by A. Anders
“You must be Miss Jamison,” a rough voice said.
Danielle lifted her head just a bit finding scuffed cowboy boots and faded blue jeans. “Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m Tim Slade, foreman at your father’s ranch,” he answered. “You got luggage?”
“Yeah,” Danielle replied, in a tone of bored disinterest. Of course she had bags. He didn’t really think she came out here with only her purse, did he?
“You best get them and come on, then,” the foreman said brusquely. “We got work waiting.”
That got Danielle to lift her head and gape at him. He was about her father’s age, but his face was weathered by sun and wind. His expression made it seem like he had never smiled or laughed in his life. “By myself?” she demanded.
He lifted a hand to push the brim of his hat up a little. “Your father said you were a strong-willed one. I figured you wouldn’t need any help.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” she retorted, slowly standing. “I got sent out here for two weeks and I brought a lot of stuff. I need a hand with my things.”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll go find you a cart,” he said dryly.
Danielle lifted her chin as he turned. He wasn’t planning on making her do it, was he? What kind of man was he? She couldn’t believe this. It just wasn’t fair.
Tim just stood and watched as she got her bags piled on the luggage cart, then didn’t offer to pull it for her despite how heavy it was. She hauled it after him to the doors and outside. To her dismay, but no real surprise, he led the way to a battered pickup truck. He dropped the gate and got into the cab without even offering to help her put her bags into the flatbed.
Danielle had to dig in her purse for her sunglasses. The light was so bright she thought for sure she was going to throw up right there on the sidewalk. Once the shades were on, she felt a little better. She muscled her bags into the bed of the truck by herself, and that made her feel a little better still. She didn’t need old Mr. Slade’s help. But when she tried to get the gate closed, it just banged down again, making her head throb.
“I’ll get it,” he said waving her toward the cab like he was doing her a huge favor.
Danielle climbed up into the passenger seat and hauled the door shut. Leaning back, she sighed in relief. After a moment, she opened her purse retrieving her phone and cigarettes. But before she could light up, Mr. Slade objected.
“Not in here, you don’t,” he said climbing into the cab and starting the engine. “You might as well just throw them away. We don’t allow smoking on the ranch.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle demanded. “You can’t tell me I can’t have a cigarette anywhere for two weeks.”
“Your parents’ orders,” the foreman replied, not looking at her. “Did you call them yet?”
“No,” she said, sulking and slumping in her seat.
“Best do that, then. Other thing you can’t have on the ranch is that fancy phone of yours.”
“What!”
“Ask ’em yourself.” Slade had both hands lightly on the wheel, and Danielle could swear he seemed amused by her outrage. “You’re out here to work, missy, not for vacation.”
Danielle called home, and her mother answered. They got into an argument at once dragging her father onto the other line. It was no use, her parents were firm. They had been worried about her, and this was their solution. They figured forcing her to work at the dude ranch, without her phone, without cigarettes or drinking or anything fun at all, would make her into something different. What that would be, they didn’t say.
“Why do you hate me?” Danielle cried.
“Honey, we don’t hate you,” her father said. “Don’t you see? Every time we try to help you, you say we hate you.”
Her mother started to say something but Danielle just hung up. They always said the same things. They wouldn’t let her have any fun. They were always so down on her. They didn’t remember anymore what it was like to be young.
It was almost an hour to the ranch from the airport, and she cried nearly the whole way. The foreman said nothing, but as they neared the turn-off from the county highway, he took some pity on her at last.
He stopped the truck just before the traditional arch that spanned the private road for the Big-J Ranch. When Danielle looked at him, Mr. Slade said, “If you wanted to hop on out here and have yourself a last smoke, I suppose no one would see you. Just make sure you don’t leave the butts burning.”
“Thanks,” she said, scrambling for the door latch.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’ll take your things on up to the house. Don’t dally too long. Like I said, we got work waiting.”
Danielle got out and frantically lit a cigarette. The truck was gone before she knew it and she leaned against the split-rail fence. She felt dizzy from the bliss of nicotine. Her parents, the flight, it was all very stressful. At least her hangover was just about gone. And feeling her mind clear, she looked around and noticed how pretty the sky was here. It was bluer than she could have imagined. It was never this blue in New York.
Danielle got out her phone, but saw at once she had no bars. ‘Figures,’ she thought sourly. It didn’t matter if her parents said she could have it or not. Out here in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t have service. She could get bitten by a snake or attacked by bandits or something, and she wouldn’t be able to call for help. ‘That would serve my parents right; sending me off like this,’ she thought.
She sighed, dropped the end of her cigarette, and remembered what Mr. Slade had said about not leaving them burning. The grass around did look really dry. She stepped on it, then got out another and lit it. If she wasn’t going to be able to smoke, she might as well have a few while she could.
It had been nearly two hours since he had unloaded the girl’s luggage from the truck onto the porch. He had run out of things to do that kept him within sight of the road. She had yet to show up.
“Owen!” the foreman called. His son trotted over at once, still coiling a lasso as he did. “That girl is still by the road, I bet. Go on down and get her.”
