by Jennie Marts
She stood unsteadily on her feet, and he reached down for the broken heel, noting that her stockings may have been hot but they sure looked nice on her toned legs. City-girls in high heels did have great legs.
He handed her the heel. “Sorry about your boot.”
She shrugged. “Oh well. I guess I needed a new pair anyway.”
He shook his head as he bent to retrieve the bag of dog food. He knew it. That’s the way city-women thought. If something breaks or wears out, just throw it away and buy a new one. They didn’t seem to want to fix anything, just dumped the old one in the trash and replaced it with something new and shiny.
She hobbled her way toward the western shop, clutching her bulging purse in her hands. “I’ve got to catch up with my friend. She’s going to wonder what happened to me. See ya around.”
Not likely. He waved and watched the door to the shop close behind her well-shaped rear-end. She was nice to look at, but he knew she wouldn’t last more than a few weeks in Montana.
She’d get tired of small town life with no shopping and no restaurants. Broken Falls didn’t even have a movie theater. She’d miss the glamour and the lights, and she’d run back to the city.
They always did.
…
Limping into Tate’s Western Shop, Charlie’s senses were assaulted with the sight of colorful rodeo posters, the smell of leather, and the sound of soft country music playing in the background. Even she, who grew up on top-forty hits, recognized the deep timbre of her ranch hand’s namesake, Johnny Cash.
“What took you so long?” Sophie raced across the store, then stopped as she took in Charlie’s appearance. “What happened to you?”
She held up the broken heel and her overflowing purse. “I broke my heel and spilled my purse and met a cute–” She turned back toward the front windows, but the sidewalk was empty. She hadn’t found coffee, but she did find another hot cowboy. Did they just grow like weeds around here?
She shook her head. “Never mind. I was trying to find a Starbucks. I thought I could get us a couple of Frappuccinos.”
“You won’t find a Starbucks around here.” A pleasant looking woman in her mid-sixties sat on the floor amidst a stack of plastic hangers and a pile of empty cellophane wrappers. A half-empty box of western shirts sat open beside her. Purple glasses perched on top of her head, buried in a mess of soft, silvery curls, and she looked comfortable in faded jeans, a short sleeved western shirt, and a pair of leather moccasins.
Sophie plopped down on the floor next to the woman, who pulled her into a one-armed embrace.
“She’s from New York. I’m teaching her about Montana.” Sophie pawed through the contents of the box before pulling a teal blue shirt out and freeing it from its plastic packaging. She held it up to show Charlie. “Aren’t these shirts awesome? I love the colors. I’m helping Dotty hang them up.”
The woman passed a stack of hangers to the girl. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Sophie dropped the shirt she was wrestling onto a hanger and jumped up to pull Charlie closer. “This is not just my friend, she’s practically my sister.”
“Well, actually more like cousins, I think,” Charlie said.
Sophie introduced her as if she were the grand prize in a contest. “This is Gigi’s grandbaby, Charlie.”
The appraising stare turned into a grin as the woman pushed up from the floor and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Charlie. I’m Dorothy Tate, but most folks just call me Dotty. My husband and I run this store, and we thought the world of your grandmother. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Me, too.” She was surprised by the evident strength as Dotty squeezed her hand.
“So, what can I help you find today?”
Before she could answer, Sophie launched into a list of clothing items she thought Charlie should buy. “We need to get Charlie some cowboy boots and definitely some jeans and probably some shorts and some T-shirts. You know, she’s from New York and all she brought with her are these silky shirts and dressy pants and skirts and tons of high heels. Your clothes are gorgeous, Charlie, but you’re gonna be working on a farm, not in a bank. And obviously those boots aren’t gonna work. They didn’t even last a day in Montana.”
She waited for the girl to wind down. “And just how do you know about all these dressy clothes that I brought?”
Sophie blushed as she evidently realized she’d given her snooping activities away, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Well, Cash brought all those boxes and your suitcases in this morning, and you were asleep for a long time, and I may have just peeked a little bit.” She looked up at her from under too-long bangs. “Are you mad?”
