Just Passing Through

Here's an excerpt from a fiction story that I have been working on.  Let me know what you think...

 

"I can't believe you fired Miss Lillian."  Lance Clayborne stood in front of the stainless steel refrigerator with both doors slung wide open and scowled at the bare shelves.  He was hungry, but all the huge Whirlpool fridge had to offer was a slice of dried out bologna, a few ounces of orange juice, and a single Coors Light.  He picked up the beer, hesitated, then put it back down and reached for the orange juice instead.  He always felt like his mother was watching him, especially in the kitchen, and she would probably have frowned upon a breakfast of beer.

"Lillian," Sam Clayborne scoffed.  "That old woman couldn't cook anyway."  He was sitting at the breakfast table, reading yesterday's newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.

"Yes, she could."  Lance unscrewed the cap of the orange juice and took a sip straight from the jug.  It was three days past the expiration date and so sour that it made his lips pucker.  He winced at the sourness and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.  "You just got mad 'cause she poured out your whiskey."

Sam glanced up from his paper and nodded at Lance.  "She should have minded her own business."  He rubbed his tanned, calloused hand over his salt and pepper beard and chewed on a piece of peppermint.  "I didn't hire her to lecture me about the evils of liquor or to save me by ridding me of the temptation to drink."  He folded the newspaper and slapped it down onto the large oak table.  "I hired her to cook and clean, not to nag."

"At least we had some food in the house when she was around," Lance said.  He turned the jug up, swallowed the last of the sour orange juice, and cringed.

Sam tried not to laugh at his son's face.  "Don't worry," he said.  "I'm going to town today to get some groceries."

"Maybe I should go with you."  Lance tossed the empty jug into the overflowing trash can.  "See if we can find a new cook."

"I'll hire a new cook," Sam said.  "And I don't want you going with me.  Besides, you've got plenty to do around here.  We had four cows out this morning when Charlie and Adam went to feed, so there's got to be a fence down somewhere."

"Fine."  Lance tugged on his coat and pushed his hat down onto his head.  "Just make sure you buy some real food this time.  All Charlie got was hot dogs and beer when he went to town this weekend."

Sam stood up and put his coffee mug into the sink with the other piles of dirty dishes.  "I'll be back by lunch," he said, pushing his dusty cowboy hat onto his head.  "You guys should be done with the fences by then.  We'll unload the groceries, then call around for a cook."

"Thank you."  Lance scanned the kitchen, it's large island and counters piled with dirty dishes, empty soda cans, beer bottles, and food wrappers, and shook his head.

"Your mama would strangle us both, letting her kitchen look like this," Sam said.

Lance grinned.  "I have a feeling that our new cook is gonna feel the same way as soon as she walks in."

Sam shrugged.  "Well, I guess I'll just have to find someone that likes a challenge."

* * * * *

The bells above the door jingled, announcing the presence of a new customer to the barkeeper, Milt Harrison.  He looked up from his newspaper with lazy eyes, expecting to see one of the usual cowboys saunter in, but was surprised to see a pretty young woman standing in the doorway.

Katie Duncan pushed her sunglasses up into her thick brown hair.  The bar wasn't very crowded, except for a table of cowboys in the back.  She walked over to the bar and slid onto a bar stool near the door.

Milt raised his eyebrows at the stranger, folded his paper under his arm, and eased down the bar to the stool where Katie was sitting.  He was heavy set, with dancing blue eyes and a graying beard and mustache that surrounded a wide and inviting smile.  "Can I help you, Miss?"  He clinched an unlit cigar between his teeth and rolled it in his mouth when he talked.  Katie decided instantly that she liked him.

Sam hadn't bothered to turn around when he heard someone come in.  He had been too busy weaving tall tales with his buddies to worry about Milt's lunch crowd, but when his audience became distracted by the newcomer, he turned around.  She was tall and slim, with dark brown hair that hung down her back in long, thick curls.  Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks.  She was dressed like a farmer's daughter, in tattered Levi's and a blue plaid flannel work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, but there was no doubt in Sam's mind that she was more used to cashmere and pearls than denim and flannel.

Katie leaned against the bar and batted her eyelashes at Milt, making his old heart skip a beat.  "The guy at the gas station told me this was the best place in town to get a burger," she drawled.

Milt smiled.  "Well, sweetheart, he told you right."

"Good, because I've been craving one for over a hundred miles and all I've been able to find is McDonald's."

Sam leaned his elbows on the table and watched her flirt with Milt while he took her order.  She was definitely southern, he decided.  

"Where are you from, sweetheart?" Milt asked.  He wiped down the glossy bar with a white dish rag while he fixed her drink.  She had ordered water, and he suddenly wished that he had a little slice of lemon to put in it.  She looked like the kind of girl that would like lemon in her water.

"Alabama," she answered.  She tore the paper off a straw and stuck in into her glass.

"You're pretty far from home," Milt said.  "What brings you to Colorado?"

Everyone in the bar was watching them.  Katie could feel their eyes on her as she took a sip of water through her straw.  "I'm just passing through," she said.

Sam had seen her smile falter when Milt questioned her.  She reminded him of his Elizabeth.  She had been a southern belle, and she had just been passing through, too, at least until she met him.  "You look like you could use some sweet tea," he said, sliding onto the bar stool beside her.

"I sure could," Katie said, "but I didn't think you had that kind of stuff around here."

Sam's eyes twinkled.  "Well, you just have to know who to ask," he said.

Katie grinned, showing off a deep dimple in her left cheek.  "And I guess that would be you?" 

"Sure would."  Sam winked at her and held out his hand.  "Sam Clayborne."

Katie slipped her hand into Sam's.  "Katie Duncan," she said.  "Nice to meet you."

Sam walked around the counter and poured Katie a tall glass of sweet tea.  "Trust me," he said, "the pleasure is all mine."