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Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 01

By: EgmontGrigor2011



CHAPTER 1

Female novelist in Chicago seeks homely ranchers to host her for several weeks,  perhaps at intervals over months, while she researches for a new novel set on a modern ranch. Will pay for food and lodgings.  Write Skye Brock, Reflection Publications,  1B Sim St, Chicago, Il 99999

Bored at spending Saturday at home by himself, Ryan Hobbs replied to the magazine advertisement in front of him: 

'Dear Ms Brock. We would be most interested in having you stay with us. I'm an avid reader and we are in Wyoming, the heartland of old Cowboy Country. You should be here for calving in mid-February. We have 350 cows so you will see plenty of calves, you can help with haymaking and listen to my husband's colorful stories. My handsome young son can take you horse riding to photograph antelope and mule deer and capture breathtaking vistas and give you a real feeling of how it is for young folk to grow up on a ranch in glorious Wyoming.'

Grinning Ryan signed his mother's name Glenys Hobbs and took the letter out to the mailbox at the road for collection and decided not to say anything to his parents. 

Two weeks later he collected the mail when returning home with stock feed supplements and opened the letter from the sender who according to the return address was Skye Brock, novelist.

'Thank you dear Mrs Hobbs. I have decided yours was the most exciting location plus proposal of the thirty-three I received and I'll arrive on February 12. Please let me know if that date or my arrival is not suitable. Otherwise I shall see you in thirty-two days. I'm very happy you and your family appear to welcome this intrusion. I confirm what I stated in my advertisement: I will pay for food and lodgings and will help out around the place. Affectionately yours, Skye B.'

"Oh jeepers," Ryan huffed. "I've really done it this time."

Shaggy-haired Ryan kept putting off telling his mom and then late afternoon on the 12th he saw a red Ford coming up the track.

"Mom Skye Brock is coming up the track. Best get your apron off."

"Hmmm, The only Skye Brock I know of is a new author. How can you recognize the driver from this distance?"

"Perhaps I really don't know and it won't be her and I'll be saved."

"Ryan what on earth are you prattling on about?"

"Just a minute you might like to read this file," Ryan said, grabbing the file from the bottom drawer of the kitchen computer desk. "I have to go and help dad shift some bulls."

"No wait... I need to know more," Glenys said but seconds later heard the backdoor slam and knew he was gone.

Glenys just had time to speed-read the brief correspondence when the red candy Taurus pulled up outside the kitchen door.

"The little asshole, I'll kill him," Glenys gritted and went to the door but returned to take off her apron.

"Jesus!" 

* * *

Flaxen haired Skye Brock with tired baby blue eyes was stiff after her 1200-mile drive, broken for a motel stop the previous night in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. She eyed the house and thought it looked drab but then so did many of the others she'd seen. At least that made it typical.

She looked at the blue sky and the mare's tails galloping across it toward the heavily snow-capped mountaintops and breathed, "Omigod."

Her smile radiated.

A tall and solidly built woman in a beige jacket with brown faux fur collar rushed out and opened the car door. Skye was a little disappointed it wasn't like the old movies and the woman was wearing an apron.

"Greetings and welcome Skye. I'm Glenys Hobbs." 

Glenys then scowled and asked, "Skye do you know how to kick butt really hard?"

"Well that's the only interesting comment I've heard all day and a most unusual greeting."

"My son saw you arriving, spilt the beans and then raced off to escape immediate trouble. He's just given me the correspondence between you and him to read and that's the first I knew you'd been invited here to stay. He garbled your name and I said the only Skye Brock I was aware of was an author and...

"You have heard of me?"

"I purchased your 'Carey Green's Crazy Mother' eighteen months ago and borrowed your latest, 'The Lake is No Place for Carey Green' from the library in Buffalo last month. That was before my delinquent son wrote you."

That was enough to wise up Skye. She clambered out of the car, swiped back her hair back and hugged her angry hostess. "Good gracious you must be mad."

"I'll get over it."

"Well perhaps you might give me coffee and then I'll go."

Glenys looked shocked. 

"No way. We are country folk and hospitality is woven into our lifestyle. The men will bring in your luggage. You just bring your overnight bag and makeup bag through and I'll show you his sister's room. Linda married and went away four months ago. How old are you Skye?"

"Thirty and not married in case that was the next question."

"Well I'll keep my delinquent son away from you."

"Are you sure you want to do that Glenys? I am here for adventure."

"He's only just twenty-two."

"Oh I know, a deepening voice and spots on his face?"

"No that stage began and was over when he was sixteen."

"Oh. Um so he wrote that reply I received?"

"Yes the little bastard. He'll probably claim he was bored."

"Well it was written well enough to make me focus. What's the little shit's name? Ooops I shouldn't have called him that."

"It's fine, he often teases or frustrates me enough to goad me into abusing him."

"He's probably bored."

"What?"

"Nothing. What's his name?"

"Ryan."

"Well I suggest you deal with Ryan when he returns and don't be bothered by me being an interested spectator. I am researching a family and its rural lifestyle, remember?"

"Oh yes. Then I promise to really let it rip," said the cheery-faced woman in her mid forties who looked powerful enough to toss the visitor over the kitchen table.

"Um I have tended to spoil him. Ryan was my biggest gift to this family and the conception came so unexpectedly. He's eight years younger than Linda and his arrival gave Fergie the son he'd yearned for."

"Omigod, I think I can see what's happened. Ranchers on across-generations family land need a son to continue their land ownership, don't they?"

Glenys sniffed and pushed the bedroom door open wide and she said, "You are very astute but I guess you being a writer will be like that."

Skye glanced into the all-pink bedroom and gasped, noticing the wedding dress hanging above the closet door.

"Is there somewhere else I can sleep?"

"Not really apart from the bunkhouse with our three guys. Why?"

"You haven't touched this room since your daughter left."

"Very astute," Glenys muttered, throwing apart the curtains and folding the dress over an arm to take it away. 

She turned and smiled, showing great teeth. "Change had to come and this is it. If it hadn't been you it would have been some other houseguest. We use the guestroom as an office and for the pool table."

"You're entitled to miss your daughter and carry your secret you wanted nothing to change."

Glenys' dark eyes were shiny as she looked up. "Skye darling, it's going to be a joy having you here with us. You are the same age as my darling Linda and I can tell you know so much. I miss having a female to talk to."

They heard four heavy thuds on the back porch and Glenys said, "That will be Fergie. Only his mom and her sisters ever call him Ferguson. He'll be now sitting down and you'll hear two softer thumps as his boots hit the decking."

"God you must be lonely."

Glenys' chin shot forward and she said she got by.

The door burst open and Skye sat upright in alarm and looked in the doorway and gaped. A man in his thick padded jacket filled the doorway, the entire doorway.

Glenys laughed and said fondly. "That's my man. He's a big boy."

The visitor had no reason to doubt that.

"Hi and who is this pretty thing eh, an old friend of Lindy's?"

"No Fergie. She's a writer who's come to live with us while she researches for her next novel. Greet her like you always did to Linda. Don't be afraid Skye."

With incredible easy and a very soft grip Fergie picked up Skye high, held her up and pulled her in and kissed her softly.

"Welcome to our house beautiful young lady. You grace everything around you."

He lowered her smoothly and stood away. 

Skye, an avid reader, reviewed from memory an often-used phrase found in Victorian literature... 'She thought she was about to swoon'.

Omigod. Skye was beginning to think she'd landed hip-deep into a literary gold mine. The Hobbs family appeared larger than life and yet reeked of homely authenticity.

"Where's that little asshole?"

"Steady on," the giant said, accepting his mug of coffee. "If I used those words about Ryan you'd be after me with a broom."

"Well where is he? He rushed off to help you shift bulls?"

"We don't shift them till Friday."

Glenys snorted. The weasel. He's slithered over to the William's to escape the line of fire."

She then filled Fergie in and he looked a little disturbed. 

"But why would he stupidly mess around with people like that?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you have the letter?"

Glenys fetched it and Fergie took it to the wall calendar and said "Ah-ha."

"What?"

"The date on this letter was a Saturday, the day you and I went to the christening of your niece's baby over at Casper. He must have been sitting in here alone twiddling his thumbs and being the tease decided to be a little creative."

Fergie pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Hi Myra. Could you please tell Ryan to come and face the music?"

"Oh so he hasn't told you. Well I suppose in time it will seem so funny and worth relating. Ask him and then boot him on his way. Thanks honey."

* * *

Skye watched the door opened, wondering what the young guy, who'd written to her and describing himself as his mom's handsome son, would look like. Well a haircut would be an improvement but he had had strong, well-defined facial features, really great teeth and perhaps he could just squeak in as being classified as handsome. His hazel eyes had a similar intensity to his father's eyes. She was interested to see which way the scene that was about to unfold would go. Would the son be clever enough to defuse his parents?

It was a no-contest.

"Mom, dad I've been so stupid, such a fool. I'm really sorry for embarrassing you guys. Miss Brock, I'm Ryan Hobbs, the person responsible for this mess but I had confidence in my mom sorting everything out and securing a successful outcome ending with you staying here as intended."

Skye watched as the guy eight years her junior walked right up to her, spread his legs and said, "Here, kick me in the nuts. I sure deserve it."

She clamped her hand over her mouth in a giggling fit.

His father roared, "Ryan get out of this house."

His mom yelled, "No you don't Ryan. You stay there and apologize to Miss Brock for your unbelievably bad behavior."

Confused, Ryan sat down on the sofa beside Skye and placed her arm around her and said he was sorry.

She removed her hand from her mouth and said this whole episode had given her more fun and anything she'd watched on TV in recent weeks. She kissed him.

Ryan reached down and placed a hand over her breast and his mom squeaked, "Ryan!"

His father roared, "Ryan would you please behave."

"Yes dad, sorry mom, you kiss really great Miss Brock.

"Ryan could you please get us all a drink," sighed his mom, and that restored calm and order.

Skye thought oh well done Ryan.

"Nice drive through heartland America getting here Miss Brock?"

"Yes indeed. You may call me Skye if that's okay with your mom."

"Mom?"

"What."

"You know."

"You ask me properly."

"Oh forget it."

Glenys said yes it was okay but he was not to pester Skye who was there on important research.

Taking the offered white wine Skye asked, "I hope you guys don't mind me asking this but how can just one person cause so must disruption and disorder in a family?"

"Since Ryan joined our family it's always been like this," Glenys sighed. "If it had been a daughter acting up like that Fergie would have adopted her out with my consent."

After dinner Skye was in her room unpacking when Ryan came in and slumped on to the bed, his feet in grubby socks draped over the bed-end.

Skye, putting away skirts into a drawer, said, "Did you used to sprawl there when your sister was in this room?"

"Yes, almost nightly."

"You were close to here I guess," Skye asked, having turned on her recorder hidden in her pocket, the remote microphone being pinned to her lapel. This was so she didn't have to rely on memory recall when logging quotes, thoughts and observations nightly. 

"Yes I always liked her. She was so much fun. She pretended she was my mother until, well until she went to high school I think it was. Then she seemed to grow up."

"Would you be in here when she undressed for bed?"

"Yes I liked watching her fuss around. She was like a moth."

"So were you attracted to her body?"

"Not that I can recall. You must remember she was quite young when this started. It became a routine or more like our little club. And then when I got older and had school homework I would read out the problems and she would discuss them with me rather than answer them outright. She became a teacher you know."

"No I didn't know that. How lovely."

"Mom is hoping she'll get pregnant soon."

"Yes of course. Returning to what we were discussing, did you use to touch your sister?"

"Yes of course but I guess you mean sexually."

"Yes."

"Well I can put your curiosity to rest. No we never have had sex and I've not touched her sexually. But when I lie here I look at you and think of sex. You'll have to decide whether you want me to be in this room again?" 

Skye couldn't believe the way her heart was thumping. The jerk was interested in humping her. Then she looked at him and saw how calm he appeared and she felt ambivalent about what he represented. 

"Do you assure me you'll never seek to have sex with me without my consent, not that it would be offered?"

"Jeez yes lady, who or what do you think I am? I'll respect you and you'll not experience harm from me."

"In that case you are welcome to come in here whenever you wish."

"Thanks. Is all this stuff part of your research?"

"It is but please understand I don't use everything I record, nowhere near it. And it may not be recognizable when I use such information because my form of writing is creative fiction. What I'm collecting is information that may be of use to me when writing."

Ryan sniffed, screwed a finger into his left eye to remove an itch and said, "Why are you here? Really scratching for your next novel I suppose?" 

The shock of that hit Skye between the eyes.

She rubbed the top of her nose and said, "What makes you say that?"

"If you were writing a book you wouldn't be here and I read the library book mom had, although I'd forgotten your name as author, about that dumb chick Carey Green who served six months with the Coastguard on Lake Michigan and the guys kept teasing her because she resented it and she didn't like going out in rough weather and she didn't like the DVDs they choose. When it was her turn to choose two dozen DVDs before they sailed, her bag of disks was grabbed without her knowledge and the disks exchanged back at the depot for the blood and guts ones guys like. She was so mad when she found out and wanted to fight the guy who did the deceitful swap but they all claimed they'd done it and she cried. But it was a good laugh."

"A good laugh? Are you aware I was out on the Lake Michigan for a month to research for that novel and they charged me $8000 for the privilege? However when the book was published, and they decided I'd shown the Coastguard up in a good light their chiefs refunded me that money. You are being unfair, those harsh things that happened to Carey happened to me."

"Oh sorry."

"Ah you are correct on that other count though. The publisher finally rejected my next manuscript that should have been published about now."

"Here," she said, digging into her bag, and tossing the manuscript at Ryan. "You tell me what's wrong with it. I don't accept what the editors told me. Fucking dipsticks if you ask me."

"Don't let mom hearing you use that Coastguard language."

"What language? Oh god I did shoot my mouth off didn't I?"

"I wasn't offended."

She giggled and then said would he read the manuscript and tell her exactly what he thought of it.

The next evening Ryan flopped on to Skye's bed. 

She gave a big start.

"God I'm sitting here in just my panties doing my nails. I thought you weren't dropping in tonight, it's 9:30. Don't you knock?"

"Not if I can help it. Here's your manuscript he said, tossing it on to her desk. Show me your tits."

"No," she said hunching her shoulders.

"I've just finished your draft and I know where you went wrong."

"Where," she said, turning round and making his eyes pop. She noticed that but made no effort to cover up. They were only breasts.

"You were comfortable with the dumb Carey Green heroine although her feet were stuck in concrete and her mind had not advanced much since she was in the Girl Guides. But this Zina Mace rings hollow. She processes to be a good-time girl but reading throughout the novel I found her spending most of her time screwing up. I wanted a heroine and I could love and respect and share in her triumphs and yes, a heroine to screw. But frankly this Zina left me limp and even her screwing up appeared faked, I mean unbelievable. I spend most of my time wallowing in her bitching. And then when some action appeared likely the three times she went to a nightclub she fell asleep. Well I ask you. Zina Mace Finds Love is the working title and that title would never had made it to the printing press. On the introduction page you wrote, 'A Love Story.' Well she did meet Leo McIntosh and oh dear, what a caricature he was and there was no suggestion he was capable of getting it up tizzy Zina. Neither of them appeared to have heard of penetration. I did well at high school on literary appreciation. I'd give your manuscript three out of five but only because much of the dialogue and scene setting is damn good."

"That's what the senior editor said, that my scenes and the interaction between my characters was excellent."

"Well at least your professional assessors appear to have good judgment."

Skye scowled and said, "Um what should I do?"

"Leave that draft novel aside for some weeks and concentrate on what you're doing now. Let my kiss your tits and go to bed."

"Why do you have to go? You are very interesting tonight."

"Because there's rough weather coming in. The first calves will arrive after midnight."

"How can you possible tell that? That's bullshit."

"There's nothing like a weather change to set females off."

"That's nasty bullshit. No you can't kiss my breasts."

"Your lips will do. Here goes. Goodnight our illustrious young promising author, as mom said some book critics have called you. People might say many author are called that that but hey wait, what about the aspiring young authors who never get such praise pinned to their tail?"

"What do you mean by bad weather."

"Big wind driven snow."

"Oh god, I might as well be back in Chicago. I came here to sample the differences."

He just grinned and left.

* * *

Banging on the window awoke Skye and she almost had a seizure, thinking the house was under siege or something. Then she saw by the torch held under the chin it was that young fool Ryan.

She shot up and window and yelled, "What!" wondering why he was outside and why did he have snow on his hood and shoulders. God it was cold.


Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 01



"Come over to the barn," he grinned. "There's nothing like a weather change to set females off. Our cows have begun calving. Mom and dad are in the big barn that has the lights on so don't get lost getting yourself over there. Give me a kiss."

