Arrogant Devil(21)

“Really?”

“He sure can be a mean son of a gun.”

I’m still deciding if I actually heard him correctly—what exactly is a son of a gun?—when another ranch hand joins us.

“Chris! Why are you bothering this nice lady?”

“David, Meredith,” Chris says. “Meredith, David.”

We shake hands and David flanks me on the other side as we keep walking. Suddenly I’m surrounded by boots and twangs on all sides. David looks a little older than Chris, tall and lanky with a beard so long and thick my chin gets itchy just looking at it. I notice then that they’re both wearing matching work shirts with BLUE STONE RANCH monogrammed just beneath the left lapel. I wonder if Jack would have offered me the same uniform if I hadn’t already stolen his t-shirts.

“Meredith was just saying how Jack’s been a real asshole to her,” Chris informs David matter-of-factly.

Jesus! Keep your voice down. The guy probably has the place mic’d up or something. Just to be sure, I loudly and clearly enunciate, “I have not!”

David bumps his shoulder with mine. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it—everyone does. He’s a good boss, just can be a real mean sonuvab—”

“Gun?” I finish for him.

He winks. “Sure.”

“Where you stayin’?” David asks. “Downtown? Not much to rent around here unless you can afford the motel down off 173.”

“No, I’m staying on the ranch.”

They exchange a confused glance, and then Chris asks, “Here? You mean he has you up in the house with him and Edith?”

“No no no. He’s letting me stay there.” I turn and point toward my shack-sweet-shack nestled in the tree line behind the farmhouse. The distance has not softened its appearance. The last of the ancient window shutters—barely hanging on by one rusty hinge—finally breaks and falls to the ground as if on cue.

“Lettin’ you?” echoes David, laughing as he keels over. “You’re kidding! Where ya really staying?”

It takes a bit more convincing on my part before they actually believe me. Apparently even they wouldn’t deign to sleep there, and it makes me hate Jack even more than before. He made it sound like I should have been grateful for the provided accommodations.

“That ain’t right,” David says, shaking his head. “Does it even have a kitchen?”

“It’s really not so bad. I’ve been making do.”

Yesterday, for dinner, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while hovering over the sink. I would have sat on the bed, but the mice and spiders were embroiled in a vicious turf war.

“Last time I went in there, I saw holes in the floorboards.”

I nod. “Yeah, those are still there.”

One of them is so big my foot nearly fell through.

“Miss Meredith,” Chris says solemnly, taking his hat off and holding it over his heart. A look of deep concern is etched across his baby face. “As good Christian men, we can’t let you keep livin’ like that.”

My brows arch. “Do either of you have a better solution?”

He thinks hard about it. “Well, David here’s getting married soon, so he can’t have you movin’ in with him, and well, I still live with my parents or I’d invite you to stay with us. My mom got pretty mad the last time I brought a stray woman home.”

He says it like I’m a flea-infested mutt he found on the side of the road. Please Mom, can we keep her? She’s housetrained and everything! I don’t take any offense. Other than Edith, Chris and David are the two nicest people I’ve met so far in Texas.

“Well guys, I appreciate your concern, but I won’t be staying in that shack long. I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else.” We finally make it to the row of mud-splattered farm vehicles ranging from ATVs to trucks. “Now, can either of you get me the keys for one of these? I need to run down to the grocery store.”

David tips his cowboy hat. “You stay right here.”

While he’s gone, Chris gives me detailed directions for how to get to the grocery store. “Take the third left after the Lutheran church, and then the next right after First Baptist, and, now, if you see St. Mary’s, you’ve gone too far.” By the time I hop up behind the wheel of an old Ford truck, I think I’ll just let Jesus take the wheel.

Chris shuts the door for me and puts his hat back on his shaking head. “Godspeed Miss Meredith. We’ll figure something out for ya.”

I turn to the dashboard to see what I’m working with and try not to show my concern. The truck is from an era when designers figured getting impaled by a steel steering column was as good a safety feature as any. The seatbelt, which is draped loosely over my lap, has a few knots tying the pieces together.

“Are there any other trucks available? Maybe an automatic? It’s been a while since I’ve driven a manual.”

David frowns. “That’s all we’ve got. I’d give you a quick refresher, but Chris and I really gotta get back to work.”

Right, of course. I’ll have to make do. I will not march back into the house and announce to Jack that I’ve had yet another failure. He probably keeps a list of them stowed in his top desk drawer. It’s laminated, and he pulls it out from time to time just to make himself smile. Sometime soon, he’ll splurge and have it framed.