0 comments/ 13786 views/ 5 favorites Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch By: egmontgrigor2010 INTRODUCTION Probably the least successful of all dude ranches in America has been Sarah McKenzie's Dude Ranch on Lake Knead Island in Kansas. It's had four initiated foreclosures on it in the past seven years and in the tradition of singer Loretta Lynn's dad, Sarah's dad who was a resident in a nursing home, always managed to find the money from somewhere to pay off the bankers. Unfortunately daddy died last year. The problem with Sarah's ranch was deep-seated. She didn't farm cattle because most dude ranches run cattle or horses or both and Sarah saw no challenge is taking her share of city folk prepared to be fleeced of big bucks to go on a two-mile cattle drive, chocking in dust and being splattered by cow shit and spit and return from vacation with the 'trophies'' of insect bites and a broken arm and lie about being rodeo star on the cattle drive and being offered same-sex sex. Sarah switched the goats but a religious sect rustled them off and they were uninsured, so another ranch finance crisis for daddy to come to the rescue just a few days before the foreclosure auction. Sarah thought she'd go in for sphagnum moss and convert the property into a dude ranch for floral art lovers but unfortunately that very first summer was an extra long drought and the peat patches dried to dust. And so a few months later it was daddy to the rescue again, this time only two days before the foreclosure action. The next brain wave was to fatten pigs, 400 of them, but they all went down with some kind of disease that forced Department of Ag to quarantine the island and the smell of roast pig wafted through six counties for two weeks while the pigs were slaughtered and the carcasses were burnt. Sarah lost big on that project and swore she'd never again eat pork. She bounced back opting for sheep but a coyote gang from Lister Creek Ravine on the mainland swam across one summer's night and decimated a big slice of the flock. Sarah raced out with a shotgun and managed to kill one coyote and put an ounce of buckshot into the ass of her farmhand who left in a fit of pique and a very sore ass after repairs but a big fat check in compensation. She sold off the remainder of the sheep and actually made a profit. Sarah took out a new bank loan and is now preparing to restock with a flock, er herd, of llamas because she'd been at a bar drunk in remorse over the loss of her sheep where a drunken old timer taking her up to his room told her coyotes were shit-scared of llamies, er llamas. * CHAPTER 1 Harry Titter swam the 600 yards to the ranch and drying him off Sarah asked why didn't he hire a rowboat to cross from the mainland. Harry said he couldn't because he was broke. He'd had a few beers the previous night and negotiated a half hour with a hooker for seven bucks. She sent him into the bathroom to wash his dick before he touched her but she then disappeared with his money belt from her rented room, robbing him of the $700 he was carrying, his life savings. "Seven bucks was a miserable offer for thirty minutes. Even I wouldn't do it for that." "How much would you charge Mrs McKenzie?" "Shut your wicked mouth young man. I was just speaking hypothetically." "Is that a higher class of fuck?" "Jesus Harry shut your mouth or I'll close it for you with the skillet." "Yes ma'am." Sarah asked Harry about his ranching experience and said he'd done horses and cattle and sheep but stayed clear of swine, now adding a hooker called Melanie as a new species of Sus domestica. "What about llamas?" "What about them?" "I'm talking about South American camelids." "Oh what the tourists ride in Egypt for have their pictures taken beside a Spink?" "Sphinx. A little like that," Sarah sighed. "Oh I know, the cute thinks with long necks and sweet, trusting eyes that turn theatrical when you down them with a bullet." "I wouldn't know. I don't murder animals. I let the meat works do that. Do you think you could help me farm llamies, er llamas?" "Sure Mrs McKenzie. Were you thinking of forty-five bucks an hour?" "What have you been smoking boy?" "Nothing." "I pay twelve hundred a month including food and you sleep in my house but if you want someone sleeping with you git out to the barn." "Hmmm. I'll have to think about that." Sarah hauled down her shotgun. "Boy you go dress in your wet clothes and swim back to the mainland." "Um twelve hundred a month is fine with me Mrs McKenzie." "Well welcome to Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch boy. Work a couple of days and I'll give you money in advance to pay for a pair of decent boots. Call me Sarah." "Yes ma'am." Sarah lifted the twin barrels to point at his chest. "Yes Sarah. Went do we eat?" "We'll get you clothes dry first. I'm not having a guy in my kitchen wrapped only in a blanket. How old are you Harry?" "Twenty-seven. And you?" She looked at him malevolently. "I asked you a simple question Sarah." "Sixty-six." "Oh, old enough to be my oldest sister." She smiled, revealing three missing teeth, and hung up the shotgun. After clearing away dinner the rotund Sarah came into the living room and saw the new guy nursing Goldie, one of her eight cats. "What are you doing with my cat?" "Nothing suspicious. I just like a bit of pussy around me, that's all." "Boy I'm keeping my eye on you. I've always said nobody from Colorado can be trusted." "I'm from Wyoming." "Or did I mean Wyoming?" Sarah's middle daughter Fiona called that evening and was hugely worried when her mom said she'd hired a young guy who wasn't like the usual piece of shit she usually hired. He was fit, well-built and was only a week away from being born handsome and had farmed horses and cattle and like to have a bit of pussy close by. She said with pride, "Goldie's taken to him." "Mom the guy's a pervert?" "Well you'd be in the position to judge dear after some of the creeps you have cohabited with. Anyways, who says a pervert can't manage Llamies, I mean llamas?" "What are they?" "Probable a distant member of the Ostrich family." "Omigod mom, you're into farming Ostriches now?" "What are you smoking darling?" "Mom, you eccentric woman. I'll be there tomorrow to boot that weirdo off your ranch." "He could drown darling. I'm on an island, remember?" "Christ mom, why can't you be like anyone else's mom and spend whole days at the hairdressers, have hopelessly degrading affairs, abuse your children and giving money to the church?" "Because that life would be repugnant to me darling. Go bury your head and come up smiling." Sarah yelled, "Where are you Harry?" "About to step into the shower. Want to come scrub my back." "No I always fell pregnant when I succumbed to that offer." "How many kids do you have?" "Well talk about it later. I want to call my livestock agent." The agent was unable to say how long would it take to procure 500 llamas but it was unlikely he could fill that order any time soon. It could take several months as they were only four times as abundant as hen's teeth. He laughed as his own joke. He called back an hour later and said he had sourced twenty-four suri llamas, the smooth-coated type, and could have them delivered ready for barging over on Saturday. They were priced at $750 each but if Sarah took the lot the