She saw the blood on his face and said no.

He just grinned.

Warmly dressed Skye arrived at the barn and thought it must be what a slaughterhouse looked like. She couldn't believe it. For some reason she had the impression cows dropped their calves on to soft warm hay and in seconds the calf stood and was drinking while mommy chewed cud.

But no, three dead calves were lined on the concrete floor with one dead cow.

Skye held back the tears. 

Fergie was hosing blood off his apron. He grinned, yes he grinned, and yelled to her, "Alas we can never save them all pretty lady."

Two cows looking exhausted stretched out on hay had calves asleep beside them. Farther along two other butchers were at work on a fallen cow. Skye raced up to Ryan and his mom.

"She's gone Ryan," Glenys said mournfully. "Give up on her."

Well as least the female cared, Skye scowled.

"The calf might be dead after all this but I'm going after her," Ryan said. He yelled, "Dad the saw and big knife. Skye get out of here. This is not pretty."

Skye simply moved out of the way.

Ryan made a huge cut and grabbed the saw from his dad and began work.

Glenys arrived and stayed momentarily beside Skye. Skye thought she saw tears on Glenys' cheeks. 

"Ryan and his dad saved that poor cow as a calf from a difficult birth two years ago. Some mothers are just too small and we don't always pick them accurately or else they catch the luck of the draw and get an extra large calf. That poor boy he always thinks he can save them all."

Who the butcher? Skye didn't know what to think. 

"You think her calf is dead don't you?"

"Well when is the last breath ever breathed?" Glenys said and looked up at the huge clock above the entrance. It's been almost ten minutes since the birthing process collapsed."

"And yet Ryan goes on butchering the dead mother?"

"Believe me darling he never gives up. If you vomit just use the floor."

That almost made Skye vomit. She was surprised how well she was coping.

Fergie suddenly dropped his hands to below his knees and seconds later pulled the left rear of the cow apart and Ryan called, "Got her," cleared the calf's nostrils and pulled something out of his pocket wrapped in plastic. 

The calf lay listless.

"Blanket mom," he yelled but Glenys appeared not to hear.

Skye yelled where were the blankets and Glenys pointed and Skye raced back, skidding on the floor and landed on her knees and draped the outstretched blanket over the calf.

Ryan had a plastic device in his mouth against the calf's mouth and he attempted to resuscitate it.

Skye's tears fell on to the blanket as she thought how so unfair life could be.

Quite unexpectedly she thought she felt a tremor through the blanket but then nothing.

She placed her hand under the blanket against the calf and felt a tremor that was unlikely to be Ryan's movements, or so she thought.

"Keep going," she shouted, and reached across to stroke Ryan's back.

He rolled slightly to see her and winked.

The calf shook quite solidly and made some gasping sounds and dribbled.

Ryan threw the mouthpiece aside. "This Angus breed originated as Aberdeen Angus in the north of Scotland and they are, as the Scots say, 'Wee tough buggers'. Mum will inject her with a mild stimulant and get some warm liquid with antibiotics into her and she may well survive without apparent harm and get to have her own babies."

A feeling of great joy, something like release, swept through Skye. She leant across and kissed him and pulling away stroked his hair and said, "You wonderful, wonderful man."

"We can't save them all but we sure do try."

"I know."

"Oooh," he smiled. "You've got your clothes in such a mess."

"Fuck the clothes," she replied and they laughed.

Ryan's parents had seen that little drama play out.

"Fergie said tiredly but fairly cheerfully, "I do believe our son has met his wife."

"Oh no, oh god no," Glenys wailed.

CHAPTER 2

After daylight the men and returned from the barn, showered, eaten their food and had gone to bed. They'd work the night shift and the three farmhands from the bunkhouse would look after day calving and attend to routine farm activities without supervision, knowing Ryan or his father were only a phone call away if they struck problems.

"Would you like to ride today, you did say you could ride?"

Skye said, "It's still lightly snowing and the wind continues to gust heavily Glenys."

"I know but you are in Wyoming. If you choose not to ride in snow you miss out a lot of riding days in a year."

"Well I'm fine with that. I'll be under your leadership."

Glenys made a call and one of the 'boys' arrived fifteen minutes later with two saddled horses.

"Take you pick," Glenys said expansively, buttoning up the neck of her yellow pommel slicker. She'd given Skye a slicker and a Stetson and Skye following Glenys' lead did her buttons all the way up and worked out she was now fully protected from drips off the brim of her hat and any driven-in rain channeling off her nose or chin.

"Well the chestnut is obviously the better horse and that being so that's your saddle on it. I'll take the bay."

"We have twenty-something horses. On a fine day I'll get one of the boys to cut out your pick and you can call that one your horse for the duration of your visit."

"Um I was under the impression my time here was about up?"

She saw Glenys stiffen.

"And why would you think that?"

"Isn't this what this quiet ride is about?"

Glenys sighed and said Skye was a very smart young lady.

They rode off and talked through the issue over the next few minutes.

"I had agreed to not eye him after your angry encounter with me."

"Yes that was the agreement but he still lies on your bed most evenings."

Skye sighed and said, "And that provokes you?"

"Yes because small things lead to big things."

"Do you know why he does it?"

"There is no need to discuss things like that."

Skye ignored that and said, "Because he's always remembered doing that since he was six or seven when Linda occupied that room. He was missing that ritual."

"Oh Christ."

To Skye that exclamation was better than an apology.

They rode on in silence until Glenys stopped at a piping gate on their left. Skye accepted she was the younger/fitter person and dismounted and opened the gate and stood aside for Glenys to ride though and then followed her. As she was fastening the gate she heard Glenys say loudly against the blustering wind, "I haven't handled this situation between you and Ryan very well and I apologize. It would appear you've handled his presence in your bedroom very well and I guess the emotion you two were feeling in the calving situation just, well just boiled over. God I can remember Alec Munro cuddling and kissing me when we saved his favorite dam after calving successfully."

"Well Glenys I believe Alec must have known Fergie was standing there looking at us. The thing was I felt elated and knew I was being thanked in perhaps the nicest way possible. I have no idea what he was thinking but can guess by the look in his eye. So its stalemate."

"Nevertheless I'm lifting my ban and it's up to you how you behave. You know how I feel about you and my son. But I do want you to stay on here. You have committed, you have fitted in, you are paying your way and you have made a major contribution by way of work effort and I," she choked, "just adore having female company."

They exchanged a meaningful glance and rode out into the heart of the huge field.

Glenys suddenly stood up on her stirrups. "Oh Christ."

"What?" Skye asked, alarmed at the tone of Glenys' voice.

"It's the 16-month Jersey bull playing havoc in this area. It appears to have gone loco. Come, ride over that bridge in the middle of this pasture and we'll try to out-run it and ride to that big pile of rocks at the far fence and clamber to safety."

"You have a gun?"

"To shoot animals with broken legs or broken backs. I'm useless at trying to hit running targets. The little shit will be able to run so don't let him fool you. He's only trotting at present."

They broke into a canter and the critter coming across to intercept them bellowed.

As Glenys was crossing the lumber-topped decking of the structure spanning the small creek, the chestnut slithered off and fell, taking Glenys with her.

The bull was too close for Skye to stop and assist Glenys and so she yelled and waved her hat and continued over the bridge and the young bull came after her.

Glenys would tell the guys later she clawed her way up the bank and peeped over and to her astonishment saw one of the finest exhibitions of horse riding she'd seen for a very long time.

Skye had slowed to allow the bull to almost catch up and then yelling and waving her hat had the now mouth-frothing bull running in circles and even figures of eight, unable to catch the horse. When the Jersey finally slowed and stopped, nose almost touching the ground, flanks heaving, Skye returned to Glenys. 

The chestnut had also clamored out of the swiftly flowing water boosted by melting snow. The horse was lame and had a bloodied knee.

"How on earth did you learn to ride like that?" Glenys said in awe, keeping one eye on the near motionless bull.

"Kids even in big cities have access to riding schools. I was first lifted on to a saddle when I was three," Skye said, looking down at the chestnut.

"I think Kismet is okay, just needs rest. I don't like my chances of running out the bull when it gets its wind back."

"Give my the rifle and put one into the chamber thingy for me."

"Do you know anything about lever-action rifles?"

"We're wasting time," Skye said shakily and sucking in breath as was her horse. "If I'm any good I'll only need one shot as executioner, with the animal still lethargic like that. What do I shoot at?"

Glenys looked over at the bull about 150 yards away. It was now pawing at the ground, but fairly feebly.

"Usually the heart but with its head down like that you might miss a direct hit. Go in close and shoot at what looks to be the spot for a third eye between and a little above its eyes."

"Christ Glenys what if I get confused over the location of that spot?"

Glenys said calmly, "Just line up and do it. You'll see the spot."

"Okay."

"Be careful of a sudden charge."

"Right."

Perhaps worried that Skye might not remain calm under pressure in attempting to fell the bull Glenys said, "Um we could try holing up under the bridge."

Skye sniffed and said, "No thanks, too cold."

Glenys switched back to Skye's mission. "Wait till the bull lifts its head before shooting otherwise you risk the bullet deflecting."

"Yeah right," Skye said, noticing Glenys was holding her right elbow. She walked her horse back to the bull, rifle held out one-handed and resting the gunstock on a hip. 

Glenys would claim later she called out don't drop the rifle but Skye would insist she definitely didn't hear that.

She lined up the bull, dropped the reins and nudged the horse forward. She aimed at the dropped head and adjusted her aim as the animal slowly raised its head.

She then fired.

The horse shied and she fell off.

"Christ," she squawked, landing with a thump.

Thankfully she still had the rifle. 

Glenys was yelling, "Skye, Skye, Skye."

Skye looked across the few feet and saw the bull was down, not moving. The only noise she'd heard was the blast of the gun. She wiped mud from her eye, stood and yelled, "What do you want?"

To her amazement Glenys, tough Glenys, just stood there and appeared to be bawling.

Neighbors had heard the shot and phoned, pulling Fergie out of sleep.

He replied the girls were out on horseback. They must be in trouble.

That caused those neighbors to react and phone their neighbors.

Fergie and Ryan stopped at the bunkhouse to pick up the boys and went tearing out in Fergie's 4W4 following the marks made in the snow by two horses outward bound. There were no tracks coming back in.

"Steady on dad," was all Ryan said, as the vehicle slewed across a bridge almost sideways.

Fergie's jaw jutted and if anything he drove faster.

"There they are, up ahead," Ryan yelled.

Fergie squinted and saw the two women walking arm-in-arm and Ryan said, "Looks like Kismet is lame."

"I can see that," lied his father, who had no chance of seeing that far without glasses.

Eleven neighbors in various vehicles arrived in batches and the story about what had happened had to be told several times, and on the third telling Glenys included the new bit about telling Skye not to drop the rifle and everyone just loved hearing that, knowing Skye was a city slicker.

Ryan jumped up to take on the Brown's youngest son when the 17-year old said, "Who pulled the trigger, Miss Brock or the bull?"

"Sit down Ryan," Skye ordered and he sat and stared the youth down.

Skye then turned to Benny Brown and said, "Put them up kid. I'm about to prove I can slap much faster than you can punch."

"Um Miss, I spoke right out of turn and apologize. My mom here will kill me if I hit a woman."

"Damn right son," Milly Brown laughed.

Skye handled the situation with ease. "Thank you for being gracious about this Benny. You are a man. Now folk, where should we have this big party? It's no use turning out and having nothing to show for it?"

Everyone thought that was a great idea. 

What followed was the best night Skye would have during her first stay in Wyoming. The walls of their house practically buckled under the noisy conversations rising above the loud music and raucous laughter.

About 10:00 Skye was going to the bathroom when she came across Glenys at the backdoor shaking snow off her hooded jacket and for the first time since arriving got away with making a quip with a sexual overtone to her hostess.

"Been ought smooching with some lucky guy eh?"

"God you are irrepressible," Glenys said, hugging her. "I've just been over checking out Kismet to make sure she was okay and had cleaned up her oat mix. She muzzled me and gave me the distinct feeling she wanted to take me out riding."

Skye kissed Glenys and said that was great.

"We should go out riding together almost every day."

"You be ready whenever I call," Glenys said, slapping Skye's butt with her good arm and teasing she was putting on weight. "Now I know you really can ride I'll ride with you anywhere including up in the mountains in summer."

* * *

Skye and Ryan continued to have roughly the same time together after dinner most evenings but she knew something in that relationship had died as a result of Glenys' earlier intervention.

They had discussed it briefly and then dropped it. Ryan had asked why did Skye think his mom was so much against them being involved in the way their relationship appeared developing and was it because of their age difference? She'd replied that was the only reason and she was sure about that.

"We were only heading for sex, not marriage."

"I know," she'd replied. "But with emotion involved can mothers remain objective in such matters?"

"I have no idea, I'm not into that stuff," Ryan said and began talking about something else.

Early next evening Skye made a call.

"Good evening. Is that Linda Rogers?"

"Yes it is."

"Oh hi Linda I'm Skye Brock..."

"Oh hi, the author who's staying with my family. Mom is always talking about you and was full of you dealing with that bull when she hit trouble."

"Yeah and she is a truly valuable source of ideas for hopefully my next successful novel."

"Get a picture of Wyoming on the cover and it will really sell out here in the West I promise you."

"Well I hope so and hope the writing will be up to scratch."

Linda said, "It's true was mom has told me. You are not at all a pushy, abrasive person. I had pictured a big city woman and author to boot and perhaps you can imagine the person I thought you'd be. Mom says my brother has adopted you?"

"Yeah and we get along fine. He likes to chat quietly."

"And does that after dinner stretched out on my old bed, just as he used to do with me?"

"Linda that's what I'm calling about. You whole family is missing you. They've not seen you since the wedding and you're not all that far away. Right now it's difficult for them to get off the ranch for much longer than a couple of hours."

"Well we have been so busy too. Larry has been settling into a new job and we moved into our new house straight after the wedding and there has been so much to do."

"I can imagine what it must be like. Um any chance of coming overnight this weekend?"

There was a pause and Linda said, "Please hold and I'll check with Larry."

Less than a minute later Linda said, "Yes that is fine. We'll drive arrive Friday in time for dinner. God thanks for pushing on this, I should have visited sooner, even by myself."

"Oh Linda that's so lovely. Let's keep this a secret from your folk so you really surprise them. They've never gone out on a Friday night since I've been here."

"And possibly now more than four times in all the time I lived with them," Linda laughed.

They talked on and when the call ended it appeared a friendship was already forming.

TO BE CONTINUED... 



Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 02



The wind was howling on Friday night and wood fire in the family room fireplace was roaring when Ryan heard a vehicle arriving.

"Someone's coming, only idiots would drive for pleasure on a night light this."

"Or real friends," Skye said, and left the room.

"I'll go," Fergie said, burping pre-dinner beer and tucking in his shirt.

Glenys heard the noisy greetings and wondered who that could be and her son said one of his dad's old pals.

"Look who I have here," Fergie said, pushing two young people through the door.

"Omigod, Omigod," Glenys said and lunging forward tripped over a coffee table but Ryan was quick enough to catch her.

"Careful mom," he chastised. "It's only your daughter and son."

Linda only just managed to hold clear the big bouquet of flowers before her big mom slammed into her.

After a few minutes Linda said, "Where's your star guest? I'm really looking forward to meeting her."

"Go get Skye son," Fergie said, arriving with a full round of drinks.

Ryan returned, looking rather pale and said, "Skye is gone and taken most of her things."

He handed the note addressed to his mom, Appearing quite shocked Glenys read it aloud:

My dear adopted family. Have a great night and a great day tomorrow catching up. This occasion is all about you guys, not me, a true reunion. I need to catch up with my parents and my publisher and thus the timing for that is good and so I'm off and feeling very happy. Linda (and Larry too I guess) we have missed meeting up this time but when I return for haymaking I promise I'll go through to Billings to see you, if invited. Love to you all. Skye. 

"If invited, of course she's invited," Linda said, almost crying. "I love her. I know I do. You have to love a person who urges you to visit your family and then makes comments like that as Skye has done in that note. She really would have loved been here with us, I know she would have."

Glenys was looked stunned. "You are here because Skye invited here?"

"We don't need an invitation to come here mother. She pressured me into dropping everything, we have been so busy, to come here this weekend because (sob) she said my family was (sob) missing me."

"Omigod," Glenys moaned.

Ryan threw his glass violently into the fireplace and stalked out.

"What's wrong with him?" Linda sobbed.

"Nothing," sobbed his mom hugging Linda.

Fergie didn't baulk at telling Linda what she was attempting to find out.

