Lace studied her reflection in the cracked oval mirror - a mirror that had no business being hung, especially in the kitchen.
"Uncle Quint, this isn't going to work!" she futilely protested, dismantling the oversized cowboy hat. Golden tendrils spilled onto slim shoulders as she glared at her uncle who was across the room.
Quint was casually leaning against the white enamel kitchen sink, a piece of straw dangling loosely from his firm full lips. At her outburst the indigo eyes narrowed thoughtfully, causing an accordion of wrinkles to wing instantly from the outer corners.
"I suppose you have a better idea?" he drawled in a mocking tone. "I don't make enough money to rent you a place in town and - "
"I know that," she tossed back, annoyed with the situation and unable to offer another solution.
Nervously, she began pacing the cool tiled floor like a snared cat.
"Look, let me get a job in Donners Crossing - "
"No, Lace," Quint firmly applied. "I thought I'd made everything clear to you on the way here," he continued, shaking his head from side to side, obviously annoyed by her suggestion. "I promised your father that I'd look after you. Now, I couldn't do that with you fifty miles away, could I?"
After his uncomfortable question the room lay momentarily silent. Her father, Quint's younger brother, had passed away a fortnight ago. Lace's mother had been gone for almost two years and she knew that her father had mourned himself to death over her parting.
Lace had tried her best to support him, finding it necessary to forego college and secure two jobs. Her father had been locked in a deep depression, unable to cope with the everyday things of life, much less work. Without skills, her pay had been minimal. Now that her father was gone and with the expenses that his passing had incurred, there wasn't anything left.
Uncle Quint was her only fragment of a family. She could count the times that she'd seen him during her twenty years of life on one hand for he had lived two thousand miles and an ocean away.
However, he'd always been there when he had been needed the most; when father had lost his fortune in the stock market; when mother had died, and when her father had so swiftly joined her week before last.
Unfortunately, Uncle Quint was intent on carrying out the deathbed promise he'd made to her father. Lace had been there, listening impatiently in the wings as they had talked.
Quint had vowed to take her back to Donners Crossing, then to Cactus Ridge, the ranch where he lived and worked - one of the largest cattle spreads in the state.
At the time, it seemed like a good idea and Lace hadn't even paused to question the promise made to her father. Things had been going so well, then suddenly everything soured shortly before their arrival at Donners Crossing.
Uncle Quint had miserably explained that she would be residing in the bunkhouse with him, as well as the other cowboys. Furthermore, until he could figure out another alternative, Lace would pretend to be his nephew and work inside the ranch house for his boss, Makenna Jones, as an errand boy.
At first, Lace had been so shocked by the announcement she had only stared at him in a dazed state, hoping he was teasing about the ordeal. But as time passed she slowly discovered the seriousness of the situation.
For some reason, she had assumed that her uncle lived in a real house - not some bunker with a herd of cowboys.
He had stopped at the local dry goods as she had waited impatiently in his truck. When he had exited his arms had been weighted with rugged items that only a man would wear - a slob at that. Several pair of loose jeans, three extra large gingham shirts, pointed-toed cowboy boots, huge jockey shorts and an oversized cowboy hat that now dangled in her slim left hand.
Uncle Quint had coaxed her into changing into a suit of the assortment, Lace unwillingly obeying the ridiculous request. She hadn't known what else to do. After all, she didn't have any money, and there was the promise he had made to her father. It seemed as if she hadn't any choice in the matter.
He had been moderately pacified over her masked appearance saying Makenna wouldn't probably give her a second glance, that she looked like a young greenhorn on his first day out. Lace thought she looked more like a contender for a light beer commercial.
But although she had felt ridiculously foolish in the baggy outfit she had held her tongue. After all, Uncle was trying his best she had tried to convince herself, feeling close to crying again.
He snapped her back to the present, advising her softly, "Better get that hat back on before Mak wheels in here, honey. If he finds out that his new errand boy is a filly, then that horse won't run."
She formed a sour face and unwillingly replaced the hat, tucking the long blond locks back under the bad disguise.
"Uncle, this isn't going to work," she protested again and while she worked, "I may look like an errand boy to you, but I'm a full-grown woman. Contrary to the promise you made to father, I'm quite capable of looking after myself. So, why don't you drop this hair-brained idea and let me try to get a job in the city?"
"No."
The protest was firm and final. Lace detected a tone of anger in his voice and his indigo eyes were set with a determination she'd glimpsed in her own father's eyes many times before.