seller would let her have them for $600 each. "At $600 you could make good money on them Sarah if you breed them successfully. None of them are registered purebreds. The herd comprises five adult males, thirteen adult females and six cria that are now weaned juveniles. The other juveniles were sold. My recommendation is you take them, settle them in and then get me to stock you up with yearling beef cattle. You can't operate a dude ranch without cattle and cow boy hats Sarah." "Well okay Andy, let's do that. I have the funding available." Sarah was pleased about that transaction but thought the llam... llamas must have gold feet to be costing that much but the agent said that was the going price because breeders sold them in small numbers to hobbyists who were generally well cashed up. Where the price was going Andy didn't say. Through the roof with suckers like her buying them, perhaps? "You were asking me about my daughters," Sarah said, handing Harry a cup of coffee and she then sat on his bed. "Yeah but first where's your husband?" "Somewhere in Scotland. He returned there fifteen years ago on vacation and now lives there, unmarried, with four more kids but they came after he'd divorced me." "What was he on after abandoning a real character like you Sarah?" "Hormones. He could never resist chasing a bit of skirt. I refused to return to Scotland. The Scots make the place so boring." "So you have three daughters." "Yeah my eldest Doreen is forty-four and a grandmother and lives in Texas. My youngest Sophia is still to marry and is twenty-seven. She could be a good match for you. Then my middle one is a redhead, Fiona, a real troublemaker. She's thirty-six and has been married five times: one husband was killed in Iran, another was shot dead by an irate husband, another died of over-exertion in bed... he had to be lifted off her... and the other two were straightforward divorces, the bastards in quitting their marriage, claiming my lovely daughter was a shrew." "Was she?" "The truth is never far distanced from disparaging claims." "Ah what mother could admit her daughter was a shrew?" "She's arriving tomorrow to check you out. I've always hired misfits that pose no threat of sexual impropriety according to Fiona but she can't believe I have hired an able-bodied guy like you and I must have done that for only one reason she claims. She'll throw you off the island if her alarm bells ring." "And how would she do that?" "My shotgun stuck up your butt would be one way but never fear, Fiona is very resourceful. She was rather handy with dynamite in her wild younger says." "Well you go off for your beauty sleep Sarah but don't expected it to work. Swimming that late with my clothes on took a lot out of me and me not knowing when a crocodile would sample my butt." "You fool those warning notices are fake to deter day trippers crossing to the island. There ain't no crocodiles in Kansas but Washington D.C., New York and Dallas are sure over-run with them." Sarah ruffled his hair, testing that he had plenty of it, and kissed him goodnight. "Oh Harry there is something you ought to know. This 400-acre island is on the largest private lake in Kansas and through my inherited ownership I am custodian of the small woodland over to the east between pastures 11 and 12 in which there is a small colony of ivory-billed woodpecker (Campephilus principalis) that the federal authorities are hoping will breed. That's why USA Government notices warn of no unauthorized entry on to the lake or island, another notice you ignored." "That woodpecker was thought to be extinct until fairly recently. The Government will be engaged in this to win support for spending on protecting endangered species?" "Can you keep a secret Harry?" "Yes." "One of my cats was a champion huntress. In the past three months she brought back for me two of the little fuckers, dead of course." "Christ Sarah that could represent the entire breeding colony." "I know but I'm not permitted to go into those woods to check. Well I did tell all my cats not to hunt in that neck of the woods." Harry grinned. He lost his grin when Sarah sniffed she had to execute that cat for gross disobedience. She gave it both barrels up the ass as close range. There wasn't a great deal left to bury. Next morning Harry was up at 5:00 to do something he thought needed doing. He dug through the crap piled high in the barn and found an air-pressure paint sprayer. He de-rusted moving parts and cleaned it thoroughly, found a big drum of white paint that required resuscitation and attached the equipment to the tractor. Harry then drove down and sprayed the white guard rails down at the passenger jetty and the all-weather passenger shelter and then painted all the fence posts back to the nearby homestead perched grandly on the point. Unfortunately the homestead was partly collapsed with weeds growing through that deceased section and so that rather ruined the picture. Likewise the livestock and freight handing facility beside the jetty looked to need rebuilding and it was likely the connecting amenities on the mainland edge of the lake would be well overdue for maintenance. Harry sprayed some paint around and the on-island freight and stock facility looked less of a wreck. Sarah belted the gong with a fencing hammer to call him for breakfast at 9:00. Harry kissed her good morning and grumbled, why not serve breakfast at 7:00? He smiled and said because she liked her breakfast at 9:00. Such argument was difficult to contest. "I've seen what you've been doing down there?" Harry felt his chest puff out as he waited for the praise. "Before you do anything around here you asked me. Do you understand?" "Right." "Good. Then after you've cleared the breakfast dishes away I want you to return and remove all that new paint." The hairs at the back of Harry's neck rose, his top lip curled back and his fingers made twitching movements and closed to the size of someone's throat. Then Sarah winked at him. Harry felt the anger flush out of him and he grinned and told Sarah she was such a fucking tease. She grinned and said there was a faint chance she might get to like him. Sarah stood and tousled his blonde hair exactly as his remarried mom used to do and went and fetched the coffee pot. Harry knew he'd fallen for her, um in the sense of a surrogate mother. Well someone had to be responsible for her. When Harry had finished washing the dishes and leaving them to drain he found Sarah lacing up her boots, with a jacket beside her and she'd changed out of her nightdress into jeans and a tight top. "Don't you wear a bra?" "Only to go to weddings or funerals or a citizens meeting or mayoral reception. Any objections?" "No I've seen tits flopping worse than that in a home for the criminally insane." "Jesus," she snorted and stomped off back inside. She returned wearing a bra or at least holding them up with something. "We are going across to the village. You'll need a jacket in case the wind gets up on the water." Harry hadn't seen a boat but guessed she had one under a rock or something. He followed Sarah back to the smaller shed attached to the barn and she opened the doors and he saw a speedy looking boat on wheels on legs. "I'll get the tractor." "No need to," Sarah said. "This critter is amphibious." They climbed up and were