Calamity Gene

Chapter 9

A knock on the cabin door at sunrise the next morning had Gene's heart racing.

She smiled as it struck her Trace was knocking very gently today—which she supposed she should have expected after his tenderness last nigh, and yet it still surprised her.

She hurried into the bathroom to check in the mirror that she was picture perfect, and then hurried back out as a second knock sounded. She was going to throw herself into his arms and kiss the every-loving hell out of—

"Oh," she said, only just managing to stop her forward momentum, and a giggle erupted from her as she imagined the shock she would have given the perfect cowgirl standing on the threshold by flinging herself on her with her mouth puckered for a kiss.

The cowgirl smiled. "I hope you're Gene," she said.

"I am. And sorry for that precipitous door-opening. I need to learn to curb my enthusiasm I think."

"Not on my account," the cowgirl said, her smile widening to a grin. "Nothing wrong with enthusiasm. These are for you."

These?

Belatedly Gene noticed the folded brown leather held out on the cowgirl's upturned palms. "What is it? I mean what are they? I mean... Oh, what am I doing? Come in."

Shaking out the leather, the cowgirl stepped inside. "Trace asked me to lend them to you for the rest of your stay."

Gene's eyes went wide as she recognized the offering, her heart swelling with joy. "I get to wear chaps? Like...like chaps? Seriously?"

"Sort of, but shorter. They're called chinks strictly speaking, but hell, you can call them chaps if you want. They'll help you grip the saddle better and also stop you getting rubbed raw. The fringe down the sides will shoo the worst of the flies away and if—God forbid—you get kicked in the leg by a cow, or a horse for that matter, it won't hurt so bad."

"Oh wow," Gene breathed, reaching out a reverent hand to touch to smooth leather. "They even have decorations!"

"Conchos," Fern said, and shrugged a shoulder. "But these are pretty basic. I've got fancier ones."

"Really?"

"Really! For rodeos. But these are just fine for working days. So are you going to take 'em?"

Gene reached for them, longing to snatch them, maybe even hug them, but stopped herself. "You sure you're happy to lend them to me? I seem to have got a reputation for...for..."

"Heard about your reputation but these are pretty well indestructible," Fern said, and as Gene breathed out an awed "Oooooohhh" and finally took the chinks, added: "I'm Trace's sister, Fern, by the way."

"Psychic Fern?" Gene looked at her more closely as she stood with the chinks protectively clasped to her chest, cataloguing the raven black hair and bright blue eyes. She was a tiny, pretty version of Trace, but with Avery's warm smile.

"Um...noooo, I'm not psychic."

"Avery said—"

Fern cut her off with a snort. "If Avery's brains were dynamite there wouldn't be enough to blow his nose."

"I like him."

"That is no surprise. He's very...well, let's say well-liked by many, many women."

"But..." Gene frowned, trying to recall Avery's exact words.  "Maybe he didn't say...or at least he didn't mean...that is he said you'd predicted the next couple of weeks would be interestingand— Oh." She laughed. "I get it. That reputation of mine had already precededme. I suppose you heard about the Cub mishap—not that anything happened,no matter how brutal Trace was aboutit. I didn't even fall off! Well, aside from when I was trying to get on." Shewinced. "Okay, and I did nearly get kicked."