Chapter 6

There was still tea in the jug and it was strong, the way Mandy liked it. She poured some over ice cubes and dumped in sugar from the sugar bowl on the table. It took a while for the sugar to dissolve, but the extended stirring gave her time to think about what to say.

First, she had to decide if she wanted to say anything at all.

She sighed as she admitted to herself she couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened. The time for that was long past, thanks to her big mouth out there in the stable.

What intrigued her was that he hadn’t reacted to all that in the way she’d expected. She’d expected him to be defensive, or maybe aggressive. That’s the way the men in her experience behaved, when confronted with some social situation they were uncomfortable in.

“He’s not a boy,” whispered some part of her mind. “Why do you think he’d react like one?”

“Men are men,” she said. She jerked as she realized she’d said it out loud.

“Guilty as charged,” said Bob, amiably. He’d opted for hot coffee, which made no sense to Mandy at all after their long ride.

“You were going to tell me about the shades of gray,” she said, changing the subject.

He sat down and reflected, blowing on his coffee to cool it a bit.

“Some of it was based on incomplete or erroneous information,” he said.

“Explain.”

“Well, for example, I thought you knew Ryan was bipolar. I thought that meant you were open-minded and accepted people for who they were.”

“That’s not erroneous. I am that way,” she said.

“What I mean is that was a point in your favor.” He smiled. “Still is.” He took a sip. “Then there was the fact that you tried to fit in. You smiled at people and talked to them. We had a nice conversation during dinner. You sang carols with the rest of us. You could have been a wallflower, but you weren’t.”

“Okay.”

“Then we had that discussion about politics, by the fireplace. You were sharp, not defensive or insecure, and while you had strong opinions, you allowed me to have them too, whether they matched yours or not.”

“That’s how everybody should be,” she said.

“Ahhh, yes, but they’re not. And I’m sure you know that. You were refreshing, both physically and mentally. Fun to be around. What man wouldn’t be attracted to that?”

“Enough to lure me to your very private ranch, far away from anyone if I found out I was in trouble?”

“You wound me,” he said. “You’re also too smart to get into a situation like that. You have good instincts.”

“Except when it comes to men,” she said.

“Okay. You’re one for three. I can understand how that might make you a little gun-shy. But you really did need a break, and I could see that. And it just so happened that I had the perfect break waiting for you right here. Did I have a fantasy or two about you being here? Okay, guilty as charged on that, too. Do you have to worry about me? Not at all. I’m a big boy and there have been plenty of women I was interested in who weren’t interested in me. I’m ridden that bronc before and I’m still in one piece.”

“But there are women who find you attractive,” said Mandy. “Stephanie ... the widow and her sister ... possibly a dozen more you haven’t told me about. You didn’t tell me about Stephanie, after all.”

“Come on,” he said. “Would you have expected me to?”

“No,” she said.

“There aren’t any more,” he said. “I spend too much time working to have any left over for chasing women.”

When she didn’t respond, he went on.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you care?”

“Care about what?”

“Why do you care about Stephanie or the widow and her sister? If you don’t feel any interest in me, why do you care?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she said.

“Ah.”

“Ah? Just Ah? No words of wisdom, or suggestions that I really do find you captivating on some level?”

“Why would I need to tell you something like that? You know what you’re thinking. You’ll figure it out, sooner or later.”

She frowned.

“I guess I’m used to men being pushy, overconfident ... aggressive in their ... pursuit.”

“Ryan said something about you having been a firefighter. Is that right?”

“Yes, for a while.”

“Do they still live in the firehouse these days?”

“Three days on and four off. Then it’s reversed,” she said.”

“So you were around brave, confident men who were no doubt aggressive in attacking fires. Such men are often pushy about more than just their jobs. It’s a personality type, or at least I’d think it draws a certain personality type.”

“It does,” she agreed.

“But it drew you, too. I suspect you have some of the same character traits.”

“Possibly,” she said.

“I’ve heard that firemen have lots of women clamoring over them.”

