Raindance Part 1

The sky was black and rumbling with tails dipping down from the squall line. Chasity seriously hoped that the sky was teasing her because the ranch house that she'd just inherited from her uncle couldn't withstand a rain dance - particularly the strong storm that threatened in the distance.

At least the winds had calmed a bit and White Feather, the old Indian that had been with her uncle from the beginning of the ranch, kept assuring her it wasn't going to storm. She supposed that he was as reliable as most weathermen so she quit concerning herself with the threat of rain and instead concentrated on the condition of the ranch house.
The old tin roof leaked and the chimney tilted gingerly to one side but it all belonged to her, Chasity silently boasted, her blue eyes dancing over the large crooked structure.

White Feather was walking the property with her, his steps slow and soft. He was a striking figure with eyes as black as coal and snow white hair that fell behind him past his waistline. Over the years, he'd kept his distance whenever she'd visited, so other than his name and face, she knew little else about him - or for that matter, any of the other cowhands that worked the ranch.
"The old house is getting shaky," he told her, his voice clipped and deep. "When the night wind flings its arms, the rooms groan and tremble. There is little to stop the rain and the cold."

Chasity's eyes seized the leathered face and countered, "I thought you promised that it wasn't going to rain."
White Feather nodded. "I've never been wrong yet. See the sky as it now moves to the south?"

She strained her eyes but she just didn't see it. A storm looked inevitable and after his comments regarding the old house, she felt a bit on edge again.

She tossed her attention from the dark sky to the broken trellis covered with a thatch of thorns but when she felt his gaze on her, she turned to find her assumption to be correct for he was staring curiously at her, his face as sharp looking as a butcher's cleaver.
She wasn't certain how to address the man. Mister Feather? No, that wouldn't do she quickly decided, biting her lower lip in thought.

She plunged in with, "White Feather, why did my uncle allow the ranch to get into such poor condition? The last time I visited him, all seemed well. How did it go downhill so quickly?"

"No time for frilly-frilly," he told her, waving a large hand to one side to get the full message across.
One of his eyes veered off to the left and Chasity couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not. He added, "The cistern leaks, too."

She knew the real reason for the deterioration of property. Uncle had been thrifty, but still that didn't explain the sudden fall of the ranch.

"Oh. What about the well?"

"Well is fine," he answered woodenly.

"That's good," she eased out more to herself than to him. "What about the cowboys? Did they all agree to stay on?"
"Yep."

At least money wasn't a problem. Her uncle had left her a sizable fortune which would more than cover the cost of repairs.

Her eyes sifted onto the property again. She had always loved this place - the green meadows, the carp weathervane and the ancient smokehouse where she remembered playing as a small child whenever she visited her uncle. There was twenty-five hundred acres of prime ranch land with the chief income derived from the herd of Arabian horses.
Located on the outskirts of Cherokee county, The Lucky Horseshoe was virtually lodged out in the sticks, the nearest town of Del Rio a good fifty miles away. The roads were outdated and it took a good hour to get there and another hour to get back.

White Feather was guiding her towards the ranch house and an old hound that was resting on the porch rolled his eyes up towards her. "Be careful," White Feather warned. "We don't call him Killer for nothing."
Chasity giggled at the absurd statement. Killer looked like the laziest dog she'd ever seen. And he didn't move a notch as they passed him and entered the house through the front screen door.

The house looked like a cyclone had hit; Uncle had never been a very organized man as far as paper went, but the house had always appeared presentable. The leaning stacks of paper and books made the living room uninhabitable and the kitchen wasn't any better. This was the first time that she'd seen the house so upside-down.
"The rats have been chewing through the pantry door for a month or more. Nothing in there," White Feather informed, statue-straight.

"Rats?" she squeaked, feeling ridiculous in the process.

"Frightened?" he challenged.

"Why....yes," she managed, her hand going to clasp her throat, her eyes suddenly watchful.
"I thought as much. Well? You staying?"

"Of course," she told him, hoping that one of the bedrooms was livable.

