Strawberry Summer | By : QueenoftheDream Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Kouga/Kagome Views: 3312 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor do I make any money in writing this fic. |
April 12, 1886
Before dawn the next morning, Kagome awoke as dictated by habit. She quickly stepped into her clothes and pulled her hair back into a bun without opening her eyes three times. After creeping down the creaking steps in the dark, she laced up her boots and stepped outside. In the early morning pre-light, the stars were still visible in the dark blue sky, and the eastern horizon was fading to lavender in the dawn’s first blush. The land was awash in blue, and the cold dew on the blades of grass glistened like tiny gems.
She eased the barn door open and slipped inside to fumble with the matches before lighting the small kerosene lamp. The last thing she needed was to accidentally walk into one of the oxen’s stalls and attempt to milk the poor bulls. She rubbed her hands together, warming them, before grabbing the pail and rickety stool and heading back to Peaches and her heifer calf, Dorothy. She ran her hands along the cow’s side before setting the stool and pail down and getting to work. Sensing that Peaches was in an exceedingly calm mood, she even hazarded to rest her head against the warm flesh to ward off the early morning bite in the air.
After the cow was milked and left to go about her business, Kagome trudged back up to the porch and left the milk pail by the front door where Mama would undoubtedly pick it up in time for breakfast. As she trotted back down the porch stairs, Michael’s wife, Josephine, stepped around the side of the house and gave a small grin when she saw Kagome approach. The pale early light deepened the shadows around them and brightened the surfaces it touched.
“Good morning, Miss Walker,” Josephine greeted her with a smile crinkling her sun-lined face. Kagome offered her own smile in return. “Where is your younger brother?” Josephine’s melodic accented voice practically soothed Kagome into sleep each time she spoke.
“Oh, Sota? He’s probably still in bed, the old lazy bones,” Kagome replied with false petulance. She and Josephine stopped in front of the barn as the morning light grew brighter, and the sun approached the horizon.
“I need to get eggs, yes?” Josephine’s finely arched eyebrows rose as she rolled her eyes. Kagome clapped her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture. She hated going into the foul-smelling chicken coop and avoided it when at all possible
“Please, would you, Josie?” she entreated with a piteous smile. “I’ll definitely make it up to you, I promise. Next time we have buttermilk, I’ll bring you my glass, okay?”
Josephine laughed and wiped her hands on her hideous green apron sprayed with sprigs of little pink flowers. “You have a deal. I will hold you to your word, miss.” As the woman doubled back to head toward the old chicken coop, Kagome walked back to the barn to scatter some hay for the cattle and fill the water troughs.
When she walked in, however, Koga was already spreading the feed in the stalls. As she audibly opened the door and stepped forward on some of the wayward dry straw, he turned and tipped his hat at her. “Good mornin’, Miss,” he called as he scattered some more feed.
“Hm, good morning, Mr. Allen,” she softly replied as she shuffled awkwardly through the barn in search of work.
Seeing her apparent confusion, he called over his shoulder, “You lost, Miss?” A lilting hint of teasing tinged his voice.
“No,” she answered coolly and inwardly applauded her sangfroid. “It’s usually me who has to feed the stock in the mornings. It seems you’ve taken my job. Thrown off the whole routine, really.” A playful smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Well, it does appear so, doesn’t it?” His cheeks lifted in a grin, and his eyes crinkled above high cheekbones that looked so- No! She shook her head and attempted to knock such impure thoughts from her mind. She’d known him less than a full twenty four hours and she was already lusting after him like a strumpet. She felt a blush creep up her neck and thanked the good Lord that it was still dark and shadowy in the barn.
“I do believe the water troughs need filling. The one out in the pasture is nearly empty the last I checked.” Kagome resisted the urge to grumble at him peevishly. There was only one well on the property, and it was usually Sota’s job to haul water across their land bucket by sloshing bucket.
“Mhmph, you’re probably right. Thank you for taking care of the barn work for me. I do appreciate it,” she intoned while trying not to be petty. After all, they were now ahead of schedule for the morning. She bent to scoop up the two water buckets and headed toward the well. “Sota, I am going to throttle you when I find you,” she muttered under her breath, and she swore she could hear deep chuckling behind her.
Upon reaching the well, she grabbed the handle and began pumping as the red disk of the sun finally peeked over the horizon. Of course the trough in the pasture was on the other side of the property, so she rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the two buckets, and set to trudging. Back and forth she walked before the rising sun, sloshing the water into the metal troughs before returning to repeat the motion. The hem of her skirts soaked up the dew from the grass, which in turn dampened her stockings.
Three trips to the well later, Sota was still yet to be seen. The sun was up, and the animals were all waking and beginning their days. Kagome’s arms were aching as she swung the empty buckets, and the troughs were nowhere near full. She was going to miss breakfast if something didn’t give.