seated high as Sarah warmed up the motor and then they trundled down the driveway and entered the water at the freight and livestock ramps and were off. "God this must have cost you a fortune?" "It belongs to the Federal Government. I requested it in return for keeping quiet about my colony of woodpeckers." "Your woodpeckers?" "Yes I argued there are certain rights that go with island ownership, er and obligations, and I'd fight them all the way to the Supreme Court if I were told they were not my birds. That scared the crap out of them knowing the existence of the birds would get out and the media people would stampede here. So this little baby was delivered to me two days later. Part of the deal is they send a crew down here to maintain it." "Oh well done. What do you call this craft?" "Little Baby." "Oh I wonder why I didn't think that would be so?" "Because there's no mothering in a man, that's why." "Okay I accept that. But how do you know I'm not here on some dastardly mission to kidnap your colony of woodpeckers?" "Because Goldie told me. Don't you remember her staring at you and you staring back?" "God yes. It was eerie. But she can't possibly have told you I was clean?" "You just believe what you have to Harry." "And?" "That's all I'm saying except you know shit all about cats." In the village they walked along Main St. Harry noticed he was ignored but everyone greeted Sarah by name, even the kids, and she called them all by name. They had passed perhaps forty people going about their business with only a few loitering. They went down a side street and through a gateless picket fence to the front door. Sarah pushed opened the door and they walked down the passage and entered the kitchen. A red-faced guy with a beer belly and weighing perhaps 160 came barging at Sarah and gesticulating. "Get out of my home Sarah. You're trespassing." "Shut up Billy and out of my way. You know why I'm here. Let me at your bitch." Billie thumped Sarah hard on the shoulder with his palm and before Harry could react Sarah calmly swiped Billie over the face. His glasses went flying, blood spurted and he reeled and collapsed on to the table groaning. Sarah stepped forward two places and pulled the woman from her chair who screamed, "Don't kill me Sarah." Harry was amazed when recognizing the hooker who stole his money. Sarah even called her Melanie. "Where is it you bitch?" "Over there behind the pots Sarah. We haven't spent any of it yet. There's $720 plus his driver license and some papers and Social Security card and an old photo of his family." "Get it for me." Melanie returned with the money belt. Sarah told Billy to go over to the kitchen bench and wash the blood away. "There's no need to count the money Harry. Melanie knows not to lie to me. Count out seventy-five bucks for her and don't you dare ever negotiate to use the services of a profession woman again offering less than seventy-five bucks. No woman deserves such contempt. "Return Harry the seven bucks he paid you Melanie." "Does it have to be the money he gave me?" "No any seven bucks will do." Harry said no it was fine. Melanie could have that as a tip. "For what, for stealing your money? Hand it to him Melanie and apologize." She apologized and did something that represented a curtsy. "Melanie if you ever steal from a client again you'll never work as a prostitute in this village again. Do you understand?" "Yes Sarah and I shall confess at church on Sunday." "Good girl and keep yourself clean. And clean up this kitchen, it's a mess. Goodbye." As soon as that were clear of the house Harry said, "Jesus, who are you Sarah, Wonder Woman?" She laughed and said to accompany her to her bank and open an account. "You will be pleased to have your ID back. I'll need your Social Security number when I register you as my farm worker." Harry asked how did she get dude ranch guests over from the mainland. "The council keeps a big launch here at the village dock to used on lake inspections and the County keeps a barge there for maintenance of the lake foreshore along the village frontage and two bridges at the entrance and exit of the lake. I charter the barge to transport my livestock and I charter the launch to bring guests across with all their provisions because they have to bring in their food but they have a fully equipped cookhouse over the hill beyond us where there are ten family cabins. But the most guests I've ever had have been eight people because we don't have horses and cattle drives and I've been told folk stay away because we don't charge enough but I guess that's how American economics work." "Sure does. I worked for my daddy during all breaks when I went through college..." "You went to college? But I thought you were a dummy like me?" "Well basically an education doesn't change how you look or how you talk unless you wish to show off." "Ah so that's why you quoted me Sus domestica'?" Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch "Yeah I went to college in Iowa where I lived on a ranch with my aunt and uncle after mom ran off with a guy and dad died of a broken heart." "You'll not fawn sympathy from me talking weepy stuff like that." "I know and that's why I like you Sarah. You are so machine-like, not at all like a woman." Sarah looked shocked, that is until he winked. She smiled at him but ground her teeth. "Why may as well have a couple of beers and wait for Fiona. That will save a second trip." "She's leaving it late if she wishes to return home." "She's only here to kick you off the island." "Oh yeah?" "I suggest you pop over a buy some condoms. My thinking when she sees you Fiona will decide to stay a couple of nights to check out your work-rate." "You have to be joking?" "No but by work-rate I mean how well do you work on the ranch." "Oh yes, there was no other work-rate she could assess." "If you say so," Sarah said dryly. They were finished their second beer when they heard an explosion of noise. "Where the hell can I find a boat if as you say there are no boats for hire?" "Calm down lady. We are a peaceful village here and that's a private lake, no unauthorized boat trips allowed." "Listen you weasel, do you want your sunglasses mashed into your face." Sarah grinned. "Sounds like my Fiona has arrived. Some women are ever so suited to red hair. Come on, let's go and save the deputy-Sheriff calling for reinforcements." Fiona was a flaming beauty, really flaming. She was pushing forward as fast as the deputy Sheriff was stepping backwards. He reached for his gun and Fiona smacked his hand away and he cried, "That's assault on an officer of the law." Sarah emitted a piercing whistle. Fiona's flame went out and the cop straightened his back and returned his smile. "Hi Sarah," he called, adding have a nice day and walked off. "Oh hi mom," Fiona said, staring at the guy beside her mom. "Is this him?" "Yes dear but where are your manners? Harry this is my middle daughter Fiona McKenzie or whoever she is calling herself these days. Fiona this is my new farm hand Harry Titter who comes of Wyoming via Idaho and he went to college in Idaho. "You went to college like hell." "No it actually was a good college, nothing like hell." "That's bullshit." "Please yourself." "Mom told me on the phone your parents split and after your father died you went and lived with