"I told him that you would," White Feather informed, and she noticed that his chest was jutted with confidence.

"Him?"
"Easton Trevor," he supplied. "Your next door neighbor. He owns Bandera - a cattle ranch. Custar won't be too happy, either," he thoughtfully added.

"Custar?"

"An old fossil...like me. He is also an overseer, like me - but he works for Trevor at Bandera," he explained, running a curious glance over Chasity for the first time. Before, it seemed as if he was bored by her presence. Obviously her announcement had impressed him - or at minimum, perked his interest.

"These neighbors....they are friends of yours?" she inquired, setting her straw handbag into an empty spot she had spied on the kitchen table.
"I've never been a fool full of words, Ms. Summers," he drawled with a guarded expression, as though he wasn't certain that he could trust her yet.

"Words of wisdom are better than weapons," Chasity reasoned and the Indian's dark eyes flickered with amusement. She was suddenly proud that she'd so accurately recalled a favorite phrase of one of her former teachers. Mr. Whooten would have been proud.
"Easton Trevor is a wealthy man. Bandera is at least twenty times larger than the Horseshoe. And there is not a rich man in ten with a satisfied mind - Trevor included," he told her. "Your uncle refused to sell out to him."

"I see. And Custar?"

"His tongue is worse than a weasel bite and his mouth is wider than the Grand Canyon."

Chasity giggled with amusement, holding a small hand over her pink lips regarding his statement.

"You are pretty when you laugh," White Feather commented seriously. "Tell me. Why didn't you come to visit your uncle more often? He spoke of you in an adoring way."
"I was very fond of him, too," she told him, turning on, and then off the faucet. At least the sink was in working order.

She turned and addressed him, wanting him to know just how much she cared for her dear uncle.
"My mother had a terrible spat with him on my fifteenth birthday. He tried to give me a pony and she wouldn't hear of it."

"Why not?"

Chasity lifted her brow as she rethought the incident, telling him, "My father died because of a horse riding accident when I was a very young child. Whenever I visited Uncle, she always had a fit. They just never got along, and I always seemed to be caught in the middle." She paused, then continued, "Mother died this spring - just a few short weeks ago."

"Yes. I remember your uncle going to the funeral."
"Yes. It's unfortunate that they never mended the rift. Nonetheless, I am grateful for the times that I did spend with my uncle, and for him leaving his ranch to me. It's a bit difficult to believe that they are both gone now - dying so close together, yet eons apart because of their stubborn nature."

"Nature has a way of righting the wrong," he eased out in a wooden tone through the strained silence. Then, "I know of a woman who would cook and clean for you. She used to work here - many years ago. Shall I call her?"
"Oh that would be fantastic! I'll need to place my focus on the workings of the ranch books as well as learning about the operation. How soon do you think she could come?"

"A few days," he echoed, searching her beautiful face. "She is not young, like you. But, she is a good worker."

"That's fine," Chasity smiled, licking dry lips. "We'll also need to call some contractors to put the ranch house right again."
"Hum. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed in the bunkhouse for a few days - until things are more orderly," he suggested. "You can have my quarters and I'll bunk with Hal. His area is large, so there is plenty of room to set up a cot. Hal can take the cot," White Feather suddenly decided.

"Hal?"

"The foreman. He has a weak mind but his back is strong," White Feather went on to inform. "You have about fifty good cowboys, too. And of course you know that I'm in charge of the over all operations of the ranch. The overseer." He paused, then thoughtfully threw in, "I hear that Custar might be promoted to an executive overseer."
She fanned a quick glance over the room, choosing to ignore his comment regarding Custar. "Is your room cleaner than this?"

"No scalps hanging up to dry at the moment," he told her as his blue eyes pierced her shocked face. "A little dust, but much better than this. Your uncle was a pig."

She smiled, relaxing a notch - deciding that White Feather was a huge teaser. "Yes he was."

"I'm glad that you will be staying," he told her.
"You didn't think that I would, did you?" she asked, serious now.