Then, like a godsend, Koga stepped out of the barn as she walked past it to the well. He had two additional pails in hand and fell in step behind her.
“I filled the troughs in the barn, an’ it looks like the chickens don’t need any,” he stated, and he sped up to walk alongside the young woman.
“Hm. Thank you,” Kagome murmured, honestly thankful that he had spared her the additional work. “How do you know your way around here so quickly? Did you sleep at all?” She shyly raised one skeptical eyebrow in jest.
“Well, most farmers and ranchers have a pretty similar setup. I have yet to come upon a farm where the people sleep in the coop and the chicken live the high life on the estate, so it wasn’t quite a mystery,” he drawled as the well came into sight, and a giggle fell from Kagome’s lips.
“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, though. Really. I would have missed breakfast at this rate without your help,” she grunted as she pumped the water into her buckets.
“You don’t have to thank me, y’know. It’s my job now, remember?”
A lurching shrug was her reply as she adjusted her grip on the two heavy pails before starting toward the trough. The sun was up and shining and the dew in the grass began evaporating into sticky humidity.
By 8’o’clock, the water trough in the pasture was filled, and the farm was coming to life. Horses were nickering, and the hens were pecking around the ground while the cat hungrily watched. A steady pattering echoed across the property, and as Kagome and Koga drew nearer to the house, they saw Sota perched on the top of the small cabin shared by Michael and his wife, Josephine. He squinted down at them before turning back to the job at hand: hammering at the roof.
As the duo mounted the front porch steps, the smell of frying eggs wafted through the kitchen window, and Kagome’s mouth watered. “I hope you don’t mind me sayin’ so,” Koga began as he pulled open the front door, “but you’ve a mighty fine face for an Indian girl.” Kagome paused in the doorway and spun around. Her face was a mask of irritation and outrage. He quickly backtracked. “Er, what I meant to say is that to an untrained eye, people wouldn’t guess that you’re an Indian unless they knew what to look for. You could easily pass as an average white girl.”
Kagome stuttered. “I-I’m not Indian, thanks very much. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insinuate otherwise, sir.” Her heart hammered in her chest. How did he know of her distant heritage? How obvious was it to other people if this stranger had already guessed it?
Koga held the door open. “Now, I meant no disrespect, Miss. You remember that I’m part redskin myself, so I know one when I see one.” Her face fell into a frown, and Koga raised his eyebrows expectantly. Kagome sputtered as she quickly stepped into the house after realizing she was lingering in the doorway like a simpleton.
“Wash up, breakfast is almost ready,” Mama called from the kitchen. Kagome bustled through the house to the small wash basin and scrubbed her hands and face. A thorough cleaning later, the family was sitting around the kitchen table. Sota, who had been repairing a hole in Michael and Josephine’s roof, was eagerly gulping down the hearty breakfast. Kagome also ate quickly before filling her mug with some fresh buttermilk and bustling out the door. She hurried across the yard to Michael’s cabin, and she briefly knocked before entering with a smile.
Around the small wooden table were gathered Michael, Josephine, and Koga. They were eating their morning meal of pork and navy beans in relative silence. Josephine looked over to the door, and her face curved in a kind smile when she saw Kagome standing meekly in the doorway, dripping cup of buttermilk in hand.
Kagome, however, felt a strange strangling sensation in her gut when she saw Koga sitting at the table without his hat, his short, dark hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the small cabin window. She felt like a cornered animal, except in place of fear, there sat a queer feeling of excitement, or maybe it was anticipation. He was a stranger, and part Indian at that, but her heart fluttered at the prospect of his attentions. It was most curious indeed, and she felt a mix of giddiness and shame at the nature of the feelings she harbored.
Eager to end the interaction and prevent herself from starting to babble like an idiot, she darted forward and set the cup on the table. The quick motion, however, sent buttermilk sloshing onto the checkered tablecloth and onto Koga’s right knee. Michael, the stable hand, stared at her, apparently impressed at how clumsy and awkward she could manage to be in such a short period. She felt her face flush as she snatched her hands back in embarrassment. Koga wiped at his knee with a good-natured laugh while Josephine bustled off to find a rag to clean the tablecloth. Face aflame, Kagome fled back out the door after blurting out an apology. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t quite figure out why, feelings of mortification aside. She pressed her back against the wooden exterior and sighed.
On the horizon, however, a shape loomed. Someone on horseback was riding toward the house, and as the figure drew closer, Kagome realized that it was her dreaded suitor, Joseph Hopkins. He was no doubt on a social call so he can stare unabashedly at her, same as every other occasion. She heaved herself off of the wall and groaned as she started for the front porch to intercept Mr. Hopkins before he encountered her mother. The last thing she needed was her mother poking, wheedling, and scheming to marry her to the boy.
“Good morning, Miss Kagome,” he called from atop his horse while pulling his hat off. He stopped in front of the porch and dismounted, carrying a large burlap sack in his hand. He was always bringing fairly suspect “home remedies” over, and part of her wondered if he was seriously considering winning her over with the use of pharmaceuticals. If so, he was even more clueless than she had given him credit for.
