Sugar And Spice. Shirley Jump

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СКАЧАТЬ stomped out in the cold rain to continue working the fields, to correct what his father had let go to wrack and ruin.

      “So, I’m a horse’s patoot,” Sam Moss muttered as he got up to go into the house.

      He’d cooked a pot of stew earlier in the day. It was the one thing he did well. It was simmering on the stove now, ready to be eaten. If he got into the kitchen in time, he could casually mention the stew and even set the table. Maybe they could talk. Maybe he could offer…

      Sam removed the red plaid mackinaw and hung it on the hook by the back door. He was setting the table when Gus walked in. “Made some stew today. You’re welcome to sit down and eat. Got some frozen bread warming in the oven,” he said gruffly.

      “No, thanks. I’m too tired to eat. Maybe later. Since you seem to be talking to me today, one of my guys told me he heard in town that you’re going to be selling trees for $45 each to clear the fields. I sure as hell hope you’re talking about your half of the farm and not my half. I’ll be selling mine at market value. You better get it in gear, Pop, or you’re going to look like…”

      “A horse’s patoot?”

      Gus reared back. “I was going to be a little more blunt and say a horse’s ass. That’s if the rumor is true. If it isn’t true, I’ll take back my opinion.” Without another word, Gus left the room.

      Sam turned away to hide his grin. The boy had grit, he had to give him that. He ladled the fragrant stew in to his bowl and sat down to eat.

      Sam’s mind roamed as he ate. He now knew his son’s habits at the end of the workday. He showered, slept for three hours, came downstairs to eat, did some paperwork and went back to bed. It was during Gus’s three-hour nap that Sam went out to the fields to check the day’s work. After his inspection, on the walk back to the house, he always felt like puffing out his chest. The boy had grit and promise. He frowned as he broke a piece of bread off the loaf on the table. He really hadn’t expected the rumor he started to get back to Gus so quickly. He still couldn’t believe he’d purposely started it. How stupid of him to think people would flock to buy the trees Gus cut down at a giveaway price. Gus’s trees. He had to remember that.

      Upstairs, Gus stood in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Who the hell was that wild-looking guy with the six-day growth of beard staring back at him? His face was windburned and his eyes were bloodshot. The beard itched. He was so cold he thought he’d snap in two before he could get into the hot shower. Nothing, not even rousing sex, felt as good as the hot water running over his body. He let his shoulders droop as he turned this way and that in an effort to get warm. Stew. Hot stew. He couldn’t remember when he smelled something half as good. Made by his father, who had issued an invitation. Maybe he was finally coming around. Or maybe his father thought he was going to fall on his face. Maybe he thought he didn’t have the stamina to carry through on his plan. Who the hell knew what the old man thinks. Still, an invitation was an invitation. His mouth started to water at the thought of the savory stew and crusty bread.

      Bone tired, Gus stepped out of the shower, dressed and headed downstairs. He was stunned to see a place set for him at the table. There was even a napkin. Salt, pepper and butter were in the middle of the table. He helped himself. He’d dined in five-star restaurants, eaten gourmet food, but nothing had ever tasted as good as what he was eating. He had two bowls of the delicious stew, drank a bottle of beer and ate half the loaf of bread. Beyond stuffed, Gus cleaned up, transferred the contents of the pot into a huge bowl and set it in the refrigerator. He wrapped the leftover bread in foil.

      With no idea where his father was, Gus turned off the light and switched on the night-light over the stove before he headed upstairs where he turned on his laptop and proceeded to go shopping at L.L. Bean. He ordered thermal underwear, flannel shirts, foot warmers, hand warmers, several wool watch caps, and four pairs of boots. He ordered his own slicker, two shearling jackets, heavy corduroy trousers, and a dozen pairs of wool socks. He completed his order and hit the button for overnight delivery.

      With the temperatures in the low forties, he wanted to be prepared.

      His eyes drooping, his stomach full, Gus fell into bed. He slept soundly until the shrill of the alarm woke him at four o’clock. He groaned, rolled over, tussled with Cyrus for a few minutes, then climbed out of bed to get dressed. He sniffed. Was that coffee and bacon he smelled? He wondered if his father was making breakfast for himself. Or for him. Nah, lightning doesn’t strike twice. Yesterday had to be a fluke. How could he possibly be hungry after all he’d eaten last night? Yet he was starved, his stomach rumbling.

      Cyrus loped ahead of him and sprinted down the stairs. By the time Gus reached the kitchen, Cyrus was gobbling eggs and bacon from a bowl that used to belong to old Buster.

      Gus blinked. The table was set. On his mother’s place mats. A plate full of eggs, bacon, sausage and toast waited for him along with a huge mug of coffee. Next to his plate was a large thermos. “Looks good,” Gus said, sitting down. He bowed his head and said a prayer the way his mother taught him to do before he dived in. It did not go unnoticed by his father.

      Sam Moss raised his head and looked directly at his son. “Can you use another set of hands out there?”

      Gus stopped chewing long enough to stare at his father. “I can use all the help I can get to clear the white pine field. How are you at taking orders?”

      “’Bout as good as you are, Augustus. I can learn.”

      “We’re clearing my half of the fields. If you want me to work on your half, you’re going to have to ask me, Pop. That’s how this has to work.”

      “Let’s work on your half first. Don’t expect big things out of me, Augustus. I haven’t done any manual labor for a long time. I’m out of shape. I’ll work your half of the farm. I don’t have a problem with that.”

      “I hope not, because I’m going to work you the way you worked me.”

      The old man stroked his beard with a gnarled hand. “Payback time, eh? I worked you as a kid until you dropped to try to make a man out of you. Now you’re going to work this old man to prove…what?”

      Gus stood up. “To prove to me you’re good enough to be my father. We’re running late. Time is money. Remember those words?”

      “Yep.” Sam pulled his mackinaw from the hook. He followed Gus and Cyrus out the door.

      “Who’s cleaning up that mess in the kitchen?” Gus called over his shoulder.

      “The new housekeeper who starts today. I even gave her a menu for tonight.”

      Gus hunched into his jacket as he headed for the pickup truck. He was grinning from ear to ear in the darkness.

      Chapter Six

      It was ten o’clock when Amy pushed her chair away from the table. Earlier, she’d kicked off her shoes, and now she contemplated her pedicure as she tried to make sense out of her resentful mother. She hated being hard-nosed, but she really didn’t have many options under the circumstances. She eyed her mother now as she tried to think of something nice to say. The words eluded her.

      “Are we done here, Amy?”

      “For now, Mom. Do you at least understand what a problem you created? I don’t know if I can pull this off. I just wish you had consulted me when you first came up with the idea. It’s a wonderful СКАЧАТЬ