The Rancher's Daughter

Yellow hair caught up in a neat little bun that just sets there and rides along. Big blue eyes that look up at you and make you think of the baby pictures on the calendar down at Sam Taylor's general store. Pert little tilted-up nose like on the doll Jesse Carrol won at the carnival last May. And a mouth like one of the rosebuds growing on the south side of the Bar T bunkhouse. That about takes care of Bernadine north of the neckline. Below that is 23 years of construction that makes most other women look something like my paint horse, Arnold. Course, this don't run around loose but is usually wearing little calico dresses with little white aprons. The lower part of Bernadine is legs which look grand in those new kind of bullfighter pants. The first time old Dan Connors saw her in shorts he went blind for two days. Adding it all up, Sam Taylor ran a Brigitte Bardot picture in the theatre he sets up once a week in the store and the only people who paid their way in was women.

The Bar T Ranch is a big spread and there's five of us who ride steady for it. Besides Jesse Carrol and old Dan Connors, there's Frank "Gimpy" Yake, Curly Preiser and me. Jesse is wanted in Wyoming. Old Dan was a crooked sheriff in New Mexico. Gimpy would be dead right now, except that he was on a stepladder when the Colorado Kid fired and he got the bullet in his foot. Then while he blinded the Kid with the chandelier and standing on one foot he shot the Kid in the top of the head. Curly robbed a bank once and never spent a cent of the money. He's afraid it's all marked. I'm the only one without a record but I'm still young.

With a bunch like this the Bar T needs Bernadine. She walks around with those big eyes and that Sunday school smile and sometimes there's not a dirty word muttered on the Bar T for a week. Old Dan gave up his chaw because of her. Curly took to wearing undershirts. When Bernadine wears her white frock dress it's like a little organ is playing walking music for her. No cowpoke wants to be a slob in a situation like that. Bernadine is the owner's daughter and he stays in Denver. Helping Bernadine run the spread is Aunt Bessie. She does the cooking and she's deaf as hell. Which is a damn good thing because with all her other good points Bernadine loves sex.

"Johnny," Bernadine would say, "you get those jeans off and come up here in the loft right away. How long you think a little lady can wait?"

That's how I got my skinned knees last Thursday. And Gimpy near broke his good leg tripping over his gun belt when Aunt Bessie went out to the road to get the mail and Bernadine invited him into the kitchen. Aunt Bessie makes the trip from kitchen to road and back in seven minutes.

Once Aunt Bessie spent the weekend with the Tollivers, 12 miles the other side of Sam Taylor's general store. No sooner is Aunt Bessie over the hill than the kitchen door opens and Bernadine comes out (concluded on page 80)Rancher's Daughter(continued from page 42) wearing blue shorts no bigger than my bandana. On top she's got a yellow thing she says is a halter and is no bigger than a pair of sunglasses. All weekend the only one herding cows is Cooky, the dog. When Aunt Bessie gets back early Monday she catches Jesse climbing down from the hayloft in his underdrawers and docks him a day's pay for drinking. While she's chewing out Jesse, Curly is crawling under the porch looking for his duds. Old Dan and Gimpy are out cold in their bunks, faces happy as can be, and being the youngest, I'm on Arnold riding out to relieve Cooky.

"Where did you get the yellow bandana, Johnny?" Aunt Bessie yells over. I got no answer ready so I pull out my handkerchief to wipe my nose and all I come up with is little blue shorts. It was a helluva weekend.

It's hard to imagine a more contented bunch of cowpokes than us five on the Bar T. We gave up gun-slinging because we felt we had something to live for. Gimpy and me even gave up smoking 'cause it makes you short-winded. If it's one thing that riled Bernadine it was having a guy get short-winded. Actually we were not just contented; we were getting healthier.

"Almost makes a fellow ashamed to take his wages every month," Old Dan would say.

Aunt Bessie always handed out the wages. "Now don't go spending it all on women," she would say sharply. Bernadine would set there beside her and just look at us with those big blue eyes. Aunt Bessie's words meant nothing to Bernadine. To Bernadine sex was the most wonderful thing going. You don't worry about money when you have the most wonderful thing for a hobby. It was no time at all before all the Bar T hands came to feel the same way about it. It was good clean living, healthy work, and a good-paying job. You sure would guess that Harold would come along sooner or later.

"Harold is down from Denver to check the books," Aunt Bessie says, introducing him. He's wearing city pants and a necktie and Bernadine looks him over. Right away each of us figures our playing time is cut by one-sixth; but not one of us complains because we know Bernadine would want it this way. Of course we figure the books are going to be pretty well loused up by the end of the week, but that's not our worry. Tuesday we have a new worry. That evening in the bunkhouse Curly Preiser brings up the delicate subject.