Her heart melted at the sight of this girl, who see-sawed between a child and a teenager. Something about her touched Charlie.
Maybe she saw a little of herself in the girl, seeking acceptance and awed by the cool kid. Not that she saw herself as the “cool kid”, but she knew being from the city lent her an air of excitement to this young girl. “No, I’m not mad. Just ask me next time. And your punishment for snooping is that you have to help me unpack it all this afternoon, since now I see how excited you are about hanging things up.”
Sophie’s face broke into a grin, and her head bobbed up and down in agreement. “Oh, I will. Of course I will. I already cleared out some space in the closet and the drawers for you. You know, sisters always help each other with their clothes.” She threw her arms around Charlie’s middle.
“More like cousins,” she said, grunting as Sophie squeezed the breath out of her.
Dotty watched the exchange with an amused grin. “Sophie, why don’t you finish getting those shirts on the rack, and I’ll get Charlie started with some jeans.”
An hour and a half later, she stood before the register, a substantial pile of clothing on the counter before her. She’d never purchased jeans from stacks in little cubbies in the wall before.
She had two pairs of Levi’s, three pairs of shorts, a stack of T-shirts and tank tops in a rainbow of colors, and a shiny pair of hot pink pointy-toed cowboy boots. Debating between a pair of black ones that Dotty had found and the pink ones, she decided she’d had enough of standard black in her life and it was time to add some hot pink.
“Well, I think you’ve got a good start.” Dotty smiled as she began to punch the buttons of an old-fashioned cash register.
Charlie hoped so. Looking at the stack of clothing, so unlike anything she was used to wearing, she felt she was one step closer to making this dream of running a farm a reality.
“Wait,” Sophie said, squeezing between the racks. “She needs these, too.” She set a pair of blue flip-flops and a simple pair of white canvas sneakers on the counter. “And look at this shirt, it matches the boots.” She held up a pink, short-sleeved western shirt with a lining of light pink and white paisley.
“And I guess I need these.” She laughed and thought Sophie’s eyes shined almost as bright as the glossy pink pearl buttons marching up the front of her new shirt.
“And don’t worry about those white tennies,” Sophie said. “I know they look plain now, but I’ll bring over my Bedazzler later and we’ll fix ’em right up.”
Charlie and Dotty exchanged a look of amusement. Charlie had seen the infomercial for the little sparkly-adding machine and had wondered who in the heck would ever buy one. Evidently the demographic they were looking for was thirteen-year-old girls in the small towns of Montana.
Charlie handed over her credit card, mentally calculating how close she was to her limit. She could see the credit machine window and gave an inward sigh of relief when the word approved popped up.
She was amazed that this whole pile of clothes cost less than one outfit for a night of clubbing in New York. Maybe buying jeans from a square cubby in the wall wasn’t such a bad idea. And maybe spending so much on one outfit was. One more lesson learned in her new life.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Dotty,” Charlie ca
lled, as she and Sophie maneuvered through the front doors, their arms laden with bags.
Loading the bags into the back seat, she took a deep breath and looked around the town square. She had done it. She’d moved to a small town, without shopping malls and traffic and swarms of people rushing to their next destination.
She watched as an elderly couple walked into the restaurant, stopping to wave at the three women crammed into the bench on the sidewalk. Could she adapt to this slower pace of life? To no skyscrapers and no theater?
She was excited and terrified at the same time. But there was no turning back now. With her bank account a little lighter and a new wardrobe crammed into her car, she knew this was her life now. Town squares, cowboy boots, and lunch at a diner with a thirteen-year-old girl.
Bring it on, Montana. She slammed the car door and turned to Sophie. “Let’s go get that milkshake.”
…
Charlie flung herself backward on the bed. Maybe I should have gone a size bigger in these new jeans. She and Sophie had spent another few hours in town, and she’d let the girl talk her into purchasing the floral print sundress that hung in the window of The Lady Bug Dress Shoppe.