She decided not to cross the seasoned cowboy, that to challenge him at this time would be a terrible mistake. Their relationship was a solid comforting rock she could rest on during her emotional maelstrom. Getting over the loss of her father was going to take time. She needed him now more that ever. Besides, he was doing the best he could for the moment she went on to remind herself for at least the tenth time.
Totally frustrated, she tugged at the wad in the front of the oversized jeans. The oversized jockey shorts kept bunching in the crotch as Lace lacked the proper equipment to fill them out. Quint shook his head negatively at her but said nothing.
The silence was suddenly bridged as a tall bronzed stranger entered the kitchen. He was an extremely handsome man and Lace locked curious eyes on him as he addressed her uncle.
"Glad to have you home, Quint," he smiled, accepting the extended hand in a hearty shake. "Dale informed me that you have brought along that errand boy I've been needing," he continued, his hazel eyes raking swiftly over Lace's concealed form.
Mak gave the boy a swift look so as not to appear rude. A young one with loose - fitting jeans. Well, at least they seemed attached to his butt and not dragging below his knees, as was the current style.
Quickly dismissing him, he went on to comment, "So damned hard to find good help these days, especially this far from town."
"Yep," Quint echoed, speaking for the first time.
She studied her uncle from across the room in silence. It seemed as if they had been waiting for ages for his boss to appear. She didn't like waiting, and especially in this strange man's kitchen with the ugly decor. However, her uncle had seemed quite comfortable during the vigil, going as far as to brew himself a cup of Sanka.
Uncle Quint introduced her, telling the man, "This is my nephew, Larry Kelly." He cupped his hand partially over his mouth and mischievously whispered in a confidential tone to the man, "His nickname was Kelly Jelly in school, so I wouldn't go there."
They both laughed as she stiffened.
Makenna could have sworn that Quint had a niece rather than a nephew. My, he'd have to make a better effort at listening in the future.
Curious again, he graced the boy with a fast glance at the same moment that Lace decided to pull at her crotch again. Makenna's eyes widened, his thoughts adrift. Well, there wasn't anything feminine about Larry. And it looked like the boy had a bad case of jock itch. He'd have to talk privately with Quint about that. It wouldn't do for the boy to be fingering himself around the other men. They could be cruel at times and Larry was shy for he had blushed as he was caught in the act, literally.
Lace wanted to melt into the floor! The stranger had actually seen her pulling at her crotch. She felt totally mortified! Why did Uncle Quint have to be so dogmatic, insisting that she don the too-big jockey shorts? Her panties would have sufficed nicely, but no, he wanted everything to be authentic. The clothes were far too bulky, especially the under shorts. She actually felt like she resembled one of the Fruit of the Loom characters; the grape.
She suddenly remembered Uncle's rebuff when she had refused to don the shorts. "But what if one of the men makes an unexpected visit and per chance stumbles onto your undies? Now, that would just ruin everything!" Then, "Put them on - and keep all the girly stuff in your other cases and out of sight."
Her uncle was suddenly addressing her, shaking her from her wild thoughts. "Larry," he continued, quite brazenly, "meet your new boss, Makenna Jones."
Lace wasn't quite sure what to do next, still disturbed by the handsome stranger; her mind still askew due to the concocted name her uncle had just tagged her with.
When she hesitated Quint scowled his mouth into a tiny, wrinkled round hold and motioned her over. Obviously, he wasn't happy. Lace inwardly sighed and unwillingly joined the two men.
When she would have stuck out her hand, Makenna delivered a brisk smack to her back, nearly dislodging the oversized hat in the process.
Mak silently winced, not realizing he had popped Larry so hard. But he'd be damned if he'd shake that hand - not after where it had just been.
While she silently recovered the men went into a dull conversation concerning the ranch and then suddenly her uncle was suggesting that it was time for him and Larry to be leaving.
"But no!" Makenna quickly interjected. "Larry will live here, in the main house. Quint, you weren't planning on him staying at the bunkhouse, were you?" he went on seriously.
Uncle Quint began scratching his head, a certain telltale of his impatience. Lace tensed, suddenly frightened. Things were delicate enough as they were, but with her uncle beside her she believed she could manage his ridiculous plan. Without him, what would she do? What if this stranger, Makenna, discovered their secret? What would she tell him? And she didn't want to stay here, in his house under his close gaze where he would have time to study her. She wanted to go with her uncle, to live in the huge bunkhouse as he had promised.