an aunt and uncle who scraped a living on a farm." "That's correct, in Idaho, and they had to find some money but I gained admission on a golf scholarship." Fiona snorted. "Golf, you. You don't look like a golfer. This is so totally bullshit." Harry said patiently, "What does a golfer look like Fiona? You don't look anything like a rude, bullying bitch but you are because I've heard you and seen you in action. You haven't seen me play golf or taken the opportunity to assess my knowledge and ability to teach business and marketing education at secondary level." Sarah barked, "Fiona you have been challenged and he's more or less called you a bitch. The way you are behaving is simply reinforcing his belief. Work this out in your mind in a mature and dignified manner. I believe Harry is what he says he is, although it's a surprise to me, and I will continue to believe him until my belief in him is upset by fact. Let's go. We are making quite a scene here." As they took off in the boat, talking loudly above the noise of the motor, Fiona said, "It's not necessary to believe your claims anyway Harry. I'm sorry for being rude to you, for trying to bully you and being such a bitch." "Thank you Fiona. Without attempting to be smart I must say I admire you energy and focus. If you played golf and could harness both attributes you could become a pretty good golfer." "I am already. I play off a three handicap." "I believe you." "You don't. I heard it in your voice." Harry said, "I'll continue to believe you are on a three handicap Fiona until my belief in you is upset by contrary evidence." "Mom tell him I'm the senior woman's champion at my club and have been so for nine years." "I'm staying out of this Fiona. It's so petty. Listen to what Harry says to you rather than dwell on what you think he means." When they landed Fiona and Harry climbed out of the boat to ease the strain on it taking itself up the hill with Sarah at the controls. "I'll take your overnight bag Fiona." "No way." "Please." She hesitated and then handed it across. "Come up to the barn you two," Sarah said above the noise of the motor. "I like all this painting mom. Did you have a gang over to do it?" "No Harry did it all this morning before breakfast." "That's bullshit," Fiona snorted and her mom just waved. Up at the barn Sarah produced her golf clubs. "I suggest you two use these to sort out your dispute." "Not is not fair mom, these are women's clubs." "That's very sporting of you Fiona but if Harry is any good he'll be able to still hit well with them. Do you wish to show Fiona up Harry?" "This won't prove anything to Fiona because her mind is made up. Anyway it's childish." Fiona pushed her hair back, an action that made Harry look at her tits. She caught him looking and smiled faintly. "Harry are you willing to bet you can hit thirty yards or farther than me with just one shot each?" "Make that fifty yards." Fiona grinned. "You be the judge mom. The bet is we hit towards the woolshed, which is 250 to 280 yards away. If Harry can't hit more than fifty yards more than me then I decide whether he stays on this island." "No that's not fair," Sarah said. "I have the feeling Harry will be the best guy I've ever had working for me on this island. I can't let him go, I just can't." "Don't worry Sarah. If I lose the drive competition there is still Fiona's fair-minded decision-making to get me off the hook." "Fair-minded? You mean Fiona? Oh god!" "Thanks mom," grinned the adult brat. Sarah loosened up by stretching and then did more than twenty practice swings before she was ready to go. She placed the ball on the tee, pulled her mom's driver with the extra large head and then smoothly and powerfully hit the ball straight and true. It stopped about thirty yards from the woolshed. "Wow, great drive baby," Harry said. He looked up to see both women looking at them with their mouths open. "What? It was a great shot. Can't a guy express appreciation?" Fiona said, "You called me baby um affectionately." "Any female who can hit drives like that Fiona deserves a full accolade. Just accept it." "Yes Harry and thank you." Sarah stared at her daughter with a funny look. Harry took the driver from Fiona and tickled under her chin with a finger on his other hand. Sarah appeared to be holding her breath, as if expecting to see her daughter cut loose. Instead Fiona just smiled at him. Harry put a ball on the tee after pulling the tee up higher than Fiona had set it. He whooshed three practice shots through the air to get the feel of the extra flexibility of the women's club with its shorter shaft, stood over the ball, aimed, turned into a tight curl and then let it rip. They watched the rapid arch of the ball in flight. It hit the woolshed roof and then bounced back towards them to finish closer to them than where Fiona's ball was at rest. "Damn it needed to go over the roof to be the clear winner," he said. "I agree," Fiona said, grinning at her mom. Sarah stood still and expressionless. "I declare Harry stays on the island. Mom can he sleep with me tonight?" The elated Sarah shouted yes, that's if Harry wanted to do that. Sleeping habits on the island were not subject to the control of management. Back at the house Fiona opened a bottle of sparking wine and handed Harry the beer he'd requested. A happy afternoon was underway. At dinner Sarah asked, "Will you sleep with Fiona?" Harry hesitated and asked, "Are you married Fiona?" "I have been, several times, but am not married at present. I'm in a relationship but it is rather casual. Sometimes he goes home to his wife." "The answer is yes, Sarah. I'm accepting your daughter's invitation to sleep with her." Just after 10:00 Sarah kissed them both and left carrying a torch. "Where's Sarah going?" "Mom told me she'd sleep in the woolshed to allow us to have a fair go. There's a couple of beds over there in the loft." "Good old mom." She smiled. "Yes good old mom. You like her don't you?" "She's a real character Fiona, the best I've ever met. She can be my surrogate mom any time soon." "I'll tell her." "Please don't. If the thought occurs to her she'll do something about it. I'd like it to happen like that, solid like." "God Harry, I do hope Sophia gets to meet you. You could be everything she wishes to find in a man." "You've had too much to drink and are now hallucinating. It's time I was giving attention to your tits." CHAPTER 2 Fiona had horsepower to spare but it was the first time in years she'd had a guy with the strength and staying power to do leave her sated. She finished exhausted, covered in sweat and other drying liquids and feeling elated rather than vanquished because she knew this was how it was meant to be. Anyway after seeing Harry unwind that golf drive she'd been half-expecting him to unwound his brute power over her nude body. She saw Harry looking at her tiredly as she slowly lifted and swung out of bed. Fuck he looked ready to have another crack at it if she'd given him the nod. Jesus. She waddled to the bathroom, most of her muscles and sinews over-due for energy-fuelling relief, her vulva feeling squashed and the entrance to her vagina giving the impression it was a couple of sizes wider that at the start of the evening. Fiona McKenzie again conceded to herself she was well and truly fucked. Perhaps it had