Читать книгу Chancy's Cowboy - Lass Small, Lass Small - Страница 9

Two

Around the main house, the trees had been selectively removed. The trees had been cut down and the wood used in the fireplaces when the temperature plummeted clear down to fifty degrees. Once it had gone down further and there had been ice!

There was air-conditioning. It was unTEXAN to use it. When the temperature got up to eighty degrees, it was turned on and left there as the outside temperature went on up over a hundred. They were all spoiled rotten. Especially the cats and dogs.

The high temperatures were seldom miserable because the heat was dry and, if you didn’t run around and do a whole lot of things, you didn’t even sweat. Men tend to run around after things and to see things and heaven only knows what all distracts them. Well, what all else.

At the main house, there was Tolly, who was the cook. He did the shopping and organizing and made up the menus. He’d been doing that as long as Chancy remembered.

The meals were always superb. He would listen if something else was wanted.

In that first week, Cliff said, “This pie is great. How about an apricot pie?”

And it was on the table the next day. There was exactly enough of the fruit. The crust was crisp. It was perfect. But then all of Tolly’s foods were done just right.

The people who cared for the crew ate at the house, together, as a family. All were at the round table on the enclosed side porch including Tolly, the cook, and Jim, who did the yard and kept the fruit trees and the flowers just right. And there was Tom, who did the barn and took care of the horses and of course the chickens.

The chickens were allowed their freedom, and they lay eggs just about anywhere. Egg hunting was a challenge and entertained Tom in just finding the nests.

When Cliff questioned the freedom of the chickens, they all replied in a babble that with the chickens ruling their own lives, the eggs were better.

That was probably so. Cliff had never eaten such well-presented foods.

And Cliff found Chancy was a serious distraction. He thought of her at odd times. She apparently didn’t see him as a potent male. That was very different. He wondered if she was flawed.

She never wore a dress. Why not? She’d cut her hair into such a short bunch that she could pass for a teenage boy. Naw. Her chest was female. Even trying her darnedest, she couldn’t ever get past that. But she looked like she was trying to be male.

How would she look in a soft gown that went along her body?

She distracted him from his work.

He began to have trouble sleeping at night.

He found reasons to take her along in his plane. That nubile woman was thrilled scary, like being in a roller coaster, when she was in the plane. And he didn’t even swoop or show off. They just went up so that she could see the overall picture of the place.

She was fascinated. She found things from a dif ferent angle, and she never oohed or aahed over his ability to fly. She accepted that he could and she just went along and was awed—by the sights. Not by him.

Once he told her in order to save himself from concentrating on her presence, “If you didn’t hang around at lunch, the guys could talk.”

And she replied patiently, “My being around keeps them aware of ladies. It’s good for them to watch their language. Then they aren’t tongue-tied when they see a woman they want to talk with.”

He nodded slowly a number of times as he considered. “How’d you know that?”

“My daddy told me.”

“Oh.”

But knowing why she was around didn’t help Cliff any in his intense awareness of her. If she wasn’t there, he could think better. More aligned. With her around, his thinking scattered away and just left his mind on—her.

Actually, it was very strange for Chancy to share the house with Cliff. And she was very conscious of his presence. She accepted the crew, the household and yard and barn people Without a tremor. Why should her radar be so aware of Cliff?

She was such an innocent.

Chancy found the occasion and seriously warmed Cliff about the cleanup crew. She told him, “Once a month, a team comes from the closest town, Uvalde, to turn the house upside down and clean everything. And I do mean everything. They never miss a thing.”

She went on, “One gets all the dogs and cats out of the house, and one learns quickly to be sure anything one cares about is tidy and put away...first. Otherwise, single socks or perfect, uh, underwear could be washed in—boiling lye? Whatever they use, it’s something horrific.”

Then Cliff found out that even everything in the kitchen was scrubbed by the cleanup crew. Tolly told Cliff, “I’ve tried to form limits with that cleanup crew, but that hasn’t entirely worked. It’s as if the crew was a swarm of grasshoppers. The entire place is blighted when pounced upon by the crew.” He moved his face as he frowned. “It’s really pretty scary.”