"No. I thought that you would sell out to Trevor - that you would put the Horseshoe out of order and send fifty good men to hell. But I wonder if you will be so brave once you meet Easton Trevor," White Feather speculated aloud, thrusting his tongue in his leather cheek as he went to collect her bags.
There were only two; everything else had been sold. Her uncle's untimely passing coupled with her mother's passing had placed other emphasis on her life. The ranch was a huge opportunity for her and even now, she couldn't grasp how gracious her uncle had been to her. It was almost overwhelming.

As they exited into the front yard, the threat of a storm had passed leaving a handsome cowboy in its wake. Chasity assumed that he worked for the ranch which was unfortunate because she was immediately attracted to him. It wouldn't do for her to become involved with the cowboys. No mixing of business and pleasure for her.

The cowboy had an amused smirk planted on his well-shaped lips and his hands were gloved in leather, the faded jeans looped with a tooled leather belt.
She met his dark eyes and she flinched as he tilted his Stetson hat back, revealing sub-bleached hair which feathered about his chiseled face.

"I've seen you from somewhere," Chasity eased out thoughtfully. Then, "Uncle's funeral. You-you were among the mourners."
"Like most women, you possess the memory of an elephant," the stranger drawled, White Feather laughing deeply at the mocking comment. "But I didn't come here for a house warming, Ms. Summers," he ground out tightly, his words cutting her nerves like a jagged tin can.

"And just what did you come here for?" Chasity eased out, thinking that she'd never met anyone so arrogant.

"To buy you out of course-"

"I'm staying," she cut him off, wishing that he'd just vanish. Obviously, this was the next door neighbor, the Easton Trevor person that White Feather had semi-warned her about.
"I'm offering double what it's worth - fair market value," he offered, his face still as cold as stone.

"Mr. Trevor," she began and she was instantly thrilled when she noticed a flash of surprise cross his face because she'd guessed who he was - then, "I'm staying hell or high water."
"You won't last a week with that pale hide of yours," he assured. "Needlework would better suit you." At her viscous look, he tried a different tactic. "Look. Ranching is difficult - back breaking at its best."

"I like challenges," she assured, not missing the invisible current that flowed between them. And to think that a few moments ago she had found him attractive. Right - like a poisonous toad. His face resembled a mountain of ice and it showed no sign of thawing anytime soon.

But amid her triumphant moment a large rat scurried out of nowhere, running across her foot. She screamed as White Feather chased it down, then amid her panic she ran - landing directly in Easton's strong arms.
Her dignity was completely shattered now and he was glaring down at her with a satisfied, sardonic twist stamped onto his handsome lips - an 'I told you so' expression.

"Still staying?" he cruelly mocked.

Chasity squirmed free but almost shot back into the protective arms as White Feather held up the rat, announcing his conquest.
"Please - just take it away and let it go in the meadow," she told him.

"What? I'll kill it," White Feather told her with an evil glint.

"No!" Chasity told him, her voice firm.

"A wussy," White Feather eased out and he and the evil land baron Easton shared a mocking laugh. Then, "Fine. I'll let it go. And although it's still early in the day, I'll move my things to Hal's quarters so you can settle in before night falls."
As he sauntered away with his treasure who would live to tell the story - thanks to Chasity, Easton drawled, "So you've met Hal, have you?" His dark eyes looked thoughtful.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no - not yet. White Feather is going to bunk with him and let me use his space until the house can be spruced up a bit. Why? What's wrong with Hal?"
Easton casually extracted his leather gloves before commenting, "If you like the smell of cheap cigars and the use of purple language, then you'll like Hal Boston."

"Purple what?" she asked, her face crunching into a scowl. She didn't like Easton Trevor; he was a full-blooded troublemaker.

He enlightened, "He uses a lot of foul language." His eyes raked over her slim shape with a swift glance and he tacked on for good measure, "And with fifty cowboys around - you'd better get used to it. You know, it's not a good thing....a woman on her own in a place like this."

"Well, don't over-concern yourself," Chasity whipped out. "I'm not ignorant, or frail, or frightened and I have a female housekeeper in route - not that it's any of your business," and that had been the second time she'd used that phrase to intimidate him she silently noted.
He mocked her with a twisted scowl and she was reminded of the rat.

