I rub the back of my neck, trying to knead out the frustration and stress. I push my chair back and look at the desk—and more specifically, the ledger in front of me. This damn place is a mess. When I agreed to take the job, I had no idea what I was getting into. I’ve been here for two weeks and there hasn’t been a day since I got here that I haven’t thought about leaving.
There’s only one thing that stops me.
Correction.
Seven things.
Ida Sue has seven kids living at home, and nine altogether.
Seven.
I couldn’t even imagine. If I leave she’s going to lose this ranch. I know it. There’s no saving it and it will be close even if I stay. The problem is, knowing that, there’s no way I can just walk away.
“Mom said you might be hungry.”
I look up to see Maggie standing at the door, holding a large plate with fried chicken, potato salad, green beans and biscuits. Ida Sue might be a guarded woman who can be a pure bitch. She might have enough kids to start her own football team and she is shit at running a ranch. However, there is one thing the woman can do—well, besides having kids. She can cook food that melts in your damn mouth. If I wasn’t running myself ragged on the ranch trying to mend enough fences so I can attempt to buy some cattle, I’m sure I would have gained a good ten pounds.
“That smells awful good Maggie-May.”
“It is. Mom is really good at cooking. It’s important for a woman to know how to cook. Don’t you think?” she asks, barely stopping to take a breath as she talks. The entire time, she’s putting the food down on the desk and goes to the mini-fridge in the corner of my office to grab a soda, before bringing it back to me.
“I reckon it’s useful for anyone to know how to cook,” I laugh.
“Yeah, but more useful for a mother or a wife, right?”
“I suppose so,” I mumble not really paying attention. My eyes close as I bite into the fried chicken. I thought that you couldn’t get much better than Ida Sue’s pork chop casserole. I was obviously wrong.
“Does your wife know how to cook?” Maggie asks, and I nearly choke as I hear the question.
I cough and wheeze and drink down half a can of soda pop before I can finally respond.
“I’m not married, Maggie.”
“Do you have kids?” I frown wondering what the twenty questions is about, but I don’t really care. I’m more interested in the food.
“Nope.”
“Don’t you like kids?” Maggie asks, sounding as if I said no the world might end.
“They’re alright I guess. Just wasn’t in the cards for me. Don’t you have homework or something to do?”
“Yeah. Actually, this is part of my homework.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, I’m supposed to interview someone and ask what he would look for in a wife.”
“They sure have strange homework these days. Whatever happened to reading and math?”
“They still have those. This is for social studies.”
“Social studies? I thought that was about maps and people all over the world kind of thing.”
“Well, they want to know about people and why they decide things they do. Like who to marry. You know?”
“I guess.”
“So, could you answer?”
“Answer what?” I mumble, having trouble following this conversation and wishing she’d go back home so I could eat in peace.
“What you’d look for in a wife. I have to ask somebody and the only other guy around here that I could ask would be Green and he’s fifteen. If I ask him I know what’d he say.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. He would just say as long as her legs swing open as fast as he can swing a bat.”
I’ve seen Green swing a bat. That boy is destined for the majors so that’s saying something. All I can do is laugh.
“Will you help me, Jansen?”
“Don’t think I can, pretty girl. I don’t know what I’d look for in a wife. I was married once and I thought she was exactly what I wanted, but it turned out she wasn’t even close.”
“She wasn’t?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
I sigh.
“When a man picks a mate...”
“A mate?”
“A wife. When a man picks a wife, he wants someone who has a little grit about her. One who will stick with you when things go bad.”
“Wouldn’t he rather have someone who would make it so things didn’t go bad?” she asks, innocently.
“Yeah, well, Maggie, the thing about life is that something always goes bad eventually.”
“Like when Orville died.”
“Orville?”
“Yeah. This was his farm. He loved Mom. All of us really. I miss him. He had a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
“Me too. I guess I better get back inside.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Maggie.”
“Bye, Jansen.”
“Bye, honey.”
I watch as she walks away and I can’t help but think about the man who took Ida Sue and her kids in. It’s obvious he was a good man if Maggie is anything to go by.
It’s a damn shame he couldn’t stay and watch them grow.
I sigh.
Or stick around and save this damn ranch, because right now I need a miracle to do it.