"Under stress during calving Ryan and Skye came on heat. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. They were kneeling on the floor, covered in shit and blood and so happy about Ryan miraculously saving a calf when even I thought she'd been done for. Then your mother forbade them to touch again and I believe they'd not touched since them."

"Oh mom," Linda shrieked, attempting to push her away.

"Oh Linda, hold me, I've been so stupid," sobbed her mom.

Meanwhile Larry scuttled out saying he'd get Ryan to rejoin them and Fergie went out to get another beer muttering, "Linda will fix this."

Later in the evening Glenys attempted to call Skye but the phone wasn't answered. She left a message asking Skye to please return and share in an enjoyable weekend.

* * *

Skye was happy to be returning home. Presumably life there would be much less stressful. Her father was a doctor at a medical center and her mom was a university senior administrator and as neither worked weekends she knew she'd really enjoy the quiet times with them. She wondered should she seek regular employment and revert to writing as a hobby? She decided to drive until she began feeling weary but to her surprise she felt she was on a high, as if nothing but good could come at that reunion back on the ranch and that would produce benefits for her. She didn't know how but she just had this feeling about it.

As to be expected her parents welcomed her with open arms. They were expecting her because she'd called through after listening to Glenys' message.

Heather Brock was reading the Saturday morning newspaper out on the deck in lake-chilled sunny weather when she answered a call from Glenys Hobbs.

"Oh hi Heather, it's so lovely to talk to you again. I hope I'm not too early for you."

"No it's gone 10:00. The other two are still asleep. Skye slept quite a bit of yesterday after driving home through the night, silly girl. When she went out to you she had a stopover when reaching South Dakota."

"But she is okay?"

"Yes, blooming in fact. I don't think I've seen here looking this good in years. She attributes that to good food, good care and riding with you most days."

"She hasn't told you how she saved us and before that how I upset her?"

"Saved you both, of goodness, what happened?"

Glenys related the bull incident.

"Oh my goodness. Skye has never shot anything in her life except at fairgrounds. She didn't say a word about that. Look there is no need to tell me how you upset her. Skye is such a delight to live with but at times can be quite a pain."

"I need to talk to someone Heather and because you are Skye's mother you are the best person to discuss this with."

"Well as you wish. Fire ahead and please remain calm, it can't be anything major otherwise she would have told me when we were out for dinner last night."

Heather listened without interrupting Glenys.

"Well Glenys I won't get bouquets from Skye for saying this but she acknowledges my right to speak my mind. It was your house, your son and I say you were entitled to take the stance you did."

Heather smiled when she heard Glenys exhale hugely and thought she must be a big woman.

"Glenys you'll be glad you've got that off your chest. And I admire you for telling me. I'll not tell Skye about this and not mention you have called. She'll call you when she's ready. She mentioned your daughter was coming to visit and so, knowing my daughter, she'll probably call you this evening to see how it went."

After Skye and her parents returned to the apartment after eating out that evening (her parents ate out most evenings), Heather said casually, "You mentioned once Mr Hobbs is rather huge. How tall is he?"

"Almost six-seven."

"And his wife?"

"Almost six feet I'd say. She's big-bodied and carries extra weight but you couldn't call her fat."

Skye looked at her watch and said, "I'll call Glenys now to say I've arrived safely and to find out how the weekend went with her daughter and husband."

"I'm sure Mrs Hobbs would like that."

"Call her Glenys when you speak about her mom. I've never heard anyone call her anything other than Glenys apart from kids." 

"Well I suppose it doesn't matter what I call her because I think being back here in the comfort of your old home and among many people you know very well, it's likely you'll baulk at returning to that ranch when the time comes."

Skye was rather shaken, not having thought of that possibility. You couldn't really tell parents this but it almost seemed her real life and her er almost her real parents were out West. But she not wishing to return? Oh god, it would be such a waste after all the progress she'd made in getting on side with Glenys and having a rough plan to soon introduce young Ryan to sex with an older woman.

* * *

On Monday Skye called to make an appointment to see her editor and was invited to lunch at the publishing house the next day. She was told they had been frantically trying to get in touch with her and her parent's had refused to give an alternative phone number after the editor had discovered Skye's phone had not been used for some weeks.

To lunch? Skye was most surprised and what was frantic reason they had to talk to her? Usually writers who made the best-selling list were invited to lunch. Well at least she wouldn't be invited to lunch just to be informed the company was terminating her contract.

Skye entered the building feeling a little naughty. Rather than wear 6-inch heels, patterned stockings, pencil skirt and an embroidered shirt like most of women in those offices wore, she had on her scuffed ranch boots, clean but very tight work everyday light blue jeans, a thick man's shirt and wore no jewelry and her slightly battered Stetson hung down between her shoulders.

She swaggered in and saw eyes pop and none popped more than Julie's. She was her editor's assistant.

"Omigod you look straight out of a Western," Julie breathed. "You are so daring and look so tough. God just look at your skin. You are even more beautiful that when I last saw you."

"We eat our meat out West almost raw," drawled Skye, really enjoying herself.

"Omigod."

Julie led her past the editor's and senior editor's offices and down a passage Skye hadn't been aware existed.

"Whose office is this down here, the janitor's?"

"Skye," Julie said shocked. "The executive editor is putting on this lunch for you and Nancy your editor and Phyllis the senior editor have been invited to attend. To put pressure on you I should think."

"What?"

"No more. I've said too much already."

They had wine with lunch and it was the first time Skye had met the very elegant Mrs Beecham although she'd seen photographs of her in the social pages of magazines and pictured in the newspaper at charity events and book awards nights.

Mrs Beecham had practically giggled when she saw how Skye was dressed when all of them were dolled up.

"You do take your research projects so seriously Skye. God I was so envious of you living with all those sailors, most of them male."

The other editors weren't the only ones shocked by that disclosure. Skye was left thinking Mrs Beecham was rather all right.

"Skye we have a problem with you."

"Oh," said Skye, with sinking stomach.

"Yes since you have hidden yourself away in Montana..."

"Wyoming."

"Oh I'm not used to being corrected but Wyoming it is. Well we have been flooded with fan club applications and 99-point-something of those membership applications are to join your fan club that had to be hastily formed. Are you interested in knowing how many members your club now has?"

"Oooh, let's be bold and said um one hundred and twenty?"

"Would you believe 73,432 at the latest count?"

"What?"

"Yes we asked ourselves the same thing. It seems so unfair because we have so many fine writers but the next largest fan club totals 8708.

"There's been some mistake."

"My god girl you are good as saying things I'm about to say. We thought so too and so I put the head of the PR division on to it and it seems your Carey Green has become the new age Wonder Woman for er women. Companies in China are already marketing Carey Green bracelets and charms, ankle socks, bikinis, holders for CDs and DVDs, hair bands and one enterprising company composed the Carey Green theme and hired some cute-voiced bimbo to sing it and it's now working up the pop charts just about everywhere and, oh dear, including America."

"This is so unbelievable."

"I was about to say that dear. Before you leave today we want you to sign of new contract with us. We are desperate to get another Carey Green novel on to the market and want you to revive your rejected manuscript. We want you to slap a bit of sex and jazz up the dialogue somewhat and change the heroine's name to Carey Green and rush six chapters at a time to us. It will be printed in eight different countries including China of course where Carey has almost become a living legend with giggly girls and, dare I say it, with adult women as well."

"God this is so embarrassing."

Mrs Beecham echoed, "God this is so embarrassing," 

"And you'll want me to change the heroine in my yet to be written Wyoming ranch novel to Carey Green?"

"Yes how thoughtful of you. I was about to ask you that."

"But Mrs Beecham I'm not even sure Carey Green can ride a horse."

"Darling you are Carey's creator and can do anything with her. I suggest she could set Wyoming alight with her bouts of torrid sex, although more suggested that brutally portrayed because you do have very young fan club members."

"No Mrs Beecham. No way. I bet one of the reasons why Carey has burst into popularity is because she's a bit of a wimp, cries when she messes up, and is never torrid about anything. Don't you see? Probably you don't because it's only just occurred to me. These people have taken to Carey because she's just like many of them, just a dot on the face of civilization. But the one thing Carey does is to have these fascinating adventures that are almost homely in nature. These people see Carey as just a normal nothing sort of person who yet manages to have these adventures they can never have because Carey, the new image of modern fiction, just packs her bag and goes. She finds it that simple. End of story."

The other two editors clapped and Mrs Beecham joined them.

"Omigod Skye, with that little inspiring outburst you've even got me rooting for Carey. Um would you mind if we changed your name, er both of them to two more commercially marketable names?"

"Yes I would."

"Oh well please forget I even mentioned it. I guess Skye sounds a bit more classy than Daisy."

Skye looked murderous. 

"Mrs Beecham you haven't read my two books have you."

"Well no just the briefing from your editor. Awfully busy and that sort of thing," said the English immigrant.

"Carey Green's doll, invalided with a missing leg to Carey's bed since Carey turned seven and a half, is called Daisy Green."

"Omigod, Skye. Please forget we ever thought about possible name changes, indeed highly unlikely name changes."

"Very well but please demonstrate your sweetness in the terms of my new contract. I'll arrive with my attorneys when it's drafted."

"Attorneys? Oh yes. Please escort Skye to the elevators Phyllis. We will be in touch Miss Brock."

On the way out Skye thanked Phyllis and said she would stop to chat to Julie.

"Isn't this exciting for you Skye, two books published, one manuscript in the trash and nevertheless you are becoming known internationally?"

"But that's just it and why I'm lurking," said a thin-faced woman.

"Journalist," Julie whispered.

Skye said, "Please wait at the elevators ma'am. I'm talking to my agent."

The woman sniffed and walked off and Julie looked in awe at Skye.

"God what a consummate brush-off."

"I only did what comes naturally Julie. Right now you are more important to me. My correspondence please."

"Yes nothing has been sent out. Here are the latest sales figures and payments advisories."

Skye glanced at the totals, turned white and her knees began giving out. She lurched to lean against Julie's desk and Julie ran around to hold her.

"Scary stuff eh?"

Skye, suffering unaccustomed reflux, squeaked, "No kidding."

Her book sales had soared from a few thousand to be approaching 5 million.

"It's mainly in the South-east Asia nations. You write so badly, um, so differently that Carey Green appears as a caricature to them with hidden mystic powers that hold evil at bay, according to what an expensively hired authority has told our editors."

"No kidding," squeaked Skye, pointing shakily to her banking statement.

"Yeah that's a pile of loot. But imagine what kind of millionaire you'll be when sales really go through the roof. Have you any idea of the total populations of those countries?"

"Heaps?"

"Yeah that's about right," said Julie. "Tell that woman you want lunch and the newspaper's best portrait photographer because your fans by the millions are waiting to have you exposed to them."

"What?"

"Just tell her. She'll know. This morning we put a media release out about you and your incredible success in sales. During the next few days media jerks will be coming on to you like a rash."

"What?"

"Just go with the flow lovely lady and you'll eventually pop out the end like a sausage to settle back into some semblance of normality."

"I will?"

"Yes Skye, now go after the nosey journalist and deal with her with a little arrogance like a star."

* * *

Dr Ralph Brock walked in with the newspaper next morning, made coffee and returned to the bedroom and Heather began to pour and as usual asked, "What's the big news."

Ralph unfolded the paper and looked straight at the smiling face of his daughter photographed holding her childhood doll in both arms across her breasts.

"Fucking assholes."

"Ralph Brock, you might consider you are god down at the medical center but I am Queen Bee of this home. Stop that disgusting language and apologize instantly."

He whimpered, "Look."

Heather looked at the photograph of their daughter and doll Daisy spread across three columns under the heading, 'Chicago's Next Multi-millionaire'.

She sniffed, "If that were true Skye could afford plenty of shoes. Ralph it's some kind of stupid joke. Skye has practically no money."

"It-it says here... you know those two books of hers that you and you friends read in a group and giggle about?"

"Yes of course I do."

"Well sales of those books in Japan, South Korea and especially China are rocketing practically overnight ever since a popular young TV presenter spent her entire show giggling about Carey Green. Her show was running an average audience of two million, mostly teenagers, and now the second show two nights ago attracted more than eight million viewers. According to CBS that's the fastest growth of any show ever in the entire Universe."

"How would CBS know that?"

"They don't but does it matter? It makes good reading. It would appear our daughter, being virtually ignorant as an author, has stumbled on some sort of formula writing that that part of the world was waiting for. Skye's total US sales for both novels totaled 66,330 as of yesterday. In China her books are currently being spurted out under license by numerous companies at the rate of 5,500 an hour day and night."

"Then how the fuck didn't we know about this until now?"

"Careful of language dear," smiled her husband. "It's just one of those miracles that occur every thirty years or so and cannot be explained. Our daughter is probably heading to become President."

"No she's not," Skye said, coming into the bedroom wearing huge sunglasses and her Stetson pulled down very low. "I'm out to here to you know where and that happens to be one of the best hideaways in America. If you breath a word where I'm holed out I'll promise neither of you will have anything left that will allow you to have sex ever again."

"Well that would be no loss for me."

"Mom shut up. Promise not to say a word to anyone and that includes relatives?"

"Yes dear."

"Dad."

"Yes baby. By why the panic?"

"Already I've taken more than twenty calls from the media ranging in size from CBS down to Village Mutterings published not far from here. It is becoming a moving circus. I'm out of here."

"Darling we are so sorry to lose you so soon," sobbed her mom. "May we come and see you?"

"Yes but wait to things cool down and fly into Casper. We will arrange security from there so it's impossible for media hounds to follow you. You will need to be screened for bugs."

"Oh will we be suspected of bringing bugs into Wyoming?"

"Not those kinds of bugs dear," Ralph sighed. "She means bugging devices to track movement."

"But our aircraft will be tracked won't it?"

"Oh very smart dear."

Ralph said wouldn't the media zero in on Wyoming and begin to hunt her down.

"That's the whole point of not telling people where I am. I haven't told anyone I've been in Wyoming and my publisher won't be telling anyone because they'll want to keep my next two books secret until they wish to manage news releases."

"Have you almost finished that novel?"

"Dad do you eat corn before it germinates?"

"You've lost me baby."

"Ralph she means why would she begin writing without first completing the research or at least most of it?"




Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 02



"Oh."

"In the meantime I'll be doing a quick rejig of my rejected novel."

Her mom said in surprise, "But you and I agreed with the rejection decision?"

"True mom but Reflection Publications knows bad books by popular authors still sell."

"Ah keep product in front of consumers irrespective of quality," Ralph grinned. "Rather like the supermarket eh?"

CHAPTER 3

Ralph was out on the front porch when he squinted and drawled, "Someone's coming."

"God to think you and I once had eyesight like that," Fergie said to Glenys who was preparing the roast.

"Yes."

"Jesus."

"What's it son," Fergie groaned, getting out of his chair with his beer. They'd been stringing a new fence that day. 

"The boy's running down the dirt road to the vehicle like an idiot. There's snow on the side of the road and he's not wearing a jacket."

"Why's he running?"

"He's gone loco. Now he's waving like mad."

"It will be her. She's coming back to us."

"Who you mean Skye?"

"Yes Skye unless there's some other woman you've had hidden away and never told us about."

"What other woman?"

"God I'm looking forward to having intelligent conversation again."

"Oh yes, I can see the red car. If you are so eager about intelligent conversation then why aren't you jumping up and down in excitement?"

"It could be that I know she'll soon be here whether or not I run about like a headless chicken."

"That's true."

Skye's heart missed a beat when she saw Ryan running at her, waving like crazy. She accelerated forward and stopped well short of him and jumped out and ran towards him and they slowed and collided, laughing and hugging and kissing madly.

"You mom will see us."

"So what. I'm twenty-two Skye and with a babe like you on my patch I should be having sex with you. That's what guys do."

"Yeah right and we will get around to it buddy. Just allow me to work on your mom a bit. Don't say anything to your parents about this and we won't sneak out to do it. I promise you I'll set it up."

The greetings between Skye and Ryan's parents were equally robust and for the second time since she'd known her Skye had seen Glenys bawl.

"You usually only bawl at funerals when other women set your off Glenys." "Shut up Ferguson."

"Right I'll get drinks."

When they were seated Skye told them what was happening in her writing life but made no mention of huge book sales and money. The Hobbs' would find it impossible to believe people in places such as Hong Kong and China would know of Skye Brock.

"Well your whereabouts should remained unknown because almost everyone in Wyoming doesn't know you," Glenys said.

"Yes and that's the whole point of me telling you this. Mention will be made of my on TV tonight because TV reporters will be angry I've run out on them. I don't wish anyone to know. I wish to stay here unrecognized to get on with my work uninterrupted."

"Fair enough," Glenys said. "But your identify is safe in here so you can remove your hat and sunglasses."