"Housekeeper?"

"A friend of White Feather's who used to work for my uncle."

Something registered in his dark eyes and he slowly drawled, "Little Sparrow ."
"You know her?"

"Know her? She practically lives at Bandera," he informed, his brows lifting in the process. "Well, at least she did until last month. She has been on hiatus - back east, tending to her sick sister. Little Sparrow and Myna - my housekeeper, have quite a healthy grapevine growing."

"Grapes? I thought that Bandera was a cattle ranch," she probed in confusion.

Easton tossed back the sun-bleached head and mocked her with a deep laugh. "Gossip - they like to gossip," he clarified. "You'll see....that is....if you stay long enough."
"Let's not ride that horse to death," she threw out casually, anxious to get settled.

She began to walk towards the bunk house and was shocked when she heard Easton's spurs jingling close behind her. Why was he following her?

She looked as good from the backside as she did from the front-side, Easton silently decided as he followed her along, feeling like a lost puppy dog for some reason. When he'd first arrived, buying her out had seemed to be a good idea, but this little filly might prove fun to play with. Of course, he'd have to work at getting her in the mood. Nonetheless, he was doubtful that she'd actually stay. Ranching was a hard way of life. Too tough for this little filly.
He told her along the way, "I know of a reputable repairman. I could give you his name and number-"

"So, you're having second thoughts about me staying, eh? Going as far as to offer a helping hand? I'm impressed," she told him, still unable to trust the scoundrel.
"I know a stubborn woman when I see one," he defended. "Your uncle was stubborn. Must run in the family." Before she could respond he smugly added, "And it would be nice to have the house in shape by the time I resume control."

"Don't be so cocky," she advised, noticing that he was walking side by side with her now, his spurs jingling along the way. "I realize what I have here and I'm not going to throw it away. And I'll admit that I don't know beans about horses, ranches or breeding-"
She immediately halted, wishing she could recall her statement, an error that had Easton doubled with laughter - her innocent words giving him buoyancy.

"Okay! But I'm a fast learner," she whipped out, then she realized that hadn't been the wisest thing to say, either.

"Oh shut up!" she told him. "You're being childish - like a young boy in fact. And-and I detest needlework!"

He sobered suddenly, then drawled, "It's a good thing that you'll be leaving soon, Chasity Summers. With you close by, I daresay that I'd ever be able to get any work done."
With that, he tipped his Stetson and sauntered away, Chasity anchored in a sea of emotions.

Oh he would see just how determined she was, she silently promised.

Later that evening she worked to compile a list of the necessary repairs, then called a repairman that White Feather had recommended. So much for Easton's neighborly offer.
Painting, new carpeting and flooring, new light fixtures - it was going to cost a pretty penny to get the house back to a livable state.

Uncle had been as lax in his paperwork as he had been with his house cleaning and repairs. Chasity decided to designate a spot in the roomy library as a make-shift office. She would need to purchase a filing cabinet and a desk from Del Rio.

Unlike the main house, White Feather's quarters had been immaculate. The area was decorated in rugged tones and she was intrigued with its contents.
Two wicker chairs were stationed against one wall and they stood out vividly against the full-length print of an Indian chief situated on the wall behind them. A deer-skinned rug was located by the bed and he had cleared out his chest for her use.

But the most interesting piece in the room was the glass case mounted in one corner and she had drifted to it like a magnet. Two long spears hung to each side of the case, both crafted with skill. Inside the case rested row after row of arrowheads, all in perfect condition. In the heart of the case, a tomahawk had been centered, the end of the handle clipped with a single white feather making her assume that it had something to do with White Feather's name.
Chasity felt as if she were caged in a museum of sorts but it was eons better than the ranch house in its current condition and she considered him quite generous. Without his offer, she supposed that she have needed to secure a room in Del Rio.

