I'll Sing for my Dinner Read online

  I looked around at the pickup. It seemed pretty fancy. It certainly was big. There were three rifles hanging on a rack in the back window. I wondered what he hunted.

  We turned off the paved road onto a dirt road. A sign on a fence said, ‘Top Hat Ranch’, with a pictogram below it that I thought might be a brand. Did they still brand cattle? It looked a bit like a top hat. Another mile along, and we pulled into a large open circle surrounded by buildings. A two-story house with a big white porch sat directly in front of us. A large barn sat to our left, and what looked like another barn, one story high and much longer than it was wide, was on our right. Two or three smaller buildings seemed to be scattered randomly around.

  The house was almost as large as my parents’ house, the one where I grew up, but as different from theirs as Connecticut was from Colorado. Two dogs waited for us, wagging their tails. One was large and yellow, barking like crazy. The other one was smaller, white and black, and it was spinning around in circles and leaping up in the air.

  Jake got out of the truck and was assaulted by the dogs. He petted them and then told them to go lie down. They both ran toward the lower barn and disappeared.

  “The big one’s Barney,” McGarrity said. “The little one is Mari. She’s a maniac. Barney’s bark is worse than his bite. I’ll formally introduce you to them in the morning.”

  Hauling my pack out of the back of his truck, he led me into the house. A parlor, quaintly decorated, sat to our right as we entered. A dining room and beyond that a kitchen were to the left. We passed through the foyer into a large living room.

  Pointing beyond to a narrow hallway leading to the back of the house, he said, “Laundry room is back there.”

  He headed up the stairs, still carrying my pack as if it weighed nothing. At the top, he pointed to the end of the hall and said, “My room is there.” Turning around, he pointed to the other end of the hall. “You’ll be staying there.”

  “Do you live alone?” I asked. He wasn’t wearing any rings.

  “Just me and my brother, but he usually stays at a girlfriend’s place,” he answered.

  He opened the door, flipped on the light and set my pack in the corner near the foot of the bed. Queen sized, with a heavy dark wood headboard and footboard, it was covered in a lovely crocheted bedspread.

  “Bathroom is here,” he said, opening a door on our left and switching on the light. “If you take a shower, be sure the curtain is tucked inside. Otherwise, water will be all over the floor and I’ll be repairing the ceiling in the kitchen.”

  He opened another door, and I was surprised to see women’s clothing hanging in the closet. “I expect these will be too big for you,” he said, “but maybe some of the tops will be okay. At least you’ll have something to wear around the house while you wash your clothes.” He looked me up and down. “Maybe some of the jeans in the very back will fit, though they’ll be too long. You can roll them up. Mary never threw out anything, so stuff from when she was a kid is probably still there.” He looked toward a large dresser. “There are more clothes there. Don’t be shy about taking what you need.”

  “Who is Mary?” I asked, suddenly uncomfortable with him putting me in someone else’s room.

  “She was my sister,” he said. “She died three years ago. There is food in the kitchen. I have to get back to work. Do you think you’ll be all right here? I’ll be home about three o’clock. You don’t have to wait up for me.”

  “I’ll be fine.” My heart felt like it was about to burst. The whirlwind that gathered me up when I walked into the bar had my head spinning. If you had asked me that morning where I would end up that night, I would have guessed dead in a ditch before I imagined this. “Mr. McGarrity, I don’t know what to say. Do you always bring home strays like this?”

  He laughed. “I have that tendency, but it’s usually limited to dogs, cats, horses, that sort of thing. You’re the first girl I’ve dragged home with me.”

  I stepped up beside him, and standing on my tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. You must be the sweetest man God ever made.”

  He blushed deep red. “Well, I need to get back. Get out of those clothes and throw them and anything you have in your pack in the laundry, then take a bath. Or a shower if you wish.” Plucking a bathrobe from the closet, he handed it to me, then turned to leave.

  “Okay,” I said. “I promise I’ll smell better when you get back.”

