Authors: Bobbie O'Keefe
Lainie stood in the Western Emporium and stared down
a long aisle lined on both sides with hats: wide brims and narrow brims, tall
crowns and small crowns, fancy and plain, and too many colors to count. She was
surprised to note that what Reed and the other men wore was called a palm leaf
hat, which seemed a strange name for something with such a cowboy look to it.
Which marked her as a greenhorn.
Eventually she picked up a simple straw hat with a
medium crown, medium brim, medium-range price, tried it on and then nodded.
As she finalized her purchase, two women walked by,
looking for a hat for someone named Randy. His old one had flown out his
truck’s window and the car behind him had run over it.
Lainie laughed, then turned. “I’m sorry. I overheard
and—”
The talkative one, who looked close to Lainie’s age,
waved away her apology with a grin. “If something’s funny, you’re supposed to
laugh at it.”
Their resemblance made Lainie guess they were
sisters. Each was petite with expressive, light-green eyes, auburn hair with
deep-red highlights, and dark-brown freckles. They each wore what Lainie
figured must be the Texas uniform in a cow town: yoked shirts, jeans and boots.
The quiet one, who was apparently attached to Randy, appeared to be in her late
teens.
“I’m Jackie Lyn Cooper,” the older one said. “And
this is my sister, Bobbie Ann. What’s your name?”
Just like that. Small towns were nice. “Lainie
Johnson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Glad to meet you, too. Hope to see—” She snapped
her head to the side. “Bobbie, you know he’s too tall for that one. Get him a
wide brim if you want, but try that one over there.” Her attention swiveled
back to Lainie. “See you again. You just move in?”
Lainie blinked. Jackie’s speaking style resembled
rapid fire. “Uh, yeah. I was hired as secretary at the Lone Tree Ranch.”
“Bobbie, you hear that? She got that job you
wanted.”
Uh-oh.
“Don’t worry about that, though,” Jackie said, as if
reading Lainie’s mind. “The only reason she was interested was ’cause Randy
works out there. Don’t know how much work either one would get done if they
worked at the same place, and the old man mighta wondered the same thing. You
meet Randy yet? He’s the one tall as a beanpole and just as skinny—the one
that’s presently hatless.”
Before Lainie could answer, Jackie sighed and shook
her head. “Look at that. Girl couldn’t have found a more flamboyant one. Better
go talk her out of it.”
As Lainie headed for the rack of western shirts she
could still hear the sisters.
“Why don’t you try that one? Sure would be a better
one.”
“I’m buying the hat, big sister. I’ll choose it.”
Lainie grinned at the exchange while she checked out
the shirts. She chose one in pale blue, and a fancier one in black and white
checks with black braid trim. Then a third caught her eye. Vertical stripes of
differing widths in brick red, royal blue, bright-green and sunshine yellow
stood up and hollered
I’m no wallflower
. The yoke carried the same
colors in horizontal stripes. She added it to her collection.
Next were the boots, and she frowned as she eyed
them. The heel was high and wide and narrowed as it reached ground level. The
toe was pointed but her foot wasn’t, and the part that encased the foot was as
flexible as a rock. With her gaze on the boots and her mind on snakes, she
waited for the salesclerk to measure her foot.
“Something catch your eye?” he asked.
“Uh, no. What would you suggest?”
“You want fancy? Tooled? Alligator? Leather?”
“Something that a snake can’t bite through.”
“Get her a pair like the ones I’m wearin’,” said
another voice, and Lainie looked up.
“Don’t mean to butt in,” Jackie said. “But sounded
like you could use help.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lainie nodded at the
clerk, and he left to get the recommended boots.
“Saw the hat you got,” Jackie said. “Looked like a
good one. I see you’re outfittin’ yourself for Texas. Where are you from?”
“California.”
“So that’s what California sounds like. By the way,
I like your hair. Good color on you. Reason I notice is I own Jackie’s Style,
the hair salon across the street and down a ways. When you need a redo, come
see me. I can match that color.”
“Thanks. I will.”
The clerk returned and attempted to fit a boot onto
Lainie’s foot. Frowning, she twisted in her chair, trying to reposition her leg
in order to help. “That’s got to be the wrong size.”
Jackie Lyn grinned. “That’s the right size, girl. If
it was big enough to go on easy, it’d be too big.”
“You mean I have to fight with it every time to get
it on?” Once the second one was on, Lainie stood and took a couple steps. She’d
worn heels before, sure, but nothing like these. It felt like the outside of
the heel wanted to slip sideways and under, and as she compensated for that,
her balance teetered the other way.
Jackie Lyn smothered a laugh with her hand. “You’ve
never worn boots before.”
“Never liked them. Still don’t.”
“You’ll get used to them.” Jackie looked at the
clerk. “Good fit?”
“Yep.” He nodded his head once, still seated on the
short stool and looking bored.
The longer Lainie teetered around on the heels, the
more awkward she felt. “I don’t know about this.” She was a secretary, for
Pete’s sake, not a cowhand.
“Suit yourself,” Jackie Lyn said. “They’re good
boots for a good price.”
“No.” Decisively Lainie shook her head. She sat down
and stuck her foot out for the clerk to remove the first boot, and braced
herself to avoid being yanked off the chair.
The next morning she was on her second cup of coffee
when Reed appeared for breakfast. She’d waved at him yesterday, but that was
it. She’d eaten lunch in town and had then carried a sandwich to her cottage
for her evening meal. But it’d been worth it. She’d gotten her shopping done
and her house in order.
With a plate heaped with thick-sliced bacon,
scrambled eggs, grits and four biscuits, he settled in the chair opposite her.
