retorted.
Ben sighed. "Are you all right?"
She nodded.
"Just look at this mess, and your clothes."
"I'll clean it up."
"I think cleanin' up is the least of your worries, Anne Marie."
Anne Marie turned to look over her shoulder where Ben's eyes were fixed, and a shiver of fear ran up her spine at the figure of Hop Sing standing in the open doorway, his face redder than a beet.
He surveyed the sticky floor and gooey, oozing mess that coated Anne Marie, and suddenly burst out in a wave of Chinese obscenities, directed at no one in particular.
"Hop Sing!" Ben shouted, and he continued to shout his name for the next minute, finally managing to get his attention. "Hop Sing, calm down!"
"What happen?" the cook cried.
"I think Anne Marie was attempting to make a cake," Ben replied.
"What she do in Hop Sing kitchen?"
"Anne Marie?" Ben looked back at the girl inquisitively, indicating that it was her turn to talk.
She gulped. "I wanna learn how to cook," she said, looking straight into Hop Sing's eyes.
"This Hop Sing kitchen!"
"Rachel knows how to cook! Her ma shows her! How am I gonna be a lady if I don't know how to cook?"
Hop Sing looked from Anne Marie to Ben, who offered no answer in his expression; in fact, his features seemed to be posing the question as well.
"You clean mess, I teach you," he decided.
Anne Marie's mouth broke out into an overwhelming smile and her eyes sparkled. "Really?"
Hop Sing nodded firmly.
"You promise?"
"You think Hop Sing tell lie?"
She shook her head violently. "No, Hop Sing."
"Clean kitchen," he said.
"I will. Can I change my dress first?"
He nodded again.
"Oh, thank you, Hop Sing!" And suddenly Anne Marie ran into the man's arms, wrapping her own about him and covering his shirtfront in the white paste that was caked to her skin and dress.
Hop Sing was speechless. He didn't know whether to squirm away in disgust or hug her back.
Ben grinned then broke the awkward moment for Hop Sing's sake, tapping Anne Marie on the shoulder. "All right, young lady," he said as she pulled away. "Go get cleaned up as best ya can. We'll run a bath for ya tonight."
She nodded then skipped out of the kitchen. Seconds later Ben heard her soft footfall on the stairs and smiled. He turned to Hop Sing, who was still somewhat stunned by the scene that had just transpired.
"I'm sorry about the mess, Hop Sing. I'll see to it that she cleans every last floorboard. She just wants to learn to be a woman. Lord knows she doesn't get much chance around here."
"I teach Missy Anne Marie to cook," Hop Sing said with finality.
"You've made her very happy," Ben said.
The faint traces of a smile began to form on the cook's face, and by the time Ben left the kitchen it had materialized into a full grin.
That night around the dinner table, Anne Marie received her share of both scolding and congratulations alike, but when Hop Sing brought out dessert there was an extra slice of cake on her plate, much to Hoss's chagrin.