The wooden bed was covered with a multi-colored blanket and there was a small desk resting nearby containing several framed photos. One, of an Indian tribe and in the fold she recognized a younger version of White Feather standing beside an old warrior, his face mirroring pride. Perhaps his father? Another photo was of a beautiful Indian maiden with flowing black hair, a delicate face and a long slender neck banded with a turquoise necklace.
Another photo was of an older man, around White Feather's age who held a busy mustache stitched over a strong set of lips and there was an inscription etched along the bottom of the photo. Chasity leaned closer and read, "If ya see me coming, step aside! Always ~ Custar."

So this was Custar, his Bandera counterpart. What had White Feather said about the man? A tongue worse than a weasel bite and something about the Grand Canyon. Chasity strained to remember. The writing on the photo must have been an idle threat. It was all a game, she suddenly realized. These two men weren't enemies - rather friends. Yet, for some reason she doubted if either would admit such.
And if White Feather felt this way about Custar, how did he truly feel about Easton Trevor? She suddenly recalled the two sharing a mocking laugh.

She was pulled from her analysis as a deep voice called out, "WF! Where the hell are ya?" Then, "Damn it! Answer me you old coot! Caldonya's missing again!"

Chasity threw open the door and a cowboy with ebony hair waved into view. Mid-thirtyish, blue shirt and jeans, cheap cigar protruding from one side of his vulgar sounding mouth. This had to be Hal Boston.
The ebony eyes widened in shock then raked slowly over her as he beamed a wide smile. Chasity could see the crack between his two front tobacco-stained teeth.

"Gosh durn it - ain't you a pretty lookin' little thing! Didn't know that WF had it in him - that old owl," he laughed with amusement, the cigar wobbling up and down as he spoke.
Chasity plucked Easton's description of Hal to mind and reacted instantly. "Put out that annoying smoking stick!" she told him, to which Hal darted back.

"Ain't takin' orders from no whore-"

"Told you he had a weak mind," White Feather eased out, coming to her rescue in the nick of time. Then to Hal, "Bonehead. This is the new owner of the Horseshoe- Chasity Summers. Better apologize pronto."

"Awe hell-heck!" Hal suddenly amended when he noticed Chasity's arched brows. "Why didn't somebody warn me?"
Hal was obviously angry, his face a dented scowl. Then, "Why...I'm awfully sorry, Miss," he offered in a sincere tone. "You know, now that I think about it - I do believe that I've spotted you around here before....from a distance, that is. Your uncle was keen on keeping the cowboys away from you when you visited."

"I wonder why," White Feather murmured and Hal sent him a wild look.
"I accept your apology," Chasity told him and his smile faded as she tacked on, "And please, no more purple language."

White Feather nudged him and asked in a gruff tone, "What do you want?"

"WF, that wild mare - Caldonya, broke away again. She's headed straight for Bandera land - as usual. And she's in heat and puffin' like an adder," Hal explained, a bit more information than Chasity would have liked.

"Hum. We better go rescue her before Custar peppers her backside," White Feather suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Yeah - or before old Daemon does," Hal laughed and White Feather shook his head negatively at him, signaling him to button up his lip. But unfortunately, Hal just didn't get the message.

"Daemon?" Chasity innocently inquired.

"Her boyfriend, Miss," Hal informed with a sheepish grin. "Trevor's horse. Seems she favors him - Daemon, that is - not Mr. Trevor," he laughed again as Chasity colored profusely.
She managed to stammer, "Then it might be best if the two of you handled the situation as quickly as possible."

Hal nodded, then told her as he departed, "Nice to properly meet you, Miss."

As she watched them walk away, Chasity decided that the day had been good and that the day had been bad.

The ranch was hers, but crumbling. She had a fine herd of Arabians, and one crazed Caldonya who was headed straight for the one person who had not welcomed her to Cherokee County
Three hours later, Chasity had met most of the cowboys and had shared their bunkhouse meal of cornbread, beef and beans. At least it had been both filling and tasty.