Chancy said thoughtfully, “That’s probably because the crew never talks. They’re sober-faced, efficient... and relentless! But they’re the best and most reliable around these parts.”

When the day came, the cleaning crew descended upon them, and it was exactly as Cliff had been warned. It was Cliffs first experience and, with the-day past and the crew gone, he was carrying around a drastically shrunken web belt. He appeared in shock.

Chancy told him gently, “You’ll quickly realize that you have to keep everything in the places you want them to be. Anything left on a chair or forgotten on the floor is in jeopardy.”

“Look at my belt.” Just his manner of speech proved that it had been precious.

So she did look. It was a belt. Getting emotional over a belt was a challenge. She put it around her own waist and commented, “It was stretched.”

Cliff frowned at her and snarled, “It’s shrunk.”

She grinned. “I’ll find you a new one and keep this one. It’s almost my size.” And she went on off as if she’d solved the whole problem.

Tolly’s food was so rich and involved that Cliff’s stomach complained. Tolly was startled when Cliff mentioned that he’d like just plain food. That was a challenge to Tolly. And he considered how one could serve—just—plain—food?

So while Tolly made the clever, indulgent bits of beauty for the others’ meals, he gave Cliff the basic foods. But, however basic, it was artistically arranged, and there were always celery tops, sliced olives or sprigs of parsley to decorate the plate.

Cliff didn’t notice, and he ate the decorations like a horse at a bush.

The next week, Cliff eased back from the table and scolded Tolly, “In another month, I’ll weigh a ton.”

Tolly dismissed that. “I don’t feed you enough to gain even two pounds.”

“I can hardly get up on Jasper. And he complains about carrying my weight around.”

Tolly pulled in the comers of his mouth and retorted, “You can’t possibly weigh any more than you did when you came here.”

“My pants have trouble zipping up.”

Tolly gasped. “Those house cleaners found your pants and washed them in lye?”

Cliff replied earnestly, “I hopc that’s what happened. I’d hate to starve myself and then find I wasn’t fattening but becoming a skeleton.”

And Tolly promised, “I’ll find out

Chancy volunteered, “Come upstairs and weigh on my scale. It’s accurate.”

Cliff looked at her naked-eyed and asked, “Your... scale?” He would get to go upstairs and see the rest of the house? Enter Valhalla? Actually see where she lay—dreaming of him? Sure.

She was saying earnestly, “I really don’t think you’ve gained any weight. You just haven’t been careful to keep your things neat and tidy.”

“In the laundry basket?”

“Oh. Well, they think they’re helping you in washing the clothes. You need to use the lock we gave you on the basket.”

“What kind of crew are they?”

“Very earnest.” She was serious. Then she was also earnest. “You didn’t see them.”

“No. I was off trying to unstick that da—recalcitrant bull. He was dragging his—belly in the mud His valuable...beily. All’s he did was bellow.”

Tom said, “We heard him,”

The rest at the table had to agree. One of the crew snorted in his laughter, but the rest were passably serious.

So Cliff went upstairs to Valhalla and was weighed. She said kindly, “It won’t be accurate just after a meal this way, but it will give you an idea of what you do weigh.”

And his weight was okay. His pants weren’t.

Cliff slid his eyes around Valhalla and memorized the layout of rooms. Then he went off down the stairs and out of the house on some ranch problem.

So Chancy took his discarded trousers to be replaced. It wasn’t a town, it was just a tent sale at a wide space in the road. They had automobile parts, tractor parts, rope and a gas tank. Just about nobody ever wanted gas. They had their own on their places. Of course, there was the occasional traveler who tried the endless two-lane highway. They were the ones who needed the gas.

In that place, the things they had on hand were jeans and shirts and wide-brimmed hats. They had boots. It was where Chancy shopped. They didn’t carry dresses. There weren’t that many women around that particular area. If they wanted dresses they went to Uvalde.

