Agatha Kristenson - The rancher_s wife

The dinner table was laden as usual with all the good things the ranch grew, a big stew full of beef and green peas and beans and parsley and potatoes and carrots. Platters of icy cucumbers and red tomatoes and a cut glass tumbler sprouting crisp green onions. Two huge pans of hot corn bread were passed and mounds of sweet butter. Tall glasses that held at least a pint each were full of amber iced tea to wash all the food down. An enormous strawberry shortcake stood waiting in the refrigerator.

The men ate with silent absorption making occasional grunting noises and sighing a little. They wolfed the food as though it might be their last, their faces trickling sweat despite the air conditioner. Kate didn't mind their silence in the least; she had someone to talk with – Gwen Carter – at the other end of the table. The two women chatted gaily with each other and left the men to their eating.

Gwen was their new school teacher and would start teaching in the fall. She was a sweet girl, but Kate felt she was completely out of place here in South Dakota. As the Sutherland woman looked down the table at her petite figure, daintily eating her food, she marveled once again at the Dresden doll quality of the girl. Although Kate was only five years older than the 23 year-old school teacher, she felt as if Gwen were still a high school girl. She was perfect – in miniature! – but like any fragile work of art, pretty unsuited for the rough life of the plains. The girl obviously had come from a green house, sheltered environment, and she frequently blushed when one of the ranch people forgot about her and cursed a blue streak about something. Gwen had said she came to South Dakota for the summer, before the school term began, to learn about "real" people. Kate knew that if the young teacher didn't watch her step with some of the ranchers, Sandy Gayman the Meacham Ranch foreman especially, she might learn more about "real people" than she had bargained for.

"Think you're going to last the summer, Gwen?" Kate asked.

"Oh, Kate, I'd never have made it this long if it weren't for you… but I think so… maybe." She stopped and wiped her lips daintily with her napkin, glancing involuntarily at the crude table manners of the men and their rude silence. Delicate eyebrows lifted faintly in their direction. Her blonde hair was twisted high on her head and her fair skin was exposed by the scoop necked flowered cotton dress she wore. Simple as it was, it was much too dressy for summer on a ranch.

Kate shook her head slightly at Gwen, glancing down the long table at the ravenous males, bunched over their plates. No matter how few she thought she had for dinner, she always wound up with a full house. Frank, the foreman usually ate with them, then the boys, Eric and Angel, then there was the tractor salesman who'd conveniently stopped by at supper time to see Frank. Old Joe showed up frequently too, an Indian who still trapped up north when he could and who wandered all through the ranch country for free meals. Usually he managed to do some odd job of work before he left. Then there was Frank's no good cousin who just happened by. In the country you fed whoever "happened by". It was an unwritten law. Anything else would have been inhospitable.

The men went out on the front lawn to smoke after supper and to swap stories and belch. Gwen helped Kate clear the table and load the dishwasher.

"You know, Kate, I really want to help children… but sometimes I think the whole thing was a mistake, especially after I had all that trouble with the ghetto kids. They just didn't seem to care about school. I guess maybe that's my fault… but no matter what I tried with them… it just didn't seem to work."

Kate turned from the dishwasher to take the stack of plates from Gwen. "Well, you have to remember they haven't had any contact with what you and I think of as civilized things. All they know is the slum and its values… so nothing else means much to them."

"My folks tried to warn me… I guess that's why I want to do well here."

Suddenly there was music coming from the living room, gay guitar music, Mexican music. Gwen and Kate went running in, drying their hands on towels, to find Angel strumming and picking away on Cole's big golden guitar. He held the instrument as though it were alive and sensuously female.

"Angel… that's wonderful!" Kate cried out appreciatively.

Immediately he stopped and looked up sullenly.

"Don't… please."

He drew himself up and leaned the guitar against the piano in the corner of the room. "It was for myself… not for anglos." Without another word he brushed past them and went outside.

"Oh, dear," Kate sighed in spite of herself.

"That's the kind of defensiveness I can't seem to get used to with the children," Gwen retorted, somewhat angrily. They went back to the dishes.

"Well, we just have to work it out, that's all," Kate answered determinedly. She was going to make it work. She had to. She loved Cole dearly but there came a time when a woman had to have a child too.

There was a shrill screech of tires on the gravel driveway and a squeal of brakes. "I think you've got more company, Kate. Here, let me do those pots."

Kate blew the stubborn strand of hair from her eyes and shook her head. "No. Frank's out there. Probably someone to see him anyway." She scrubbed the pots harder. "How's the coffee doing? They'll be bellowing for a cup soon, even in this heat."

A few minutes later the sound of heavy feet on the steps coming up from the office caused Kate to twist around from the sink, her hands still immersed in the soapy water.

"Cole… oh, Cole!"

A tall handsome dark man stood grinning at her. His hair was styled in a longish cut with thick sideburns, the suit was a rich brown that matched his twinkling brown eyes. South Dakota had never been exposed to a suit like that. Why, it was… well… voguish and smart and showed off his handsome broad-shouldered, lean-hipped physique to advantage.

Damn, damn, damn! Why did he have to come a day early and surprise her like this? Kate felt like a fool in her old shorts and jersey, up to her elbows in suds. And she'd bought that lovely slinkly jumpsuit for his homecoming. Damn him!

Gwen smiled and slipped out. It must be wonderful to have a man of your own… your very own. And she could have too. Peter Miller wanted to marry her before she left New York… but no, she'd had to prove herself, had mostly to prove to her father that his art galleries weren't the world… the real world… where it was with real people. But, so far, the only one she'd found was Kate. Ironically Kate was an artist too.

Kate just stood there as the tears welled up in her eyes. Damn Cole. He looked so smart and elegant, a new suit, new side burns and hair cut and here she was all hot and sweaty and house-wifey looking. No make-up, her hair stringing. "Damn you!" she finally blurted aloud.

"For what?" Kate felt his arms wrap around her from behind and his lips brush her temple. "Hello, wife woman."

"Ohhhh… just damn…" she wailed.

Cole dropped a kiss on her neck and tightened his arms around her slim waist. "I can go back where I came from, you know. Those chicks in Paris thought I was pretty hot stuff," he teased.

"It's just that I wanted to be all dressed up and pretty for you… and you have to go and spoil it all… barge in and find me looking like a hag… and… oh, hell…" She was sniffling now, not only at how she looked but the apprehension over hiring Eric and Angel and how Cole might take that. She'd never interfered with the operation of the ranch before.

"Go on. Go on outside and let me get cleaned up at least."

"Okay, baby. I'm going to get a drink and you grab a shower while I get rid of the delegation… and then…"

"Ah… don't go… oh, Cole… I'm so glad you're home!"