Ranch Hand

Rescued

Harry reflected on the conversation he'd had with his mum. She had been so proud of him, as had Audrey and Tish. Harry let the words of praise trickle through his mind as he languished on his bunk, getting a couple hours of relaxation before the barn dance tonight.

He had told Audrey and Tish that he was making more money than he had at his previous job, but had not quoted the exact amount. He didn't like to boast. But with his mum, he hadn't been able to resist. After all, she was the best one to brag to, it was one of the greatest things about a mother: they always rejoiced with you with even more enthusiasm than the best of friends. A mother always wanted the best for you.

Even in his excitement about the barn dance, Harry was dreading it in a way. As much as he was looking forward to it, he didn't know what to expect. He did know he'd be expected to dance with women, and he didn't want to encourage anyone. Not that he thought he was irresistible or anything like that, but some women seemed to really lap up his looks—something that mystified him.

Many women preferred the rugged, Marlboro man type, but a good amount seemed attracted to his baby face, curly hair and dimples. As ludicrous as it sounded, he actually wished he could dance with Louis! Boy, would that make everyone stare, and rumors would be flying, but it sure would be nice all the same.

Another concern of his was the thought of Louis flirting with women, dancing with them, perhaps even kissing one or two. That thought made Harry miserable and tied his guts in knots.

He'd caught Louis staring at him at the most unlikely times, even though Louis had tried to be furtive. After being discovered, Louis would pull a guilty look, and Harry found himself wishing that Louis had to rein in his desire to keep looking when it became obvious he had been detected. Harry also bet Louis ogled females in the same way, and that made him feel very un-special.

Why did Louis look at him like that, anyway? Probably just making sure Harry was applying himself to the job, nothing more. Harry's imagination sometimes ran wild on him. He could see the potential of really getting himself into trouble if he allowed himself to assume things.

Once, Johnny had been teasing Harry, commenting on how perfect his curls were, and Louis had pinned Johnny's eyes with his own, saying, "Do me a favor?"

That meant stop what you're doing, but since Harry had never heard an American use that phrase, he couldn't help but wonder if Louis was aware that Johnny didn't know the meaning, and that was Louis' way of letting Harry know he didn't like Johnny giving him so much attention. Fat chance. Harry was dreaming again. Wishing again.

There were other instances where Louis would say something cryptic now and then. Since his words might be construed in two or more different ways, Harry could never be sure if Louis might be sending him a message. This was all wishful thinking on Harry's part, and in his lucid moments, he realized that.

Once, Harry had asked Johnny if he'd ever been married. He didn't want to pry or be too inquisitive and offend Johnny by asking such a personal question, but Johnny had not batted an eyelash. Since Harry's father had died when he'd been fairly young, he was quite curious about relationships and marriage. He hadn't paid that much attention to his parents' marriage, as he was too busy spending time with his friends, but now that his dad was gone, he wished he had.

"Yeah," a melancholy look had come over Johnny. "I was married real young, when I was only nineteen. It didn't work out, obviously. Don't think I'll ever go that route again. I was restless as a fox in a chicken coop."

Harry had giggled. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughin' about your marriage. It's just that you Texans use so many metaphors. And most of them are funny . . . at least to me," he added carefully.