The strip shops did have other things. There were saddles and blankets and guns. The guns were not readily available. They were hidden. And they were only shown to known people from right around there. Otherwise, they were not openly a part of the stock.

Once, they’d been held up. And one of the men had been shot—for guns.

There was a big sign out on the road showing what they had and at the bottom was: No Guns.

It was a lie, but nobody that was a stranger ever saw one for sale.

Chancy showed the trousers at the place she could buy jeans. It showed the waist was a size 38.

Pete laughed. “Did you wash these.” And it wasn’t a question. Nobody, who knew her, thought Chancy was domesticated. She could well louse up anybody in any household skill.

She replied in a stilted manner, “The cleaning crew. Cliff apparently forgot to put them away.”

Pete grinned. “That crew ought to have a slice of my sales. They get me more business from them than any other way. Most people would just wear their jeans to rags. That crew gets them into new jeans regular.”

She ignored his comment and just said patiently, “Give me three pair that are actually 38 at the waist. That’ll hold him ’til he can come in for himself.”

So Pete inquired, “What d’you want me to do with these? They’re still in good shape.”

She said quickly, “I’ll take them.”

“The waist’s too big. There’s nobody out at your place that can fix these to fit.”

“I’ll wear a belt.”

That was when the word went around that Chancy was interested in Cliff, her new head. That got a lot of good smirking laughs.

Sometimes people just don’t have enough to think about.

Her face kind of pink, Chancy took Cliff’s shrunken jeans, a new web belt for him and his new pairs of jeans back to her car. She drove back to the ranch. There, she put the three trousers and the new belt in his room before he came into the house that evening.

In the meantime, she measured, cut off the bottoms of the legs on his old jeans and put them on. They were close. A belt did it. He’d never remember that once they had been his jeans.

But he did. He looked at her wearing his shrunken pants and he opened his lips to breathe more quietly. His bottom had been there. His sex had been there. She was in his pants. Boy, was she ever in his pants.

Chancy mentioned, “So you recognize your jeans?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m surprised. They don’t fit you anymore. So I cut these off. See? I can wear them.” She lifted her arms and turned around. She had a sassy backside.

She could “wear” him!

His hands were back in his pockets. They were there so much lately that the hands both thought they belonged in his pockets. Women are a nuisance.

So Cliff called his sister in San Antonio.

His sister said with an impatient sigh, “Now what.” That wasn’t a question. His sister then was silent, just waiting for—whatever. Her name was Isabel. She was a year older than Chancy. It was tough being sister to a man like Cliff. It meant a lot of phone calls from anxious females.

So Cliff told Isabel, “You need to come on out here and visit for a while. It’ll enhance your attitude and let you see how other folks live.”

“I don’t care how ‘other folks’ live!”

“This will be an expanding experience.”

And Isabel groaned, “Some woman’s after you and you want me to help you escape.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“You want me to help you with a wo—”

“This female doesn’t realize she’s actually a woman. She thinks she’s as good as any man and she tries to prove that all the time. She isn’t pushy. She just pitches in very earnestly and thinks she’s helping.”

Isabel protested, “Oh, for crying out loud!”

He gasped in admiration. “You’re cleaning up your cussin’. Somebody around I ought to know about?”

“Our parents live here also. They are underfoot. I don’t need another custodian!”

His voice level, he told Isabel, “You’re kin to me and you owe me for getting you out of that mess with Buford. Come on out here and quit moaning and groaning that way. You carry on thataway and you’d be a bad influence with an innocent girl.”

“Buford was not a mess. You just happened to come at a good time. I could have handled him with one hand tied behind my back.” And she didn’t stop but went right on, “So she’s innocent? If you think I’m going to convince her you’re a safe date, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

He sighed with great patience and told his sister, “She doesn’t know to wear dresses.”

“Uhhhhh. What does she wear?”

“Right now, it’s my old jeans.”

“What’d she—wear—before your jeans?” she asked with some intent curiosity.

“Hers.”