Then she showered and changed in White Feather's private bath, dressing in a white pant suit and matching sandals. It was still rather warm for an early day in May so she bound her long hair with a plaited gold cord, allowing some of the heat to escape as she made her way outdoors.
White Feather and his shadow, Hal had yet to return from Bandera. Chasity decided that she couldn't wait any longer. Of all things, why had that hussy of a horse picked today - of all days, to drop in on Bandera country? Easton Trevor was probably holding the nag hostage, determined to show Chasity that she had already shown signs of failure.

Following the directions that one of the cowboys provided, she meandered down the primrose path that led to Bandera.

Down the winding lane, she spied an elderly man coming in her direction riding a feisty, Roman-nosed mule, his voice as snappy as a mud turtle as he yelled at the mule. The beast suddenly brayed wildly, then reared and tossed him off.
Chasity ran to meet him as he rubbed his backside and complained to the retreating mule, "Run off, you old heifer! Jus one durn thing after another!"

She recognized him as the dust settled; Custar - White Feather's friend.
He was still grumbling, his mouth forming the replica of a jute tobacco bag, his white mustache moving like an albino caterpillar. His felt hat was completely caved-in and Chasity wasn't sure it if was due to the wild ride or if it was 'just his style'.

He noticed her amid his grumbling and greeted her with, "You must be Ms. Summers. I was just a-coming to your place."

"And you're White Feather's friend, Custar," she eased out, wondering why he would coming to her place. She shook the extended calloused hand.

"He ain't no friend of mind, missy," Custar spat out distastefully. "Comes from a sorry lot. Why his pappy was killed in a pool room brawl-"
"His father played billiards?" she echoed, Custar's statement sounding a bit stretched.

"Naw, swimming pool," he corrected gruffly.

They were walking now, up the lane leading to Bandera. Chasity's blue eyes caught sight of the large flag waving in the last rays of the sinking sun. The flag was red, stamped in the center with a black Angus bull. There was a stumpy wooden post anchored to one side, but her attention was focused on the pretty flag.
"Pretty flag. Is it symbolic?" she asked as the wind rustled through the mulberry trees lining the lane.

"The ranch's mark," Custar briefly informed. "Bandera is Spanish for flag." Then, "By the way, that wooden post marks the northern edge boundary of the Horseshoe. Now come on this way to the corral," he instructed as he veered to the left.
White Feather, Hal and Easton were inside the corral, Easton standing in a pen stroking the mane of a beautiful Arabian horse. No doubt, Caldonya, Chasity swiftly gathered. And she looked completely charmed by Easton's attention.

"Hey boss lady!" Hall yelled out to her, the men glancing towards her as she neared them with Custar by her side.
There was a cowboy making his way towards her in the distance and Hall warned him, "Hands off, Lester! I saw her first! And she's got the hots for me," he went on to announce to Chasity's horror.

She felt Easton's eyes sweep over her and she suddenly wanted to hide under a large rock.

"Shut up, Hal!" Lester warned. "Smells to me like you're the one with the sweats."

Custar waltzed up beside Hal and informed, "Listen to him, sonny. I ain't ever seen a smart man or woman who had a space between their front teeth."
With that, Hal's upper lip rolled skyward in anger, revealing the wide gap. "WF, can I kill him now?" Hal asked, his fist suddenly doubled and extended.

"Not today, Hal," White Feather decided after a short span of thoughtful silence. "There will be a silver moon out tonight. It's bad luck to kill under a silver moon. Bad spirits walk blindly on the earth."
"Now ain't that a batch of bull," Custar mocked with a crusty laugh.

"Men, there's a lady on board," Easton drawled from the holding pen where he stood with Caldonya. "Chasity," he greeted her. "I believe that you know everyone here but my foreman, Lester."

Lester smiled, tipped his dirty-looking straw hat and gnarled his lips as Hal warned, "Wouldn't lift that hat too high, Lester. That red hair's thinnin' quicker than a fat possum grazing on a field of lettuce. Why that's why all the gals in Del Rio call you Less, ain't it?"
Hal nudged White Feather and they both laughed in unction while Lester stewed.

Chasity intervened before World War III erupted. "I am glad to meet you, Lester."