“Some of them,” she said, wondering where this was going.

“Are you surprised that a firewoman, a confident, intelligent, and we won’t even mention good looking woman might draw the attention of lots of men? Seems obvious to me.”

“You like pointing out how intelligent and good looking I am,” she said.

“Well, you’re not ugly or stupid,” he said. “How about this? You sit a horse admirably for someone who’s only been riding a week.”

“Oh joy,” she said, but smiled. “I can’t wait to put that on my résumé. People will be so impressed.”

“I’ll just say this. I didn’t bring you here to make you uncomfortable. Regardless of what I think about you, my intent is just to give you something to do to get your mind off of things. As you now know, I have Stephanie and if I get all antsy I can go visit the widow. Think of me as just another random guy who thinks you’re hot, but isn’t a problem.”

She looked at him for what seemed like a long time.

“We’ll see,” she said.

He smiled.

“Good enough for me.”

The next three days passed and nothing more was said about any feelings. She worked hard and slept the same way. Bob was always there but instead of being intimidated by him, she seemed to draw strength from him. Over and over she did things that, upon reflection, she couldn’t believe she’d done.

One was helping when Bob’s favorite mare, Cinderella, foaled and gave birth to a little male who looked completely different than his mother. Cinderella was brown all over, while the colt was black as night, with white stockings. Bob was elated at the appearance of the young one. Mandy stood, already dumbfounded by watching something so large come out of a place that was so small. In the process she wondered how human women could possibly pass something as big as a baby’s head through their vagina. It was impossible! And yet, Cinderella made no noises of complaint and the little foal struggled its way out of her body.

Bob helped, actually reaching inside Cinderella’s vagina to make sure the little horse was in the right orientation. That took only ten or fifteen seconds and, while Cinderella snorted and puffed, she made no physical attempt to stop the man from doing this. Within ten minutes what appeared to be an amber-colored bag began to protrude from between the mare’s swollen vaginal lips. Mandy saw a hoof through the material and suddenly there was a rush of liquid.

“Her bag broke,” said Bob, but didn’t sound worried.

Within five minutes both hooves were out, the little foal’s nose tucked between them. From that point it only took ten more minutes before the foal plopped onto the clean hay Bob had prepared in the stall. Cinderella’s nose came around and, to Mandy’s astonishment, the little horse shook its head, tearing the sack into tatters.

“It’s breathing. Very good,” said Bob.

The next half hour would be seared intro Mandy’s memory forever, as mother cleaned her issue and the foal struggled to stand. Once up, shaky and still wet, its head turned this way and that. It somehow spied its mother’s teat and nosed down to begin feeding.

All in all it was the messiest, most beautiful thing Mandy had ever seen.

“Good looking colt,” said Bob, wiping his hands on a towel. He grinned at Mandy. “Just like his daddy.”

“I’ve always thought it was silly when somebody said a baby looked like its mother or father, but in this case, I guess it’s a little easier to tell.”

“What should we name him?” asked Bob.

“You’re asking me?”

“You were here. You helped bring him into the world.”

“I did no such thing. All I did was watch.”

“You’re his Godmother, then,” said Bob.

“Something else to put on my résumé,” she snorted. “Godmother to a horse.”

“How about Socks?” said Bob, looking down at the colt. “He’s got four perfect white socks.”

“Nobody’s going to want a horse named Socks,” said Mandy. “Give me a break. Better yet, give the horse a break.”

“Blackie?”

“Maybe I should get involved in this,” snorted Mandy.

“Naw, you’re right. You have no experience at this sort of thing. I wouldn’t want the poor thing to be embarrassed that a city girl named him.”

Mandy reached to push him on the shoulder. He was still kneeling, and lost his balance, to tumble onto the hay. The colt stopped sucking just long enough to look at the commotion, and then went back to eating.

“I was right,” said Bob, getting up and brushing the hay off his clothes. “You are aggressive.”

“I am merely protecting my Godchild ... Godcolt from the shame of having to bear a racist name like Blackie.”