"Oh," Skye giggled and at that the family looked so pleased to have her back and to hear that familiar giggle again.

Glenys then took over. "Fergie you call those neighbors on our east and south boundaries who know Skye has been staying with us and I'll call the other neighbors. Note who you call for out check list and tell them to keep their mouths closed because I say so. We don't want nosy reporters round here pestering us and scaring our livestock."

She called Myra Williams first and ended by saying, "Would you call all these people I name as well Myra to reinforce what Fergie or I have told them. If Skye is discovered she will be hounded out of here and we'll probably never see her again."

"Yes I agreed, Myra said. "I often read about this sort of thing happening and until now always thought it was bulldust." 

At 5:00 they began to arrive.

The neighbors that is. They brought drinks both hard and soft and their contributions to the table.

There was no invitation to come but out there that's what neighbors do. They arrived to show their support for the Hobbs and their special guest.

Everyone crowded around the two TV sets at news time.

The screen lit up with the news channel logo and behind that was a photo of Skye and one of the newsreaders said, "Tonight heading our news bulletin is Chicago's reluctant millionaire who's gone into hiding. Who is Skye Brock, where is Skye Brock and what is it about her writing that has set readers in the Far East afire? We understand foreign journalists are heading for Chicago to get this fascinating story. But first the headlines..."

"I'll wring the neck of anyone I find giving out the whereabouts of our Skye," boomed the voice of Fergie through both rooms.

The clapping and cheering was almost deafening.

As the story on TV unfolded it was clear that the news team had found out very little about Skye beyond what was written on the dust jacket of her books.

The chairman of Reflection Publications Arnold Ascot said, "We are Skye's publisher but we have absolutely no idea where she is and I must admit going into hiding to escape all this attention is what Skye's creation Carey Green would advise."

"Sir exactly what is it about this Carey Green?"

"Well none of us here, including her editors have a clue and I certainly thought this Carey girl was the weakest piece of nothing as a heroine that I've ever come across since reading that first book for the first time last night because that book reputedly started this phenomenon. And you might know that Skye was a volunteer in the Coastguard for several months to research background for her second book and after its publication the Coastguard has been swamped by applications from young females wanting to join up fulltime or become Coastwatch volunteers. The Coastguard is trying to track down Skye. It wants her approval to name its big new vessel being built for Lake Michigan duties Miss Carey Green."

The male of the news reading duo said, "Well this is what happened when we visited Skye Brock's parents in a very exclusive apartment block in Downtown Chicago."

"Good morning ma'am, are you Skye Brock's mother?"

"Yes now run away."

Mrs Brock slammed the door leaving the reporter staring into the camera looking dazed.

"I think I got the message," said the female journalist.

She gathered herself and held up her mike and said, "This is where sensational new author Skye Brock was raised by Dr and Mrs Brock. It seems Skye had a normal childhood but initially she was very clingy to her doll named Daisy. We have consulted a leading female psychologist Patsy Wong about the relationship between Skye and Daisy. Here is what Ms Wong told us."

The camera showed an earnest looking reporter speaking to the inscrutable psychologist.

"Single children in a family often grow up speaking to themselves a great deal. The probable situation here is Skye may have done most of that talking to Daisy and Skye believed Daisy, a doll possibly made in China, spoke back to her. My inquiries indicated for many years Skye was exceptionally attached to her doll. Without personally assessing Skye and Daisy I am unable to comment further."

"Why would you consult Daisy the doll Ms Wong?"

"To hear her side of the story possibly. Who knows? Would you please leave now."

"Well, well," said the reporter addressing the camera. "It is my guess that Skye and Daisy are holed up somewhere in teeming New York. They could head to Chinatown where Daisy would feel more comfortable in a new city. I now hand you back to the news desk."

"Thank you Beverly Cash," said the female newsreader. "There's food for thought in that report. My pick of the perfect place to hide out would be camping out in the wilderness of New Mexico. That would be a great place for Skye to be writing her next eagerly awaited book. I must attempt reading her first book again. I kept falling asleep by chapter 2 or 3 both times I tried reading it."

"Boo!" shouted the people watching TV in the family room with Skye.

The newsreader redeemed herself. "But I must say my two young teens are claiming they'll die unless I buy them Carey Green iridescent green T-shirts. If you ask me I think this craze will dwarf what happened when my mother was a teen and Rock 'n' roll hit America and addicted the young. We now take a brief break."

Glenys came into that room and said, "Oh Skye I saw your mother briefly. She is so beautiful."

"Thank you but rest easy Glenys. Much of that is expensive make-up and hideously expensive surgery. You ought to know beauty is where real beauty dwells, in the soul as yours does."

Glenys looked rather pleased at that response and the women around them beamed at Skye.

Skye called to Fergie through the doorway. "Fergie could you call for silence. I wish to say a few words to everyone."

The two rooms hushes before got his mouth properly open.

"Guys thanks for arriving here to support the Hobbs family for what they are attempting to do for me. You are watching how this thing has escalated. It is becoming insane."

A woman called, "Does Daisy really speak to you?"

"No and never has. I used to pretend she did but that stopped years and years ago apart from when I come in I look at her on my bed and say, "How did your day go staring at the ceiling today Daisy, nice changes of shadows? If I had a couple of drinks before coming home I might be naughty and say, 'Did you score any sex today Daisy?' But really that's a bit on the nose because you see Daisy lost a leg when I was about to turn seven and I invalided her to my bed permanently. She never gets out to congregate with other dolls."

"Omigod," bleated Jill Cassidy and began crying and another woman in the next room joined her and many other women looked uncomfortable. The men looked at the floor or the ceiling.

Myra Williams said, "Glenys these TV folk have really nothing to tell us and will only compile crap until they get hold of Skye and the longest media concentration can last on anything is forty-eight hours. But the magazine writers will continue to chase after the elusive Skye. What say you turn off TV and get everyone seated in the one room with drinks and then Skye can tells us stories about Daisy?"

"Darn good idea," Glenys said, revving up. Some of you men get the drinks and everyone into the family room. Fergie get the boys up from the bunkhouse. We want them on this and need their silence. Ryan get the youngsters help you find more seating. Oh bring in the picnic tables and chairs but wipe the snow of them first."

The ranch hands, Andy, Zac and Stewart looked over-awed at being invited to this assembly and their nervousness intensified when Fergie said, "Now you guys sit with me where it's safe otherwise some of these women here could attempt to invite you out to the store room."

Skye said, "I apologize for not being a great storyteller like Fergie, but there you go." 

Within minutes she held her audience spellbound.

"I admit having a special relationship with my doll Daisy that lasted until I was almost thirteen I guess. Because of that I never was lonely. In fact I wouldn't care if kids didn't arrive to play or invite me to their homes because I had Daisy."

"I had a confusion of thoughts, I believe, when I was young and what school didn't sort out, Daisy did. I would talk to her about a problem and talk to myself with my idea of her reply and I got many things sorted, more or less, in this manner. In the process of learning to read I read to Daisy and she'd help me with difficult words and we had no idea if we were correct or not but I was soon being awarded stars for my progress with reading. Mom always said school improved my diction. Well in my view, having Daisy did that for me. I could read to Daisy until I fell a sleep and she was always waiting for me to wake up and resume reading to her. I thought she'd lose interest if I didn't read to her in my very best manner."

"Well probably lots of kids, mostly girls, talk to their dolls or pets. What was different was went I began writing stories I would ask Daisy what should I write about. Daisy would look dumb and refuse to answer and so I'd make some suggestions and she'd nod when one appealed. We became very good at that system."

"Six weeks before I turned seven a dog got hold of Daisy, a Fox Terrier. Mom, Daisy and I were in the park. I put up a terrific fight to get Daisy back and nobody noticed because I didn't scream or shout because I knew Daisy would be terrified enough. When I got back to mom with poor Daisy covered in dog slobber and some dogteeth punctures in her body I noticed Daisy's left leg was missing. I asked mom to look after Daisy and I went after that dog but it was nowhere to be found. Mom being mom didn't even notice Daisy had a missing leg although she was holding the doll. I decided to avoid fuss and say nothing." 

"Two weeks later I saw the dog and grabbed it and was beating it with a stick and had blood from dog bites on my hand and arm holding it from running over me and the dog was making a racket and I was yelling 'You little shit you tell me where you put that leg."

"The dog owner, a man, pulled us apart and yelled to mom to get me away from attacking his dog. Mom raced up and she and the man almost came to blows because mom claimed I'd only been trying to defend myself against his vicious hound. I didn't own up because that vicious little shit had attacked Daisy and probably had buried her leg somewhere. For a almost a year I had this desire to strangle all Fox Terriers but if you've every tried to catch a Fox Terrier that doesn't want to be caught then you know I would have failed in that mission."

"And so how is it I can remember such detail so far back? Because I began my first Daisy's Diary that night and a synopsis of most stories I made up for Daisy are in her diaries. That was twenty-three years ago and I still write stories for Daisy that I'm incorporating into my novels. There are now twenty-three Daisy Diaries." 

"As a young teenager I didn't talk to Daisy much beyond greetings but most nights I wrote things for her to bring into her mind during the day to have something to think about. When I no longer believed Daisy had ever winked or blinked or nodded her head at me or could bring into mind things I'd written for in the closed diary beside her, I still kept on writing for her because I was determined to become a writer."

"Well that's story one. The other story will begin after I have a drink."

"To the Spirit of Daisy," Skye said, proposing a toast and almost everyone in the room responded.

"I believe for some of you folk who know about this inexplicable and sudden rise of my popularity in China, this last story might allow you to see a connection between me and China, although it can only be tenuous. I believe in the connection, hugely so. I can't explain it but am sufficiently knowledgeable to know it is not necessary to have it explained. It exists and so let it be."

"I was ten when mom happened to mention one day that Daisy had been made in China. According to my notes we were watching a program about doll making. I'd not known about Daisy's origins. I checked her out but could find no markings and thought that damn dog. I bet the label was attached to the bottom of her missing left leg."

"About four years later I began reading about dolls in China, particularly doll making, and learned many interesting things although nothing about Daisy's origins of course. Different companies produced different styles of dolls but with thousands and thousands of doll makers plus a few million amateur makers, it would be an impossibility to track down Daisy's maker. Having that damn label could have been the key only I could never recall seeing a label on that left leg. I think by the time I turned three I would have been on to such things."

"From dolls I went into reading about how children lived in China, what they ate, what they were taught at school, how they worshipped and other things."

"When still fourteen I wrote a story for a competition about a part European child growing up in a village in northern China. Her mom was English, daughter of missionaries, and her father was Chinese and quite wealthy. He'd been a doll maker, as had his father and several generations before him. His wife explained to him how he could make much more money and that was to have other people idle at home to make dolls for him. Once passing their output as being good enough for commercial sale he'd pay the makers and then have other people go around selling them, often members of the doll makers' families, and they would earn sales commission."

"I won that competition and was told my story was incredible for someone of my age. There was some doubt that it was all my own work but within two minutes I had satisfied the doubters by answering their questions about Chinese Dynasties and I uttered some phrases in Putonghua, telling them that was the official language of China. I then began to print my name in Chinese script and the convener of the judging panel, laughing, told me I had been more than convincing. When I went to collect my winning entry at the end of the exhibition and Chinese woman smiled and said she'd pay me $50 for my story. I said no that I wanted to keep it. She said could she photocopy it and I said yes. She returned with the papers and handed me the original and I said if she wanted to have my story printed in China and I sign her copy of my story."

"That made her very excited when I worked hard to write my name in my version of Chinese script that I had been practicing and then signed my name under that. She said she would get someone to send me a copy of the published story but I never received it. End of story? Perhaps. I now think that same Chinese woman is a literary agent and unknown to me purchased the rights to have my first book published in China. My first novel contains many references to Carey Green having a doll named Daisy, a doll given to her paternal grandmother by a very, very old Chinese woman unable to speak a word of English and that in accepting the doll Carey's grandmother had looked up to thank the woman but she'd disappeared. I don't really know why I wrote that in the book because it appeared to have not relevance to the story except to state in a roundabout way that Carey possessed a very old doll. And then I had to ask myself after publication why on earth had I stated that Carey could speak Putonghua, the official language of China, when nowhere during the story did Carey speak it or was described as thinking in that language?"

"I scared myself when I thought of something my own paternal grandmother sometimes said to me when I was around five and would jumped into her bed at dawn, knowing she'd be the only one awake then. She'd say there was a reason for everything. Well perhaps gran and Daisy are responsible for my books selling in the Far East. I wonder? That's all folk. Thanks for listening."

She was warmly applauded.

"Thanks and oh, before I forget. The novel I'll write set on this ranch and more or less in this setting will have characters based on you people and incidents you have related to me but they will be mixed up and reworked so few people are likely to recognized themselves. At the request of my publisher, just received, the name of the heroine will be Carey Green. So people in the Far East will probably learn with great interest about ranch life in this district. Some place names I won't change because I do require it to be regarded by Wyomingites as authentic Wyoming. I hope to write hard to make you all proud of my literary contribution to Wyoming but hey, I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't written a single word of the novel."

Myra Williams asked, "What will you call your novel darling?"




Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 02



"The publisher will select the title for printing. My working title is based on my initial adventures here. It's called 'Gritty Times in Wyoming'.

That disclosure produced quite a buzz and during the evening several people including men said that really liked that title. Those women asked her to also include some of the softer sides to Wyoming.

"Oh I will," Skye said. "For a start, Glenys will take me trail riding in the hills soon to catch spring really awakening and in summer before my finale at hay making, we intend to camp out in the mountains."

The next evening Skye was sitting at her dresser in just bra and panties and doing her nails when Ryan came in and flopped on the bed.

"So this is to resume again?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay."

"I really missed you. More than I expected."

"Oooh," Glenys said, catching the last of that as she entered. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything deep. Move over you lump."

She lay down alongside her son and made not comment about Skye's state of undress. Well it was 9:00 and Skye was in her own bedroom.

Skye said, "I had just asked Ryan were these nocturnal visits resuming and in his eloquent way he said yeah. I said that was okay and you would have caught the rest, "He said he really missed me, more than he'd expected."

"I'd say we all did. In being left with just two guys to talk to I fell under the impression I'd had a lobotomy."

They all laughed.

"Well I'm not going be free-wheeling much on weekdays. My publisher wants me to rework my rejected novel, change the heroine's name to Carey Green and work in sex, the theory been that even bad novels by known writers sell."

"That won't be too difficult will it?"

"No Glenys but it will be time consuming and they really would like it all tomorrow. I plan to work six-hour days with just Sundays off."

"Right then you must work in the office/games room rather than in here. I'll get the men to shift things around so you are sitting at the desk in front of the main windows rather than looking against the light where the desk is at present. That will ease eye-strain. You will still have a view out the window during periods of creative thinking because the chair swivels."

"Oooh thanks and of course that room is farther away from the kitchen/dayroom where there will be interesting distractions. I love it."

"Thanks. Darling I still think of you luring that bull away from me when caught up a creek without a paddle as they say. I was not in life threatening danger but was in for a cold, wet time if I had been forced to crawl under that bridge to safety and goodness knows how my beloved Kismet would have fared that that crazed bull gone for her. As a young teen I was with my father when a horned bull gored his horse in the belly. It's something I never wish to see again. It took me several days to get over it but I guess it toughened me."

Skye said yes they were fortunate the way it had panned out and although it had been the first and only living thing she'd shot she'd not been troubled by it because she'd known it had to be done. It could have been a different outcome for them had the sick bull not hit exhaustion.

Glenys cuffed Ryan when he said if they wished to go safely they should ride with a guy.

"I took this opportunity to come in here this evening to talk to you both quietly," Glenys said. "I have dropped my objection to you two having sex. It was stupid of me to intervene because I knew you wouldn't have done it in front of me, neither of you being that insensitive. I just lost control, that's all, and played the bossy mother. After you left Skye I wished I could have turned back the clock over my insensitive edict because here yet again you were doing something wonderful for me, coaxing my daughter back to me."

"Thanks mom," Ryan yawned.

"Yes thanks Glenys," said the creator of Carey Green the well-behaved wimp. "Now could we talk about something else, this is embarrassing?"

"Yeah mom," said her son, watching Skye put away her nail polish container and pull out her hair brush.

Glenys yawned as said she was off to bed.

"Don't you two do anything I wouldn't do," she said, chuckling as she closed the door.

"Leave the door open mom," Ryan called and was obeyed without comment.

Skye said, "Tonight?"

"Nah," Ryan said, picking his nose. "Too embarrassing."

"Yeah right. How long does it take to drive from here to Billings?"

"About two and a half hours."

"Should we go to see Linda and Larry on Saturday and take your folk if they want to come?"

"Yeah good idea. In fact it's a great idea. You think good for a woman."