It worked. Lester applied his best smile as she discretely studied him. He looked like a green bean with clothes on and his nose resembled a crooked-neck squash. But his cap of red hair was thick and full, not as Hal had implied. Except....right across the front when he had tipped his hat a bit too high, she decided as she thought about it a bit more.
"You too, Mam," he eased out, not releasing her hand and she had to tug it free.

"Is this Caldonya?" she asked, going over to watch the horse and Easton through the split-rail fence.

"This is Caldonya alright," Easton echoed, studying Chasity with hooded eyes. She'd been on his mind since he'd met her.
Chasity smiled at him, noticing that he was still in the same clothes but the Stetson was gone and his sun-bleached hair shimmered in the oncoming moonlight - a silvery moon as White Feather had predicted.

"Well?" she asked him.

"Well what?" Easton toyed with her.
She blushed and lifted her eyes feeling embarrassed and helpless. Worm! He knew exactly what she was asking.

"Oh, that," Easton eased out, acting as if the situation was just dawning on him. "Nothing happened between her and Daemon - although he's not too happy about the situation. The poor devil is moping in the barn, eating his heart out. It's not good for a male to be tempted, then turned away all in the same day," he bravely toyed.

Chasity didn't know what to make of his comments, for he surely couldn't be talking about her....and him.

"Begging your pardon, Mam, but that mare's nothing less than a brazing hussy," Custar informed, his chest extended, his comment resolute.
White Feather's long hair seemed to fray about his head as he countered, "Don't pay him any mind, Ms. Summers. The old man is a bit bent by the wind."

He went on to point an index finger towards his head and when Custar saw the gesture, he bleated like a shorn sheep, "Why you old sorry so-in-so! I'll whip you faster than hell can scorch a feather! Pun intended!"
"Come on, old man," White Feather suddenly challenged, taking a fighting stance and holding up doubled fists. "I've got a fist of iron and a fist of steel. If the right one doesn't get you, the left one will!"

"Boys! Boys!" Chasity chastised, feeling ridiculous calling the grown men boys.

"Boys? I never have seen a young fossil before," Lester brayed.

She was frightened that the situation was going to catapult into a total disaster. And Easton did nothing to fence off the fight. He had just stood planted, stroking Caldonya's mane.
Thankfully, the men began transferring the wayward horse back to the Horseshoe. Chasity would have followed but Easton detained her, talking to her by the railing, one of his booted feet steadied on a metal bar as he spoke to her.

"Before you leave the area, you'll have to come back and visit me."

Lovely. He had managed to insult her and welcome her all in one breath. She told him, "I've already told you that I'm staying-"
"You won't last a week, Chasity," Easton said, liking the way her name rolled so freely off his tongue.

She stiffened, then promised, "Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants. One week from today, I'll be back to cram those words back down your throat."

"I can't wait," he mocked, his handsome mouth lighting with a smile. He almost believed her.

The following day, she reached a price with a contractor, the amount much less than Chasity had expected. Repairs would begin within the week and would be completed within two weeks.
Three days later, the workmen had already completed the library allowing her to immediately set to work sorting through uncle's sketchy records. She was fond of the oak desk that she had collected in Del Rio. Tomorrow, she would make another trip to town to collect drapes and bedroom furniture.

The following morning, she left White Feather's quarters and returned to the ranch house to jot down some last minute notes before heading to town, and when she was exiting she almost collided with a rail-like woman who had a very large mouth.
She wore a lemon-colored smock and a horrid little hat was cocked to one side of her head of brown hair, the sight reminding Chasity of an abandoned bird's nest.

"Ms. Summers?" she plied, a bit breathless as if she'd been hurrying.

"Yes?"

"I'm Myna Fox, the housekeeper next door for Mr. Trevor at Bandera," she furnished in one swift breath. "I'm a good friend of Little Sparrow, your new housekeeper. She phoned last evening to say that she was coming to work today and she is arriving on the noon bus and I'm to tell you to collect her, that is, if the bus runs on time."
She paused, Chasity amused at Myna's continuous line of chatter.

