The Outer Edge of Heaven (3 page)
"My mother couldn't wait to get out of Montana when she was a teenager. She left the second she graduated from high school and has never looked back. She still can't understand why I like to come out here all the time. She thinks Montana is positively still in the Dark Ages."
Looking around, Charlie mused quietly, "Sometimes there's a lot to be said for the Dark Ages. I've only been here for half an hour and my ulcer is healing by the minute." She set a suitcase up on the antique farmhouse table and began to sort through it and unpack. "What do you suppose Luke will want me to do around here?"
Blandly, Fo replied, "I suggested roping and branding cows at four-thirty in the morning, but he looked a bit skeptical. He'll probably ask you to help in the office or the herb farm office. It's a girl thing, you know. Keep your hands clean."
Charlie cracked right up, and Fo had the wherewithal to look sheepish as he said, "All right, all right. So I'm the clean-handed one of the two of us. That's why I'm interning at the hospital, thank you very much, and you're the ranch hand. Still, I know you. You're going to love it here."
"I already do. Thank you for talking into coming here instead of going home. I would have been positively miserable.” She put out a hand to clarify. “But I do love my parents. I swear I do. Don’t get me wrong. This is just much more comfortable." She pulled her hair back up into its knot and resecured it with the pencil. "Go rope and brand something while I unpack and I'll come find you in a while when I'm done."
He answered her with a ridiculously deep, "Yes, Ma'am.", doffed an invisible Stetson and disappeared out the heavy plank door. With another contented sigh, Charlie sat down in the wooden rocker beside the fireplace and absentmindedly pushed it lazily with one foot. This was going to be a great summer. She could feel it in her bones.
Luken Langston pulled his pick up truck into the parking spot in front of the bunkhouse and shut off the engine in the lavender gray light of dusk. Opening the door and stepping out, he stretched his tired back and reached back in for his leather work gloves and the rope that lay coiled on the seat. He slapped the rope against his dusty pant legs and boots and breathed deeply of the evening smell of river bottom and beef cows. To some that may have been a questionable smell, but to him it was home in its purest essence and he loved it.
His stomach growled and he wondered if there was any real food in the bunkhouse fridge, or if he'd have to either settle for junk, or head back up to the main house before crashing tonight. He'd been up since four thirty that morning and was too tired to go for food, even though he'd skipped dinner. Maybe there was some fruit left, or some milk. Fo lived on milk, so there should be some. Or maybe that was backward. His boots sounded loud on the wooden porch boards as he mounted the two steps.
He tossed the rope onto one of the hooks inside the door of the bunkhouse, threw the gloves onto the shelf above it and reached to unbuckle his chaps. Hanging them beside the rope on the hooks, he pulled his shirt off over his head in one single motion. He dumped it into the laundry hamper next to his bunk as he kicked out of his boots and spurs, grabbed clean clothes from a drawer and headed for the shower. Thirty seconds later, he decided a hot shower was the greatest invention known to man and resolved to sleep right there under the pounding, steamy spray. This had to be the purest form of heaven.
The need to sleep there cooled with the last of the hot water and he got out, dried off, and wrapped the towel around his hips as he stood at the sink to shave. The aftershave he slapped on helped to wake him up enough that he decided he would go in search of real food, even if he had to go up to the house. It had been a grueling evening. He usually let the hands have Sundays off except for the barest minimum of feeding chores, but this afternoon he'd had a whole herd of heifers go through a break in the fence and get into a grain field. It had been a pain rounding them all back up, moving them alone, and then repairing the fence. The field would never been the same, at least not this year.
Slipping on a clean pair of jeans, he walked out of the bathroom, shirtless and bare footed. He was half way to the fridge when there came a light knock and then the bunkhouse door opened. A beautiful stranger with blonde curls and long legs stepped inside and called out for Fo. She didn't see Luke there in the half-light and came in several more steps, calling as she came and then abruptly pulled up when she finally saw him. Both of them were speechless for a second and then she stammered, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know there was anyone else in here. Please forgive me." She turned toward the door and he stopped her.