Skye just smiled.

At breakfast next morning Ryan said, "Skye reckons we should all go to Billings on Saturday."

"Oh no sorry," Glenys said. "I have so much to do and Judy Kline and I had mentioned having a family lunch Saturday."

"Well I'm going," Fergie said. "We must pack our boots and work clothes Ryan and help Larry knock outside the land into shape as they're on a new building site."

Glenys enthused, "Yes and I'll pack a smock and Skye you might like to help me cook the pies on Friday evening and we can take picnic settings because Linda won't have much tableware."

"Didn't she get any as wedding presents?"

"Oh yes heaps. What am I thinking?"

Skye said cheekily, "Weren't you too busy to go?"

"Oh that, poof."

The guys grinned at Skye.

Later sitting in the big office with the desk now in front of the big window, Skye made a note of that little conversation at breakfast about going to visit Linda. The heading she used was, 'Country folk prefer things to move slowly, particular change or planning to go somewhere.' She was sure in coming weeks she'd add other examples after talking to other people who appeared adverse to spontaneity.

TO BE CONTINUED



Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 03



Next morning Skye spent a couple of hours flicking through the rejected manuscript titled 'Zina Mace Finds Love' to decide how to get it reinstated for possible publication. Her conclusion was her editors had done a damn good job in rejecting it. It was pathetic.

She sighed and stared the wad of paper.

Where to start? To start anew would delay the request to front up with a revised manuscript by months rather than weeks. She sympathized with the publisher wishing to hit the market with a continuation of the Carey Green series.

She drew her red marker through the 'Zina Mace Finds Love' working title and wondered who thought of that ghastly title. Daisy?

Skye looked at that title with the thick line through it and felt much better. She pulled up the file on her laptop and made a global change of the word 'Mace', replacing it with Green and then selected 'Zina' and replaced that with 'Carey' and exhaled contentedly, knowing she was underway. The first consideration was Carey Green would never venture into a nightclub and so searched for the word 'nightclub' and replaced it with the word disco. She then changed the boyfriend's name to Pete Lime who always had part of his shirt hanging out and had to be reminded to clean his teeth and push his fringe back.

"Hello, hello Daisy, what do we have here. We have a hot prospect underway."

She looked up and saw Glenys in the doorway holding a mug of coffee.

"Oh hi," she greeted, knowing her face had lost color big-time.

"So that's the secret of success," Glenys said softly. "You write as two people -- you and Daisy."

Skye said stiffly, "Please could you keep..."

"...your secret just between you and me? Yes of course. Skye knowing you like I do this little revelation comes as no surprise to me. I accepted you appear to have some kind of gift and after you arrived back here in near panic and watching your face as that horrid woman on TV made public her comments about her opinion of your relationship with your doll, I began to suspect you may have developed the ability to think and see things as two distinct persons but had not yet defined it. I wasn't sneaking up on you just then, I had arrived quietly to avoid disturbing you unduly."

"I understand and accept what you say. Actually it's almost a relief that someone else knows. Um it's just an ability to think on parallel tracks. Daisy doesn't talk to me and she'd not here with me, she's home on my bed. She represents a sounding board that coaxed me to develop my form of thinking. Daisy is not a conduit; she is just a doll."

"I don't wish to alarm you but have you thought of the possibility of some frenetic fan, as these teenies are bound to become, might attempt to snatch Daisy?"

"Yes I have but what will they get, just an inert doll although she symbolizes a lot to me. Mom told me when I was leaving to return here that she'd keep Daisy safe so I think mom might have been thinking like you have. There are many very wealthy residents in that apartment block and security systems are very advanced. I'm sure I wouldn't slash my wrists if Daisy were taken. She's only a doll but I still love her as I did as a child. We all need someone to love."

"That's true. Here's your coffee and I'll leave you to work in peace. Omigod Skye, you have done it to me again. I'm so excited at the possibility of being with Linda on Saturday. We must call her tonight."

"Why ruin a surprise. Let's leave at 5:00. If they are out too bad, you guys can show me around Billings."

"God you are willing to push to the brink. I could never live with your adventuresome mind. Well I'm off. I'll leave you in peace till lunchtime. And you secret is safe with me. You are the most interesting person I've ever met."

"Yeah well we are all different. You are perfect for the role in life you have found yourself Glenys. I recall a quote from one of your fans. Myra Williams told me, Glenys Hobbs is typical of the type of woman who made pioneering farming settlement in this territory possible."

"Well Myra talks too much and anyway how would she know?" Glenys said, but nevertheless walked away looking rather pleased.

* * *

Skye and her hosting family went to Billings in Skye's car, she pointing out it would be more comfortable that the 4X4 with its suspension stiffened for ranch work.

Ryan drove and Fergie sat in the front seat and pointed out landmarks to Skye and talked about old cattle trails used in pre-railroad times.

"The coming of the railway was the making of Billings," he said. "It became a rail hub and today remains the trade distribution point for all of Montana."

When he wasn't speaking, Skye kept up a constant stream of chatter, involving everyone.

At one stage, wiping an eye, Glenys sniffed and said, "You know guys, this is just like the days when we had Linda in the car with us. You two girls are more alike than I realized Skye."

"Or is it just being females of a similar age?"

"Could be Skye," Fergie said, but I think Glenys has put her thumb on it; you two young women have outgoing personalities and you both like including everyone in your conversations. Haven't you noticed how before too long women usually converse mainly woman-to-woman? You and Linda draw men into your conversations and keep them included too."

"Well that is possibility because the alternative for us is to be surrounded by brainless fence posts but at least as a couple you two have got beyond that."

"Cheeky bitch, just like my daughter," Fergie chuckled, almost shaking the car.

"Fergie," yelled Glenys.

"What?" was the innocent response and now Skye was laughing loudly.

"Don't encourage him Skye. He needs to be kept in line."

"I'd like to stop soon to eat," Ryan said. "Having my half finished coffee cup taken out of my hand and an attempt made to grab my piece of toast represented a bad start to my day."

"We agreed last night to leave at 5:00," said his mom. "I had to act because we were ready to leave and you were loitering."

"Yes let's stop at a nice roadside café," Skye said, gently taking charge and Ryan happily said, "Right."

"Ryan will eat all day if encouraged."

"I don't want him to lose concentration at the wheel through hunger."

"Oh yes Ryan, stop as soon as you wish," said his mother.

Skye smiled. Glenys was a little tougher to shift than her mother but she was learning how to handle Glenys. But she knew there would be no way through Glenys if she were taken head-on.

At the house Glenys was up the steps and on to the porch first. She banged on the door and Linda wearing a headscarf and dirty old jeans jacket and torn and paint splattered pants opened the door, stared and screamed in horror, "Mom!"

There was a crash in the lounge as Larry, attempting to hang a light fitting, fell off the ladder on to the sofa and yelled, "Fuck."

But things settled down.

Linda and Skye half-circled each other eyes bright and fixed on each other as Glenys said, "This is Skye" and she said, "Come here Larry and I'll rub your back. You really should be careful up ladders."

The two younger women straightened and rushed into a hug screaming.

"Oh I knew you'd look even more beautiful than in your wedding photo," lied Skye, ignoring the fact that Linda had breakfast jam on the side of her mouth and was devoid of make-up.

"Oh god, not looking like this. It cannot be. You are so beautiful."

Skye laughed, "Well I'm about to unveil and put on my work clothes darling. We are here to help."

"Stop fooling around with that boy Glenys, you'll make him into a wimp," Fergie growled. "We need him outside to show us where he wants the posts placed for the post and rail front fence."

"You can't work out there Mr Hobbs. There's snow on the ground and the ground will be frozen."

"Call me Fergie. I've told you to call me that several times. Who says we can't work outside? We work outside all year because we come from Wyoming where they breed men tough. We also brought an auger with us and gloves and dynamite in case the ground is too hard. You want a front fence erected today don't you? The materials are stacked up for it."

"Dynamite?" Larry's voice quavered.

"That's just dad bullshitting Larry."

"Linda!"

"Mom this is my house. Rules have changed. Larry and I find bad language is expressive."

"Flexibility with lexicon is the basis of living language," Skye said straight-faced and for once when Glenys jerked up her head to reply she found she had no reply.

"God already you're handling my mother with aplomb. I'm impressed."

"No one handles me in that manner," Glenys snapped.

"No of course not mother," Linda said sweetly, leaving Glenys staring at her suspiciously.

Linda picked up Skye's bag and said, "Come through and change and help me cut and place the sticky bottom linings on pot drawers in the kitchen. Oh it's so lovely being with you at last. Don't do a runner on me this time."

Skye drove home that night because both men appeared tired whereas she was on a high. Within fifteen minutes her three passengers were asleep. She'd had such a lovely day. Linda had invited Larry's folk over for dinner and they were such a sweet couple. She could see when Larry got his sensitivity from and his earnest disposition. He was so right for Linda, allowing her liveliness and natural leadership qualities to flourish. She'd told Linda that and Linda had hugged and kissed her saying, "It is so lovely hearing that. Mom likes Larry but I know she thinks he's a wimp."

At the breakfast table next morning Skye almost shot out of her chair in shock when Ryan's foot hit hers and stayed there. She looked across at him and he looked away but she caught the faint smile.

Ah, the boy wants to play, she thought and dropped off her slipper and slowly lifted her leg up between his legs, tapping her foot from side to side as she progressed to his groin. She looked at him and saw he looked uncomfortable.

Perhaps Glenys had noticed something because she said to Ryan, "What are your chores today?"

"Just the one. I'm packing a sheet of replacement roofing to fix that leak in the Curtis Creek cabin roof and to lay rat poison."

"Why don't you take Skye with you? She hasn't ridden out that far on that side of the ranch. Skye you won't be settled to write well today after the excitement yesterday at Billings."

Skye looked at Ryan.

"Skye," he said, eyeing her deeply.

"Yeah I suppose so," she said casually and he said crossly then not to bother if that was her level of enthusiasm.

"Go Skye. Saddle Kismet for her Ryan because her Missy is slightly lame."

"Skye?"

"Yes that sounds great."

As they rode out of earshot, Skye said, "I've brought condoms."

"I was hoping you would."

She smiled at him tenderly, "I thought you never would get round to this. We appeared to have stalled."

"I was waiting for the right time, that's all. Now mom has pushed us into it but of course this is a great opportunity."

"But not in the cabin."

"Why not? Would you prefer a cold ass from frozen ground?"

"Rats."

"There are no rats in the cabin. That's why we lay poison and once the bait is taken the rats get out and run to the creek to drink water. Finito."

"Oh, then the cabin will be fine. Will I have to lead or do you know what to do?"

"I tell you what: it would be great to have a woman who can fuck."

"Lucky you. You've found her."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," said Skye, pushing Kismet out into a canter and when she was moving well and warmed up moved up into a gallop and she could tell Kismet loved having a workout. She really was a lovely horse. Ryan hadn't followed because he was leading the packhorse with a sheet of roofing iron strapped to it. She returned to them slowing to a walk and smiling, wondering why they hadn't driven out but remember Fergie had a meeting in town. It was the only four-wheel drive vehicle on the ranch and there were mud patches to ford.

"I'm a bit sweaty."

He grinned and said nothing like she would be when he finished with her.

She frowned and said he should not regard her like something to use and discard.

"Sorry that was not what I meant."

"Thanks and I had assumed you didn't mean it to sound that way. Just be careful, that's all I'm saying. You are not dealing with a country girl."

"You mean country slut."

"I mean country girl."

"Oh sorry."

"Thanks, give me the rein and take Bruno for a run."

"Later thanks. Mom said you could really ride. You and Kismet were moving like one."

"Yeah will she's such a splendid mount she'd make any rider look good but thanks for your praise. When I see you and the boys riding in I can pick which one is you half a mile away because of you graceful posture."

"Are you buttering me up for sex?"

She giggled and he blurted, "I adore you. As a women you are everything Linda is and more."

They rode on in thoughtful silence.

In the cabin Ryan was so excited his erection was dripping and his hands were shaking as he went to roll on a condom.

"Calm down Ryan. We don't want you finishing too soon. Here let me roll it on for you. Just stroke me softly till you calm and think of kissing me in moonlight rather than thinking about fucking the butt off me."

"Um right."

God he had been thinking of pounding her, thought Skye, grinning.

He was plenty long enough and fat enough for her liking and only when they became very active did he pop out a few times and that was to be expected.

She had loved seeing the look on his face as he looked down and began penetration. He was kneeing on the wood floor and she was sprawled back on the faded vinyl sofa holding up her legs spread wide out to provide a real easy target.

He did ejaculate early but not before racking up some mileage and he'd gotten her pretty excited as well and so she understood his situation. But to her relief he rolled on a new condom and was straight back into it, er continuing where he'd left off. He began chewing her left nipple and bang, that got her off and when he squeezed the other breast bang she was off again and broke into a sweat as she began really banging back at him but she was relieved to find he was in a bigger sweat.

When they finished that bout he slumped on the couch beside her and pleased her greatly, saying in simple tribute, "You really can fuck."

They arrived back after dark and without being asked one of the guys came out of the bunkhouse to take the horses.

"Good evening Miss Brock, hi Ryan."

Ryan grunted a reply but Skye made the effort and said brightly, "This is very kind of you. Thanks Zac."

"The boys and I like having you around Miss Brock. It's like having bubbling Miss Linda back again."

"Oh what a nice thing to say to me. I'd be happy for you and the boys to call me Miss Skye. In fact I'd love it. Although I'm a city slicker I know enough to know ranches would lose their efficiency at raising beef if it weren't for guys like your three providing the skilled labor."

"Thanks Miss Skye and we don't regard you as a city slicker. We see you ride."

Glenys looked at Ryan and Skye as they came in and called hi, looked at them closely and then smiled widely.

Omigod Skye thought. How embarrassing, she knows.

CHAPTER 4

Skye's hideout strategy held but there was one known close call. Myra Williams brother, an attorney in Buffalo, had learned at a business meeting that a magazine journalist, acting on a possible sighting tip-off and waving a photograph, had been making enquiries in that town about the whereabouts of the novelist Skye Brock in that district.

Skye drove to Chicago with an overnight stop at Sioux Falls. 

The last corrected and approved chapters had been emailed to Reflections Publications and it had been agreed the new book would be titled, 'Carey Green's Big Romance'.

She'd asked to speak to the executive editor but was told Mrs Beecham was busy. She called Skye two days later and rejected Skye's suggestion that she call a press conference to introduce Skye to the media.

"I'm sorry darling but your North American sales have slumped so there will be no longer real interest in you. Our research shows the subject material of your books is too ho-hum for indigenous reading preferences. The report says your books would be more popular here if they aligned more with our culture, such as having Carey Green go to night clubs, shout rudely for service, commit adultery and watch football."

"You are kidding me?"

"Skye how dare you speak to me like that."

"Bye Mrs Beecham. Please don't be in too much of a hurry to call me."

Julie the editors' assistant, told Skye later that Mrs Beecham called her senior editor to cancel Skye's contract on the grounds of flagging US interest in her books but Phyllis Joyce had pointed out that Far Eastern sales of the first two books had now reached three million.

Mrs Beecham had replied that she'd forgotten about Far Eastern sales and told Phyllis to leave things as they were.

Skye was also unaware two days later Phyllis had burst into Mrs Beecham's office, face red with excitement, and had received a right dressing down for failing to make an appointment. It was alleged Phyllis had said, 'Fuck appointments. You'll want to read this, the first two sample chapters of Skye Brock's epic novel, 'Gritty Times in Wyoming for Carey Green'.'

Mrs Beecham then allegedly said, 'Oh no, not more crap about that stupid little heroine who pukes the senses by sneering her insipid way across all fiction conventions and doesn't take baths or showers and only washes her neck when she finds her white collars grimy inside.'

Whatever was said in that room that afternoon, Phyllis later emailed a confidential encrypted advisory to all senior editorial personnel:

Mrs Beecham was today totally stunned by the 'ripping good yarn' (her words) suggested in the synopsis and the 1st and 2nd draft chapters of Skye Brock's upcoming epic novel titled 'Gritty Times in Wyoming for Carey Green'. It tells of Carey's heart-pounding and gut-wrenching adventures when hiding out on a Wyoming ranch after breaking up with her boyfriend of six month, Pete Lime, who had the audacity to threaten to have sex with her. He also refused to accept it would take Carey at least three months to get used to the idea of being used in that manner outside of wedlock. The novel is expected to be around 480 pages. Miss Brock will begin fulltime writing after spending summer on the ranch haymaking and researching horse-riding trails in the mountain. This last period of her research will include going on a cattle drive, helping to move some 350 cattle of all ages up a mountain to leased summer pastures.