  He blushed again. I listened to him going down the stairs, then out the door. “I’ve locked the door,” he shouted. “Don’t open it for anyone but me or a man named Jared. And if he comes by, make sure you have some clothes on before you let him in.”

  I smiled and yelled back, “Dangerous, is he?”

  “He’s only dangerous if you’re susceptible to his blarney,” he shouted back. “At least if you have clothes on, it will slow him down.”

  I heard his pickup start and drive away. Immediately, I stripped to the skin. I didn’t even want to touch the bathrobe before I washed. Since I was alone in the house, no one would care if I were naked. Digging through my backpack, I gathered everything that possibly could be washed, and took the clothes downstairs. I followed the hallway he’d pointed out and found myself in a room with the back door. A dog door was cut in it. To my left were a modern washer and dryer sitting under shelves with detergent, fabric softener, and anything else I might need.

  Looking around the room, I saw more shelves that held stacks of canned goods, cleaning supplies, and a couple of very large stew pots. A large bowl of water sat on the floor with two smaller empty bowls. I assumed they were for the dogs. Two smaller bowls, one with water and one with dry pet food, sat on a shelf.

  The washer was turned to cold water. The health department would probably order most of my clothes burned, but they were all I had. I cranked the temperature switch to hot, measured out detergent, and dumped my clothes in. Separating colors was a joke. Anything I had that used to be white was now gray.

  Padding out of the laundry room, I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was full of food, along with two different kinds of beer and three bottles of white wine. I had seen a full wine rack in the dining room. Not what I would have expected of a cowboy. A large jug of orange juice, however, riveted my attention. I found a glass and poured it full. Taking a sip, I moaned in pleasure.

  Even though the house was obviously pretty old, the paint both outside and inside was well maintained. The kitchen had been upgraded, and not too long before. They had done it right, with granite counters and a large granite-topped island, a new stainless steel refrigerator, a top-end stove with a convection oven, and ceramic tile on the floor.

  Back upstairs, I started water running in the big claw-foot bathtub. I would probably turn the water black, but I could rinse with the shower and clean out the tub. If he was coming home after three in the morning, I would be able to soak until the water got cold, then refill it and wash. I couldn’t remember the last time I had the luxury of soaking in a large tub.

  The shelf above the tub held everything a girl could possibly want. I remembered the sad expression on his face when he told me his sister died. If she was anything like him, I bet I would have liked her. And she probably would have been horrified by me. I poured a capful of lavender bath oil in the water, and let the tub fill while I sipped my orange juice.

  When the tub was full, I removed the knife hanging around my neck and put it next to the tub. Then I slid into the water and realized why that day seemed so strange. Obviously, I had died and gone to heaven. None of this could possibly be real. Ex-Marines with hearts of gold only happen in fairy tales, especially handsome, gentle ex-Marines, and fairy tales don’t happen in the real world.

  It took two tubs to soak off the grime, and I washed my hair four times before my scalp felt clean. My hair was so filthy that the shampoo didn’t even lather properly the first time.

  A long thin case on the top of the dresser drew my attention. I open
ed it and found a flute. McGarrity said he played guitar and his brother had a band. Evidently, they were a musical family. He recognized the Segovia number I played at the bar, which surprised me.

  Looking in the dresser, I found a pair of cotton panties that fit me and a large t-shirt. Mary probably swiped it from her brother. I checked in the closet, and just as he said, there were jeans in the back, as long as I didn’t mind them being six inches too long. The tops, shirts and shells were a little loose. That figured. The bra in the dresser was far too large. I might have fit my head in one of the cups, but not my boob.

