Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(59)

Caught studying the bar from the outside, she was the last one out of the van, but the other women stood aside on the porch and let Kelly pass. She pushed open the door and yelled, "Hello?"

A swinging door in the back of the bar glided open and Paige smiled at them. She held her little girl, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel. "Hi. Come on back. John's been waiting for you." She gave her little girl a squeeze. "We're getting baths. When the kids are settled, I'll join you in the kitchen."

The room was dimly lit by a light that ran along the top of a very long bar of beautiful, ornately carved dark wood. Kelly counted at least a dozen tables at the front of the store.

Penny gasped, and that's when Kelly noticed the animal trophies--a buck's head over the door, a bear skin, a large stuffed fish in back of the bar.

"Hunting country," she said. "Kind of like the Boundary Waters."

The women filed into the kitchen to find Preacher standing behind his worktable wearing a white apron. He said, "Welcome," with a smile. "Have a seat. We'll start you off with some wine. Jack always keeps some good stuff tucked away." His worktable was set with four plain white soup bowls sitting atop four plain white plates. The utensils were wrapped in white linen napkins. "This Raymond 2005 Small Lot Meritage will work with your venison." He poured a small amount for Kelly to taste.

She rolled it around in her mouth. "Very nice," she agreed.

"Good," he said. "I'm not that good with wine. I'm not called on to serve the drinks with the meals--Jack does that. And until the hunters and fishermen fill up the bar, it's not an issue. A lot of our sportsmen know their wine and liquor and have requests. Jack can handle that."

He pulled a basket of bread from the warmer and put it on the table, adding a flat dish of butter.

"Should we wait for Paige?" Kelly asked.

"Nah, she'll be around for dessert. Cobbler--the apple crop is in. Do you get your food fresh at the restaurant?" he asked Kelly.

"We do. When possible I order most of it myself. Sometimes the head chef takes on that chore, but I like doing it. I go to the wharves myself to look at the catch."

He grinned. "And here, we just go ahead and catch it. Or shoot it. Or get it straight from the ranchers." He donned a mitt and lifted the pan from the stove. With a ladle, he spooned some venison chili into their bowls. Then he stood back, arms crossed over his huge chest.

Kelly stirred her chili while the others just dug in. She noticed that in addition to the kidney beans there were black beans and a smattering of corn, some scallions. The tomatoes were diced; onion minced so finely it was barely visible. She pushed a piece of venison against the side of the bowl with her spoon and it fell apart. She heard the others humming their approval, then she took her taste. Her eyes dropped closed. When she opened them, she said, "It's not gamey."

"It can be and most of my folks like it a little gamey, but I soak it in buttermilk--calms it down a little."

"I've never heard that one before," she said.

"Chances are you don't deal with a lot of venison. When you live in the mountains, on the river, you eat off the land as much as possible. That's what makes this place work. Is it any good?" he asked.

"It's the best I've ever tasted," she said with a grin.

"Tomatillo--better than tomatoes."

"Ahhh," she acknowledged. She never would have thought of that. "How are you fixed for fresh fruits and vegetables?"

"Most of what we grow around here is silage for the ranches. And we've got lots of orchards--apples and nuts. Berries of all kinds everywhere, but only in season. But everyone has a big vegetable garden. When the locals who don't have health insurance pay the clinic for services in fresh produce, a lot of that comes over to the bar, where we feed whoever serves the town for free--the doctor, the nurse midwife--that'd be Jack's wife--the local police. If Jack or I help out some neighbor, we get whatever's in season or a cut of meat--beef, lamb, chicken, eggs. In the fall we fill the freezer with so much salmon from the river it keeps us at least half a year, but it's best fresh. It all comes full circle."

"But you get it in season?" she asked.

"Always," he said. "Next I have some stuffed trout for you, but we have to wait a few minutes. Try the corn bread with your chili. It's nothing special--I use package mixes when it's the most practical."

But the corn bread was delicious.

Next came the stuffed trout. He managed to beat the chef at the Boundary Waters lodge. He explained that the asparagus was "up" so he served that with the trout; he apologized that the fish had been frozen and wasn't as good as fresh, but it was still so good. He took away their bowls and wineglasses, serving them a chilled Chardonnay that was outstanding.

Next came the lamb, so tender you could eat it with a spoon, and while he didn't ordinarily serve garlic mashed with his lamb, that was one of his most popular dishes so he pulled some out of the refrigerator. Indeed, best garlic mashed Kelly had ever tasted; she detected flavors of butter, cream instead of whole milk, cream cheese, fresh garlic and parsley.

The girls were moaning, holding their stomachs, raving. Paige joined them just in time for the cobbler and some coffee. "We're known for our coffee," Preacher said. "Best in three counties."