Once in a Blue Moon (17 page)

The lady was trying to
force Melissa into continued unemployment. It wasn’t going to
happen. “If you’re implying that I should not seek a job, then
you’re off your rocker. I need to work.”

The widow let out a
sound of derision. “As I said. I know your type well. Tell me. Who
will watch your children while you work long hours elsewhere? Who
will care for their clothes and cook their meals and teach them
right from wrong?

Who will tend the
garden that you’re partially responsible for and that your family
will eat from? Who will mother your children? You don’t care, do
you? As long as you get what you want, everyone else can fend for
themselves.”

That stung, but Melissa
didn’t let it show by so much as a tiny crack in her composure.
Yes, she occasionally worried that her children were missing out
because of her lack of parental skill, but she’d always more than
lived up to her responsibilities by providing for them. Why did
this woman care anyway? “Why do you hate me so much?”

The widow’s features
froze and her gaze dropped to Melissa’s dress. She hesitated, then
sighed and met Melissa’s gaze once more. “To be fair, you simply
remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. Someone I didn’t like
very much.”

She shook her head as
if to dispel bad memories, and her laser-like gaze narrowed on
Melissa once more. “Now, what do you want?”

Melissa lifted her chin. She certainly wasn’t going to admit
she was there for a cooking lesson. No doubt the witch would
protest to helping Melissa in any way. “I met Mrs. Mendelson and
she informed me that the west side of the garden needs tending. I
was simply coming to ask the housekeeper the best way to water the
garden since she seems to be the
only
person I’ve met here who
doesn’t want to jump down my throat the minute I show my
face.”

The widow arched a
brow, in obviously disbelief. “If you’ll wait by the garden, I’ll
send someone to help you.”

“Thank you.” Melissa
smiled tightly and, as the door shut in her face, anger roared
through her. Why did she feel she’d just been tricked into working
in the garden? She turned and walked away from the ranch house,
more determined than ever to get a job. No one was going to stop
her.

Her resolve to get
information she could hold over the widow solidified. They’d soon
see who would lord over whom. She needed to find time to go out to
Sully’s and question him.

Reminded of Sully, she
realized that she knew at least one person who could cook. Stew and
biscuits anyway. And he didn’t hate her either, which was suddenly
a major plus in his favor despite his overall disgust factor.

She’d go out to his
place later that afternoon. In the meantime she resigned herself to
working in the garden for a few hours.

* * *

Melissa knocked on the
door to Sully’s cabin, but no one was home. Various animals roamed
about the place as usual, but the dog was missing. Thank heaven for
small favors.

Feeling dejected, she
sat on the stump beside the cabin door and looked down at her
weed-stained hands, green etched into each line of every finger. No
amount of time at the water pump had made any difference. They were
disgusting.

A holler had her
looking up in time to see Jessica and Jeremy run across the yard at
full speed toward the horse corral.

Jessica wore a new
dress. A brown-flowered calico that reached mid-calf, and sported a
ruffle, as well as a pair of stockings. Her punk sneakers completed
the outfit. Apparently one of the Cowboy Wives had supplied her
with the clothes, and she looked like a cast member for Little
House on the Prairie. Jeremy wore a hand-me-down shirt, worn at the
elbows, and the jeans left by their unknown benefactor.

Depressed that she
couldn’t even clothe her own children, she watched as the kids
jumped on the fence to pet the nasty, dirty animal. She didn’t even
tell them to stop. By the time they left this horrible place,
they’d all be so filthy they’d have to be decontaminated
anyway.

Their
laughter soothed her. She
was
a good parent. Look at how her children were
playing. Heck, they were practically
frolicking
, they were so happy. What
did that stupid cow know anyway? Nothing, that’s what.

She’d
totally discounted Melissa’s ability to work hard. Wasn’t she
setting a good example for her children? Of course she was. She
rubbed her forehead. So why, hours later, was she still
upset?
Was
she
selfish? A taker? Could she be a better parent?

A goat wandered over
and nibbled on Melissa’s sleeve, bleating its bad breath into her
face. She pushed it away.

Granted she needed to
work, but most people didn’t see that as a sign of selfishness. If
anything, it was a sign of independence. Independence that her
children would do well to emulate.

They
were twelve. The widow had been talking like they were two. Care
for them? Wash their clothes? Feed them? Heck, when she’d been
twelve, no one had even
bought
her new clothes, let alone washed them. And any
food she’d eaten had been purchased with welfare money. At least
her children had never suffered
that
brand of
humiliation.

So what if they had to
take care of themselves a bit. At least she didn’t make them wish
for more.

Melissa sighed. The
problem was, it wasn’t just the widow. Nobody seemed to like her
here. Back in her real life, at her real job, people liked her well
enough. Didn’t they? Of course they did.

Take
her boss, for instance. Xavier liked her. Her brow furrowed. Well,
while he certainly liked what her talent could do for his firm, he
didn’t really
like
her.

Her secretary? No,
Stacy didn’t even pretend to like Melissa.

But her co-workers,
they liked her, didn’t they?

Bernie? Bernie came
into her office all the time. Melissa shook her head and forced
herself to be honest. She’d always known Bernie was trolling for
information. He used her, pumped her for the latest news, as she
did him, but she couldn’t say he really liked her.

She
shivered in the warm afternoon air, wrapped her arms around
herself, took a deep breath and held it. Could all the conflict
she’d been facing these last few days somehow be her own fault?
Didn’t
anyone
like her?

Richard
liked her. The air whooshed
out of her lungs. He
loved
her. The thought brought tears of relief to her
eyes, and she pressed shaky fingers to her lips. And Richard was a
good person; everyone knew that. He wouldn’t like her, no,
love
her if she wasn’t a
wonderful person too.