Owen nodded. His father had warned him about Danielle Jamison’s visit. The owners of the ranch were real nice people. Mr. Jamison’s family had owned the place for generations, and the Slades had worked for them from the beginning. But what he had heard about Danielle wasn’t anything good; a spoiled, rich, city girl. This was her first visit to the ranch, and it wasn’t because she wanted to be here. His father expected her to be trouble and already she was proving him right.
Owen finished coiling the lasso and slung it over his shoulder as he headed down the private road. They knew how to handle high-spirited fillies. If this girl needed some hard work and fresh air to get her head straight, then that was what she would get.
As he neared the county highway, a chill shot though his spine. He didn’t see anyone. Wondering if she might have run off or even hitched a ride into town, he pushed his hat up and scratched his head. His father had warned him she was a bit wild. Wild enough to risk getting a ride with a stranger just to buck her parents? He knew that city kids did crazy things, but he hoped she wasn’t that crazy.
As he got closer to the arch, though, he saw her. She was sitting on the ground, back against one of the big rocks, as if she didn’t have anything better to do than laze around all day.
“Hey,” he said, shrugging the rope off his shoulder and letting it drop into his hand. She didn’t move. “Miss Jamison. Come on. Time to get to work.”
She seemed to be ignoring him. He got closer and saw her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep, leaning against the boulder. He shook his head bemused. What kind of person just falls asleep on the side of a road like that? He had half a mind to leave her there. He knew he couldn’t, though. His father was expecting him to get her to work. Still, he took a moment to look her over before waking her up.
She was a couple of years younger than him, but from what he had heard, she still acted like a high-sch
ool kid. Her hair was dark blonde, except in a few places where it had been dyed purple, red and electric blue. It looked like she was still wearing the make-up from the night before, heavy and dark around her eyes. She was a plump girl, her round cheeks relaxed in sleep, ample bosom rising and falling in deep breaths. ‘A shame she was a spoiled rich girl from the city,’ he thought liking what he saw.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Owen said sharply. “Time to get up.”
Danielle jerked awake. “What?”
He smirked and tipped his hat up a bit in a mocking greeting. “Mornin’. Welcome to your new home for the next couple of weeks. Let’s get moving, huh? I got chores to get to.”
“All right, all right,” Danielle grumbled remembering where she was.
Danielle rubbed her eyes, wondered where her sunglasses had gone. Finding them in the dirt beside her, she blindly reached for them and was about to put them on.
“I won’t do that if I were you,” Owen said holding back a smile.
“Wouldn’t do what?” she asked trying to get her bearings.
“Put them on.”
Danielle looked up toward the voice seeing only the glare of the sun. Turning back toward her shades she slowly flipped them over. Finding a perched scorpion, she let out a piercing screech. But refusing to let go of her favorite pair of sunglasses, she waved her hand frantically until the creature flew off. Owen couldn’t help but laugh.
“And that is why you don’t fall asleep in the dirt.”
Danielle composed herself and turned her attention back toward the voice. Still not sure who it was she figured it was Mr. Slade. The sun was behind him so it was hard to see. But once she was on her feet, she saw she was mistaken.
This man was younger and much better looking than the foreman. He was tall and lean, with light brown hair and intense green eyes that pierced her like twin emerald needles. He was gorgeous and something told her that she shouldn’t let him know that she thought that.
“You’ll need to pick those up,” he said as Danielle starting walking toward the private road.
Danielle turned back toward him. His voice had more of a drawl than the foreman’s. It was cowboy sexy. And although she knew that she shouldn’t look to see what he was referring to, there was something about the tone of his voice that made her look.
Following his finger, she found her two cigarette butts. She knew what he was referring to but decided that she couldn’t let him bully her so easily.
“And do what with them?” she asked, looking back at him.
“Throw them out when we get up to the ranch,” Owen answered. “Maybe where you come from, people are happy to pick up after you. Around here, you’re gonna pick up after yourself.”
Danielle thought for a second before complying. “Fine,” she replied, a little frosty. Obviously he already had some sort of problem with her. There was something in her that didn’t want to make anything worse. So turning and bending over as he watched, she picked up the butts. With her round rump in the air, the whole thing felt humiliating.
Owen slung the rope over his shoulder as he admired the view. Definitely, this filly needed breaking. But at least she’d shown up in skin-tight jeans and an off-the shoulder blouse. It gave him a sexy image to hold onto for when the real headaches started.
“Let me have another before we go,” Danielle said, straightening up and opening her purse.
“Looks like you already had half a pack,” he replied. “You figure to just smoke your way outta working?”
“Come on,” she cajoled, gesturing with the cigarette. “Don’t be such a hardass. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
“Half the morning’s gone already,” he said, dropping the lasso into his hand again. “Do I need to wrangle you up to the house by force?”
She eyed the rope for a moment. Flicking her gaze to his face, she saw he wasn’t smiling. Somehow feeling like a little girl being chastised by her father, she put the cigarette back into the pack and put the pack back into her purse.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Danielle stomped up the private road and he walked along behind her whistling a cheery tune. She was sure he was doing it to torment her. When they got up to the house, he showed her the garbage bin she could toss the cigarette butts into. He then leaned against a hitching post and watched as she carried her bags into the house by herself. She couldn’t believe that he didn’t even offer to help.