NB: It is noted that Miss Brock's sales of her two novels now approaching five million and occurring mainly in the Far East, equate to 87% of our company's total book sales across all genres for this quarter. Her new book featuring Carey Green's doomed romance will come off the presses at the end of this month. -- Phyllis Joyce, Executive Editor. 

Julie sent an unencrypted copy to Skye who read it, her mouth falling open.

Skye's journey to Chicago was not wasted. She renewed personal contacts with the folk at Reflection Publications, although avoiding Mrs Beecham, and of course was staying with her parents. When going to her room smiled and said hi to Daisy and then hugged her and began weeping, but felt really good after that girly stuff.

Her mom was brought up to date, including Skye having sex with Ryan.

"So there could be a wedding?"

"Goodness no, he's just a boy."

"But he'll mature. And perhaps with a person like you it won't pay to marry an equal. You could also end up living and writing on the ranch permanently. Think about it darling."

Skye went to her room and talked to Daisy about it and wasn't surprised that Daisy thought it would be a good idea to marry the kid. He would be still high-powered in sex when Skye was into her forties/fifties and that was an important consideration. She brought that argument.




Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 03



That evening Skye called an old university friend.

"Hi Clara, long-time no-hear."

"Likewise. You must want something."

The laughed and caught up on each other.

And then, "Is your mom still a contributing editor to the 'Intriguing Women' section for that leading newspaper in New York?"

"Yes and I'm sure she'll remain at her post until she begins losing it. Why do you have a tip for her, someone intriguing?"

"This call had placed my number on your phone. Please mention my name to her and give her my phone number, that's all you need to do for me darling."

"Okay. Some of us ex college girls meet up on every second Friday at the Albion Bar. We'd like you to join us, this Friday from 5:30?"

"Great, will be there. Bye."

* * *

Agatha Holst had gone to bed almost an hour earlier when she received a 9:45 call from her daughter.

"Hi darling, fortunately for you I'm fighting to finish this crossword puzzle otherwise I would have been asleep."

"Sorry mom but an old friend called me earlier today asking me to pass on her name and I forgot. She thought you might be interested so I didn't like to think I'd let her down."

"Yes, yes. What's her name?"

"She gave no message. Her name is Skye Brock."

"Omigod."

"What?"

"Skye has been in hiding from the media for weeks and weeks. She is making contact. This is like received contact from Outer Space."

"Mom you've been drinking. Why would you be interested in Skye?"

"Skye Brock is the creator of Carey Green. You ought to know. You and your friends sing that stupid Carey Green theme when you've had a few drinks."

"But that Skye Brock can't be the Skye Brock who did Philosophy/Asian Studies with me at Chicago University. She was rather weird, very introspective and... Omigod, exactly like Carey Green is."

"Yes dear. Her phone number please. I'll murder you if you say..."

"No she called me so it's on my phone. Here goes..."

Heather glared at Skye as her phone went when they were chatting, a little inebriated after wine at dinner and now finishing their second brandies. Ralph had gone off to read.

"Hi this is Skye."

"Oh hi Skye. It's Aggie Holst. It would appear you are ready to talk to someone?"

"Yes my editor said the media will have lost interest in me but I've not changed and feel I'm going forward."

"I'm pleased to hear that. What about a working lunch tomorrow?"

"Oooh lovely Mrs Holst."

"You just call me Aggie darling. I'll have a photographer visit us during lunch. If I can get this away next day we'll just scrape in for this Saturday if they want to use it. Oh could you bring your doll. I liked that photo of you two in the newspaper because it told me a lot about who you really are. The Wellington Room at 12:30?"

"Yes sure."

"I'll call if I can't get a table. Bye.

"Thanks Aggie. I look forward to meeting you."

Heather hiccupped and said, "Why would Aggie Holst be interested in you?"

"Because I'm an intriguing person, a reluctant celebrity."

"You don't say," Heather said, looking at her daughter thoughtfully.

Ralph brought in the newspaper and coffee on Saturday morning.

"Her story is in here, syndicated from New York. Daisy's photo is a front page pointer, just Daisy."

"How cute. Go wake her I mean Skye and bring a coffee mug for here darling. She came home swaying after spending a night out last night with her old university girlfriends."

With his wife and daughter settled, Ralph between them, he opened the newspaper after showing them the small photo of Daisy. The caption read, 'For almost sixteen years this cloth China-made doll owned by Chicago novelist Skye Brock, has featured as an Chinese anime character in a comic book produced in China and widely circulated throughout East Asia and beyond. The first story in the long-running publication was a contest-winning essay written by Skye when she was fourteen. Story p28.' 

There was just the one large photo of Skye and her doll, beautifully composed. No mention was made of Daisy's unfortunate amputation. There were also small photos of the dust jacket of her two published books and the forthcoming new book was mentioned.

The feature occupied the full page and dwelt on Skye's philosophy as a writer and her background.

Interviewer: Why are your two books a raging success in East Asia, with sales approaching seven million while here in America they are currently around 152,000? Has someone got the count wrong?

Skye (laughing): No the sales I gave you are audited sales figures and so are correct. It's a matter of what appeals. Readers in North America tend to like their heroines in fiction either soppy romantics or kick-ass go-getters who get their man with, and this is only a guess, ten penetrations per novel.

Interviewer: And you don't write in that style?

Skye: Goodness no. Some critics have variously and accurately described my series heroine Carey Green as mentally unchallenging, sexually unchallenging, a wimp, a nothing female who just packs her bag and goes and her adventures are really a lot like readers would expect to have if they went on vacation/holiday somewhere if the could afford to leave home. Of course, that's how I intend her to be -- very ordinary. In this new novel Carey does experience her second romance. In East Asia she will be adored for the respectful way in which she greets his abominable parents and that the courtship dawdles and all the guy gets out of Carey are several carefully rationed sweet kisses. In contrast out West there will be frustrated readers critical of me for leaving out hot flushes, not revealing that Carey has cute breasts or whatever she has, for making no mention of erections including stiff nipples and for not being described plotting about how and when they will do it. So what do they do instead? Plenty I say but Carey enjoys a gentle and rewarding life and that's what she strives to have, laced with adventures that in North America would excite perhaps an elderly maiden aunt.

Interviewer: In view of those sales figures you've stated, why does your publisher bother marketing in North America?

Skye: For two reasons and both are called business considerations. Sales in South Asia come from books printed under license, so the return per book is far less for my publisher than my publishing company managing its own printing and distribution and marketing. Secondly I don't think anyone could name a second-tier down publisher who wouldn't be anything but delighted at any one of its author's two hard-cover books reaching a total of 152,000 sales."

Interviewer: Of course not. Good point. Now where have you been hiding and what will be the theme of your next novel?

Skye: I have been researching background for my next novel way out West. The theme will be the adventures including some harrowing times for Carey Green living on a ranch in Wyoming.

Interviewer: Oh very nice. But why not more glamorous Montana?

Skye: Because my childhood doll Daisy plumped for grittier Wyoming.

Interviewer: Are you saying Daisy speaks to you?

Skye: No I just use her as a sounding board to discuss my theories with myself.

Interviewer: Where is the ranch you have been staying at in Wyoming?

Skye: I don't recall mentioning staying at a ranch in Wyoming to you Aggie. I could research all the background I require on the Internet and in libraries couldn't I?

Interviewer: You went to sea with the Coastguard before writing Carey Green's adventures with the Coastguard on Lake Michigan so it follows..."

Skye: Oh Aggie, look at the time. I must rush. It has been so lovely talking to you. You are a gem to have residing and writing out of Chicago. Bye and thanks for lunch.

Heather snorted, "Nosey Aggie was really on to you. She'd blown your cover."

"Perhaps mother. Remember Wyoming is the USA's 10th largest state so there are many, many places to look to try to find me. Situations change and now it's not so important for me to hide. What I think is perhaps one or two magazine writers might come and write about what I do on the ranch. It will be marvelous promo for the book, don't you think?"

Her father said: "You are a sly little bitch Skye."

Heather spat, "Ralph, apologize for talking to your daughter like that this instant."

* * *

Skye was happy to see home, er the ranch house, mid-afternoon after a drive of 550 miles from Sioux Falls, SD.

Only Glenys was in, the men having gone with the 4X4 and biggest trailer to fetch farm supplies from Buffalo. The women was catching up over coffee and barely noticed the heavily laden SUV rumble by but a half minute later the back door burst open and Ryan angered his mom but clumping in on the polished floors to make a beeline for Skye.

"Hi I missed you so much," he cooed, quite surprising Skye and his sweet kisses were so welcomed.

"Get out, get out with those boots," his mom yelled, beating him across the back with her straw broom she used to sweep the porches.

"Cut it mom," he warned but she ignored him.'

Ryan who was not quite as tall or broad across as his mother turned on her and grabbed her and the broom and quietly carried her high by the arms across to the sofa, sat her down and told her to behave herself.

"My girl is back."

His feat of strength had surprised both women.

Skye recovered first.

"Please sit and remove your boots Ryan."

He sat and unlaced them.

"Don't you dare ever man-handle me like that again," fumed his mom.

Ryan raised an eyebrow and looked at Skye and she nodded.

"Yes mom. Fair enough."

"Thank you Ryan," Skye said. "Are there any more kisses from where those last ones came from?"

He strode across the floor in his socks and delivered and Glenys must have been wondering had more than a subtle change had just occurred in her household, Skye leaping Ryan to become number 3 in pecking order?

Next morning Skye began her 4th novel in earnest, believing the best place to write a novel was in its location so she should write her Wyoming novel right there.

* * *

Skye was busy at the keyboard one morning. The guys would be away until after dark, working way out back on new fencing and Glenys had gone into Buffalo to shop when she heard an explosion over at the Williams' about a quarter-mile down their access road and across the highway.

Sensing something was wrong, she ran outside and saw a plume of smoke rising above the barn at the end where two grain silos stood. She raced inside for her car keys and sped off down the dirt road, almost flooring the accelerator and being too busy to keep the nose of her car straight to be frightened. Skye could see the Williams' gate was open and horn blaring she raced across the sealed highway, that fortunately was traffic-free in that locality right then. She wrenched the wheel right to allow the rear wheels to slew left and when she straightened was pointing up the Williams' driveway that was offset from the driveway she'd come down.

Skye roared past the house and on to the barn where smoke was pouring from the ripped open iron roof of the workshop.

She rushed in, hearing Myra, who was in her early forties, screaming and crying. Her husband Len Williams lay on the ground beside an open maintenance door to one of the silos. Stacked sacks beside him were ablaze and a heavy portable blower had toppled, pinning his arm. Len appeared unconscious.

Myra, disheveled, eyes glazed held an axe and she glanced at the advancing Skye.

"The fire's advancing. I've got to get him away... chop off his arm."

Skye grabbed Myra's arm with the axe. "Stop let's assess the situation."

But she was brushed aside.

"No time," Myra screamed, raising the axe.

Skye had no time to think. She leaped forward and chopped at Myra's throat.

Myra fell and the axe dropped, narrowly missing Len's head.

Panicking, not sure what to do, Skye grabbed the rubber mat alongside the workbench and threw that over Len, protecting him from the heat of the blaze that didn't appear to be advancing particularly fast. She assumed a build-up of methane gas escaped when the inspection door had been opened had ignited and the explosion had set off the fire now burning the stack of sacks (used to bag surplus grain to sell to farmers on small areas of land).

Myra was choking, climbing to her feet. Skye hid the axe and found a heavy crowbar.

She grabbed Myra by the shoulder, saw the burn on her forehead and where her hair had obviously caught fire but said nothing about that. "Myra have you calmed down?"

She nodded.

"Help me get that heavy anvil over here and we'll lever Len free. The anvil is probably too heavy for us but we are desperate. We'll move it."

Eyes glazed, Myra said, "Yes let's do it."

Skye grabbed a gallon can of oil from the shelf and liberally made a 6-yard long track with it between the anvil and Len who was now groaning.

"Push, push," called Skye the slave driver, who was pulling. "Come on, push harder, Get your ass into it." 

She goaded until she saw the strain on Myra's face and then softened her cries. The pain in her back and shoulders was killing her and suddenly the felt the anvil move.

Skye who had her legs spread to avoid skidding on the oil called, "It's moving. Good girl. Keep your legs wide out of the oil. Imagine you're having sex."

Myra looked up in utter disbelief and then caught the wink. She managed a faint smile.

Then they felt momentum build and the heavy anvil was sliding across the floorboards.

"That's enough. Check on Len."

Myra raced around to her husband while Skye checked for a solid part in the lower side of the blower assembly inserted the crowbar and laying it over the anvil lent over with all her weight and the blower lifted a bit.

"Pull him clear."

"I can't, he's trapped."

Smoke was billowing around Len and Myra so obviously Myra couldn't see much.

"I've lifted the blower. Pull him free damn you."

"Omigod he's free," Myra cried and sounded hysterical again.

Skye saw Myra advancing, dragging Len and she lowered the blower and then grabbed at the back of Len's belt, pulled out his phone and made an emergency call for an air ambulance. She left Myra holding the phone to fill in details once the chopper was requested and Skye dashed off and returned with a large extinguisher and attacked the fire.

Half an hour later as Len was loaded into the chopper and Myra prepared to board, she turned and hugged and kissed Skye.

"I'll never forget what you've done for us today Skye, never."

"Go on you silly goat. You would have done all you could for me in similar circumstances?"

"But as successfully? I don't think so. You remained ice-calm."

"Well thanks for your appreciation. Off you go, at least you won't require a wig."

"Why would I require a wig?" Myra asked curiously.

"Come on Mrs Williams," said the young nurse, shouting about the noise of the helicopter. "I'll dress that head wound on the way in. You did get a bit of a fry-up didn't you?"

"What I got was my husband saved with his arm left intact, Myra said, and pointing at Skye said, "Skye is an absolute hero."

Later Skye helped the Glenys unload the groceries and other supplies.

Glenys said, "Have you been smoking?"

"No of course not."

"You must have had a long uninterrupted session writing. Sorry I'm late back for lunch but I got talking to some of the girls."

"No it's fine. I'll get your chicken salad. You look tired."

"Well it can be tiring shopping and talking too much," Glenys laughed. "God look at these two vans coming up our driveway and four cars. Omigod one looks like the Sheriff's black and gold car."

"Um I'm off for a ride out to see how the boys are getting on."

"No you don't; something's up. What have you been doing while I've been away?"

Skye squeaked, "Nothing really."

After the sheriff and deputy had finished getting Skye's statement, everyone including Glenys moved down to the Williams' barn.

With the TV cameras set up and rolling, the sheriff was guilty of hamming it up a bit.

He looked at the oil trail leading to where the anvil was by the blower and tilting back his Stetson and scratching his forehead said to Skye, "For the life of me I can't see how two puny females could work out how to get that anvil over there under the stress of attempting to beat a fire and then have the strength to actually move the anvil there."

"Watch your mouth sheriff. Girls can do anything."

The media loved it. Although it had occurred spontaneous Sheriff Cody and Skye were persuaded to go through that same conversation for another shoot with the cameras in better position. In fact they cooperated for two more 'shoots'.

The sheriff then said, "Right that's it guys, no further horsing around. This is an official injury accident investigation."

He then got Skye to take it from the beginning and explain how she came to be there, what she saw and what she did. When that was a wrap Glenys said, "Omigod."

An alert camera operator brought her into frame. "So nothing really happened today." 

A TV reporter thrust a mike at Glenys and said, "Who are you ma'am?"

"Glenys Hobbs. Skye lives with my family. She's the novelist Skye Broke, creator of the infamous Carey Green. I left her home alone writing; the men were out back fencing. When I came home with supplies I asked here what had happened while she was gone and she almost yawned and said nothing really, and that's all I knew about this until you lot came up to our farmhouse to interview Skye the heroine."

The reporter swung around to Skye. 

"Are you a heroine Skye?"

"Nah. I was just being neighborly. Wrap this us right now guys and come up for coffee and cookies. Glenys is a marvelous cook."

The family was having pre-dinner drinks when they could see a vehicle coming up the driveway, lights flashing and horn blowing.

Ryan said, "It will be one of the neighbors who has heard about the drama coming to watch it on TV with us."

The backdoor flew open and in rushed Myra, head bandaged, and tailed by her two daughters, Coral who was married to a nearby rancher and Ada a senior at high school.

Skye vaulted over the back of the sofa but there was no escape... Myra came around the back after her and slammed into Skye yelling, "My hero, my hero. He's going to be all right. Len only has concussion and a fractured shoulder."

"That lovely Myra," Glenys said. "Now come and sit by me and watch TV. It's news time."

"I'll sit by Skye if you don't mind," Myra said, watching her daughters kissing Skye.

