“Stella, wake up, it’s all right. Wake up,” he said softly.
“I’m not asleep. Make it go away. Kill it, Rance.”
“What?”
She tried to point without taking her arms away from her body. “Snake.”
He looked in the direction she was staring and there was a huge black snake curled up in the sun at the end of the picnic basket. He almost laughed but decided that would really upset her. “But, it’s just a black snake. They eat rats and don’t hurt anyone.”
“Kill it!” She demanded.
He picked up a stick, poked the snake until it awoke and slithered off toward a copse of pecan trees a few hundred feet away. Poor old snake would have to find a nice sunny spot to nap somewhere else. “Now it’s gone.”
“But it’s still alive,” she said through clenched teeth.
He tried to reassure her with a touch on her shoulder. “And it will eat field rats and other varmints.”
She shrugged his hand away. “I’m not afraid of a field rat or a house mouse or other varmints. I’m scared of snakes and I wanted it dead.”
“Okay, Stella. The next time you wake me up from a dead sleep screaming at the top of your lungs, I will grab the nearest club and bludgeon a harmless snake to death. I can’t believe you’re so afraid of a snake. You bait your own hook and even take the fish off. Bet you can even clean and fillet them, can’t you?”
She careful stretched her legs out. “Yes, I can.”
“Then what’s the big deal with a black snake? It isn’t poisonous,” he asked.
“All snakes are deadly. And there’re only two kinds. Cobras and rattlesnakes,” she said stoically.
“Oh, come on. There’s a million kinds of snakes and more that are harmless than the bad kind.”
“Nope, this is where we disagree. If it’s not a rattlesnake then it’s a cobra and I want them all dead. I don’t care if it upsets Mother Nature’s plan for the earth. I don’t care if there’s an overflow of mice. I’ll buy rat traps or let my cat, Patches, in the house to eat them. Snakes are horrible and I hate them.”
“Then we’ll disagree. I just can’t imagine you being afraid of anything. Does that mean we can’t ever fall in like? Since you think all snakes are pure poison and I disagree?”
She looked back over her shoulder. “It might. But I think we’re allowed to disagree on three things before we’re barred forever from falling in like. And snakes is only one, so we’ll have to fish a while longer and talk some more to see if there’s two more.”
He grabbed for a worm at the same time she did. Their hands brushed and his heart took another jolt like it always did whenever he touched her. He tossed his line out into the middle of the pond. If he caught that big grandpa he had no intentions of throwing it back in. He might put it in ice and take it home to have it mounted for the den wall at the ranch. Grandpa Catfish would have teased his last wiggle worm if he bit Rance’s hook. That might be the second thing they disagreed on. “Who makes up these rules?”
“I make up the rules as I go to fit the situation at hand.” She baited a hook and sent the bobble flying south of his. If she caught that big catfish her granny always said was the grandpa then she’d throw him right back in the pond. After all, they already had more fish than they needed for supper, and he’d lived in this pond longer than she or her grandmother could remember. And if Rance didn’t like her decision to toss him back that would be number two.
If she fell out of like with him at least her mother and sister would be happy as pigs in a fresh mud wallow. She cut her eyes over at him without moving her head. A strand of his perfectly cut hair had flipped down on his forehead and there was a smudge of dirt on the knees of his jeans. Her gaze traveled back up his long legs to his strong chin with just a faint cleft in the middle.
He felt her staring at him but shut his eyes and pretended to snooze while he waited on the fishing rod to jerk in his hands. He didn’t need to look at her to see her. Those silly overalls didn’t even detract from her beauty; all that thick blond hair, big crystal clear blue eyes, and delicate features for such a tall woman. Usually tall women were a bit masculine: not actually pretty, but more handsome. Not Stella. Her skin was that strange mixture of colors he’d only seen on porcelain statues; a fine grained light flesh tone with just an extra hint of pink in the cheeks. An artist would think he’d died and gone straight to heaven to have her model. Maybe sometime in the distant future, he would ask a portrait specialist to paint her for the space above the mantle at the ranch. He’d always planned to have a picture of Count Snoopy Playboy done to fill the space. A giant picture of the horse that had put Harper Horses on the map, but no doubt about it, one of Stella in an electric blue, flowing dinner gown would be nicer.
