I was still in the process of looking for a summer job when word reached my parents that mom's mom, in other words, "Granny" had fallen and hurt her back. I'd finished high school, and though I'd earned a partial scholarship from having played football, it still wasn't near enough to allow me to attend even one of the local universities. My folks were in no financial condition to help much either, so my going was going to entirely depend on me earning and saving up enough money to do so.
When mom suggested to Granny that I should come up there and help her out for a few weeks, I was all for it. I always enjoyed visiting Granny, mainly because she was about the only person that didn't treat me like I was still a kid. If anything, it was almost the opposite, sometimes she forgot in many ways, I still was one.
And the other thing was, I had a very hard time thinking of her as "Granny," even though all my cousin's called her by that name. For me, it was a kind of a compromise, I called her Gran, which she accepted as being that perhaps. Though I was also the only one of her grandkids who did and got away with it. To everyone else it was simply "Granny".
And I think that was the other reason I couldn't call her that either. She just didn't look like any "Granny" I'd ever known or seen. Sure ... she wasn't some young glamour model or anything like that. And yes, she had a few streaks of grey in her shoulder length dark hair. But she was still damn attractive. To be perfectly honest and candid about it, in many ways, she looked younger than my mother did. Maybe it was the fact she still somehow managed to run a small little ranch all by herself that did it. Plenty of exercise for one thing, so she was never one to sit around. She had a few horses which all needed caring for, had a few chickens she raised, though mostly for the eggs and once in a while for butchering for herself. She grew a bit of corn, some hay and alfalfa, but mostly all for her own use, and for feeding the horses she kept there. Still, all in all for a single woman now working it alone, it was a lot of work.
My grandfather had died three years previous, and everyone automatically assumed "Granny" would end up selling the place. I was the only one who wasn't when she didn't. Deciding to work it all by herself, until she simply couldn't do it anymore. Which at the moment, didn't look like it would be anytime soon. The fact she had hurt her back was of concern however. Without help, she couldn't hope to take care of the place. And knowing her, back or no back, she'd do whatever it took to feed and water the animals, even if it killed her. So, needless to say, I was more than anxious to go up and stay with her at the ranch for a while, or for however long I was needed. It would give me a chance to get away from my parents who'd begun pressuring me to take "any job" as they saw it, though to me at the time, just taking a job to have a job wasn't the way to live either. But working for Granny, even if I wouldn't get paid for doing it, was the best job I could think of doing at the time.
Though the bus ride itself was long and boring, I had used the time to catch up on some much needed sleep. Before I knew it, the bus was pulling over, and as I looked up and out the window, I could see Gran waiting for me in her pickup at the top of the mile long dirt road leading back to the ranch. Grabbing my duffle bag, I half flew out of the bus and into her truck. The smile on her face told me she was just as excited to see me as I was in seeing her.
"Give your ole' Gran a kiss," she told me. And I did. Kissing Gran wasn't a hardship either. And as far back as I can remember, we'd always kissed on the lips, never just the cheek. And even kissing her on the lips wasn't one of those pucker up and smooch-noise kind of kisses either. She kissed. Which was something that always made me wonder what she might have been like when she was my age. Gran had soft sensual lips, and when she pressed them against yours, you knew you'd just been kissed by somebody that knew what the fuck they were doing. Which again ... made me wonder about a whole bunch of other things too.
Gran was also wearing what she usually always typically wore. At nearly sixty, if she wasn't already, though she'd never say, she wore a pair of Jeans and still looked damn good in them. In addition to that, she wore a man's shirt, though usually with the shirttail tied in a knot just beneath her breasts. And these too looked a hell of a lot better than on any other woman her age I'd ever seen. She wasn't overly large breasted, though they were certainly on the low end of that scale. And with one or two more buttons usually undone than most might think appropriate, especially for someone her age, she had great looking tits. I never failed to appreciate seeing the gentle swale of her breasts, those soft twin slopes that just sort of dove down inside her blouse. And though whatever bra she was wearing probably provided them with some much needed support, I had admittedly fantasized about Gran's tits even more than Julie Ann Mobley's, and she had the biggest set of tits in school!
"How's your folks?" she asked as she turned the pickup around and began heading back towards the ranch.
"Oh you know ... same ole' same ole'," I told her.
"Still bugging you about delivering pizza or some such?" she asked.
I laughed, "Yep. Can't understand why they can't accept the fact I don't want to do that, even if I'm trying to earn and save some money to try and finish school. Applied for a few minor construction jobs, but so far ... no luck." Gran smiled at that.
"Well, you're certainly strong enough, remind me a lot of your grandfather," she said. Granddad was indeed a strong bulky man, though he'd been working farms and ranches for years. He'd probably still be doing that too if a drunk driver hadn't plowed right into the front of his car on his way back from the city after picking up a few needed supplies. And that too had been hard on Gran, losing him, and now living off by herself on the ranch ever since. I couldn't even begin to try and imagine what that might be like.
The main lodge as Gran called it was big enough for the Walton Family. Which is why she had most if not all of the top floor pretty much closed up. She'd even moved her own bedroom back downstairs where it fed out onto the back porch where she very often slept during the summer time when it was so hot. The patio connected from there to the kitchen, and then on around to the other side of the house, sort of making it into a horseshoe where that same patio extended and connected on to some other downstairs rooms, which is where I would be sleeping. Basically, our rooms faced one another, separated and connected by that comfy patio which is where we basically spent most of our free time.
Directly out back from there was the pond. It was a naturally fed fairly good sized pond with several species of fish in it. Gran swam in it during the summer time almost daily. And during the winter, as kids, I remember drilling holes in the ice and fishing it right alongside my grandfather. With plenty of tall fur pines, asps and several other spruce trees about, it was about as rustic a place as you'd ever want to see, and I could understand why Gran wasn't ready to give it up. It was truly beautiful.
We'd enjoyed a nice simple dinner together, and were now sitting out on the back porch watching the sun go down. Gran had opened us a couple of beers, handing me one without even question. Though like I said before, she sometimes treated me more like I was a fully grown man rather than just coming into it. Though I did happen to like beer, something my own parents would never have allowed me to have at home.
I had noticed during the course of the evening that Gran did walk about a bit stiffly. It was obvious her back was hurting as she tended to favor herself. Something I wasn't at all used to seeing. And as such, I did most of the carrying of anything and everything there was to carry, rather than letting her do it, though most often she'd start out doing so without asking me to help, or even expecting me to. I knew then I'd have to keep a constant eye on her and do things for her before she did something to even more permanently injure herself.
I noticed as we sat there watching the sun just then disappearing that she was rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "You know Gran, I've got some really good ointment with me, used it all the time when I was playing ball for all those aches and pains you get. How'd you like me to rub some of that into your back and shoulders for you?" I asked.
"Would you? Oh my Peter, that would feel heavenly I'm sure!" she said "Can't believe how sore this can get trying to hold my back and neck straight all of the time. The doctor told me he was half tempted to put me in a neck brace as it was, if I wasn't careful. So I've been trying to be, but it's still pretty damn sore!"
.... There is more of this story ...