Everyone watched intently as the drama was unfolded on-screen and yelled when the voice-over described the heroine as famous author Skye Brock, who's book sales were nearing ten million copies.

"Jesus," Fergie said gruffly. "Even I would have said there was no way two women could shift that old blacksmith's anvil."

The females looked proudly at Skye and Myra and clapped when Skye made her 'girl's can do anything' retort that over coming hours would be shown on TV around the world. * * *

Skye now left her phone switched on and Julie from Reflection Publications was able to call and request her to call Mrs Beecham who wished to talk to her.

"Invite her to call me. Unlike executives in office towers I'm busy."

"Skye!"

"I mean it Julie."

"Please wait and I'll see if she can take your call."

"You have thirty seconds."

"Skye you are making me panic. Oh your fan club is approaching a million members, mostly foreigners. That TV presenter in Hong Kong told her viewers she'd become a member of your fan club and gave the address on TV."

"And my dog doesn't have fleas."

"What?"

"Fifteen seconds."

"Oh Jesus Skye," Julie wailed.

"Mrs Beecham speaking. Why don't you call me Amelia Skye?"

"Yes why not? You sound frightfully chummy today Amelia. I think that's how the English phrase it."




Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 03



"I am into my fourth year as an American citizen darling so I no longer speak English. We require a payment of $50,000 from you as a contribution towards the administration of your grotesquely huge fan club."

"Sorry Amelia I'd rather use that money on legal fees to cancel my contract with you."

"Oh in that case sweetie why don't I drop that stupid contribution idea? Are we agreed this ends this matter?"

"Yes."

"Thank you Skye. You are such a lady. Have a nice day. Bye."

Later that day Skye received a call about at problem at the other end of the spectrum. It was from her bank.

"Miss Brock, Harold Radcliff, director of personal banking at your branch of Wells Fargo Bank. We have a very big problem with your account but a problem of the best kind."

"Oh."

"Yes it has too much money in it, placing us in breach of regulations."

"Oh."

"May I send an investment representative around to discuss this problem with you?"

"Well okay but I'm living on a ranch in remote Wyoming right now."

"Oh."

"Look Harry, who don't you slap the overflow into an investment accounts at a decent interest rate for me. Can I trust you to do that for me?"

"Miss Brock."

"Yes Harry?"

"Oh never mind. I really don't believe you understand the size of this problem. Could you please repeat that request now that I am recording this message? Please identify yourself giving your account number and the date and time and your location."

"You have all that stuff Harry and at present I don't know what the date is let alone the time. Please just invest the overflow from my principal account into investment accounts at your best rates. Thank you. Oh by the way, what is the amount required to be diverted from my principal account?"

"Here it is, $1,632,300."

"Oh really? Give me your email address Harry and I'll confirm my instruction. Then you advise what has been done. I really must hire an accountant to manage my affairs. This stuff is becoming such a distraction. I'm an author, not a businessperson but thanks Harry for your kind intervention. Have a nice day."

Now utterly distracted, Skye thought she had no right to posses so much money because she really had no idea about money. She just knew how to spend it but only a few hundred dollars at a time. And then she remembered something, the partial collapse of the 15-year-old pole hay barn out by the Curtis Creek cabin that had occurred during a windstorm while she'd been in Chicago recently.

She asked Glenys if it were okay if she saddled a horse and rode over to see how Les and Myra were getting on rather than just phoning them.

"Yes go to it. I suggest you take Baron. He's in need of a good run."

Twenty minutes later Glenys smiled when she saw Skye haring down the track, bent low and Baron at full stretch.

Myra came running out and kissed Skye and took the reins.

"You came up our track like grease lightening. I didn't know you could ride."

"Yeah a bit. When it thaws Glenys is taking me on some of the tracks on the foothills and then in summer up the mountain camping. You should come with us."

"Oooh yes please. Go in a chat to Len. He comes out of that shoulder harness tomorrow so is champing at the bit. I'll walk the gelding to cool it off."

The conversation was about hay barn replacements. And when Myra came in and learned about that she hunted out the plans and specifications.

* * *

On Friday morning at 8:30 just as Fergie was about to go out and check on the boys clearing out some main drains with the big backhoe, Ryan had been out with some pals and had not yet arrived home, the rancher said, "What the hell?"

He went to the window and squinted. "Three trucks are coming up the track. One with poles, one with timber bracing, the third with more poles and what looks like roofing. Stupid jerks, they've got the wrong ranch."

"Don't abuse them and tell them the best place to turn around to return down the track."

"I know what to do Glenys. You attend to breakfast."

The lead driver leaned out his open window and said, "Good morning to you Fergie."

"Bruce you old skunk. You must have known you were coming on to the wrong property."

"Oh yeah. Were you drinking too much last night? You asked for delivery by 8:30 Friday morning."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Here's the consignment docket. One Atlas F26B pole barn kit delivered to the site on your property next to the partially collapsed old barn near the Curtis Creek cabin. The F26B is half as big again as the one it's replacing."

"Someone is pulling your tit."

"Well that's odd. That person pulling our tit paid the $47,320 including delivery and including 9-yards of concrete and steel mesh delivered on site to extend the present concrete pad."

"What who the hell worked out the quantities?"

"Len Williams and he applied for the permit, copy attached, and here's the receipt for the person who fronted up with the cash."

By this time Glenys and Ryan, who had just arrived home, were listening.

Bewildered and punchy because something was going on he didn't know about, Fergie grabbed the documentation from Bruce and read who the receipt was made out to.

"Skye!" he bellowed.

"Skye rode out almost an hour ago, saying she was riding up to the Curtis Creek cabin," Glenys said.

"I'll fucking wring her neck," yelled Fergie. "Wait for me Bruce. I'll grab my hat and jacket and put on my boots."

"We're coming too," cried Glenys and Ryan.

"You go in the other trucks," Fergie ordered. "Christ this has completely upset my Saturday."

"Actually it's Friday but why?" Glenys asked. "Generous Skye has given us a big hay storage kitset."

"I don't know why I'm upset," Fergie growled. "Perhaps I'll know when I cool down. This ranch is not a fucking target for charity."

"Ferguson, you behave yourself. I'm ordering you to stay cool and listen to what that darling girl has to say for herself."

"Better listen to the wife Fergie."

"Bruce pull your head in. What is this, get Fergie day?"

Skye had taken Kismet with Glenys' permission to get out to the cabin on the fastest horse. Kismet could walk-run-walk all day. She was an absolutely amazing horse, the best the Skye had ever ridden. Glenys had purchased Kismet as a yearling, using some of the money Fergie's late father had left to her and before he died he'd told Glenys where to go in Colorado to buy a decent horse for a lady who liked to ride over rough terrain fast and would outlast any Quarter Horse.

She was sitting talking to Kismet when she heard the trucks coming on the roughly formed track. She smiled and anticipated that Fergie would be out to kick her butt.

CHAPTER 5

Some sixty neighbors plus Skye's parents were gathered in the new hay barn for lunch one Sunday and as the drinks began to flow Skye said to Glenys, "Where are the Len and Myra."

"They're coming, just a little late obviously," Glenys said. "Oh darling could you help Eva cut the ham."

"Only one person can cut ham at a time."

"Just relieve her please darling."

That got Skye into the deep of the 80 foot high building with its clearance of 17 feet to allow the mechanical stacker to lift and stow the big round 1200 lb bales of hay three high.

Outside, Ryan indicated to Len Williams to drive his pickup pulling a horse float into the reserved gap alongside the wall behind which Skye was slicing ham off the bone.

When everyone had a drink in his or her hand, the district's 'elder statesman' Billy Johnston tapped his walking stick on a trestle table and called, "Hush you lot. I have been asked to speak."

"I welcome you all here today on behalf of the Hobbs' family. And why do I include Skye in that family? Because she has been adopted by the family, giving them no option, and Saturday night next week Skye and Ryan Hobbs will hold their engagement party in the hay barn by the house rather than way out here."

Everyone applauded although the news was no secret because Glenys had been on the phone to everyone days ago.

"We especially welcome city slickers from Chicago, Skye's parents Dr Ralph Brock and his beautiful academic wife Heather, who was raised on an Illinois grain farm, to be our special guests today for the opening of the Skye Brock Hay Barn. I'm 82 and have never know a hay barn to be named after any person but then I'm not old enough to know everything yet."

"Skye financed this hay barn to make her contribution to this particular patch of land she has come to love. She told me she and Ryan had sex for the first time over there in that cabin, although I'm quite sure I'm not supposed to make that public knowledge," said Billy as the laughter erupted.

"Well that's me done and now Grizzly, oops I mean Fergie, will say a few words. In my view Fergie, as was his late father, both grew up to become two of Wyoming's finest sons."

"Thanks you old rooster," Fergie said. "What a great occasion this is, an act of immense generosity is behind this replacement barn and Skye even worked her butt off helping me and the boys get it up, ready for the summer's crop of new hay. Our best hay fields are out here under creek irrigation and having the extra square footage is a real bonus for us and we'll get 500 tons in here. What a great gain."

"Ralph and Heather we apologize for stealing your daughter but her heart is now here in Wyoming although she'd go to Chicago to visit you and you guys will always be welcome here. Well that's me done and enjoy our hospitality folk. I call Len Williams."

"Hi folk, you all know the story of how by her cool-headedness and amazing true grit, Skye saved me from becoming a one-arm rancher. My family and I have thanked Skye verbally for her heroic actions and now has come the time to really thank Skye. Come up here with me Skye. Okay Myra, bring her in and tell us what you are handing over to Skye who has become a very close friend of our family."

Myra came around the corner of the barn leading a magnificent chestnut horse.

The crowd went "Ooooh."

She was young, alert and held her head well.

"Skye meet your horse Maysun."

"Omigod," Skye yelled moving to meet Myra and horse.

Maysun pricked her ears forward and Skye stopped. As Maysun advanced she lowered her head to smell Skye and whinnied.

Skye cried, "Oh you beautiful darling and reached up and placed her arms around Maysun who stood quietly.

Myra continued. "Maysun is four and is ready to be ridden. Her name in Arabic means has a beautiful face. She was halter trained at two and saddle trained at three and the breeder's 11-year daughter has been the only rider and then only in recent months and only for short walks as part of conditioning for harder riding as Maysun matures."

"Now for the good bit," Myra said. "Maysun, spelt M-a-y-s-u-n is a half sister to Glenys fabulous Kismet. Their sire is the same stallion, a registered Arabian, but their dams were different registered Quarter Horses. Len and I had a hard job convincing the breeder to let us have Maysun but when we said she would be going to the same ranch as Kismet de la Sierra, the breeder burst into tears and she said "Take her" but despite that joy she still took our check. It's now been a big wrench for me to hand on Maysun because she's such a darling but she couldn't be going to a more wonderful owner."

That evening during dinner with Myra and Len Williams and their youngest daughter Ada as guests, Skye said, "Glenys this is only something Myra has floated so don't get upset. She wonders if it would look better if I stay over with her rather than here until the wedding, notwithstanding I've lived in the same house as Ryan periodically for seven months. Myra says I can have Coral's former room."

Glenys said carefully, "What did you tell Myra?"

"I thanked her for the suggestion, saying it was very generous but that my first loyalty was to you and I wanted to know what you thought. I must say Myra is not pushing this."

Glenys frowned and said, "My heart says no but my head says yes that it's a very sensible idea."

Skye said, "Then at least sleep on it."

"No let's decide now. Fergie?"

"It's in your decision Glenys. I'll support your decision."

"Ryan?"

"Skye and I discussed it. We agreed that many people around here and in town are conservative and with Skye coming into contact with more and more people we agreed it would be a better look if she were not known to be living here especially when the media arrive here for interviews on publication of her Wyoming book."

Glenys nodded. "Well yes exactly. It's a matter of perception from now in and I agree people beyond us here are establishing community relationships with Skye would see it as an issue of propriety Therefore Skye I suggest you accept Myra and Len's wonderful offer and the transfer if it does occur it has my complete support."

"Then it's done," Skye said. "Thank you Myra and Len and I also thank my dear Hobbs family for the manner in which you have always supported me since my oddball arrival seven months ago." 

A minute later Myra said, "You and I have always been close Glenys and soon we'll even be closer in the physical sense."

The guys were talking and missed that comment but Skye heard it and she had no idea what it meant. Ryan arriving unasked to top up the water glasses diverted her. She missed the alarmed look that passed between Myra and Glenys.

"I'll shift over in the morning Glenys and Myra if that's okay. And I'll still come over to go riding Glenys because you and I have really bonded through are regular riding and so too will our horses. I can only give Maysun light work initially and she will probably follow us if I unclip her halter lead and call her. You said the breeder said she was used to doing that, right Len?"

"Yeah right and that horse is super intelligent from what I've seen."

TO BE CONTINUED...



Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 04



A week after moving to live with the Williams', Skye received a call from the State Department. The Official said Skye and a companion of her choice had been invited to visit China for seven days on a cultural exchange next month, a visit that had been approved by both Governments.

"But why?"

"Because you have significant impact as a writer in parts of China and you will visit four areas where your popularity is significant and at the first of those centers you have been invited to open a regional doll exhibition of some magnitude. It has been requested you bring your doll with you and in all probability the area where your doll was made will be identified and there is a possibility that the doll marker will be identified as well."

Skye accepted and invited Glenys to accompany her but Glenys revealed a fear of flying and so Myra went. In China an interpreter and a Chinese female photojournalist who also spoke excellent English joined them to accompany them on the short tour.

The doll exhibition was huge, the exhibition halls covering more than one and a half acres with each group of halls exhibiting a different class of dolls. Two security guards arrived at Skye's hotel with a steel box and Daisy was placed in the box. The interpreter said, "These guards will keep in close contact with you all morning. Security is deemed necessary because officials don't wish to risk an international incident by someone deciding to acquire Daisy."

Skye thought protection for Daisy was a great idea.

The official opening was held in the open outside the main hall where the exhibits were like a Hall of Fame. The assembled, tightly packed crowd was the largest mass of people Skye and Myra had ever seen.

The speeches were long and all Skye had to do was to step forward, accept a pair of engraved scissors to keep as a memento and then say, 'I declare this impressive exhibition open' and cut the tape.

The security men then unlocked the box and handed Daisy to Skye. Skye turned to the crowd and held Daisy high and a huge murmur swept through the crown and then a tremendous chant broke out, although not everyone took part. The word being called was clearly, 'Daisy, Daisy, Daisy'.

The interpreter shouted to Skye, "That chant is because many people here are aware of the long-running comic strip that features Daisy as the heroine. They are astonished and respect you because they had no idea a person from the United States of America could hold dearly a rag doll made in a village of insignificance in China."

The chant died away and the assembly began to disperse.

The official in charge led the guests to the main hall where refreshments were served. He then presented to Skye a woman dressed in a pinstriped business skirt and jacket. The journalist with Skye's party sensed something was up and began taking photographs.

"Good morning Miss Skye," said the woman. "I am Xue Ai-ling and you may call me Ai-ling which is my first name. You won't recognize me because you people from the West have this funny idea that we Chinese all look vaguely familiar. We have many jokes about that."

Skye smiled and said, "You are the business lady who received my authority to print my story about the doll maker written when I was fourteen."

"You astonish me," said the woman. "I certainly did not recognize you."

"I didn't remember you. I just thought it's most likely that the only woman in all of China who would have ever met me would be that woman who wanted to publish my story."

"And I am also the official in a printing company who decided your books should be published here in China under license because our comic strip about the adventures of Daisy we had written for us in your style continued in popularity."

The chief official, who had been listening to his translator, clapped and said 'Bravo' and everyone in his party clapped and said something that sounded like bravo.

"Your writings have made me very famous," said the woman.

The head official clapped and his associates joined in the clapping.

"I knew you were coming here and I would like you to accept this gift from me. Through your influenced I have become wealthy."

A younger woman came forward and opened a jewelry case and Ai-ling held up a magnificent gold bracelet and everyone clapped as she placed it around Skye's left wrist.

"This is a huge surprise and a most wonder gift. I shall always treasure it"

Everyone clapped.

"Now please allow me to hold Daisy," Ai-ling said. "A line of elite doll makers, who are also doll historians because that is the tradition, from various regions but not from all of China of course, will file past and examine Daisy briefly. If Daisy was made in this part of China she will be recognized."

Some thirty master craftsmen had looked at Daisy when one of them shouted and called something and a young guy raced off.

Ai-ling and the elderly man conversed.

She told Skye, "Your Daisy was made in the 1920s and that doll maker is no longer alive but his son, now an old man, is here helping with his son's exhibition. He comes now."

Almost ten minutes later an elderly man was escorted in. He examined the back of Daisy's head and pointed and nodded.