been her Highland ancestry pushing her go over the top, to test her warrior attributes, or perhaps it was just a personal desire to be finally over come. Bathed in cum actually. Whatever, she now knew she did have a physical limit to sex and now could perhaps ease back and even try to become pregnant and visit a school to be with her kid on parent's day like other mothers and yes, is she chose carefully, there could be a good chance the kid's father would be there alongside her. She waddled back to bed on near-buckling knees thinking this was the first day of a new stage in her life and with relief saw that Harry was deeply asleep. Throughout next morning after breakfast Sarah watched the tired couple closely. They touched occasionally and even squeezed butt a couple of times but she was relieved to see no sign, at least no sign she recognized, of deep affection and that pleased her. Early afternoon the following day as Sarah and Harry returned from dropping Fiona off at her car in the village to make her 140-mile journey home, Sarah watched Harry lock the boatshed doors and she said, "I'm going up Ugly Hill to make a long distance call. Phone reception is clearer up there." "Right I'll go and repair fences. Those llamas arrive Saturday." Sitting on a rock that protruded alone on the roundish hill, with the bulk of it buried and possibly a relic of the Pleistocene Epoch (Ice Age), Sarah called a number in Kent, England. "Hi Sophia." "Oh hi mom, is everything okay? You usually call on the last Sunday of the month." "I've had Sarah staying with me two nights and now she'd returned home. That's made me think. She lives 150 miles from me, Doreen is the best part of 600 miles from me and you perhaps 3500 miles from me and I haven't seen you for nigh on two years." "Oh poor mommy. Look I've been thinking of shifting to Canada to write my next girly novel. This is England done so perhaps I could relocate in Kansas again. That first novel I wrote when living with you feeding me money remains my best-seller and that's rather disappointing. I'm close to wrapping up here and so give me a month to think about it." ""Let me know as soon as you decide darling. Please let me have a few words with Lily if she's there." "Yes she's watching the end of the evening news. Mom don't say anything but Aunt Lily has a gentleman caller." "Oh that's interesting." "Hi Lily," Sarah said to her younger stepsister. "Sophia tells me the gamekeeper's son is sniffing around your panties?" * * * On Thursday and Friday Sarah and Harry went on vacation for two nights. They took her red Ford F150 out of a garage she rented across the road from the lake and garaged the boat. She watched Harry's eyes light up as he ran a hand over the faded paint of the pickup and she smiled and said, "Harry I have a headache. Please take the wheel." "What are you having a period?" Sarah cackled and shook her head and then wondered perhaps she was laying an egg with all that cackling. They stayed away one night, sharing a twin-bedroom at a motel, and visited three llamas breeders and learned as much as they could about the gentle creatures that would be arriving on Saturday. Initially the ranchers were concerned that Sarah was starting off from scratch with a herd of twenty-four but relaxed when they found she and Harry had both had experienced farming sheep. "Can you shear sheep boy?" an elderly rancher asked and Harry nodded. Sarah gaped at her farm hand. When they returned to the village they went into the general store and Sarah introduced Harry to old Fred Watkins who'd been several classes ahead of Sarah at grade school. "Fred take my man into the gunroom and let him choose what he wants." "What's wrong with the 30-20 I sold you for your farm hand 20-year ago?" "Twenty seven years ago actually. The successive bastards let the barrel rust and carved the stock. Harry's father never gave him a gun and so I'm doing this little thing for him." Harry froze in shock but fortunately Harry pulled out a big key and stroke off to the adult male toy shop and Harry trotted after him. They were back within five minutes. "Christ it's great to deal with a male and a male who knows what he wants," Fred sniffed. "Makes retailing satisfying when that happens." Harry was still down beside the locked door examining his new possession. As Fred was ringing up the cost of the rifle and two boxes of ammo Sarah asked what had her man selected? "The kid made a beeline for it, the last one I have left as they are no longer made. Christ Sarah, you ought to have seen the look on his face." She sniffed, "Well he's probably been wishing for it since he was sixteen." "He told me since he was seven-year," Fred almost whispered and he hurried round the counter to comfort Sarah who'd burst into tears. She burst into tears again when Harry came up with the rifle cradled in both arms and, eyes shining, said to Sarah reverently, "It's a Model 94 lever action Winchester.' It was as if he'd found a Dead Sea Scroll in perfect condition. "Are you all right Sarah?" "Yes son. I kinda think Sarah's decided you are more than a farm hand, if you know what mean." "No," Harry lied and winked at Sarah. "Oh my mistake," Fred said. "You probably already have a mother. It's just like I've never seen Sarah scatty like this since Doreen the fool married that Texan rancher 20-year ago." "Twenty-seven," Sarah sighed. ""By golly Harry that's a might fine looking piece of hardware." "I know why you're doing this Sarah and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Here Fred, hold my rifle while I kiss my heroine." "My God," Fred sniffed, "I feel I've been caught up in an old-time Western movie." They all laughed. * * * Sarah steered the motorized barge down to the lakeside stockyards to the east of the village next day at noon to await the arrival of the stock truck. While they were waiting Harry said he was figuring out a marketing plan for the dude ranch. "What would we do with that?" "Use it to convince people to come and enjoy five-days on the ranch. Five days means you would have your weekends on the island back to normal." "Oh," said Sarah sarcastically. "You spend my money writing stuff on a piece of paper and no one comes." "Behave Sarah," Harry said sternly. "I didn't go through the process of gaining my degree to be mocked by an empty-headed bunny." "Sorry." "How many family cabins do you have?" "Ten." "Well at say 80% occupancy of families of four that means thirty-two people, less some because some families might book with two grandparents who'd want their own cabin and some families might only have two or even only one kid. So let's say we will average twenty residents a week, no make that twenty-five to be optimistic." "What are you smoking Harry?" "Close you legs. I can see your panties." "Liar I'm wearing jeans and you know it." "I want you to buy thirteen bicycles." Sarah snorted and said that was an odd number. "Yeah but one is spare. We send up to three families out together on a cattle round-up riding bicycles. The terrain here is pretty flat isn't it?" "Well yes but have you even heard of a dude ranch promoting cattle round-ups on bicycles?" Harry said nothing. "Don't sit their grinning at my stupidly. Why are you...? Omigod. Half of America rides bicycles, no other dude ranch is stupid enough to