  It didn’t matter. I really didn’t need a bra, anyway. I turned back the bed, turned out the light, and slipped between clean, crisp linen sheets. I said a quick prayer that this was all real and that I wouldn’t wake up with a drug-fueled hangover in the morning, discovering I’d been dreaming.

  ~~~

  Chapter 3

  Jake

  Jared’s pickup wasn’t at the house when I got home. I wasn’t surprised. He had two or three girlfriends, who seemed happy to share their beds with him, and he rarely came home at night. I didn’t give a damn where he slept as long as he opened the restaurant at eleven every morning.

  Trying to be quiet, I let myself in. The house was silent, but I could see a light on in the laundry room. Going back there, I found the girl’s clothes in the washer, still wet. Having thrown them in the dryer, I turned out the light and went into the kitchen.

  I poured myself a shot of whiskey, downed it, and then went back to the foyer and took off my boots. When I went upstairs, I didn’t see a light under the door of Mary’s room. Being very quiet, I flipped on the hall light, turned the knob and peeked in. Cecily lay on her side, sleeping peacefully. Her face was clean and her hair was wrapped in a towel. It appeared that she found an old t-shirt of mine that Mary used to sleep in. Her right hand was outside the covers, resting on the other pillow. The knife she held gleamed in the faint light from the hallway.

  I chuckled. The girl would have fit right in over in Afghanistan. Except for her size. She had been bowed by the weight of her backpack, which I estimated only weighed thirty-five pounds. A Marine would have considered that light enough to go swimming with. Even a woman Marine.

  I closed the door and went to my room, where I dreamed of an angel with Cecily’s face descending from the sky.

  In the morning, I awoke to the sounds of someone trying to be quiet in the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon frying told me that either Cecily was awake, or Jared had undergone a miraculous transformation the night before. I put on some clothes and went downstairs.

  Cecily had set the table for two. A coffee mug sat beside the stove, along with a large glass of orange juice. Bacon lined up like soldiers at attention on a plate. She was wearing a t-shirt that was many, many sizes too large for her. If she had anything at all under it, I couldn’t tell, as it covered her to her knees.

  A towel wrapped her head, and without the grime, her freshly-scrubbed face glowed. Being clean also showed just how thin she was. Her cheekbones were so prominent it gave her a slightly foreign, elven look, and her legs looked like sticks. To be fair, she was so fine boned that I doubted she had ever weighed very much.

  The cat was bumping around her ankles, meowing.

  She turned and took a couple of steps toward me before she realized I was standing there.

  “Oh, you startled me,” she said. “I was just going up to ask how you like your eggs.”

  “Over easy,” I said.

  She went back to the stove and broke eggs into the frying pan. “There’s fresh coffee,” she said. “I don’t know how you like it.”

  “Black is fine,” I said with a smile, and went to pour some in the cup sitting beside the coffee maker. “This is a pleasant surprise. I could smell it upstairs. If Jared was cooking, I figured I’d be seeing flying cows when I went outside.”

  She smiled at me, her face lighting up, and my heart almost stopped. “I was hungry. I hope you don’t mind. You said it was okay to look in the fridge.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Thank you for putting my clothes in the dryer. I guess I forgot. What’s the cat’s name?”

  I felt my face flush. Cecily looked at me expectantly.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “Doesn’t she have a name?” She reached down and scratched the cat’s ears. “Are you one of Mr. McGarrity’s strays? Why didn’t he give you a name?”

  “We call her the Slut-Kitty,” I mumbled. “Jared named her that because she wants to be petted all the time and she doesn’t care who pets her.”

  Cecily laughed, then knelt down and scratched the cat’s ears again. “You probably had a hard life before you came here, didn’t you?” she said to the cat. “Well, there’s no shame in being a slut. That’s just a label foolish men and dried-up old ladies use for friendly girls. You and I will get along fine.”

  She slid a couple of eggs onto a plate, accompanied by several slices of bacon, and pulled a slice of toast out of the toaster. “Here, go sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