"No. You're fine. I just didn't expect company. I'm sure Fo is around here somewhere." He glanced down at his bare chest. "Excuse me, would you? I'll just go get dressed while you find him." He grabbed shirt and headed back into the recently vacated bathroom while she stood there looking at him without making a sound.
He shut the door behind him and stared into the steamy mirror for just a second, stunned. Who in the world was the heart stopping beauty who had just walked into the bunkhouse? Fo hadn't mentioned any girls stopping by that he could remember. Luke had never seen her before and even as tired as he was, she had jolted him like a bolt of lightning. He had to take a second and remind himself that he was engaged to be married and that she was with Fo anyway.
Pulling on his shirt, he was almost hesitant to go back out. Hearing Fo's voice outside the bathroom door helped. Luke went back out and headed for his bunk, but got sidetracked by the plate Fo carried and the marvelous smells emanating from it. Food was the only thing right now that could make him partially forget the stunning woman who had just walked in on him.
Fo brought the plate over to him. "I saw your truck and assumed you hadn't had any dinner. Are you hungry?"
"Ravenous. You’re a saint. Thank you. There was just a girl in here looking for you." Luke put the plate on the table and turned back to get a fork.
"She found me. I guess you two have met then."
Luke looked around and saw that the girl was now seated on the cowhide couch across the room. "Uh, sort of. I'm Luke. Luke Langston." He stepped over to shake her hand. "And you are?"
"You haven't met then?" Fo glanced back and forth between them for a minute.
Slightly embarrassed, the girl admitted, "I actually walked in just as he was getting out of the shower. I sort of walked in on him half dressed unintentionally." She turned to Luke. "Sorry about that. I'm Charlie. Fo's friend from Connecticut, and school. I flew in this evening from Utah."
Luke turned to Fo in surprise. "Charlie is a girl? Your friend Charlie for all these years is a girl?"
Fo laughed at him. "Does she look like a girl to you? I would think it would be obvious, but maybe I'm just more discerning. Where have you been? Has your ox been in the mire this evening?"
Running a hand through his damp hair, Luke sat at the table while Fo sprawled onto the other end of the couch. "More like heifers in the spring wheat. A whole herd of them went on vacation tonight."
"Will it make them sick?"
He shook his head, "We'll know that in about three hours. I'm hoping not, but we'll see. Anthony’s going to check on them. Thanks for dinner." He glanced up. "I still can't believe Charlie is a girl. You've been friends since you were like two haven't you?"
"I think we were seven. Well, I was seven. She was eight. She's way older than me, but we were in the same grade."
"Six months is not way older, thank you, Forest Eldridge. Plus, you've needed wisdom all these years. My superior maturity has kept you out of a lot of trouble."
Luke looked from one to the other of them as Fo retorted, "You have it backwards, Chuck. My superior immaturity has kept you entertained all this time."
She laughed. "That is probably true. You saved me from always being squished by the tough old bird. What kind of thing is superior immaturity? That sounds markedly suspect to me."
"I didn't call her old. I just said tough. Don't make it worse than it was."
Charlie laughed again. "If I'm ever mad at you, I'm going to tell her you said that. You will be banished from her perpetual worship forever!"
“No way. She adores me because I’ve taken such good care of you all these years.”
Luke just sat quietly eating his dinner as they bantered back and forth. Finally, he asked, "Who did you call a tough old bird, Fo?"
Fo looked guilty and Charlie giggled as he admitted, "Her mother. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, I promise. And she is tough. The toughest. It's a good thing she does adore me. I've had to save Charlie her whole life. Momma Evans is a touch militant."
"A touch?" Charlie laughed again. "That has to be the understatement of the century." She turned to Luke. "My mother is a wonderful, Christian woman. Just a very strong one. Very in-charge. She’s positively driven. I'm kind of a wimp about dealing with her sometimes. That's why I'm in Montana instead of Connecticut right now. Speaking of being here, your dad told me to ask you where you wanted me to go to work tomorrow."
He shook his head. "You're a girl."
She smiled. "I know that. I've been this way for twenty three years now."
Fo whacked her teasingly. "Quit being a smart aleck. He's tired. He's been getting the oxen out of the spring wheat mire all night. Give him a break."