Sophie made a point of introducing her to every person they ran into, from the hardware store owner sweeping his sidewalk, to the three old women she’d seen earlier sitting on a bench in front of the dress shop. They smiled and looked her over, studying her with the precision of a scientist looking at a bug under a microscope.
They’d finished their shopping trip by filling up on cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes at Loretta’s Café, all of which were contributing to the snugness of the waistband of her new jeans.
Sophie had cleared space in the closet and several of the drawers, and they’d made quick work of unpacking her things and filling in the empty spaces.
Sophie had set aside a few of Gigi’s clothes that she thought Charlie might be able to wear, like the flannel shirt she pulled over herself now as she lay sprawled across the bed, debating if she should just go ahead and unbutton the top button of her jeans.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. “After all this shopping and unpacking, I think we’ve earned a nap.”
“We’ve got your clothes and shoes done,” Sophie said, pushing an empty box to the floor and flopping down onto the bed next to her. “But, we still have all your bathroom stuff.”
“Don’t you ever slow down?” She sighed and pulled the flannel shirt up under her chin. The now familiar smell of peaches surrounded her, and she felt herself drifting off.
“So, this is where all the hard work is getting done?”
Charlie’s eyes popped open at the sound of the male voice from her bedroom doorway. “We’ve been working all day, for your information. Shopping and unpacking can take a lot out of a girl.”
“Hi, Cash,” Sophie said, sliding up against the headboard, so the cowboy could sit on the end of the bed. “Not to mention going out to lunch, too. Sucking milkshakes through a straw takes a lot of effort.”
“I’m sure it does. Now I feel kinda guilty for taking it easy all morning, feeding the livestock and putting up hay.” He chuckled as he sat on the end of the bed and pulled Charlie’s bare foot into his lap. “How’s your blister?”
She marveled at the ease with which he plopped down on the bed next to them. Hadn’t anyone in Montana heard of personal space? And why was this guy always trying to touch her feet?
Friend-zone. Remember? She did not need the added stress of a playboy cowboy. Besides, right now, he was of more use to her on the farm than in the bedroom.
She pulled her foot free. “It’s better today. The ice must have helped.” She pushed herself into a sitting position next to Sophie, thankful now that she hadn’t unbuttoned her jeans.
“We got her some new clothes today and some better shoes for working on the farm. I picked out some white canvas tennies for her that I’m gonna take home tonight and Bedazzle.”
Her heart softened as she watched Cash give all his attention to the young girl. “Well, Charlie, my dear, you are in for a treat. You will have the best looking tennis shoes this side of the Mississippi because Miss Sophie here is a whiz with her Bedazzler.”
“So I hear,” she said. “I can’t wait.”
Cash smacked the bed with the palm of his hand. “If you two hardworking ladies have the time to throw some potatoes in the oven and shuck a few ears of corn, I was gonna throw some steaks on the grill in about an hour. I thought we could eat outside at the picnic table tonight. Sophie, can you join us?”
Sophie’s face lit up at the invitation. “Sure, nobody’s home at my house tonight anyway. I was just gonna have a sandwich. I’d love to stay for supper.”
“Well, I’m going to need you because I have no idea how to cook a potato, and I didn’t even know corn had ears, let alone how to shuck them,” Charlie said. Her comment held a note of sarcasm, but she was surprised at the excitement she felt about learning how to cook on the farm.
Sophie laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “I have a lot to teach her.”
He pushed up from the bed and tugged one of Sophie’s braids. “Yes, I believe you do. I’ll let you get to it. See you in an hour.”
…
Charlie pushed through the screen door, a bowl of macaroni salad in her hands. Although she wasn’t sure it could be called a salad after watching Sophie dump a half a jar of mayonnaise into the dish of cooled pasta.
Setting the macaroni on the table, she couldn’t help but be charmed at the impromptu picnic setting. Sophie had thrown a multi-colored cloth over the picnic table and put some wild-flowers in a mason jar as a centerpiece. An assortment of other jars and bowls surrounded the pasta dish. At least two mason jars contained some type of pickle, and a tall jar looked to hold peaches of some sort.