“It’s not racist!” complained Bob. “It’s true.”

“Be quiet,” said Mandy. “I need time to think.”

She expected him to disregard her instructions, but he didn’t. Instead, he began picking up the things he’d had on hand, in case a problem had developed. He peeled off the sterile elbow-length glove on his right arm, and the normal rubber glove on his left.

“Midnight,” said Mandy, softly.

She looked at Bob.

“His name is Midnight.”

Bob smiled.

“Midnight it is.”

Three days turned into two weeks, and Mandy felt like things were good. Bob appeared to try hard not to stare at her, though all that did was remind her that he wanted to stare at her. Each Saturday Stephanie showed up, cheerful and full of youthful energy. Mandy didn’t know if Bob told her they’d been observed or not. Whenever Stephanie was there, Mandy stayed away from the house. On one of those days she took Lucy out for a ride, choosing her own fence to inspect. On the other day she took the Gator out of the shed and practiced driving it around, over the grassland. Twice she startled coyotes, which ran away. Out of curiosity she investigated, each time, in an attempt to find out what they’d been doing. Once she found some kind of bird, partly eaten. The other time she found nothing of note.

Bob never said anything about Stephanie’s visits, or the fact that Mandy left him alone. She assumed something had happened, but asking him about it never occurred to her.

She did think about it, though, and it was thinking about that, unable to keep her mind from experiencing images, both remembered and imagined, that got her on the computer one night. Bob was reading, but got up to get something to drink as she was exploring a page of adult toys.

“What’cha doin’?” he asked, veering toward her.

“Nothing!” she said, trying to cover the screen with her hands. “It’s private.”

He turned away and went back to his seat.

“No problem.”

She found Harold at one website, same make and brand as the one she already had. Then she decided she’d try something different. If she ever went back home she didn’t want two of the same thing.

She paused, for a few seconds, to parse out what she’d thought. “If” she ever went home. Why did she think of it that way? Of course she was going home. She had to finish school, sooner or later. Right? She couldn’t stay at the ranch forever. Right? She looked over at Bob. She thought he looked funny wearing granny glasses on the tip of his nose as he read.

“Hey,” she said. “How long can I stay?”

He looked up from the book, and at her over the glasses.

“As long as you want, I guess. You’re not a top hand yet, but you’re worth feeding.”

“Gee, thanks. My résumé’s getting padded up. Now I can add, ‘worth feeding’ to it.”

He went back to reading instead of responding.

She went back to the screen and decided to concentrate on vibrators. She’d never used one, but had friends who said they were great. That made her think of Julie Greenwich, one of the girls she’d gone through fire training with. Julie was mannish in her normal look, but one night when they decided to have a girls’ night out Julie had proved she could look very pretty. During the night, when they both drank way too much, one of the topics of conversation had been about men and what to do about them. During the “we don’t really need men” part of that conversation, Julie talked about her “rabbit” and how faithful it had been. She swore by it.

Mandy put “rabbit” in the search box of the site she was on and almost recoiled when a page full of pictures popped onto the screen. They were crazy looking, incomprehensible, at first. Her initial impression was that there were two probes for two holes that were close together. Mandy had no interest in anal sex. In the first place, one of her most vivid memories as a child was of hearing her mother through the wall, protesting about being “forced” to take it up the ass. Mandy knew, on some level, that she wasn’t actually being forced, but still came away from that with “icky” feelings about it. Then, on one of her dates, in which she’d let a boy go a little further than normal, he’d wanted to have sex. When she refused, he said, “Okay, then, let me put it in your ass.” She’d declined, gotten out of the car and walked home. Granted, he drove along, slowly, pacing her, trying to get her to get back in, and when she did he apologized. But again she’d had a negative reaction to the idea and hadn’t gone out with that boy again. The only fly in that ointment was Ryan. She’d submitted to him in that way, those few times, and it hadn’t been horrible. He’d been gentle and they’d used a lubricant. Still, it hadn’t ended up pleasing either of them completely.

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