Luke smiled quietly and then said, "No, I just expected a guy. A wimpy, city slicker guy like Fo. I've been trying to figure out where I needed a wimp and now I have to find a place for a girl." He smiled again.
"Careful Luke, she's practically engaged to an attorney named Elroy. You could be sued for sexist comments like that."
Luke gave her that same mellow smile. "Elroy? You’re marrying a guy named Elroy?"
Fo laughed and teased, "Elroy the divorce litigator. Who marries a divorce attorney? That’s gotta be the stupidest thing ever."
Luke looked surprised. "You're marrying a divorce attorney?
Charlie gave Fo a disgusted look. "No! I am not marrying an attorney of any kind. Stop it, Forest. He's going to think I'm a nut." She turned back to Luke. "Is finding a place for a girl going to be a problem? Because I can look somewhere else if it is."
He shook his head. "No. It's not a problem. I just don't dare put you into a bunch of guys. Work would come to a grinding halt I expect. We don't typically have ranch hands that look like you."
Charlie sat upright. "I don't know the first thing about being a ranch hand Luke, but I've certainly never been accused of not doing my fair share of the work."
Fo laughed. "I don't think that's what he's inferring, Charlie. It's the other guys who would quit working to see a pretty girl. I think he was giving you a compliment in a round about way."
"Oh." She made a perfect circle with her lips. "Well. I really doubt I would have enough of an effect on men to be a problem, Luke. But I'll be happy to do whatever you'd like me to try."
Luke sighed. "What I truly need around here right now is hard to hire. What I really need is a mother for my little brothers and sisters. Angela doesn't do motherly, and Dad and I aren't cutting it I'm afraid."
"What do you mean? What do you need that's hard to hire?"
He hesitated for a minute, lost in thought. "You know all the things moms do? From Band-Aids to making you practice piano and teaching you how to make pie crusts. These kids have stuff, and they have a clean house and they're loved, but that mother factor is entirely missing except for what Madge manages."
Charlie nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, I was raised by a tough old bird, but the good part of that is I know exactly what you mean. Norma didn't do motherly either. If that's what you truly need, I'll give it a shot. I may have to learn as I go, but I know what I wished I'd had as a child. I can do that. But what will your dad think?"
He smiled tiredly. "My dad is the first person who will tell you there's a problem. He tries, but this is a pretty big operation. Even with me taking over a lot of the load, there's something missing. He'd love some help with the kids. All of the kids. I'm sorry to admit to you that you'll have to spend a portion of your time dodging Chase."
Fo chuckled. "She already knows that. She told him this afternoon, as soon as she met him that she'd rather die an old maid than be his true love. It was great!"
Luke turned to look at her with a laugh. "You told him that? Right up front?" He laughed again. "I wish I'd been there to see that. Good for you.” More seriously, he said, “Hopefully, he’ll behave himself. If not, let me know."
He finished his dinner and went to the sink and rinsed his plate. Then he dug in a cupboard, produced a package of Oreos and brought milk out of the fridge. He put the cookies and milk on the coffee table and turned back to go get glasses. "Anyone for an Oreo?" Before he had even asked, Fo had one stuffed in his mouth. Luke laughed when he turned to look at them. "I'll take that as a yes. What about you, Charlie?"
"Yes, please. I'd love one. They are the fifth food group, you know." He handed her a glass of milk and she asked, "So what should I do tomorrow?"
Luke sat on the rug in front of the couch near the coffee table and stretched his legs out. "Just go up to the house in the morning at breakfast and ask Madge what to do. Tell her what I have in mind and ask for her ideas. She'll know where to start. She'll probably be forever grateful. She spends half her time trying to do just what I'm asking."
"What's Angela going to think about this?"
Luke shrugged. "She probably won't even notice. She's only here about two days a week, and when she is here, she's usually shopping and having her nails and hair done in Whitefish. She probably won't even realize you're here for a while.” He paused and then asked, “Is your name really Charlie?"
“No, but my real name is awful, so don’t even ask what it is. I never use it.”
"Shoot!" Fo interrupted their discussion, "I lost my Oreo down in my milk. I hate that!" He tried to fish it out with his fingers and overflowed the milk in the glass. "Dang it. I do that every time!"