Chancy's Cowboy

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!

Three

Chancy was up half the night being sure everything was clean and neat and tidy. With their cleaning crew, her effort was useless. But she needed to know if the flowers were still alive. She about drove the bouquets beyond retrieval. She fiddled and arranged and poked at them so much. Too much.

But she won Cliff’s heart. That realization depressed him. He wasn’t ready to be won. He was just barely thirty.

He had some years yet to play and look and decide for himself. It wasn’t in his cards to be won this soon without a little more sampling and fooling around. He sighed and was bitter.

He moved in his bed and was glad his bed wasn’t above hers because, this way, she couldn’t hear his restlessness. If she did, she’d smile a sly smile knowing he lusted for her.

He listened but there was no sound at all from upstairs. She was probably out cold. What other ‘she’ was there? He sighed with remorse to be caught so young.

Of course, he was only just thirty. That was a little long in the tooth to be caught by a woman who was only twenty years old. Barely. Yeah. He wanted her bare. Rubbing against him, hungry with a greedy mouth and excited hands.

She didn’t even know how to flirt. She thought all men did was work. It apparently never occurred to her to smile or slide her eyes over or brush against him.

His body got more excited at just the idea.

Whoever would ever believe a man, his age, would be locked in the big house in an apartment of his very own. How was he supposed to bond with the crew? To find out what was going on with them and where all they went when they left the place?

He didn’t yet know where the women were around there. He only knew that one woman was where he was, and she was an innocent who was excited almost witless because another woman was coming to visit!