What in the devil am I thinking about? This girl won’t even tell me she likes me and I’m already hanging her picture in the living room.
“Why do you get to make all the rules? And anyway what made you so afraid of a snake?” Rance asked.
“I make the rules because I want to. And about the snake. You ever seen a spreading adder?”
“Is that a cobra or a rattlesnake?”
“It’s a cobra. Rattlesnakes have rattles and shake them. Everything else is a cobra. So have you ever seen one?”
“Of course. They’re puffers. Just spread out the head as a tactic to keep away predators.”
Stella shivered with the childhood memory. “Well, I was about seven and ran into the smoke house to hide from Maggie. Granny sent her outside to tell me to come to supper, and I thought I’d scare her when she came in the door of the smoke house. Only a spreading adder slithered up and blocked the door. I started screaming and Maggie couldn’t rescue me. She’s afraid of snakes as bad as I am. Anyway she screamed for Granny and I screamed because I was scared out of my mind. Finally Granny came running with a hoe and killed the snake. And I hate them, Rance. I really do.”
“I see.” He nodded and they fished another fifteen minutes in silence.
“Are you afraid of anything?” She asked.
“Failure.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean anything like snakes or spiders.”
“Nope, just failure, mainly, and maybe rejection which is a common thing with men folks.” He watched the red and white bobber twitch then ride the gentle waving water again.
“Why is it a common thing among men?”
“Because we’ve got this built in thing about rejection. It’s the reason we don’t ask pretty girls out when we’re teenagers. Fear of them saying no—I really don’t know how to explain it. It’s just there.”
“Failure?” She frowned.
“Sure, aren’t you afraid you’ll fail? Isn’t it a unisex fear?”
“Never thought about it. I have failed but I never thought about it beforehand. Never worried about it. Do you think that’s what makes forty year old men crazy? They’re afraid they’ll fail? It sure can’t be rejection because lots of them go after younger women at that age and most of the time they’re not as good looking as they were at twenty. Tommy surely isn’t. He’s got a bald spot on the top of his head and wrinkles around his eyes.”
“Tommy? That would be Maggie’s husband?” Rance tried to keep names straight in his new world. Dee was easy to remember. She was pregnant and as big as a small Angus heifer. Roxie? Well, that woman was so flamboyant a blind man would remember her.
“Yes, it is. Something out there is flirting with your bait. Might be a turtle the way it works.”
“Might be the old grandpa. Maybe he’s over forty now and all the fancy little ladies in the pond have rejected him and he’s heartsick.”
“Probably a turtle and you didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know the answer. I’m not forty and my hair isn’t falling out. I do have a couple of wrinkles around my eyes if you look closely, but until we fall in like you probably won’t get close enough to see them. Seriously, I don’t know, Stella. I’ve seen
it happen, too. Not only with men but women. Forty seems to be a crazy time in lots of people’s lives. A time when they’re finally past all the financial hardships of beginning a life together. The children don’t need as much care, and there’s more time for the adult. And then sometimes the man and woman find that in the working and living, they’ve grown apart rather than together.”
“I don’t want that kind of heartache. I’d rather live in my comfortable rut forever than face that kind of hurt again.”
He nodded. “I played basketball in high school and I fouled a lot. Used to bother me until Daddy told me one time that I wouldn’t foul if I sat on the bench the whole game. Then Garth Brooks came out with that song called “The Dance,” and I don’t think I’m making a bit of sense.”
“More than you’ll ever know. It’s time to take these two fishes to the house and clean them up for supper. I’m assuming you like fried catfish and not baked?”
“Fried. I’m a true southern redneck. I’ll help since I’m going to be eating there anyway.”