offer bicycle round-ups and so with twenty-percent of Americans being stupid, twenty percent of those riding bikes and with twenty-cent of them captivated at the thought of stampeding cattle when yelling Yippee while riding bicycles with have the potential of attraction possibly 30 million American's to this ranch." "Excellent Sarah although I do think your twenty-percent slicing should probably reduce to 1.2 percent but that's still a huge potential watershed." "Harry please hand me one of those weeds you're smoking. I need to get on the same wavelength as you." "Just please get those bicycles delivered before you bring in those yearling cattle. They will mature being driven by you and me on bicycle and we'll set up a cattle trail and get they bored shitless going backwards and forwards along that route and could do it with their eyes closed. With such successful drives our short-stay cowboys and cowgirls will think they are skilled cowhands." "Wouldn't it save a lot of time and trouble on our part if I simply purchased cattle with a lobotomies?" "Very droll mom er Sarah." "What did you just call me?" "I began calling you a stupid cunt but stopped thinking you might be offended." "You just watch your mouth Harry, that's all I'm saying." The truck arrived and Sarah and Harry watched in pride as the new herd eyed them, obviously with friendly approval. "They traveled well," said the truckie. "My count is twenty-four and I see no broken legs so no insurance claim to fill out." "Agreed and thanks." "Sign here Sarah. Sandra wants me home to take the kids swimming." "Merv would your two boys love to round up cattle on their bikes?" The driver had to think about that. "They'd love it. But ranchers round here welcome kids as they would welcome a locust plague. You know Sarah, Sandra and I could have a hellava day with the kids doing that, especially if we could shoot some of the cattle." "Bye Merv," said a now bilious looking Sarah. "Bye pal." Harry grinned and waved to Merv. "Jeeze Harry, did you hear Merv's reaction?" "Sure did baby. You're on the way to becoming famous and will probably be on the front cover of Time as America's most unexpected revivalist of dude ranching and raising the fitness of American's. We could allow our bike riders to shoot the cattle with paintball guns. If we took the cattle trail inland we could add some hills and gullies to the route. You best call in your Federal Government pals and tell them to erect an 8ft high fence around the woods and erect signs about unexploded WW2 bombs." Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch "But there's nothing there. My cat..." "Shut up Sarah. If you ever admit to anyone that your cat may have decimated that colony you'll get forty years hard labor in the pen. You know what these Greenie people in Congress are like these days, that killing people is okay but it's just not on to kill wildlife." "Oh god Harry. That scares the crap out of me. Do I have to shoot you to keep my secret safe?" "It's you decision Sarah. Meanwhile let's get these little darlings home. You know we could do special ear-tags on the first day of camp to allow kids to adopt a llamas for a week for just fifty bucks a throw." "Oooh, I really like that. You're a genius. We can also charge a fee for naming rights to a bike for the week and they can rent it out to other kids?" "Brilliant Sarah. What have you been smoking?" Within a couple of days it was clear the llamas had settled in perfectly and an all-black juvenile No. 438 had obviously 'adopted' Harry and she followed him along the fence line. "I suspect there was a mix up and although they are weaned her mother is not in this herd," Sarah said, her thoughts based on instinct. She called the seller and he checked his records and found that was so but unfortunately the mother had been sold to someone in Tennessee. The guy said she had the choice of going to Tennessee and attempting to rip a kids' new pet from them or accepting the situation. Sarah was grumpy about that but Harry calmed her and said it was not a big problem but he understood she didn't like seeing one of the herd being a little distressed. He suggested they put all the juveniles into a pasture together, out of sight of the main herd that was split over two pastures. She agreed and twenty-four hours Cleo as Harry now called her didn't walk over to him when she looked up at him and her pals also did. "You'll make a good father," Sarah joked. "What stuck out here? How will I ever get to meet a loving girl?" "Oh so you want them to be loving now, rather than just throw pussy at you as the likes of Melanie Smith." Harry said stiffly, "Sarah if you must know I've had some young ladies as girlfriends in my time." "Good for you. You certainly gave my Fiona a huge reaming. I've not seen her looking so jaded after she surfaced that first morning after I let you loose at her." "It was Fiona's decision to be with me, not yours. And she's athletic and wanted it hard and so I delivered for her." "Coffee?" "Thanks." "Get that sour look off your face before I return with coffee." That made him grin and he felt a little better. He pulled out his marketing plan and tossed it on the chair where he knew Sarah would sit with her coffee. She said, "What's this?" ""My resignation." He was sure he heard her mutter, "You fucking tease." Sarah and Harry worked out how they should stock and farm the property on rotational grazing, keeping the llamas ahead of the yearlings and the older cattle following them. They would no longer bring in contractors to make hay because they worked out it was too expensive taking into account the boat hire= and having to reduce the stocking rate when it was time to close pastures to prepare for hay. Andy Sarah's livestock agent agreed and told Sarah the two periods in the year when it was cheapest to buy hay in their region: at haymaking time when ranchers were selling off their surplus and in spring when ranchers were clearing last season's hay to make way for the new season's cut. They shipped in sixty 9-month Angus female cattle and sixty 18-month females with the plan to next year on-sell the older cattle in-calf through artificial insemination when it was time to buy in the next sixty yearlings. Andy then found enough hay for Sarah to fill both barns. At the same time a team of Army guys arrived, complete with their own barges, to build the high barbed wire fence around the so-called unexploded ammunition dump. The army used the project as a training exercise for new recruits. The corps had an oversupply of men and Harry negotiated with the lieutenant-in-charge to be allowed to use some of the troops to replace rotting fence posts in return for Sarah supplying the camp of 40 guys with apple pies each night. Sarah loved making dozens of apple pies during those eight days, feeling she was really wanted as a cook, but it would be several months before she could stomach making another apple pie. The Army lieutenant was worried that no-one had seen or even heard a woodpecker but Sarah assured him that was okay, that their were shy creatures and probably had gone into voluntary hibernation. Shortly after the troops left, leaving the area apart from the new boundary fence looking like they'd never occupied the area for eight days, Sarah came running down the track