From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   ROCKY MOUNTAIN INTERLUDE, Chapter Six   
   By Char Chaffin and Tess   
   MSR, Casefile, AU   
   Rating:  Strong R   
   Spoilers:  FTF, Most of Season Seven   
   Feedback:  to Tnv099@aol.com; char@chaffin.com   
      
   Headers and summary, see Part 1   
      
      
      
   Chapter Six   
   The Nulty Homestead   
   Millersburg, Colorado   
      
      
   Later in the day, the Westons brought Mulder and Scully home.  Libby   
   helped Scully put their purchases away and gave her a detailed lesson   
   on the workings of the cast iron cook stove.   
      
   "You want to keep an eye on your stove," the preacher's wife   
   cautioned.  "You have to rekindle the fire every morning and make   
   sure that you don't let it burn out until the end of the day."   
      
   "Keep the stove going all day?  In this heat?" Scully protested.   
      
   Libby nodded vigorously. "Yes.  And in the winter you'll never let   
   it go out, of course.  You'll be cooking three meals a day, plus   
   baking, heating water for laundry and washing dishes... a dead fire   
   can set your entire day back."  She pulled open the door of the cold   
   stove.  "You want to keep the stove kindled so that you don't have to   
   start the whole process more than once a day.  Now, the first thing   
   you want to do every morning is to get rid of the remains of the last   
   fire."  She removed the stove lids and raked the ashes and cinders   
   left behind presumably from the last time Jenny Nulty had used the   
   stove.  From a tin box nailed to the floor next to the stove, she   
   took some small shavings and sticks of wood. "Open the drafts, light   
   the kindling," she took a box of matches from a shelf above the stove   
   and struck a match against the side of the box.  She touched the   
   flame to the kindling.  "Kate, hand me some bigger pieces of wood."   
   Scully looked around and found a box of wood shoved into the corner   
   near the stove.  Libby took several larger chunks of wood from her,   
   fed them to the growing fire and closed the dampers.   
      
   "There!"  Libby dusted her hands off.  "Now, do you think you'll be   
   able to do that tomorrow morning?"   
      
   Scully looked doubtfully at the cast iron contraption.  Starting a   
   fire in it was the least of her concerns. "How do you know when the   
   oven is at the right temperature to bake anything?"   
      
   Libby smiled ruefully.  "Trial and error, honey."   
      
   Scully stifled a groan.  She had suspected as much.   
      
   Libby glanced toward the open door of the cabin and studied the   
   angle of the sun.  "It's getting late," she noted.  "Let's get   
   started on making dinner - something simple that we can do on top of   
   the stove," she mused and instructed Scully to get the package of   
   beef from the cold cellar.   
      
   "Oh, but there's only a pound of beef," Scully protested.  "I don't   
   think that will be enough for all of us."   
      
   Libby steered her toward the cellar.  "Don't worry about it, dear.   
   I've got a lovely cold ham at home.  On a warm evening like this, my   
   Tom loves nothing better than ham sandwiches with slices of tomato   
   from the garden.  Now, go."   
      
   Scully obeyed and tugged on the rope to lift the door to the cellar.   
   She picked her way down the stairs to retrieve the package of beef   
   she'd purchased earlier in the day, climbed back out of the cellar   
   and carried it over to the table.   
      
   "I'll bring some of my recipes over tomorrow," Libby promised.  "But   
   for now, I'll just walk you through a quick beef stew."  Under the   
   older woman's watchful eye, Scully cut the beef into small pieces and   
   sprinkled them with salt and pepper.  She took a heavy cast-iron   
   stewing pot from a shelf and set it on top of the stove.   
      
   "Take a spoonful of lard and melt it in the pan," Libby instructed.   
   "Add some onion slices and let them cook for a minute."  As the   
   onions softened in the hot lard, Scully slid the cubes of beef into   
   the pot.   
      
   "Add water," Libby poured water into the pan, "just enough to cover   
   the meat.  You want it to cook slowly - about an hour."  She clapped   
   a lid onto the pan and took off the apron she had tied around her   
   waist earlier.  She wiped her hands on the apron and laid it on the   
   roughhewn table.   
      
   "Keep an eye on it and if too much of the water stews away, add a   
   little more.  Then, roll some pieces of butter in flour and add them   
   to make a nice, rich gravy."   
      
   Scully nodded.  "Well, that sounds easy enough," she said with a   
   nervous glance at the bubbling pan of stew.   
      
   "It'll get easier and easier," the other woman promised.  "Now, you   
   just serve that stew over some of the bread I brought earlier today   
   and you'll have a tasty, filling supper!"   
      
   The two women spent some time familiarizing themselves with Jenny   
   Nulty's kitchen before Libby picked up the two baskets they had used   
   for shopping and carried them toward the door.   
      
   "I'll be back tomorrow," she said.  "Hopefully, sometime before   
   lunch.  Don't forget to clean out the coop with the lye soap and I'll   
   bring those hens and a rooster, like I promised."  She swept Scully   
   into an impulsive hug and then stepped out into the yard.   
      
   "Tom!" she called as she walked toward the wagon.  She looked around   
   the small homestead and found her husband and Mulder crouched in the   
   vegetable garden.   
      
   "Coming, dear."  The men pushed to their feet and ambled across the   
   yard toward the women.  Tom climbed into the wagon and held out a   
   hand to assist his wife.   
      
   "See you tomorrow," Libby called and waved as they drove down the   
   rutted dirt road.   
      
   Mulder draped an arm around Scully's shoulder and led her back into   
   the cabin.  "Something smells good."  He crossed the room and lifted   
   the lid of the pan, inhaling the fragrant aromas of stewing beef and   
   onions.  "How long until it's ready?"   
      
   Scully glanced around the kitchen for a wall clock before she   
   realized where - and when - they were.  She gave herself a fast three-   
   second chastisement lecture, before replying, "I have no idea,   
   Mulder.  There's no clock around here.  Maybe twenty minutes, best   
   guess."   
      
   Mulder nodded, thinking it was a shame he couldn't wear the   
   wristwatch he'd stowed away in the nightstand drawer.  "I'm going to   
   wash up. Be right back."  He picked up the pitcher and headed toward   
   the front door.   
      
   "Mulder, wait."  Scully scooped up two wooden buckets from the   
   floor.  "I need to heat water to wash the dishes later.  Could you   
   bring some in?"   
      
   He left the pitcher on the table and took the buckets from her.   
   While he was at the pump, she set out dishes and descended down into   
   the cold cellar to retrieve the butter.  Using a tin mug, Scully   
   scooped some flour out of the sack and dumped it into a bowl.  She   
   cut several small pieces of butter and dipped them into the flour.   
   She stirred them into the beef sauce and had to admit that it did   
   smell good.   
      
   Mulder returned and set the full buckets on the floor near the door.   
   He scooped water into the pitcher and stripped out of his shirt to   
   wash up before dinner.  Finished, he wiped his face with a cloth   
   draped over the side of the washstand and turned to find Scully   
   struggling to lift the heavy bucket high enough to fill a large pot   
   that she had set on one of the burners.   
      
   "Let me."  He hurried to take the unwieldy bucket from her hands.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)