“She slid out of her jeans and wore yours?” Isabel gasped in riveted shock. “What all have you all been doing out there?”

“Not nearly enough.” Then he just went on, “You need to teach her how to be a girl.”

“What is she—now?”

“She was raised by a crew and her daddy. He died a couple of years ago. She doesn’t know how to be—feminine.”

“In a male crowd like that, who would? But don’t worry. She’ll come around. Kiss her.”

“Well, now, I think that’s a very good idea. But I’m not at all sure she would understand if I tried that. There aren’t any women out this way.”

“Big brother, if there is a TV out there, she’s seen a kiss. She knows what it would be. Mother says TV isn’t the innocent it once was. Try it.”

“Isabel, be a good sister and come out here and help me to help her.”

“I don’t want to come out to some hick ranch and guide an innocent into your bed. I have morals.”

“While I’m pristine and pure, I know all about your morals. I went to Fred’s that time and saved your hide. Remember that?”

“Yeah.” There was a silence. Isabel said, “I remember.” And the silence came again. She said, “I owe you. I guess. Okay. What do you want me to do?”

With great patience, he reiterated, “Come out and teach her to be a female woman.”

“Turn back the bed covers and tell her to strip?”

“Sister, sister, you’re a-way off the track. All’s I want is for you to teach her to wear dresses, maybe even use a little makeup. Help her to let her hair grow and act like a woman. And get her out of our hair! We can’t even talk natural but what she’s around and we have to watch our language.”

With her eyes then slits of suspicion, Isabel asked in a deadly voice, “Does she chew tobacco?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“On my honor.”

“You haven’t brought that honor part up in a while. Tell me what your roll is in this reforming of a neophyte?”

“So you realize she is one.”

“I want to know the ramifications. If this is a passing fancy so that she is going to sink me in a flood of tears and the weight of bystander guilt, I want to know now.”

Being underhanded and sly, he then used her nickname. He said in an honorable voice, “Is. All I ask is that you teach her to be a girl and wear dresses—”

“Good gravy.”

“When you meet her, you’ll understand. Teach her how to wear a little makeup and comb her hair.”

Suspiciously, his sister asked, “Does she have head lice?”

“The only reason I haven’t hung up the phone on you is that I have no one else to ask to help her be a lady. Or just act more female and leave us alone to talk like we want. You can be a lady when you want to. Momma did a good job on you. You are a lady.”

“Why are you asking me to do this?”

“I want her to know what a precious woman she is. Just like all the other women we men are so lucky to see and know. I want you to influence Chancy.”

“Why is she named...Chancy?”

“Her parents were—different. Her daddy named her that at birth.”

“Why.”

“I wasn’t there. I have no idea. I like her. I would like you to help her at this age. She is—”

“At...what age.”

“She’s twenty.”

“And she doesn’t wear dresses? She must be rather feebleminded.”

“No. She was raised in a different atmosphere than you. She has had no instruction in being a woman.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“As I understand it, her mother died when she was a child. I believe it was at three or four years old.”

“Awww. That would be tough.”

And that was what lured Isabel into agreeing to help out. She was a pushover for an orphan.

So Cliff asked Chancy, “Would it be okay if my sister came to visit for a while? She’s from San An-tone and never been on a real ranch. It would be interesting for her.”

Chancy’s eyes widened. “She’d come here?” She’d never had any female guests.

“If that’s okay with you.”

And with a totally stark face of panic, Chancy asked her foreman, “How do I do this? Where would she stay? I’m not sure what to do.”

And instead of taking over and deciding everything for her, Cliff was quick enough to suggest, “Ask Tolly.”

“Yes! That’s a good idea! I’ll go find him now.”

And Cliff’s eyes followed her as she went quickly from the room. It came to him that Chancy had never had female company! Think of that! For a woman.

Chancy had had no trouble finding a place for him. She’d even bought him pants. It hadn’t been any big deal. But now his sister was coming, and Chancy was absolutely thrown off kilter. She was excited. Pleased. She didn’t know what to do. Think of that. She’d never had a female guest?