The tantalizing scent of grilled meat filled the air, and her mouth watered. She wore her hot pink cowboy boots along with one of the new sundresses Sophie had picked out.
Cash looked up from the steaks sizzling on the grill. “That salad looks good…and so does that dress,” he drawled.
She shifted from one pink-booted foot to the other and tried to decide if she enjoyed the too-obvious flirting of the cowboy or was annoyed by it.
As if reading her mind, Cash winked and turned back to the steaks.
Okay. Definitely annoyed.
The screen door slammed, and Sophie came down the stairs juggling a stack of plates with several bottles of water rolling around on top of them. “This should be everything. How close are we on the steaks, Cash?”
“Why do you have four place settings?” Charlie asked.
“Couple more minutes on the steaks, honey,” Cash said to Sophie, then turned his attention to her. “And we’re just waiting on Buckshot to join us. He’s finishing up with the horses, but he’ll be along in a few.”
“Who the heck is Buckshot?” she asked, hoping it was a “he” and not another barnyard animal. And what was up with these names? Had she just stepped into an old episode of Gunsmoke? Were Miss Kitty and the Marshall going to show up for the barbeque, too?
The sound of another door slamming mixed with the distant moo of a cow, and she turned to see an old cowboy walking toward them, a fairly pronounced limp in his right leg. He looked to be in his late seventies and was handsome in a rugged, tanned old-cowboy kind of way.
He carried a six pack, and his face broke into a grin at the sight of Sophie running toward him. She threw her arms around him in a bear hug, then took the six pack and squeezed it onto the already crowded table before heading back into the house.
Charlie was surprised to see the bottles in the six-pack were actually root beer. Then again, most everything about Tucked Away seemed to surprise her.
“Charlie, this is Buckshot Miller. He’s been the lead hand on this ranch for the last forty years.” Cash nodded and waved the barbeque spatula from one person to the other, by way of introduction. “Buckshot, this is Charlie, Gigi’s
grandbaby.”
The older gentleman removed his cowboy hat. He was well over six feet tall, but she could see he had a full head of wavy, silvery hair, still damp from the shower. His western shirt was pressed, and he smelled of soap and aftershave. “I am so pleased to meet you. I think you have your grandmother’s eyes.”
“Thank you. I wish I could have met her.” Tears welled in her eyes at the comparison to the woman she never knew, but who had been so generous to her.
Reaching out his hand, he smiled warmly. “You would have loved her. And she would have been so happy you are here.”
A breeze blew over the table, bringing with it a distinct scent of fresh peaches. “Does anyone else smell peaches?”
“Must be this peach cobbler.” Sophie walked down the porch steps, holding a square pan nestled in two crocheted hot pads.
“When in the world did you make a peach cobbler?” What exactly was cobbler anyway? Had she ever even tasted a cobbler before?
“Oh, it was in the freezer. I just heated it up.” She placed the pan on the table in a spot Buckshot had cleared.
In the freezer? Charlie thought about her freezer in New York and its meager inhabitants of a few frozen meals, a carton of Rocky Road ice cream, and her Bloomie’s card frozen in a block of ice. She’d defrosted the card before she left and tossed it in the bottom of her purse, not realizing the closest she would be to a Bloomingdale’s was a full day’s drive away.
“Well, it looks delicious, darlin’,” Cash said, speaking to Sophie but looking at her, while depositing steaming steaks onto each of their plates.
The group clambered into the bench seats of the picnic table. Charlie picked up her fork, marveling at the piece of meat roughly the size of Texas.
“Ahem.”
She looked up from her plate to see her dinner companions staring at her expectantly, their hands linked in preparation of a prayer. Whoops. Another new thing to get used to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said a blessing over a meal. She vaguely remembered a rhyming meal-time prayer her mother had taught her when she was young, but it had been a long time since she had prayed with her mom.