“Good morning, Mr. Hopkins. What brings you up here? We weren’t expecting you until Sunday for Mass.”
“Please, Miss Kagome. How many times must I beg you; call me Joseph. I think we’re past such proprieties.” He flashed a smile, and she lifted her face in what she hoped was a grin rather than a grimace. “And I brought over some preserved tomatoes and a fresh jar of turpentine for your grandfather’s arthritis.” He held out the bag, and Kagome took it with a nod. “I’d heard your stable hand, errr,” he trailed off.
“Michael,” she supplied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“Ah, yes. Michael! Well, last week I heard him saying that that late frost nabbed most of your tomato plants, and we still had a few jars from last year, so I thought I’d bring one over.” He ran his hands down his jacket, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and Kagome felt a little pang of guilt. He always tried so hard.
“Thank you kindly, er, Joseph.” She hoped she didn’t cringe at the strange feeling his name left in her mouth. He beamed like a kid given a jar of candies. “I’ll make sure these get to my mother,” she trailed off, and he continued to stand and stare. Therefore, she too was obliged to stand stupidly in front of the porch toeing the dirt as he stuffed his hands in and out of his pockets.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, she felt a small touch on the back of her shoulder. She jumped and turned, nearly twisting her head off to see her assailant. It was Koga standing as cool as a cucumber.
“Your mother asked me to retrieve you, Miss Walker. Something about your grandfather’s gout,” he said. Kagome gave him a questioning gaze, but his face remained still. Her grandfather may be the most cranky, disease-prone old man this side of the Mississippi, but the one thing he didn’t have was gout. Yet.
“Gout? I had no idea your grandfather had gout. I think we might have something for that,” Hopkins mused.
Kagome nearly groaned. “There’s no need, really. Just an occasional flare up here and there is all.” It was a total lie, and she felt a tad guilty about it. However, if this farce of a conversation continued any longer, she’d drown herself over in the Sand Creek.
“Ah well. I’d best be going anyway. Have a fine rest of the day, Miss, and give my regards to your family,” the chipper young man said as he tipped his hat, to which Kagome gave a small wave. She nearly sang praise to the angels when he remounted his horse and trotted away.
Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she thanked Koga sincerely. He chuckled.
“You looked about as happy as a rattlesnake in a bonnet.”
Kagome barked out a laugh, subconsciously readjusting the ribbon to her own bonnet. “He means well. He truly does. And he’s probably the most even-tempered and generous soul around here. Trouble is that he’s also possibly the most simple, chipper idiot that I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
“He seemed a nice enough fellow,” Koga said with a shrug.
Kagome shook her head. “He hasn’t been chasing you and practically begging for your hand in marriage for the past five years, either,” she mumbled grimly under her breath before starting for the porch. Mama had already filled the churn with cream and set it by the door for her. Koga left to help Michael clean out the mares’ box stalls, and Kagome grabbed the churn and lugged it to the back of the house. Sometimes, she enjoyed looking at the mountains to the west when doing mind-numbing work like churning. After finding the flat spot near the scraggly dead blackberry bush, she wrapped her fingers around the wooden plunger and got down to the time-consuming task of churning butter.
Her arms moved rhythmically, and she allowed her mind to wander as she stared off past the white fence and into the growing stalks of their small fields of alfalfa and grass. The thin leaves bent under a brisk wind, and Kagome could see grey rain clouds rolling over Pikes Peak in the distance. When the wind picked up half an hour later, she moved the churn inside. Though generally short-lived, mountain storms often hit hard with driving gusts of wind and pelting rain that fell in a deluge. Sure enough, rain was pinging off the window within a few minutes. The house grew dark as the storm clouds passed overhead and soaked the land, and a few rumbles of thunder rolled across the sky.
By the time she drained the buttermilk from the top of the freshly churned butter, the storm had passed and the sky had lightened. Mama took the butter to wash, and Kagome turned to her next chore: tending to her growing strawberry patch. She walked around the back of the house to the small fenced-in area and began picking the rain-soaked weeds from between the strawberry plants. They were coming in nicely, much to her pleasure. As she began tossing the weeds she’d gathered into the chicken pen, she saw Koga rolling the wheelbarrow across the property.
It wasn’t until a chicken hopped up and pecked at her limp fingers, causing the handful of greens to flutter to the ground, that she realized she’d once again been caught staring. She yelped loudly and jerked her hand back with a petulant scowl at the offending chicken, which was happily munching away at the plants with the other hens. It was while looking around to see if any others had seen her embarrassing mishap that she espied her mother staring at her from the kitchen window with a level, disapproving glare.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she moved on to the pasture to check on the horses without a second glance at her mother’s critical gaze. After all, what was the harm in just looking?
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo