3

Jansen

“What are you doing here?” she asks, and as welcomes go I’d say this wasn’t one, but for whatever reason I like it.

“Heard in town you might be in the market for a foreman.”

Her gaze moves over me and I get the feeling she is sizing me up. I’d say it was a pretty safe bet that this woman has the instincts of a hawk. I stand here, letting her appraise me and wait, wondering just what she will see. Sometimes, I’m not so sure of what I see in myself.

“You have any experience?”

“My fair share. I used to run a spread about the size of this one for about fifteen years,” I tell her. I don’t bother adding that the spread was mine and that I was raised on it. There’s no point.

“You have references?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Can you stop with the Ma’am? You’re probably older than me, so if you call me Ma’am that makes me feel like I’m older than dirt.”

“Where I’m from, it’s a sign of respect.”

“If you’ve been in town, I figure you know how much of that I get.”

I don’t respond to that. Anything I could say won’t make her feel a damn bit better.

She frowns, looking at me.

“What’s your name?”

“Jansen Reed.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“The kind my parents gave me.”

“It’s not a great name.”

“Only one I’ve ever had. It makes me kind of partial to it.”

“You look more like a tree.”

“A tree?” For the second time today, I find myself wanting to grin. That should probably warn me…

But I ignore the small voice that tries.

“Yeah, something tall and lanky. Maybe Maple, possibly Hickory.”

“Not Pine?”

“I hope not. The damn things leak sap constantly and ruin anything they touch. Plus, I’m allergic to it. I break out in hives with one touch. Only thing it’s good for is a wood chipper.”

“Suddenly, I find myself hoping you never call me Pine.”

“Suddenly, I feel like I should. You staying in town?”

“Not sure. Haven’t seen a hotel yet. If your job is filled, I’ll probably just move on down the line.”

“You’re awful old to not have roots.”

“I’m not much on roots.”

“I guess tree might not be the kind of name for you.”

“I guess so.”

“You can sleep in the barn,” she mutters, finally putting her gun down.

“There a room in the barn?”

“There’s a hayloft.”

“I can sleep in my truck,” I mumble.

“Your choice. The boys head to school at seven. I can ask Magnolia to watch the girls and I’ll meet you at the barn. If you manage to not screw things up, the job is yours.”

“Just like that?”

“You haven’t seen what I’ll have you do tomorrow,” she warns me.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I guess so,” she says staring at me.

“Is there somewhere you’d rather me park my truck for the night?”

“Is there somewhere else you’d park a truck instead of a driveway?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d like people seeing a strange truck in your driveway.”

“There’s something you should know, Jansen.”

“What’s that?”

“People are going to talk about me, whether your truck is there or not. That’s just fact.”

“I—”

“Hell, they’re probably saying I’m spreading my legs for the horses I own.”

I probably wasn’t meant to, but I laugh.

“Not sure I could compete with a horse, Ma’am.”

“Not sure many could. Call me Ida Sue.”

“Okay, Ida.”

“Ida Sue,” she corrects.

“Ida Sue,” I agree, but as weird as this conversation is, that name clearly doesn’t seem to fit her either. “You don’t look like an Ida Sue, though.”

“It’s a good name.”

“You look more like a flower.”

I don’t know why, but I immediately think that was the wrong thing to say to her. She takes two steps back from me, but it feels like she’s put a wall between us at the same time. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced, but I feel it just the same.

“I’ll see you in the morning Jansen. Watch out for the coyotes running around and if you get the urge to come to the house, don’t. I’m more of a shoot first and ask questions later kind of girl.”

“So noted, Ida Sue.”

“Good,” she says and then she turns around, walks inside and closes the door.

I stand there frowning at the door. I hear the tumbler turn as she locks the deadbolt and then I make my way back to the truck.

Tomorrow will be interesting if nothing else. I probably shouldn’t look forward to it.

But I am.