"Anybody have any fun yesterday?" Curly asks. We all look at each other and count the up-raised hands.

"None," Curly says. "Anybody today?"

There's a dead silence and a few boots start shuffling nervously. Curly goes to the calendar and checks the date. "Nope, that ain't it," he announces quietly.

Old Dan hops up. "Who's holdin' out?" he demands. "Fess up now! I don't like this horsin' around."

"Johnny," Curly says, looking at me. "You sure Bernadine didn't drag you into the barn yesterday?"

"No, sir," I told him. "Last time was Saturday night in the orchard. I remember 'cause the little crab apples were all over the ground and --"

"I ain't askin' for details," Curly snaps.

"Bernadine never acted like this before," Old Dan says sadly.

"I think it's Harold," Gimpy Yake mutters. "He's been talkin' a lot to Bernadine."

"Ho!" Jesse laughs. "That ain't the answer. Bernadine don't go for talk."

"Maybe Harold talks different," Curly says softly. All of us sat back to think and this got us nowheres. All I could think of was the apple orchard, blue shorts, and how sometimes she wore a ponytail instead of a bun. Man, she would get that ponytail aswirling and all hell would break loose.

"Johnny," Jesse said. "You don't look like you're doin' the right kind of thinking."

"Why don't we ask Bernadine?" Curly suggested. We took a vote and next morning we nabbed Bernadine behind the barn where it's all trompled down nice.

"Morning," she says, looking like somebody's kid sister. Old Dan steps forward.

"How come the supply been shut off?" he inquires in a kindly tone. Bernadine opens her eyes to the half-dollar size.

"What supply you talkin' about, Dan?" she asks sweetly.

"You know what I mean," Dan says. "Ain't one of us had any fun since Saturday."

Bernadine lowers her head, looks at her shoes, and wrinkles that little tilted nose.

"Harold explained it's wrong," she murmurs real serious.

"Wrong!" five voices chorus. Curly leans against the barn and looks sick. Gimpy has to sit down. Old Dan opens his eyes and comes back to the attack.

"But Harold leaves at the end of the week. Then it won't be wrong," he tries.

"Harold is staying," she tells us. "I'm gonna fall in love and marry him. And he told me the vows. I'm being true to him 'til death do us part. Isn't that beautiful?"

Curly leans against the barn again and almost does get sick. I didn't know my mouth was open until a big damn old moth flies in and out again. Bernadine smiles, pats our hands, and walks away. We pick up Curly and stumble back to the bunkhouse.

By Friday night we knew what had to be done. It was probably Old Dan's idea or Jesse's but any one of us would be proud to claim it. At sunrise Saturday morning we marched Harold out the back bedroom door of the main house. He was wearing a nightshirt and we had no mind to give him time to dress.

"No point to it," Old Dan explained, propping Harold up against the corral fence. "Care for a cigarette?"

"What are you madmen doing?" Harold demanded.

"Who's got a cigarette?" Dan asked, looking around.

"We all gave 'em up," I told him. "Makes you short-winded."

"I forgot," Dan apologized. "Guess Harold will have to settle for a blindfold."

"Don't anyone dare blindfold me," Harold said angrily. Jesse nodded.

"A brave man. OK. Let's go."

Harold watched in amazement as we backed up and formed a neat line facing him.

"One," Dan said. We took deep breaths.

"Two," he called. We crouched slightly.

"Three!" Five hands slapped leather. The shots rang out like one -- and Harold naturally was done for. None of us forgot our old trade. We planted him in the flower bed with the petunias and stood around waiting for Bernadine.

"Hope she didn't forget how," Gimpy mused. The rest of us nodded.

• • •

That was a month ago and it turned out we'd been worrying in the wrong direction. When Bernadine discovered that death did them part she began to smile again and that ponytail went swinging something fierce. Old Dan passed away in his sleep two weeks ago Wednesday. Out of sheer weariness Jesse missed the top rung of the ladder from the hayloft two nights later. Gimpy chickened out and left for Colorado last Saturday. He was down to 86 pounds and fading fast. His horse never knew when Gimpy was aboard and would just stand in the corral looking stupid.

Curly is painting the sign now and doing a right nice job with the lettering considering he has to heft the brush with two hands. Help Wanted, it says. Not so much with the herding as to pitch in with the chores around the place. Don't bother applyin' if you smoke. Bernadine don't cotton to it.