“And I never turn down help so you’d better be ready to work.”
“Sing for my supper, huh?”
“Play time is over and singing doesn’t accomplish as much as plain old work so forget the crooning. You can clean them out in the shed and I’ll check the roast that’s been slow cooking and get the rest of supper ready.”
“Fish and roast?” Rance raised an eyebrow.
She gathered up her own equipment. “Always offer two main courses. That way if someone hates fish, they have a choice.”
“Are you sure you won’t shut down the Inn and work for me? I’ll pay you double what you are making right now.”
“No thank you. And don’t be trying to steal Maggie out from under me either. She’s a better cook than I am and twice as fast with cleaning, but I’ve hired her and if you say a word I’ll poison your supper.”
“You are a vicious woman, Stella.”
“Don’t you forget it.” She crawled over the fence without help and hiked back to the path where he’d parked the truck.
By the time she got the table set, salad greens torn and crisping, homemade yeast bread sliced and the corn meal mixture ready for the fish, he toted an enormous bowl of catfish fillets in the back door.
“Kind of slow aren’t you?” She teased.
He set the fish on the bar in the kitchen and washed his hands with soap. “Hey, it’s been a while and that was a big fish.”
The oil was already hot so she rolled the first batch of fillets in corn meal and dropped them. They’d be ready when they floated to the top. Usually in less than five minutes. While they cooked she prepared the next round.
“What’re those red flecks?” He asked.
“Cayenne pepper. Granny Brannon taught me to put it in the meal mix.”
“Why? Doesn’t it burn your mouth?”
“Little bit. Have to make an extra pitcher of tea every time I fix it. Years ago she and Grandpa ran a small bar and everyone in this area fishes. So once a year they’d have this big fish fry. Grandpa would cook them in a big kettle out behind the bar and everyone could eat until the fish were gone for free. They didn’t charge a penny for the fish but the customers had to buy their own beer.”
“Aha,” Rance grinned.
“You got it. The pepper spiced up the catfish and they needed more beer to put out the fire. We don’t use nearly as much as Grandpa did, but a little bit brings out the flavor of the fish.” She scooped up what was ready, put it in an aluminum foil lined pan and shoved it in a warm oven.
“What else can I do?”
She pointed toward the living room. “Go watch something on television or read a magazine.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They were flirting. The way his eyes flashed left no doubt that more than friendship danced in the air between them.
Finally the boarders came bustling into the house, kids whining about being hungry, adults worn out from a busy day. She suggested they get washed up and be in the dining room in ten minutes. They were all seated by the time she put the last of the hushpuppies in a bowl and set them on the table.
“This looks wonderful. I’m so tired of sandwiches I could die,” one of the three men in the party said. “Is that real fresh catfish?”
“It was swimming in my pond this morning,” Rance helped himself to three fillets and passed it on.
“Wow, you guys went fishing like in the old days?” A little boy asked.
Rance added a healthy helping of fried potatoes and hushpuppies to his plate. “Yes, we did. Stella and I caught fish this afternoon while you were off at your reunion.”
“Man, I wish I woulda stayed here. The reunion thing was boring,” the boy said.
“Where are ya’ll from?” Rance asked.
“Pittsburgh,” one of the adults answered. “I’m Robert, this is my brother, Matthew, and that’s our youngest brother, James. The family all decided to come home for our grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary over near Davis. A bunch of them rented this lodge out south of Davis but there wasn’t enough room for all of us. So some of us are at the Cahill Lodge and the rest are here. We gather up during the day at the lodge in Davis and visit. There’s a pond there but we didn’t bring any fishing gear and I’m not buying that expensive stuff for one week.”
“You are welcome to borrow some of mine. You can buy bait in several places. I’d tell you to let the kids dig their own worms or catch grasshoppers but since it’s winter, that’s not a good idea,” Rance said.
“Wow! Dad, can we do that?”
