“I wouldn’t touch her in a blind fit,” the older man said haughtily. “I just want to work out my notice and get the hell back to Billings, where people are more civilized.”
“Good idea,” John replied. “Follow it.”
He turned on his heel and went back to Sassy.
She looked even more nervous now. “What did you say to him?” she asked uneasily, because Tarleton looked at her as if he’d like her served up on a spit.
“Nothing of any consequence,” he said easily, and he gave her a tender smile. “Got my order ready?”
“Most of it,” she said, obviously trying to get her mind back to business. “But we don’t carry any of this grass seed you want. It would be special order.” She leaned forward. “The hardware store can get it for you at a lower price, but I think we will be faster.”
He grinned. “The price won’t matter to my boss,” he assured her. “But speed will. He’s experimenting with all sorts of forage grasses. He’s looking for better ways to increase weight without resorting to artificial means. He thinks the older grasses have more nutritional benefit than the hybrids being sowed today.”
“He’s likely right,” she replied. “Organic methods are gaining in popularity. You wouldn’t believe how many organic gardeners we have locally.”
“That reminds me. I need some insecticidal soap for the beans we’re planting.”
She hesitated.
He cocked his head. His eyes twinkled. “You want to tell me something, but you’re not sure that you should.”
She laughed. “I guess so. One of our organic gardeners gave up on it for beans. She says it works nicely for tomatoes and cucumbers, but you need something with a little more kick for beans and corn. She learned that the hard way.” She grimaced. “So did I. I lost my first corn planting to corn borers and my beans to bean beetles. I was determined not to go the harsh pesticide route.”
“Okay. Sell me something harsh, then,” he chuckled.
She blushed faintly before she pulled a sack of powerful but environmentally safe insecticide off the shelf and put it on the counter.
Tarleton was watching the byplay with cold, angry eyes. So she liked that interfering cowboy, did she? It made him furious. He was certain that the new foreman of the Bradbury ranch had talked to someone about him and passed the information on to McGuire, who owned this feed store. The cowboy was arrogant for a man who worked for wages, even for a big outfit like the Callisters’s. He was losing his job for the second time in six months and it would look bad on his record. His wife was already sick of the moving. She might leave him. It was a bad day for him when John Taggert walked into his store. He hoped the man fell in a well and drowned, he really did.
His small eyes lingered on Sassy’s trim figure. She really made him hot. She wasn’t the sort to put up much of a fight, and that man Taggert couldn’t watch her day and night. Tarleton smiled coldly to himself. If he was losing his job anyway, he didn’t have much to lose. Might as well get something out of the experience. Something sweet.
Sassy went home worn-out at the end of the week. Tarleton had found more work than ever before for her to do, mostly involving physical labor. He was rearranging all the shelves with the heaviest items like chicken mash and hog feed and horse feed and dog food in twenty-five and fifty-pound bags. Sassy could press fifty pounds, but she was slight and not overly muscular. It was uncomfortable. She wished she could complain to someone, but if she did, it would only make things worse. Tarleton was getting even because he’d been fired. He watched her even more than he had before, and it was in a way that made her very uncomfortable.
Her mother was lying on the sofa watching television when Sassy got home. Little Selene was playing with some cut-outs. Her soft gray eyes lit up and she jumped up and ran to Sassy, to be picked up and kissed.
“How’s my girl?” Sassy asked, kissing the soft little cheek.
“I been playing with Dora the Explorer, Sassy!” the little blond girl told her. “Pippa gave them to me at school!”
Pippa was the daughter of a teacher and her husband, a sweet child who always shared her playthings with Selene. It wasn’t a local secret that Sassy could barely afford to dress the child out of the local thrift shop, much less buy her toys.
“That was sweet of her,” Sassy said with genuine delight.
“She says I can keep these ones,” the child added.
Sassy put her down. “Show them to me.”
Her mother smiled wearily up at her. “Pippa’s mother is a darling.”
Sassy bent and kissed her mother’s brow. “So is mine.”
Mrs. Peale patted her cheek. “Bad day?” she added.
Sassy only smiled. She didn’t trouble her parent with her daily woes. The older woman had enough worries of her own. The cancer was temporarily in remission, but the doctor had warned that it wouldn’t last. Despite all the hype about new treatments and cures, cancer was a formidable adversary. Especially when the victim was Mrs. Peale’s age.
“I’ve had worse,” Sassy told her. “What about pancakes and bacon for supper?” she asked.
“Sassy, we had pancakes last night,” Selene complained as she showed her cut-outs to the woman.
“I know, baby,” Sassy said, bending to kiss her gently. “We have what we can afford. It isn’t much.”
Selene grimaced. “I’m sorry. I like pancakes,” she added apologetically.
“I wish we could have something better,” Sassy said. “If there was a better-paying job going, you can bet I’d be applying for it.”
Mrs. Peale looked sad. “I’d hoped we could send you to college. At least to a vocational school. Instead we’ve caused you to land in a dead-end job.”
Sassy struck a pose. “I’ll have you know I’m expecting a prince any day,” she informed them. “He’ll come riding up on a white horse with an enormous bouquet of orchids, brandishing a wedding ring.”
“If ever a girl deserved one,” Mrs. Peale said softly, “it’s you, my baby.”
Sassy grinned. “When I find him, we’ll get you one of those super hospital beds with a dozen controls so you can sit up properly when you want to. And we’ll get Selene the prettiest dresses and shoes in the world. And then, we’ll buy a new television set, one that doesn’t have green people,” she added, wincing at the color on the old console TV.
Pipe dreams. But dreams were all she had. She looked at her companions, her family, and decided that she’d much rather have them than a lot of money. But a little money, she sighed mentally, certainly would help their situation. Prince Charming existed, sadly, only in fairy tales.
* * *
The architect had his plans ready for the big barn. John approved them and told the man to get to work. Within a few days, building materials started arriving, carried in by enormous trucks: lumber, steel, sand, concrete blocks, bricks, and mortar and other construction equipment. The project was worth several million dollars, and it created a stir locally, because it meant jobs for many people who were having to commute to Billings to get work. They piled onto the old Bradbury place to fill out job applications.
John grinned at the enthusiasm of the new workers. He’d started the job with misgivings, wondering if it was sane to expect to find dozens of laborers in such a small, economically depressed area. But he’d been pleasantly surprised. He had new men from surrounding counties lining up for available jobs,