to the jetty where Harry was sitting screaming, "My daughter's home. My daughter's home from England. The little bitch didn't say when she was coming." "Right, all right. Calm down, Harry said, hugging Sarah. "This is great news." "Oh I don't know what to do," Sarah wailed, not at all her normal self. Harry grinned and said, "Does she want you to go to New York to fetch her?" "No," Sarah said, pointing wild-eyed. "She's over there." "Oh," Harry said kindly. "Don't you think you should get the keys, unlock the boat shed and then taking great care rumble down and launch and go over there, taking great care when docking, and bring your beloved over her. She's your favorite isn't she?" "Yes, no. Oh god I always swore never to admit that." "I didn't hear your reply Sarah. Off you go, slowly now, I don't want you falling over and skinning your knees. Oh don't bother putting on a bra or lipstick. Your daughter won't notice." "Oh god, a bra and lipstick. And I should wear a skirt and stockings." "Sarah has your daughter seen you in jeans before?" "Yes of course." "Then wear jeans. Off you go." Thirty minutes later Sarah came down the roadway standing behind a console in a skirt and presumably stockings, what appeared to be a cocktail dress, full make-up and a sun hat. Obviously the top speed of 6 mph powered by the generator was driving her crazy. Harry stood and saluted as she launched without moving from the console and once the three wheels had lifted she was off in a cloud of spray, full throttle taking her at 40 mph across the later. Harry hoped she'd slow down well before nudging the jetty over at the village. He was looking forward to meeting this youngest and by far the most attractive daughter, aged twenty-seven, his age. Looking out at the return of 'Little Lady' Harry looked at the tanned face of the dark-haired woman in sunglasses with what passed for an aristocratic nose and it was love at first sight, if having a unbelievably huge desire to get into the young woman's pants could be called love. He just knew he'd love reaming her channel. "Harry I'd like you to meet my youngest Sophia." "Hi Sophia. Watch stepping down or if you prefer jump straight into my arms." "No thanks," the new arrival said stiffly. What? Had the good old Harry Titter charm failed to fire? God the female llamas looked love-sick over him so why couldn't this bit of gorgeously constructed woman? She began climbing backwards and wearing high-heels. He ought to warn her. No let the cold bitch fall and crack her head open on the hard pavement. "Oh god. Help!" she screamed as she fell backwards. Harry the Hero caught her and she flattened them both on to the concrete. He was still seeing stars when she hauled him to his feet and she called to her mom to garage the boat and be careful. "Harry pulled me off the ladder and then he slipped." The lying bitch! Harry thought of throttling her but then thought Sarah might disapprove. Dizzily he picked up something from her bag that had burst opened and said, "What's this?" "Give it to me asshole," she snarled as she grabbed the black lace strapless bra. "Turn your back while I gather my underwear your pervert. Trust you to rip open this bag and not the other bag." "Other bag?" "Omigod I've been robbed," she said, beginning to weep. Harry looked up at the boatshed and saw Sarah emerge with a bigger bag. "Don't worry, we can search the village looking for women wearing new sexy black and orange French g-strings and big-cup bras." "Oh thanks. You've saved my life," Sophia spat. "If you hadn't been here I wouldn't have been parted from my bag." Harry couldn't figure that one out. He thought perhaps living in England and writing pornographic novels had twisted her mind. Obviously she wasn't going to hug him and offer her body as a reward. "Oh look, your mom has found your other bag." "You asshole, putting me through all that stress. Why didn't you tell me that half an hour ago?" "Well for one thing I wouldn't have known who you were. I've only known you for four agonizing minutes and, as well I didn't know your fucking bag was missing." "So you have been fucking my mother?" "What?" "You heard." "You are fucking insane." "Come dear, you are over-wrought. Harry please understand when Sophia was at the airport south of London her editor called saying she wanted Sophia to rewrite the entire novel she'd just completing submitting, a request from the editorial review panel. The flight was delays for almost three hours, she then could only get on a flight as far as Nashville and continued to here on a feeder flight with three stops and then a 35-minute cab ride to the village and then I kept her waiting an hour. She's had no sleep since yesterday." "What has she been smoking?" "For smoking try emotional despair and complete exhaustion." "Then this behavior is temporary and so she's not fucking insane?" "Christ Harry, back off. Just one of you throwing a wobbly is well and truly enough for me." "Fair enough. Here's the cure." The punch caught Sophia on the end of her jaw. She groaned and sunk, lights out. Harry caught her and Sarah screamed. Carrying the unconscious daughter Harry said, "It was the only way Sarah. She is so worked up she wouldn't have been able to go to sleep. She'll now probably sleep twelve hours straight though, perhaps longer. "She might have concussion." "It was a fairly light blow Sarah with no direct impact on the brain that I know about. I just switched off part of the nervous system." "Have you any idea of what you've done?" Harry said no, it was only theory but Sophia's breathing was regular and her color was good. "Let me look at her," Sarah demanded. "If she's hurt you've earned half a pound of buckshot up your ass. Sarah looked at her daughter. "Omigod she'd sleeping like a baby. Isn't she beautiful."" "Yeah but only when she's sleeping with her mouth closed." "Oh come on Harry, I've bought her home for you. You need a good woman." "Yeah but in this case hell would have to freeze over before..." "Just give it a chance Harry. I really do think you have behaved rather aggressively toward my beloved Sophia." Harry said nothing. He was almost struck down by guilt. CHAPTER 3 Harry rose at 5:00 and set off on a John Deere 4WD 2-seater SUV Gator diesel, carrying two fence posts and gear. But his first task was to move the llamas, now settled back into one herd, across to the other side of the island three quarters of a mile away. He simply opened the gate, called and the llamas filed out and followed, stopped and not crowding him when he stopped to open a gate, listening to him whistling tunelessly through their banana-shaped ears. Harry just loved dealing with them and told them and he was damn sure they knew what he was saying. After setting them into grazing he was working away completed some of the work the Army guys had to leave when ordered to move out. He noticed two of the males taking particular interest in something and then the entire herd gathered behind the two dominant males to look at the approaching figure. God it was Sophia, in running gear and approaching at quite a clip. He waved and she waved and yelled something that sounded like what a beautiful morning. Well, well. He was back to thinking of her tits and upper thighs as being of delectable interest to him. "Omigod," she