Read Online Cactus Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) by Shirl Henke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirl Henke
Ads: Link
as they flopped feebly on the stringer, spilled haphazardly across Charlee's dress and the carpet. Hellfire held court from his throne on her lap, one paw proprietarily hooked over a nearby bullhead, daring either of the men to take it away from him.
“It seems every time I see you, you're on the ground covered with muck, and that cat is somewhere nearby. What's so damn funny?” He looked glaringly from the girl to the fat old cook.
“Hellfire,” said Charlee idiotically. Then collecting herself and realizing how awful she must look, not to mention smell, she amended, “I mean, I named him Hellfire.”
“The cat or his fish?” Slade quirked a golden eyebrow, full well realizing the wily old tom had finally found someone whom he deigned to favor.
“ His fish! I spent me all day catchin' them fer our dinner tonight,” Weevils croaked indignantly. “I'd be obliged, Charlee, if’n yew'd git thet critter outta here so's I kin pick up my fish.”
The cat favored the speaker with a fish-eyed look, his claws flexing more deeply into the succulent bullhead, which lay beside Charlee's lap.
“Er, let's have a compromise, Weevils. I know you caught the fish, but Hellfire has to eat, too. Besides, they're really big—Texas-size catfish. We can spare just one for Hellfire, all right?”
She favored the cook with a winsome smile, and once more Slade was startled by how nearly pretty she looked, despite her penchant for getting into unladylike predicaments. “Give him the fish, Weevils, but get this damn stinking mess cleaned up before it dries into the new carpet. I had it shipped all the way from Boston.” With that he took two long-legged steps over Charlee. She watched him go into his office, then gently dislodged the cat, carefully keeping one finger hooked behind the sharp gill fin of the bullhead. Deftly, she removed Hellfire's prize from the stringer and then coaxed the cat to the back door, where he claimed his reward and sped off to devour it beneath the bushes.
Wanting to take advantage of her newly won approval from Weevils, Charlee ventured, “I used to be my pa's best fish cleaner back home, 'n bullheads were my specialty. Can I help?”
Never in his life had the old man heard of a female conversant with skinning and gutting catfish. This he would have to see. And see he did, as he and Charlee talked amicably now that he had inadvertently accepted her into the camaraderie of the ranch house. She pinned a catfish to a large wooden block with an ice pick through its head, and with swift, precise strokes she peeled off the skin. Then, she removed the entrails and cut away the sharp side fins and oil sacs beneath them. Last of all, she cut off the head and tossed the meat into a bucket of cold water, ready to begin the next one.
“Slick as a whistle.” Weevils beamed, and Charlee knew her place was assured.
“When we get through with the fish, I'd better put some vinegar water on that rug, just to be sure no fish smell stays in it. That is, if you don't mind my not helping you with supper right off, Weevils?”
He grinned as he rolled the drained fish in finely ground cornmeal. “Naw, yew git th' rug 'n I'll tend ta supper. Boss man sets right much store by his fancy furniture 'n sech.”
“Where did he learn about fine carpets and lace curtains? I thought he was born and raised here in Texas. I heard his ma was Mexican, but he sure don't look like the men I saw on the trail or in San Antonio.” Was her curiosity too obvious, Charlee wondered? She kept her eyes averted, intent on the fish cleaning.
Weevils chuckled. “Yew are green from th' states, aintcha? Yep, Mr. Jim's ma was Mexican all right—what Texians call ‘white Mexican,’ that is. Upper-class, educated folk, with no Injun blood mixed in. Her people
“It seems every time I see you, you're on the ground covered with muck, and that cat is somewhere nearby. What's so damn funny?” He looked glaringly from the girl to the fat old cook.
“Hellfire,” said Charlee idiotically. Then collecting herself and realizing how awful she must look, not to mention smell, she amended, “I mean, I named him Hellfire.”
“The cat or his fish?” Slade quirked a golden eyebrow, full well realizing the wily old tom had finally found someone whom he deigned to favor.
“ His fish! I spent me all day catchin' them fer our dinner tonight,” Weevils croaked indignantly. “I'd be obliged, Charlee, if’n yew'd git thet critter outta here so's I kin pick up my fish.”
The cat favored the speaker with a fish-eyed look, his claws flexing more deeply into the succulent bullhead, which lay beside Charlee's lap.
“Er, let's have a compromise, Weevils. I know you caught the fish, but Hellfire has to eat, too. Besides, they're really big—Texas-size catfish. We can spare just one for Hellfire, all right?”
She favored the cook with a winsome smile, and once more Slade was startled by how nearly pretty she looked, despite her penchant for getting into unladylike predicaments. “Give him the fish, Weevils, but get this damn stinking mess cleaned up before it dries into the new carpet. I had it shipped all the way from Boston.” With that he took two long-legged steps over Charlee. She watched him go into his office, then gently dislodged the cat, carefully keeping one finger hooked behind the sharp gill fin of the bullhead. Deftly, she removed Hellfire's prize from the stringer and then coaxed the cat to the back door, where he claimed his reward and sped off to devour it beneath the bushes.
Wanting to take advantage of her newly won approval from Weevils, Charlee ventured, “I used to be my pa's best fish cleaner back home, 'n bullheads were my specialty. Can I help?”
Never in his life had the old man heard of a female conversant with skinning and gutting catfish. This he would have to see. And see he did, as he and Charlee talked amicably now that he had inadvertently accepted her into the camaraderie of the ranch house. She pinned a catfish to a large wooden block with an ice pick through its head, and with swift, precise strokes she peeled off the skin. Then, she removed the entrails and cut away the sharp side fins and oil sacs beneath them. Last of all, she cut off the head and tossed the meat into a bucket of cold water, ready to begin the next one.
“Slick as a whistle.” Weevils beamed, and Charlee knew her place was assured.
“When we get through with the fish, I'd better put some vinegar water on that rug, just to be sure no fish smell stays in it. That is, if you don't mind my not helping you with supper right off, Weevils?”
He grinned as he rolled the drained fish in finely ground cornmeal. “Naw, yew git th' rug 'n I'll tend ta supper. Boss man sets right much store by his fancy furniture 'n sech.”
“Where did he learn about fine carpets and lace curtains? I thought he was born and raised here in Texas. I heard his ma was Mexican, but he sure don't look like the men I saw on the trail or in San Antonio.” Was her curiosity too obvious, Charlee wondered? She kept her eyes averted, intent on the fish cleaning.
Weevils chuckled. “Yew are green from th' states, aintcha? Yep, Mr. Jim's ma was Mexican all right—what Texians call ‘white Mexican,’ that is. Upper-class, educated folk, with no Injun blood mixed in. Her people
Similar Books