"She comes down quite often you see, to visit me at Bandera and it's usually a forty-five minute ride from Zedland to Burma because that's where her plane comes in - in Zedland, that is. Well she has been staying with her sister for the last few weeks and oh my you're going somewhere, aren't you?" she asked, noticing Chasity's car keys and handbag for the first time.
Chasity opened her mouth to respond, but that was futile for Myna continued, "Oh, I didn't mean to intrude but seeing as how you're Lester's new girl I felt like family - not that Lester and I are of any kin but the Bandera clan is a close-knitted brood."

The woman paused - finally!

Chasity eased out with drawn brows, "Lester's new girl?"

"Why yes, child," Myna continued in that same rush. "It's a shame that Hal dropped you after he found you in White Feather's quarters, but not to worry because Lester is a much better catch - as men go, that is - and he doesn't smoke or use purple language," she relayed, holding her hand to her mouth and reducing her tone to a confidential whisper.
Chasity shook her head, trying to make mincemeat out of Myna's chatter.

"Hal? White Feather's room?" she managed.
"Why yes and who could blame you, child?" Myna continued, her tiny eyes widening. "After Mr. Trevor acted the way that he did why I still cannot believe that he fathered your child and left you on the lamb. Must have been on one of your visits to your uncle's," she added more to herself than to the shocked Chasity. "Well, doesn't really matter now and I must say that he should have agreed to marry you. Yes, I know that he's my boss but I have a very high set of standards that I live by - just like my dear friend, Little Sparrow who is coming here as you know, to be your housekeeper. Oh just wait until you hear what she has to say on the matter!"

"I shutter to think," Chasity eased out carefully, still locked in shock.

Myna's mouth was a lit fuse, waiting to blow. Chasity had no idea where she had gotten her crazy assumptions. Surely not from Easton? He wanted her to leave the area, but even he wouldn't go to such great lengths to get rid of her. Or would he?
And anyone brave enough to even think about starting a conversation with the wordy Myna deserved a medal!

Oh gosh! What if her friend - as well as Chasity's future housekeeper, Little Sparrow was equally wordy? Chasity would go deaf within a fortnight. Nuts too.

"Ms. Fox-"
"Just call me Myna, dear," she informed, her hand going to steady her hat for the wind suddenly gusted.

"Myna." She paused, then tried her best to set things upright. "I need to clarify that Lester, White Feather, Hal or Easton have never been romantically involved with me."

"Sure they haven't, dear," Myna mocked. Then, "Well, if that's the case then Little Sparrow will be glad to hear the news because she's been sweet on White Feather for decades. Won't she be happy?"

Chasity managed a sick looking smile and told Myna, "Well, if you'll pardon me I've got a date in Del Rio-"

"Date? Who with, child?" Myna eagerly inquired.
"With the furniture store," Chasity told her. "And I won't forget to collect Little Sparrow."

She must have droned on another ten minutes before Chasity could finally slip away and Myna was on her mind as she drove to Del Rio.
By noon, she had completed all of her shopping and was planted at the bus stop, waiting for Little Sparrow. The bus was running about fifteen minutes behind schedule but Chasity didn't mind. Her feet were tired from shopping all morning and it gave her a chance to relax.

"Ms. Summers?"

Chasity jumped, startled by the stranger's voice because she was in the process of drifting off. She was even more startled when she realized that the stranger before her was the same woman in the picture in White Feather's quarters.
"Little Sparrow?" Chasity smiled at the beautiful bronzed lady before her, deciding that the woman looked nervous and shy. Rising, she greeted her with a handshake and told her, "I'm glad that you could come to the ranch so soon. And please, call me Chasity."

A slow smile played over Little Sparrow's lips then she supplied, "I suppose that Myna informed you about the time of the bus arrival?"
"Yes. She dropped by this morning. Speaking of which, we have a tiny problem."

"Oh?"

"The workers are still getting the main house into shape so we'll both be staying at the bunk house in White Feather's quarters."

"Oh, I see," Little Sparrow eased out, her face a mask.