  She cooked her own eggs, scrambled with some cheese, and joined me. Looking at me with a pair of eyes that seemed too large for her face, she said, “I wasn’t sure last night if I’d wake up this morning and find that yesterday was just a dream. I didn’t know there were cowboy angels. Or that any angels cared about me. Thank you, Mr. McGarrity.”

  “Cecily,” I said, “you make me very uncomfortable when you thank me every ten minutes. And people who know me would laugh at the idea of me being an angel. You needed a helping hand, and it hasn’t hurt me any to give it to you.”

  “Those people don’t know you very well,” she said. “Everyone talks about Christian charity, but there aren’t very many people who practice it. I’m more used to people calling me names when I’m standing on the side of the road than having them give me a ride.”

  That gave me an opening. “Where are you going?”

  “California. I thought I might be able to find some work there.”

  “Playing music?”

  “Yeah. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I guess I could wait tables, but I’ll try to get a music gig first.”

  “You’ve got that now,” I said smiling.

  She returned the smile. “Yes, I do, don’t I? Thank you so ...” she trailed off as I held up my hand. “Oh, yeah, you’re not comfortable with thanks, are you?” With a mischievous grin, she said, “Well, damn you very much, Mr. McGarrity, for giving me a job. Is that better?” She picked up our plates, and laughing, took them to the sink.

  Her laughter was like silver bells. She quickly washed the dishes, ignoring the dishwasher, dried them and put them away.

  She pulled the towel off her head, and bending forward, let her hair fall, gave it a shake, and then straightened. It fell down her back and over her shoulders in a cloud. Thick and at least a shade lighter now that it was clean, it was an astounding amount of hair

  “Do you mind if I use your sister’s brush?” she asked.

  “No. You can have it, if you like.”

  She gave me another one of those smiles that turned my knees to jelly. “Damn you, Mr. McGarrity.” Chuckling as she left the kitchen, she said, “If there are other words you would prefer I use instead of thank you, let me know.”

  Her bare feet pounding on the stairs as she ran up them reminded me of Mary.

  She came back down looking much better than she had the day before, but the image of an angel stopped at her neck. “Cecily, we need to get you some clothes. You can’t perform looking like that.”

  She looked down at herself, and then raised her eyes to mine. “I know they’re pretty bad. But I can’t afford clothes right now. All the money I have is what you gave me last night.”

  “I’ll advance you some pay,” I said. “Come on.”

  I needed to check on the horses and feed them, and she trailed me out to the stable. Th
e dogs came at a run when they heard us.

  “Sit,” I commanded, and they plopped their butts down and looked at me expectantly. Their curiosity had them glancing at Cecily, but mostly their attention was on my closed hands.

  “Are you comfortable with dogs?” I asked.

  “Sure. Can I pet them?”

  I turned to her, blocking my hands from the dogs’ sight. “Here,” I said, holding out my hands with the two dog biscuits. “Offer them on your open palm if you value your fingers. Then you can pet them.”

  She smiled and took the biscuits. “Barney and Mari, right?”

  The dogs minded their manners and didn’t try to eat her hands along with their treats, then leaned against her legs as she scratched their ears.

  Inside the stable, I introduced her to the horses. “This is Maggie. That’s Bella over there, and the two duns are Lightning and Thunder.”

  “They’re all yours?” she asked.

  “Mine and Jared’s. Have you ever ridden a horse?” I asked as I put oats in their buckets.

  “I rode a pony at a fair, once,” she answered.

  “Would you like to learn?”

  Her eyes got wide and she looked very closely at the horse I was feeding. “Is it hard? I know that people take riding lessons for years.”

  “No, not that hard. I’m not talking about teaching you to jump and do fancy stuff, but they need exercise. I enjoy just taking them out for a ride. There’s a pond a couple of miles from here. Nice place for a picnic.”

  A smile blossomed on her face and her eyes lit up. “Really? Yeah, I think I would like that.”

  “Then get to know Maggie. She’s the one you’ll be riding. She’s getting along in years, but she’s still fit and a real sweetheart.” I handed Cecily a carrot. She seemed almost shy as she approached Maggie and fed her the carrot, then reached up and scratched her ears.

  After I finished my chores, we hopped in my truck and headed to town. She brought her guitar with her. I had the feeling she never let it out of her sight.