Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Well, we made things work, me and Pa. I had so many chores, good lord.” Darcy laughs, relaxing into her chair. “Pa didn’t have a lick of sense when it came to raising little girls, so he dressed me like an itty-bitty farmhand. Loose overalls, his old flannels that’d been shrunk in the wash.” Darcy shakes her head. “They were always way too big for me, those shirts. Now they barely fit, I’m so big.”
I look at Darcy. She’s got that part right, I think in admiration. Her body is full and womanly and altogether delectable. Every time I see her – in a nightgown, overalls or leggings – it makes me burn inside. This woman’s fucking gorgeous, I muse.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Don’t ever let a soul tell you otherwise.” My declaration comes out more fervently than I intend, and Darcy blushes a charming pink across her cheeks.
“Thank you, Mr. McLeod. I appreciate the compliment.”
We eat some more of our dinner, each of us a little embarrassed but I’m also pleased by my outburst. Facts are facts, I tell myself in an attempt to hide my growing affection for Darcy.
“What about your mother?” She asks me after a few minutes of amiable silence.
“My mom?”
“Yeah. You mentioned that she passed away when you were young, too.”
I weigh the question for a moment. While it’s true that my mom died when I was younger, I’m entirely sure how much I should reveal about my family life. I shrug and decide to go for it.
“My mom died when I was about fifteen. So,” I count in my head, “about thirteen years ago. And while my dad is hands down the pushover, my mom never let a single thing get by her.” I chuckle fondly, remembering the formidable woman who’d raised me. “She had this really pretty blonde hair, almost white. She liked to put lemon juice in it to bleach it naturally. And she was always complaining that she didn’t have a daughter.”
“Only boys?”
“Yep. I’m one of four boys.” I shake my head. “But it’s a little sad, actually, because my mother was actually pregnant when she died. Car accident.”
“Oh no. Ranger, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, but yeah, we were finally going to have a little sister.” I shrug. “Hurt a lot then, but life goes on, you know? My dad sent me away for school, and at first, I was angry, but in retrospect it was the right thing to do. After all, my brothers suffered at home. There was no woman in the household, and my dad just became kind of distant toward them. Can’t totally blame him.”
Darcy looks contemplative.
“It’s a tough situation. You guys kind of lost both parents at once.”
I shrug. “I can’t imagine losing the love of my life like that. So I guess I understand my dad’s behavior better, now that I’m older.”
We continue eating our dinner in relative silence for a few moments, me thinking about my mom and Darcy probably wanting to ask dozens more questions.
“So what about the farm?” I switch subjects to ease my own discomfort, but also because I’m curious to learn how Darcy is handling the pressure of rural life.
“What do you mean?” She looks up from cutting her steak.
“How’d you come by it?” I venture.
She smiles.
“Oh, well. It’s been in my family for a few generations now.”
“You plan on keeping it that way?” I pose the question carefully. She cocks her head, thinking.
“It’s a lot of work, but like I say, it’s been in our family for years.” Darcy pauses thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t want to give up on it just yet.”
I nod, appreciating that logic. “Does the crop bring in good cash?”
“Mostly.” She looks down at her dinner plate. “But if we’re being real candid, there’s not a lot of money coming in, and Pa didn’t leave me much, just the land and the house.” Darcy inhales deeply before she continues. “We’re on knife’s edge, and not too many people know.”
“Know what?” I look up from my cutting my own steak. “That you’re struggling?”
She shakes her head.
“No, I think they realize we’re struggling financially. But I don’t think people know that my father died, and that it’s just me here now.”
I put down my fork and knife, trying to process what Darcy is saying. “But sweetheart, why aren’t you telling them? Surely if people knew you were a woman alone on a farmstead, they’d help out. They’d at least send someone to check in on you every so often.”
Darcy chews her lip. “Some folks know, like the ones Pa interacted with the most in town. A few of his older friends who used to have farms nearby.”
“But they didn’t offer to help out? Did you ask them?”
She sighs, putting her fork down.
“It’s not that simple, Ranger. Most of our old neighbors are gone, and those who didn’t leave the town aren’t in real good financial positions themselves.”