And her kids. They
loved her. Proof that the widow had been a total witch to her.
Completely unfair. There was nothing wrong with Melissa, it was
simply these people. She should have never doubted herself.

Melissa heard Zeke
before she saw him, and within moments the filthy black animal
reached the top of the hill, spotted her by the door, and stopped
short to bark and growl.

Melissa wiped the tears from her eyes and didn’t bother to
stand. “
Knock it off!”

The barking ceased
abruptly and the dog wagged its tail in recognition. It yipped
happily twice, and ran down the hill to lick her hand, rub against
her, and beg to be petted.

There was dog slobber
on her sleeve, but gratitude for the enthusiastic welcome blossomed
in her chest anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she ignored the drool and reached out
to pat the dog on the head.
Had she now
sunk so low that even affection from a dog was
welcome
?

Sully came over the
hill, grinned, lifted his hat off his balding head and waved.
“Howdy there, Missy!”

Melissa was relieved.
She didn’t think she could have dealt with any more rejection
today.

Sully looked back over
his shoulder. “Hey boys, we got comp’ny!”

Sully’s two nasty,
dirty friends topped the hill, grins splitting their faces.

Melissa’s heart sank. She closed her eyes for a moment, but
when she opened them, they were still there. This was just turning
out to be one
heck
of a day.

“Let me see your
hands,” demanded Melissa.

Sully, Jed, and Henry
hurriedly shoved their hands out for inspection.

Just as suspected,
their hands were as filthy and disgusting as their clothes. She
shook her head. “We all have to wash our hands first.” Her tone was
decisive.

Sully recoiled, his
greying beard trembling as he hid his hands behind his back. “What
for?”

Melissa sighed. “For the sake of
cleanliness
. Now, where’s the
soap?”

The three men exchanged
glances as if to see if the others understood her words and would
share the translation.

Melissa crossed her
arms. “Shall I simply go home then?”

Jed, his muscular bulk
at odds with his boyish features, shook his head vehemently. “No,
ma’am.”

Tall, lean, and wiry,
Henry, the dirtiest as well as the youngest of the three, glanced
at his hands, then back at her. He swallowed. “No, ma’am,” he
echoed weakly.

Grumbling, Sully turned
and entered the cabin. About five minutes later he came back with a
brown chunk of...something. “Soap?” asked Melissa.

Sully nodded.

She’d have to take his
word for it. The men groused, but under her supervision, washed
their hands thoroughly at the water pump. After their initial
reluctance passed, Sully and his friends grinned at her, and she
was hard pressed not to smile back. They seemed really glad she’d
come. Obviously company was scarce in these parts and any
distraction from their horrible lives was welcome. She washed her
own hands and set the soap on a rock.

Following the men into
the darkened interior of the cabin, she insisted the door be kept
open for fresh air, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim
light. She supposed she ought to feel a little nervous about being
alone in a cabin with three rough men, but for all their crude
looks, she felt perfectly safe. Besides, if they tried anything,
she’d flatten them.

Sully rubbed his hands
together. “Okay. Where do we start? Do you know how to fire up the
stove?”

Melissa looked at the
antique contraption. If possible, it was older than the one back at
the ranch. “I managed it last night, but not very well.”

Sully’s eyes lit up.
“Okay, here’s the thing--”

Jed pushed forward.
“What you want to do--”

Henry almost tripped
over his big feet in his eagerness to take center stage. “See,
here’s how--”

”
Hooold
it!” Sully raised both hands. “This here is
my
cabin and
I’m
the one she asked
for cookin’ instructin’.”

Jed’s bushy eyebrow
scrunched up and he shot Sully a look of reproach.

Henry threw both hands
up into the air. “Then what did I wash my hands for?”

With ill grace, they
both sat at the table and watched as Sully advised her on the
proper way to light a stove. It took her a few tries, but finally,
the wood flamed.

Sully patted her
shoulder. “Nicely done.”

Getting over their
sulk, Jed and Henry added their compliments.

Sully pointed to the
stove top. “Now, grab that cooking pot and we’ll fill it with
water.”

Melissa reached for the pot on the stove top. It was heavier
than it looked. She lifted the lid and peeked inside.
Something...
congealed
lay on the bottom and it stank. “There’s food in
this.”

Sully nodded. “It’ll
add flavor.”

Repulsed, Melissa turned her head away from the smelly mass.
“
No
. We need
another pot.”

“That’s the only one,”
said Sully impatiently.

Melissa stuck out her
chin. “Then we need to clean it out,” she enunciated each word
clearly.

Sully’s eyes widened.
“What for?”

“For
cleanliness
!”

Sully sighed, grabbed
the pot, grumbled about wasting good food, and to Melissa’s
astonishment, scraped the food onto the cabin’s dirt floor.

Zeke started to
eat.

Sully tilted the pot to
show the inside. “Satisfied? Can we cook now?”

Melissa didn’t even try
to hide her revulsion. She placed her hands on her hips. “That pot
needs to be cleaned.”

Sully
looked outraged. “Then we won’t have
any
extra flavor.”

Melissa crossed her
arms.

Sully stomped out of
the cabin to the water pump, grumbling about bossy women all the
way.

Melissa followed and
watched as he pumped the water and scoured the pot.

Jed and Henry wandered
out to stand behind her and observe, throwing out instructions to
their non-appreciative friend and making it obvious they’d never
washed a dish in their lives.

When Sully finished, he
held out the pot for her inspection, his entire attitude
belligerent.

Melissa took it from
him and cleaned it a bit more, using the bar of soap to lather the
insides as much as possible before giving it a final rinse.

Sully continued to
mumble, something about the soap ruining the finish on his
cast-iron pot.