said, looking at the gypsy-like bunch of llamas of various sizes, shapes and colors. "Oh aren't the just such darlings." "Yeah I like them." "Go on," she called, patting a black one that really did show her camel family heritage. "Mom told me you adore them." "Guys don't adore anything," he said grinning. She climbed the fence and he didn't go to her assistance, wanting to give her the independence he was sure she possessed, having been living away from home and well away from America. He stood as she approached and he realized her intent and took a couple of places backwards. "I'm sweaty," he explained, to no avail. "So am I, probably more so because I've been running," she said, throwing her arms round her neck and slipping down against his body, holding out her lips. He obliged, not being stupid and a stickler about sweat. "I was so, so terrible to you yesterday. I could hear what I was saying and alleging but appeared powerless to prevent it." "You were in overload." "That what mom said." "I believe implicitly that's what the problem was." "Oh gorgeous man thank you, allow me to kiss your properly." "Jesus," Harry said. "That was great." "Just remember I have plenty more left. Take me back home because mom wants to have a welcome home breakfast for me with you there because she says you're family." "Okay let me stretched two of these wires to prevent the llamas getting into this next pasture. Why did you crap out on this novel?" "Perhaps I was overly ambitious." "Perhaps? Describe their main criticism." "That's easy. The main message was it lacks passion. Mom reckons you'll know how to motivate me." "What with sex?" Sophia's face burned. "Um I haven't been around men much for months and so am not sensitive to the way they talk." "Perhaps that has something to do with what's wrong with your writing?" "That thought had occurred to me." Harry grunted as he pulled the loose end of the wire as tightly as he could and secured it. "Before you write passionately you have to believe in what you are writing?" "Elementary Dear Watson." "Ah yes, your degree is in English Lit brackets Writing." "Well done." "That sounds very English." "Because of exposure I'm now part English rose." "That dialogue was very explicit." "Oooh." "How many times did you use that word 'Oooh' in your manuscript and was our conversation just then short and sharp like that in your written dialogue when they were getting it on?" "Getting it on?" "Preparing to fuck although the woman might not yet have accepted that." "But whenever two people..." "Are you sure about that?" "Yes of course, um from the women's perspective." Harry shook his head. "I'm not far advanced beyond an ignorant country bum. But even I know a write has to write in two or multiple perspective according to the particular passage of script." "Omigod." "Here we go with the second wire. Mind your tits." "Harry really." "If the wire breaks under strain and winds back on you it could make a mess of your face and your tits." "Oh you went for brevity? Thanks, I stand well behind you." Harry knew he'd never had a wire break dangerously under strain but there was a first time for most things. He tied off the wire and they boarded the bike and were off. "Well you are a very different woman today Sophia. I feel safe in your company." She giggled, gripping on tight, but soon released her hold, apparently surprised that Harry drove so sedately in a vehicle capable to roaring over pastures up to 30 mph. They chatted, mostly about her and her experiences since she'd left work almost two years ago to become a fulltime writer. "I'm not wealthy and probably never will be if I stick to writing," she said. She nodded thoughtfully when Harry said it was probably better to be moderately well-off being happy writing rather that stuck in an office being pressured to perform and working long hours and wishing she'd not tossed in her freedom as being income dependant her writing sales. "What sells best?" he shouted as they ground up a slippery slope. "In fiction really hot stories about high-profile super heroes/heroines I suppose." "What do you write about?" "Sweet stories about fairly ordinary people coming together and feeling they have reached the pinnacle of happiness and have in a tiny way made the world a better place." "So if you sharpened them up a bit and made them more accountable for the world in which they live and pumped up the sex a couple of notches you'd be writing a sort of cross-over novel between those two extreme?" She considered that and said, "Yes I suppose I would." "Well if you don't wish to step fully into the realm of wall-to-wall sex and somewhat distastefully flamboyancy, why not try a landing halfway between?" "I'll have to think about that. When will you be moving on?" "I'm in no hurry to move anywhere until my aunt and uncle call me home to takeover their ranch and support them in their retirement. However they might switch that plan, sell to a neighbor for big money and then take full responsibility for their own retirement. I know they have considered both options. They have promised me money if they sell...not that's a good theme for a novel isn't it?" "It is but I come across good themes every week but the truth is unless you write a breakthrough novel you share the scraps." "Yeah, a bit like ranching when the livestock you offer at market make only average grade of worse." "Exactly. In a way it's summed up in the English grammar training exercise: good, better, best. We grade things around our needs every day and practically every time we spend money where there are options, either real or partly real or only perceived." "That's deep." She laughed and said, "That's life." Sarah looked at them closely as they entered the kitchen and smiled. "We have fallen into easy compatibility mom." "That's lovely," Sarah said cheerfully, daughter and farm hand looking aghast as they were served porridge. "Mom!" "It's just this morning darling, the traditional welcome home breakfast for the bonny lass or a warrior. We won't get blubber round your hips from eating just one half plate of porridge." "May I leave half?" "Yes," Sarah sighed and watched in pride at Harry sloshing into this. "Great stuff," he enthused. "I haven't had it since I was a kid when we were snowed in." "Well this is late spring and if you scoff too much you'll get a rash of heat spots," Sophia warned. Sarah returned to the cooker to attend to the bacon and beans with the smile of a woman delighted to have a family round her again. When Sarah settled to drink coffee and watched approvingly as Harry forked into another serving of bacon and beans, Sophia asked had her mother abandoned promoting the property as a dude ranch. "No darling," Sarah said, swinging out of her chair and reaching for a folder on the sewing table under the kitchen side window. Sophia stared at the proofs of newspaper and magazine ads soliciting bookings from families to spend five days' vacation on Mrs McKenzie's dude ranch on a 400-acre island in Kansas where the attractions included jetty fishing, canoe racing and round-island marine adventures, cattle round-ups on bicycles, hiking, family cookouts, cabin accommodation, petting llamas plus taking the option to paying for exclusive naming rights of a llamas for a week and hanging out with other families.