Three
TURNED OUT JENSEN’S Cattle Ranch was a supreme job. After the best night’s sleep Merle had had in years and a breakfast of bacon and eggs, he was happier than a tick on a fat dog. To show his gratitude, he worked his tail off mucking the stables and pulling weeds. Later, he’d be mending fences.
“Break time. You hungry?” Jensen asked as he strutted toward the wash bin.
When was he not hungry? Merle put his tools back from where he’d gotten them and joined Jensen. He eyed Jensen’s every move so he could copy him.
“I could eat,” he rasped.
“It’s nothin’ fancy. Sandwich, potato chips, and pop.”
Merle nodded. Sounded like a damn feast to him.
“Wash up, and I’ll bring it to the picnic table out by the red maple in front of the house.”
“Yes, sir.” Merle washed his hands and face, feeling energized. Lunch? He never ate in the middle of the day. He’d be lucky if he had one meal a day. But two meals? He was living high on the hog.
Merle stretched his legs out, sitting against the trunk of the tree. It was hot out, but he didn’t mind. He liked the view in front of him. Low-rolling hills beneath a clear blue sky and―
“Who are you?”
He hadn’t expected to hear a woman’s voice come from behind the tree. Merle looked over his shoulder and gulped when his eyes fell on the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Her light-blonde hair was in a ponytail, and it shimmered as the sun caressed it. Her ice-blue eyes sparkled, unlike her daddy’s lackluster depths.
“Well? Cat go your tongue?” She tapped her toe. The movement drew his attention down to her slim legs. He liked the dress she wore. The small straps showed off her appealing shoulders and neck, which led down to her unavoidable chest.
Merle gulped again, trying to get his wits about him.
“Do. You. Speak. English?” she asked in a soft voice, emphasizing each order. The gesture teased him mercilessly as he watched her pink lips move.
“Peggy, where’re you off to, darlin’?” Jensen carried a plate in one hand, two bottles in the other, and a bag of chips tucked under his arm. He set everything on the table, then jerked his chin at Merle, as in: come eat.
“I’m going to the school with Alice to help the teachers pack up their rooms. We also have an assembly to attend.” Her gaze flitted over to Merle again. “New ranch hand?”
“Yep. This is Merle Hart. He started yesterday.”
“Well, does he talk? I asked him who he was, but he only stared like he’d seen a ghost.”
Merle’s face heated. He sat on the bench and took a drink of his pop.
Jensen chuckled for the first time since Merle met him. “He can talk but doesn’t much.”
“Ah, I see,” she said with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “Well, he doesn’t need to be rude.”
“Merle was rude?” her daddy asked, feigning surprise.
“Silence is rude when someone is talking to you.”
Jensen chuckled again. Strange. “Merle, say something to the girl before she reams both of us.”
“Um… I can talk when I want to. As Jensen said, I’m Merle Hart.” He nodded, then popped a chip into his mouth.
Peggy narrowed her eyes at him, then swooped them toward her daddy, then back at him again.
“Well, you two enjoy your lunch.” She turned on her heel, but before she left, her daddy called to her.
“Peggy, I expect you home to prepare dinner tonight.”
Slowly she turned around, her eyes on Merle. He ran his hand through his shaggy, overgrown hair as a weird feeling settled in his gut.
“Yes, Daddy, I’ll be home by four.”
“Good. Merle and I will be mending fences. We’ll be expecting a hearty dinner.”
“We?”
Jensen nodded, then took a bite of his sandwich. With a mouthful, he said, “Yes.”
Peggy’s eyes went wide. She didn’t say anything else as she left. Merle tried his best to not watch her, but he was only human. Any guy would be weak around Peggy Jensen.
“You fancy her?”
Merle nearly choked on his drink. “N… No… sir.” He coughed until he cleared his throat. He should have been more careful not to stare at Peggy. If he lost his job, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Jensen frowned. “Oh.”
Oh? What did oh mean?
Jensen’s shoulders sagged as he continued to eat his lunch. Silence filled the air between them, but it was different from the other times. An awkward tension passed from Jensen to Merle for the next several minutes.
It didn’t take long for them to finish their bologna sandwiches.
After a long sigh, Jensen lifted his gaze to Merle’s, and it was easy to see he had something on his mind. Merle waited while his stomach churned.
“You got a sweetheart, Merle?”
He did not see that question coming.
“No, sir.” As if any girl would want a scrappy, homeless guy like him. Well, he wasn’t homeless anymore, but he also wasn’t easy on the eyes. He wouldn’t call himself ugly. He’d seen uglier, but Merle didn’t have anything to offer a girl. Plus, he was in desperate need of a haircut and new clothes. No decent girl would consider him as he was.
None of it mattered anyway. Merle had no interest in Nebraska girls, not even a pretty one like Peggy. She was more than pretty; she was beautiful. Again, it didn’t matter. She’d never consider him, and he was moving to California where he’d start over with a clean slate.
Jensen appeared to perk up, and his dull, ice-blue eyes had a glint of something in them. Merle couldn’t make it out but interestingly enough, Jensen’s demeanor seemed lighter.
“Let’s get to mending fences…” Jensen collected the empty bottles and plate. “I set out some clothes on your cot.” He eyed Merle. “We’re about the same size.” True, they were both about six feet tall and thin.
“Uh, sir?”
“You don’t have any others, do ya? Only the ones on your back.”
Merle dropped his head. How did Jensen know? Well, he wasn’t a lying kind of man, so he owned up to the truth.
“Yes, sir.”
A strong hand cupped Merle’s shoulder and he looked up. There was understanding in Jensen’s eyes, along with a small curl to his lip.
“Before dinner, I’m going to Pauly’s. He’s a barber in town and a friend. Care to join me?”
Merle ran his fingers over the top of his thick mop. He used to cut his own hair with a pair of scissors he’d found, but he discovered their age when the gap near the screw would pull out his hairs rather than cut them. It’d been months since he’d made another attempt.
“Well, I don’t have any money.”
“Is that a yes?” A real smile stretched across Jensen’s face. “It’s my treat.” He squeezed Merle’s shoulder.
What else could he do but agree? “Thank you, sir. I’d appreciate it.”
“No thanks needed, son. You’re a hardworking, good man. You just need a little boost.” Jensen’s stride lengthened, leaving Merle lagging.
What had Jensen meant by a little boost? More so, how could he know Merle was a good man? Merle himself never even thought such a thing.
Merle felt a noticeable shift. The stale, rank-smelling air normally surrounding him disappeared. He inhaled, filling his lungs as if he were purified after one day’s time on Jensen’s Cattle Ranch.
What was happening to him?