Safely out of Owen’s sight, Danielle had hoped to buy herself more time by stretching out her settling-in. But immediately confronted by Mrs. Slade, the older woman showed her where her room was, then pointed her toward Mr. Slade who was waiting for her outside. When Danielle asked about unpacking, the older woman just shook her head.
“Bring in your bags and you can unpack later. Chores won’t wait. If you don’t get your chores done, you don’t eat. Those are the rules around here.”
Outraged, Danielle stomped back outside. Was that what this was about? Did her parents think she was fat? How dare they! But after another couple of trips back and forth, slamming the door and stomping every step, Danielle was panting and tired. Maybe she hadn’t needed so much stuff. How come nobody was willing to help her carry anything? It was all so unfair.
“That girl is gonna be a handful,” Owen observed as Danielle stomped back out onto the porch for the rest of her things.
“Sure is,” his father agreed. “You’re gonna be busy keeping her out of trouble the next two weeks.”
“Me?” Owen said, turning to look at the foreman with surprise. “Why me? What did I do?”
Tim chuckled. “I got a ranch to run. I Can’t be chasing after some city girl. Besides, you could use to learn some patience yourself. If she can’t help you learn it, I don’t know what will.”
“Come on, Pa –”
“Don’t ‘Pa’ me. It’s work hours and I’m your boss.” Tim’s gaze was level and humorless. “If you got a problem with your work assignment, then we can discuss it like adults. But if you’re gonna whine at me like a spoiled brat, then I’ll treat you like one.”
Owen dropped his gaze, sighed, then glanced up as the screen door on the porch banged again. Danielle had come outside once more, no longer stomping. She reached for the last bag, lifted it, then paused. He could see her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh before she opened the door and went back inside. She didn’t slam the door behind her.
“I don’t have a problem, sir. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Good to hear. Your ma will no doubt need her help by now with lunch. After that she’s all yours.” Tim slapped his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Two weeks from now when she goes home, that will be as good as getting a vacation. You’ll see,” Tim said with a smile.
“I got a sick feeling you’re right,” Owen grumbled.
“Cheer up, son. At least we don’t have any other guests to worry about right now.” Tim dropped his hand and checked his watch. “I gotta meet the vet. Go on and get back to your chores. I’ll let the women know you’ll be looking after Miss Jamison after lunch.”
When Mrs. Slade had told Danielle she would be helping with meals, it hadn’t sounded too bad; then she found out what all that meant. Everyone on the ranch ate in a big building like a barn. Although the house had a kitchen, it was almost never used.
The chuck hall had a huge kitchen like a restaurant. Mrs. Slade told Danielle that during the busy season, they might have a hundred guests. On top of the guests were twenty ranch-hands. Danielle had no idea how big her father’s prized dude ranch was. Whenever he spoke about it, she always pictured three people and a couple of horses. Standing in the chuck hall it felt more like an old timey cowboy town. Getting a better perspective of the place, she turned her attention back toward the old woman.
Mrs. Slade wanted the whole chuck hall cleaned before every meal. Every table and bench had to be wiped down. The dust got everywhere and it had to be cleaned off. It didn’t matter if nobody was
going to be sitting at that table, Mrs. Slade wasn’t going to stand for it not being cleaned.
Once Danielle was done with that, she was instructed to help in the kitchen. Then she helped with setting up the food in the hall and serving the food. The ranch-hands got served first. Only after they got their lunch was she allowed to sit down to eat. Exhausted and starved by then, she didn’t even care that the food was weird cowboy food.
Sitting back allowing the meat and potatoes to digest, she desperately wanted to sneak off for a smoke and a nap. Subtly trying to slip away, Mrs. Slade caught her directing her to wash dishes. There were a mountain of dishes, followed by a mountain of pots and pans. It was a nightmare. Never in her life had she done such a thing. Hadn’t these people heard of a dishwasher? By the end, her manicure was ruined. And just when she thought she was done, Mrs. Slade made her re-wash half of what she had already cleaned.
Finally, to Danielle’s surprising relief, Mrs. Slade stopped her and directed her to work outside with Owen. At least she wasn’t going to be washing anything else, she thought.
“This way,” Owen said brusquely, leading the way toward the barn.
“Ooh, horses,” she cooed. Finally something good was coming of this whole horrible trip, she thought.
“Something like that,” he agreed.
Grabbing a muck fork he directed her toward a stall. Entering it, she frowned finding it empty.
“Where are the horses?”
“Out in the pastures,” he answered. “You’ll need this.”
She took a quick look at the pitch fork and crossed her arms over her chest. “For what?”
“To clean the stall. Or you can use your hands. Most people would rather use the fork, though.”
“Oh, no,” Danielle said, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
Owen set the fork down and draped his arm over the top of the handle. “Miss Jamison, I wasn’t asking you. The stalls need to be cleaned. You’re here to work. Now you can clean them with or without the fork. Either way, you’re gonna clean ’em.”