That was a thoughtful several minutes, sinking into Cliff’s understanding, then he smiled a little. Isabel would handle it all. And he went off outside, whistling. Chancy would be solved by his sister. Now she’d be busy doing something female and leave the place to the men. They could talk their own way and it would all be easier.

Cliff had read Chancy’s conduct very well indeed. She was thrown for a loop. She told the cook, Tolly, “What’ll I do?”

And he asked in a superior manner with somewhat lifted eyebrows, “About—what?”

“Cliff’s sister is coming to visit. Where’ll we put her?”

Tolly was included, that way, in responsibility. So he suggested, “Upstairs in one of the vacant rooms? They are pristine, as usual. That team scrubs them down to the wood and then waxes them. Any of the rooms is ready.”

“Yes.” It was as if she hadn’t realized one of those rooms would be just right. Since she’d never had female guests, those rooms had been empty.

She would have someone else upstairs! And she smiled. She hummed. She cut flowers. That made Jim hostile and competitive. Those were his flowers.

He asked the humming woman, “What the hell are you doing? Just answer me that.”

And she blinked and said, “I’m having a guest come stay!” And she grinned widely with delight.

“Who’s he?” Jim’s eyes squinched in suspicion.

And Chancy laughed as she explained with delight, “He’s a woman!”

Jim narrowed his eyes and asked suspiciously. “One of them I’ve read about?”

“No. A real one! She’s coming to stay a while. She’s Cliffs sister!”

“Well, what do you know about that!” And he was taken aback. “Are you using the gladiolas?”

“No. I thought the bluebonnets and the firewheels with a little of the fern would be so pretty.”

He gasped in true shock, “You’d cut them bluebonnets? They don’t last! They’re fragile.”

“She’s special. Her name’s Isabel and she’s my first woman visitor. I’m so excited.”

“Don’t cut the bluebonnets ’til just before she comes. They wilt. They’re the real McCoy and they don’t take to being cut. It’s like men and bulls. Cutting takes a lot out of them.”

She sighed with great forbearance. “See if you can watch your language when my guest is here?” That was a questioning statement. It appeared to share the knowledge instead of stridently directing. She was not at all subtle.

Jim squinted his eyes and said, “You could take some of the daisies. They’ll last longer.”

And she had the gall to reply, “Tomorrow.”

The gardens were for bouquets. They had always been there. But since Chancy didn’t particularly care about bouquets, Jim had become used to his flowers being pretty bouquets—outside. To have the flowers—cut—off—thataway wrenched his heart and joggled his feeling of ownership. Chancy was intruding into his territory.

Jim followed her around gasping and protesting, and she heartlessly put bouquets into his arms and appalled him completely. The garden looked like it had mange. Like a miserable dog that had splotches of hair missing.

Inside the house, there were bouquets everywhere! Even on the backs of the toilet tanks. That was different.

At the supper table, Tolly inquired with great tact, “Perhaps there are too many bouquets?”

“No.” She was sure.

And Jim smothered a pitiful groan.

One of the hands said, “I can’t see Will.”

And she retorted, “You don’t need to see Will. Look at the bouquet.”

“I see flowers all the time, everywhere this time of the year, outside.”

And Will had to mention, “I feel like I’m laying on the ground, half dead, and on my way out of the universe. It’s like a funeral.”

Chancy was snippy. “It’s a welcoming to a visitor.”

“This woman. What’s she like?” And their eyes squinted with suspicion.

Cliff replied, “She’s my sister.” He’d already called her and warned her about the flowers. He’d told Isabel, “Be kind. She’s very pleased you’re coming. The flowers are overwhelming. Be tactful.”

His sister had sighed and replied, “Somewhere along the years, you’re going to repay me this time I’ll be with her.”

And Cliff said something stupid. He said, “You’ll love her.”

Any man saying that to any woman sets her back up—just like that! Men are unpredictable and almost always stupid. No tact. None at all!