She observes the spread before him with some interest, amused at the way he and Miss Bar communicate with each other. She levels him with a mildly scolding look.

"You're too skinny. You know you should put something on your stomach, 'fore heading out there and working yourself too hard. You're gonna end up thinner than a bean pole," she complains.

Working the stock and fields back home, it was no secret: The men fed themselves. Whether it was on the cold leftovers of the previous night's supper, or a fresh cooked breakfast, they never set to the plow or the pitchfork without something in their bellies.