"Oh can you believe it," said the Chinese photojournalist. "He says his father made that doll. The head-flap is sewn in cross-stitching and that is usual but halfway up on the left-hand side of the head are four lots of double cross-stitches, his father's mark as doll maker."

The official translator took over and the retired doll maker was pleased to know that one of his father's dolls had gone to America and had survived. He offered to replace the missing leg.

"Please ask him what would he do if that were his daughter's doll. Tell him a dog tore the leg off and ran off with it. My mother stitched the hole closed because I didn't want her to make a new leg."

The interpreter repeated that and the old man smiled and nodded at Skye.

"He says you are a good doll owner. The doll is in excellent condition. He says if his daughter had not wanted the leg replaced he would not have replaced it. However his daughter had been spoilt and she would have thrown the damage doll away and demanded another one. He says his daughter was not a good doll owner."

"Oh lovely story. Please tell him that."

The guy laughed.

Skye took off her watch and handed it to the interpreter. "Please ask the son of Daisy's maker to accept this watch. Daisy and I are very pleased to know approximately how old she is."

The interpreter said, "He thanks you and Daisy very much because he doesn't have a watch. He thinks the year could have been 1923 and says that would be a good year to settle on. He could name the village but says it's too small to find on any map. The village is in this Province of Jiangsu and that borders Shanghai Province to the south."

* * *

Skye was tremendously pleased to be visiting China and had given her thoughts for a new Carey Green adventure. At the suggestion of the Chinese journalist, the accompanying government official/interpreter traveling with them had arranged to have a change in their travel schedule. Late on the their final day they flew to Hong Kong for a brief stop before leaving for home just after midnight. The official arranged for Skye to meet the TV presenter who had helped to make Skye's books popular. The young woman Kim invited Skye to appear on her show because by sheer coincidence Skye was arriving in Hong Kong on Friday; the show was broadcast on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights.

Skye wondered was it a coincidence. Just as she wondered was it a coincidence the locality of where Daisy had been made was revealed at the doll exhibition. Also it had to be more than a coincidence that the son of the doll maker, who looked well into his eighties, had been at the show. With Daisy things that appeared to be coincidences seemed to be suspiciously coincidental. 

Skye decided to tell no one about those thoughts because... well because people might think she was becoming unstable. It was not unlike when she was young and believed that sometimes Daisy told her what to do. Thereafter she'd never attempted to analyze why she would have believed until she was about the age of ten or so that Daisy sometimes told her what to do. She knew it would serve no useful purpose to speculate. As they say, leave sleeping dogs lie.

The hour-long TV music/chat show began at 7:00 and Skye was scheduled to be Milly Woo's first guest. Skye was pleased to learn that Milly spoke excellent English and the program was broadcast in English.

Although it was a small TV station, Milly's three nights a week show was the station's most popular program. It had huge ratings as Hong Kong-born Milly had gigantic appeal to females especially 14-17 year olds. Publicity about the unexpected upcoming live appearance of Skye Brock, a key influence behind the Daisy comic strip and creator of the legendary fictitious book character Carey Green, had created huge interest and when tickets for the show became available TV news film clips showed near riots outside the studio 1200-set theatre. Young people were protesting because all the tickets had been snapped up within an hour. The media began calling the disturbance 'the Carey Green frenzy'.

When Skye and her party arrived late afternoon on a direct 2½ flight from Nanjing City, capital of the province where Daisy has been made, the media mobbed Skye and news clips of that melee were shown next day on TV in North America.

A woman reporter with a photographer asked, as the barrage of questions began to fade, "Do you have Daisy with you?"

Surprised that a journalist would know the doll by her name, Skye said, "Yes, right here, a dug into her carry bag.

The effect of the media was astonishing.

"Stand back, let the TV cameramen get this," called one of the unit directors.

People moved away a bit, creating space around Skye and the Chinese journalist. TV lights blazed and camera flashlights blazed away.

That reporter asked, "Please hold Daisy against you affectionately for a photograph Miss Brock."

Sky ask the journalist who began this, "Are you a mother?"

"Yes," said the surprised reporter. "I have a boy of eight and a girl of six."

"Then come and stand beside me and stroke Daisy and your daughter can see you on TV tonight with Daisy and me."

"You are the real celebrity Miss Brock. Daisy and Carey Green are more famous than you but they cannot emote and talk in real time and therefore they cannot become celebrities but you can speak for them." 

Skye reeled at the impact of that profound statement. It put together the final piece to explain why her sudden rise in popularity had occurred. All the time she'd thought Carey Green had been responsible for this but she now understood Carey was not operating in real time. The thing generating the influence of Carey was the two people er two figures in her background, Skye and Daisy. For starters the creation of Carey Green, earnest striver and accidental heroine, had been a result of Skye testing a number of possible characterizations on Daisy and the one Daisy appeared to favor had been the bumbling Carey Green. 

How remarkable.

A voice in the background she knew very well had remarked involuntarily, "Omigod our ranch girl a celebrity. We will lose her."

Skye turned to smile reassuringly at Myra. She had no plans to move away from the ranch. Anyway this hysteria would quickly die and Skye and her character of Carey Green would fade as well and she'd be lucky to have 30,000 sales per new publication.

Finally they were leaving the airport. Myra said, "Right young lady, we have that suite in a hotel you so kindly booked for use for six hours before we leave again for the airport. Let's get you to a dress shop to buy something slinky that makes you look younger than what you are for this TV interview. It will have to be ultra short. Thank goodness you have great legs.

"Ultra short," Skye quavered.

"Darling you'll be wearing panties."

The freelance journalist and the official/interpreter joined Myra to crack up when they saw the look on Skye's face.

At the dress shop (there wasn't time to go to more than one if Skye wished to shower and get to make-up at the studio on time), she attempted to try on a trouser suit but her three female companions cried no.

"A short, tight dress this high," Myra said, her hand edge practically on her hip joint.

"This high," Skye said, her hand a daring two inches above the knee.

The photographer and office said no and they both had their hands almost nine inches above the knee.

And that's was Skye got.

The racy sleeveless tube dress of silver sequins on a gray body had a built-in bra and look absolutely glorious on Skye.

"Omigod, I like it," she said excitedly.

They raced back to the hotel where the suite fortunately had two bathrooms.

While Skye was in the shower Myra called the TV producer to confirm Skye would be on time for make-up.

"How many of you will be accompanying Skye Mrs Williams?"

"Three women."

"Right we'll send two cars. We want Skye to ride in the front vehicle, an open convertible. Two security men will ride on the running boards [side-steps]. As Skye approaches the studio we expect fans who couldn't get into the theater will be lining the sidewalks waving. We want her to wave back and hold up Daisy."

"But Skye can't have become such a big celebrity as this in such short time Mei Hui?"

"This is Hong Kong Mrs Williams. Expect adoration. We have to delay your arrival to allow crowd-build to maximize for best media coverage and so will send make-up and wardrobe people to you."

"Don't bother about a dress. Skye has brought a new silver sequin dress."

"Tight and short?"

"Yes of course."

"Oh wonderful so it will just be hair and make-up. The name of your hotel, street and suite number please."

* * *

The two-car convoy from the hotel had a police escort and the sidewalks in the last quarter-mile from the studio theatre extra police were pushing back mainly screaming youngsters at least 15 deep on both sides of the road who threatened to spill out and block the thoroughfare. 

TV presenter Milly Woo came out of the main doors and police and private security officers worked hard on crowd control. Skye stepped out of the white Rolls Royce and she and Milly hugged and kissed. Milly was wearing a multi-colored shirt, white shorts and sneakers and was rather plump and short but her huge personality and energy became immediately apparent.

"So lovely to meet you Skye. Omigod you are so beautiful. We have made a change of program because we have a huge number of stations through South Asia and as far away as Japan and India taking this feed live and we are being filmed live right now. I want you to be my sole guest for the full hour of the program, okay? We'll have regular segments between the interviews."

"That's fine but what on earth will we talk about?"

"I'm paid a very fat salary to keep you relaxed and chatting Skye so no problem. Hi ladies, just follow us in. We have reserved seats for you at the front of house. The noise will be deafening I'm afraid."

A guy shouted over booming speakers in excellent English, "Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the arrival of your favorite program hostess Milly Woo and her only guest tonight, American author Skye Brock, creator of that adorable shy young adventuress, Carey Green." 

The crowd went wild, screaming and thumping their feet.

As Milly was about to lead Skye up the steps on to the stage, Myra handed Skye a nondescript cloth shopping bag. 

Milly introduced Skye to the house and TV audiences and she and Skye sat facing each other. Skye couldn't believe how well the interview began and continued throughout. Milly was so relaxed and so expert at drawing answers.

"Well welcome to Hong Kong Skye and we are so excited that you have been on a brief visit to China to open the 5-yearly Doll Makers Exhibition in Jiangsu Province. It was so good of you to pop down here on your way home and it's such a pity you have not brought Daisy with you here tonight."

"Oh but I have," Skye said, bending over and pulling Daisy out of the bag and handing her to Milly.

"Daisy, Daisy, Daisy," screamed the audience almost hysterically (their average age appeared to be fifteen/sixteen).

Milly screamed, "Omigod, I'm holding Daisy, one of the most famous dolls in the world."

"Huh?" Skye reacted, astonished. "This is just my childhood doll."

"Yes but she's the famous venerable comic strip character Skye Brock's doll. Daisy has lived with you through thick and thin and has shared your tears, your laughter and your journeys. And she appears in your books as Daisy as Carey's Green's doll and don't you see? We know Carey Green is really you. Now don't look so surprised. Who went on that first adventure before you wrote Carey Green as going on it? You did. You spent a month with the United States Coastguard and then who spent a month with the United States Coastguard after you? Carey Green. Then in her latest adventure Carey once again followed in your next footsteps."

"Well that's reading a little too much into it Milly. I agree Carey's doll Daisy sounds as if she could be my Daisy and I intended that but I never intended Carey Green to be me."

"Okay we'll leave that right there for a minute. Have you a new book coming out."

"Yes and it's another in Carey Green series of adventures and is being printed right now."

"Oh yippee. I can't wait. And where is this novel set?"

"In Wyoming, set on a ranch actually."

"Oh yippee. Sounds exciting. And where have you been living for much of the past seven months researching for this novel."

There was silence.

"Come on Skye, you don't have to baulk like Carey Green."

"I have been living on a ranch in Wyoming."

"Sorry that was said so quietly I almost missed it."

"I have been living on a ranch in Wyoming."

"Oh really? And having great adventures."

"Yes and some have been real scary."

Milly laughed. "Gee talk about Carey Green being the reluctant heroine. I wonder where she got that from?"

"From Skye Brock," yelled a number of girls in the studio audience and everyone laughed. 

Milly said, "Watch your TV screens now of this horse. This photo was emailed to us at our request and received only hours ago. Mrs Williams, who is sitting in this front row and is a member of Milly's party. Please take the microphone from the floor attendant Mrs Williams and tell us briefly who you are and how Skye came to be given this horse. I'm sorry if this will embarrass you Skye but our researcher was wildly excited when she found out about it."

"No it's fine."

My name is Myra Williams and since Skye has been living on the cattle ranch opposite our ranch, she and I have become great friends. Recently Skye heard an explosion over our way and saw smoke coming from our adjacent barn. She drove over at break-neck speed and found Len my husband in the path of an advancing fire and trapped under a heavy blower fan used to dry grain in our two big silos. I was frantic and knew the only way I could pull Len clear was to chop off his trapped arm with an axe."

The audience gasped or went "Oooh." 

"Skye raced in an took the axe off me only just in time and she worked out a way to lever up the fan sufficiently to allow me to pull me husband clear. She used Len's cell phone to call and air ambulance and then controlled the fire from the gas explosion until help arrived. My husband suffered cuts to his arm, a broken shoulder and concussion but is fine now. Recently we gave Skye this magnificent young mare Maysun which means a pretty face in Arabic. Maysun is 15.4 hands high and her father is a purebred registered Arabian stallion and her mother is a registered Quarter Horse. Maysun is on the Half-Arabian registry."




Gritty Times in Wyoming Pt. 04



Milly said, "Oh what a magnificent reward for our heroine Mrs Williams. Can Skye ride well?"

"She has been riding since she was four and rides magnificently."

"How much did Maysun cost you and your husband?"

"Thirteen thousand American dollars. A small sum when you consider Skye saved my husband's arm and possibly his life."

Skye stared at Myra mouth open because purchase price had never been discussed before.

Smiling Milly said, "Well ladies, big applause for Mrs Williams and our heroine Skye please."

The applause was extensive and enthusiastic.

Other regular segments in the program followed and during the mid-show break Milly took Skye aside and spoke to her earnestly. Skye nodded and two men in suits took measurements of Daisy and made notes about her appearance. A woman with the men took close-up photographs of Daisy.

At the end of the show Milly, smiling and appearing rather hyped up, said, "And now for the big announcement. Skye has agreed to allow me to have an unlimited number of copies of Daisy made for sale with 100% of profits going to the Hong Kong Teenagers in Crisis Support Trust that is a registered charity. This studio and I are very thrilled at Skye's generosity.

There was applause and Milly thanked Skye and then held up Daisy and then handed her back to Skye and that drew huge applause. 

Skye and Myra boarded their international flight just after midnight for the long haul to Chicago. Their farewells with the official interpreter and the photojournalist were very warm, leaving the two Americans wondering who was spreading crap that the Chinese weren't prepared to display emotion publicly.

EPILOGUE

The day after Skye appeared in a pre-recorded interview for Coast-to-Coast television about her new Carey Green novel set on a ranch in Wyoming, that included film clips of her with the Hobbs family and then of Ryan and her riding Kismet and Maysun, she flew back to Casper from Los Angeles where Ryan was waiting to drive her home. 

Skye's recently appoint agent in Los Angeles and legal consultant were in negotiations about an offer of a film contract on the Wyoming novel. It was fortunate that before re-signing with Reflection Publications, Skye had successfully negotiated to have film and television rights assigned back to her in return for agreement to write three Carey Green novels a year during her new three year contract.

Book reviewers throughout America, now well aware of Skye's huge following in China and other countries in that region, had praised the new novel. Many of them were brave enough to state, 'At last we have understanding of what Carey Green is about', or words to that effect. 

A Carey Green plus Daisy anime TV series, produced under license in Japan, was being marketed worldwide in seventeen languages, and its catchy theme was moving up the light music charts even in America.

Len Williams and his men cleaned out their huge barn for Skye and Ryan's wedding and reception, storing the new-cut hay outside under temporary cover. Linda arrived with a professional window-dresser from Billings to decorate the barn.

One hundred and fifty guests including Julie Southgate, the editors' assistant from Reflection Publications who was one of Skye's two bridesmaids, attended the sweet, low-key and unpublicized wedding. Fergie sulked a little at the ceremony because Skye had chosen to be given away by her father. 

Linda was chief bridesmaid with Myra matron of honor after Glenys turned down the honor saying she would be best used being in charge of catering. Fergie bounced back later, demonstrating he was the perfect choice of MC at the wedding breakfast. He had everyone in fits of laughter at times and when he wiped his eyes talking about how pleased they were that their son Ryan had picked Skye for his bride, several women began weeping noisily. Of course by then the wine had been flowing for some time.

The photograph of the married couple, in their wedding clothes riding on Kismet and Maysun towards the photographer and video cameraman against a glorious sunset, appeared in newspapers and gossip and literary magazines and a film clip of it appeared on TV the next evening and was screened in Hong Kong.

The couple went to Los Angels and San Francisco for their honeymoon.

The next day work began on Fergie and Glenys' relocation that was necessary to allow them to make another wedding gift. Rapid-setting concrete foundations were poured in part of the road frontage of the 50-acre pasture along the road boundary opposite the Williams' home. Three days later a pre-built two-bedroom home with an office and a sewing room was trucked in as the new home for Fergie and Glenys and lowered into place. The larger ranch house was being urgently renovated with new bathrooms and kitchen and would be ready to be presented to Ryan and Skye on their return.

Glenys had a premonition that Skye was pregnant but awaited hard evidence.

To date 137,500 official copies of Daisy have been sold in Hong Kong in Milly Woo's fundraising project and conforming to Skye's request that all dolls be made with two legs. It had been reported a massive number of unauthorized copies of a one-legged Daisy doll were in the possession of young girls throughout China and a huge bounce-back in the popularity of rag dolls was also reported.

Glenys was minding Daisy until Skye returned from her honeymoon. Fergie was relieved that Glenys had stopped talking to the doll. He couldn't believe Glenys was that lonely. Fergie had a great laugh that morning reading in the newspaper that large numbers of female tourists visiting Wyoming were asking where was the ranch where Carey Green lived. 

THE END