“Saw you with your hat on yesterday. Looked good on you.” He paused and
grinned. “And that shirt you were wearin’ had enough color in it that it stood
out like a neon sign. But where are your boots?”
“Didn’t get them.”
Bottles of hot sauce, green and red, were scattered
along the length of the rectangular table. She watched him pour the mixture in
the red bottle over his eggs.
“You need them,” he said. “Even around the house.”
“I tried a pair on but didn’t like them. I’ll be
fine without them.”
“No.”
She frowned, wondering what he was refusing. He
continued eating, attention divided between her and his plate. “I beg your
pardon?” she asked.
He finished chewing, swallowed. “I said no. You
won’t be fine with something else. Has to be boots.” He washed the food down
with coffee.
He appeared perfectly serious. He really thought he
could tell her what she could and couldn’t do, and what she could and couldn’t
wear. She felt like saying
oh, yeah
?
Instead she said, very mildly, “Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
Well, now. What was the best way to handle this guy
and his attitude problem? For her sake, she needed to maintain her cool. His
sake she wasn’t much concerned with.
She settled back in the chair. “You’ve got a
good-sized bossy streak in you,” she said, pleased with her conversational
tone.
“Not bossy, just sensible. You don’t seem to
understand what I told you. Snakes are a hazard and you need boots. It’s that
simple.”
“You don’t seem to understand what I told you. I
don’t like them, don’t want them and won’t wear them. It’s that simple.”
He gave her the kind of look a patient school
principal might bestow upon a troublesome child. “Then you’re not planning on
riding horseback, I take it.”
“You take it incorrectly. I’ve ridden before, in
sneakers, and had no problem.”
“You won’t do that here. No boots, no horse. You can
drive your own car to town and back but nowhere else. There will be no
exploring by car, on foot or on horseback, until you’ve got decent protection.
In the form of boots.”
Lainie straightened her spine. “Cowboy,” she said
carefully, “you’re pushing it.”
“Yep.” He didn’t seem concerned about it. He lifted
his mug of coffee and drained it, put it down. “You can go to Miles if you
want, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Pushing his chair back with an unhurried
motion, he got to his feet and carried away his dishes.
Lainie watched his back until he was out of sight
and then she stared at the chair he’d vacated.
“Talk about
bossy
.”
The fact she hadn’t managed to rile him in return
only doubled the insult. She shoved away from the table. “We’ll see about that.
We’ll just see. You’ve got another think coming, cowboy.”
But Lainie was the one who thought about it.
Resentment didn’t go down easy, but as the morning
wore on, she finally managed to swallow it.
Yes, Miles would back up his foreman. And as much as
she hated to admit it, they were right. If there were snakes out there, she
needed protective footwear. It was that simple. So she’d get the stupid boots,
and she’d wear them when she had to.
And then she’d look for a way to put that cocky,
bossy cowboy in his place. The opportunity would present itself; all she had to
do was be patient and conniving.
Lainie spent her first day in the office trying to
make sense out of a filing system that didn’t exist. Cabinets made of rich oak
lined the wall next to her desk, and inside the drawers was a jumble of
outdated voting material, obsolete calendars, household account records,
business receipts, and personal correspondence.
One drawer was empty, and she frowned into the
hollow space, puzzled. Whatever had been stored in there, Miles evidently
hadn’t wanted to share with his secretary. Well...that was his prerogative. She
closed the drawer and went to the next one.
When she broke for lunch, she found out what
southerners ate for dinner.
Lined up on the buffet were platters of fried
chicken and thickly sliced baked ham, bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans,
corn on the cob, a vessel of country gravy, two kinds of bread, and peach
cobbler. Whew.
Lainie ate a ham sandwich, drank a glass of iced
tea, and went back to work. Miles joined her shortly, carrying a mug of
steaming coffee and a plate with a small amount of peach cobbler on it. He set his
plate atop the cabinet, sipped coffee, and curiously thumbed through files
remaining in the drawer she was working on. As if getting a sudden thought, he
gave Lainie a quick glance, then looked at the plate with its stingy amount of
cobbler.
“That’s mine,” he warned, and she grinned. “That’s
all I get, and it’s legal today. You go after that and you’ll lose your arm.”
“I believe you.” Pausing, she rolled stiff
shoulders. “I’ve tossed a lot of stuff. And I found an empty drawer, so what we
need to save is in there for sorting and filing later.”
His glance darted to the top left drawer, which had
been the empty one. She’d been right; he’d deliberately and recently removed
something.
“You’ve been at this a long time,” he said. “Isn’t
it time you called it quits?”
“Yep. After I finish this last stack, I’m going out
to the stables.”
“You’re not thinking about riding, are you?”
She gave him a quick glance. “Why do you ask?”
“Rosalie overheard you and Reed this morning.”
She grew still. “Gee, you’ve got a right small
community here.”
“The only reason she mentioned it is because she
thought you looked like you might have some temper in you. And I’m thinking
she’s right.”
“And if I do?”
“The hardest thing in the world to do is admit
you’re wrong when you’re in a temper. Take it from one who knows.”
Because of the long-standing estrangement between
Miles and his daughter, Lainie considered that statement to be hard truth. She
looked away, feeling sad. The feeling was incongruous to the subject at hand,
but she couldn’t deny it.
Then abruptly she returned to the present. “Don’t
worry about it. I already decided to buy the dad-blasted boots. Tomorrow. I’d
do it this afternoon but I refuse to give him that much satisfaction.”
He grinned. “You brighten up my life, little girl.”
While he savored his cobbler, Lainie returned to the
dwindling stack of papers, musing over how he’d addressed her. Little girl
denoted someone to be fussed over and protected and humored—which Lainie wasn’t
and did not wish to be—but it’d seemed like a casual endearment so she let it
go.