A lady gingerly picked at a piece of fried catfish, not sure whether to cut it with a knife or pick it up with her fingers. “You sure you don’t mind? That’s really nice of you. By the way, I’m Kelly, Robert’s wife. This is Amanda, Matt’s wife. And the red head down there is Mary, James’ wife. Those two boys are mine . . . Chris and Tim. The girls belong to James . . . Lola and Macey. Not that you’ll keep all the names right and we wouldn’t expect you to. We’ll be glad to borrow your fishing stuff if you aren’t afraid they’ll break it.”
“If they do, it’s replaceable, but I’m sure they’ll be very careful.” Rance looked at the boys who were both nodding emphatically.
“Us, too?” Lola asked.
“Sure. I bet I can roust up four rods by morning. They’ll be sitting on the front porch.”
After supper the boarders disappeared into their rooms. Stella began carrying dirty dishes to the kitchen; Rance right behind her, a load in his hands.
“That was pretty nice, letting strangers borrow your fishing equipment,” she said.
“Wow, a compliment from Stella,” he teased.
“I can be nice and I do appreciate it. Guess I should buy some inexpensive gear for times like this. You want to take this leftover fish home with you for lunch tomorrow?” She asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“All of it?”
“Won’t let a single bite go to waste. It’s my turn to fix lunch for the work crew.”
“Hmmmm.” An idea popped up like a flashing neon light in the back of her mind. It would throw her around Rance even more, but it would make lots more money to share with Maggie. Besides if she kept her sister busy she wouldn’t have time to think about that scoundrel of a husband.
She filled plastic bags with leftover catfish. “I’ve got a proposition.”
Rance raised an eyebrow. “What kind of proposition?”
“Not that kind!” She read his mind.
“So what kind?”
She shook a dirty fork at him. “I’m not that kind of woman.”
“I’m joking. Get off your high horse and tell me about this proposition.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me either.”
“Are we fighting? Are we out of like?”
“Right now we are. Can you hush for five seconds and let me talk?”
He loved her dancing blue eyes when she was ang
ry. Wouldn’t it be fun to live with her and have the privilege of making up every time they had a fight?
Whoa, hoss! Where did that idea come from? Stella has made it perfectly clear she has no intentions of accepting anything more than one of those lifetime things. She dang sure wouldn’t move in with you. And you dang sure aren’t interested in anything else so toss that idea into the trash bin and forget it.
“Well?” She asked.
“I haven’t said a word in five seconds and you didn’t finish. What’s this big proposition anyway?”
“Maggie will be here tomorrow. I’ll have lots of help so until you can hire a cook, would you like to bring the crew over here for lunch?”
Without a moment’s uncertainty he began to nod before a word could escape his mouth. “Yes. Yes. Yes. You are the answer to my prayers, Stella. Bless your heart.” He grabbed her in a bear hug and danced around the kitchen with her.
She was breathless when he set her down and for a moment she thought he might kiss her again, but a split second hesitation and two blinks changed the mood.
“So how much is this going to cost me?” He asked.
“How many people are we cooking for?”
“A dozen. Thirteen with me.”
“Good lord. Where do you put them all? Are they all sleeping in the old Morgan house? I knew it was big but thirteen?”
“No, there’s a dozen men hired to help me run the ranch. Some are ranch hands; some are horse trainers. They all have rented houses in Sulphur, Davis and Mill Creek until I can get them places on the ranch. We’ll start with twelve trailer houses set around on the property. Then I’ll have a house a year built to replace them. First trailer won’t get here until after Christmas though. And I’ve got contractors coming in the spring to start the first house.”
“You can’t talk any of their wives into cooking? They could bring their lunch from home.”
“Trying to back out on a deal?”
“Not at all,” she said.
“My grandpa does business this way. Good pay. Good food. It keeps a man happy and happy men work harder for their bosses. We’ve always provided a sit down meal at twelve o’clock noon. Their wives are busy with their own families and besides it would cause problems.”
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