Where There's Smoke

He didn’t know why Muley, or any other man, would refer to her as a “stick of a woman.” Of course, even in profile, it was obvious that she wasn’t fleshed out and curvy. She was slender-hipped, narrow-waisted, and small-breasted. Just the same, he took several surreptitious glances at those buttons she had a habit of fiddling with and discovered, to his chagrin, that he wouldn’t mind fiddling with them himself. He knew from experience that small-breasted women sometimes had the most sensitive nipples.

Mentally, he yanked himself away from his erotic thoughts. What the hell was the matter with him, thinking about Miss Janellen’s nipples? She was a prim and proper lady. If she could read his mind, she’d probably call the law on him.

“Thank you, Miss Tackett, I think I can handle it from here,” he said gruffly and hunched over the desk, blocking his view of her.

When he had completed all the forms, he pushed them across the desk and stood up. “There you go. When do you want me to start?”

“Tomorrow if you can.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. Who’ll I report to?”

She gave him the name of his supervisor. “He’s been with us a long time and knows how we like things done.”

“Does he know I served time?”

“I thought it fair to tell him, but he’s not the kind to hold it against you. You’ll like him. He’ll meet you here in the morning and drive you to all the wells you’re responsible for. He’ll probably run your route with you for several days. You’ll have use of a company truck, of course. I assume you have a driver’s license?”

“Just got it renewed.”

“How can we get in touch with you?”

“That could be a problem. I haven’t got a permanent address yet. Hap’s been letting me sleep in his back room, but I can’t do that indefinitely.”

She opened her desk drawer and withdrew a large business checkbook. “Find a place to live and have a telephone installed so that we can reach you at any time. We never know when an emergency will arise. If the phone company requires a deposit, have them call me.” She wrote out the check, tore it from the book, and handed it to him.

Three hundred dollars, made out to him, just like that! He didn’t know whether to be elated or affronted. “I don’t take charity.”

“Not charity, Mr. Cato. An advance. I’ll take fifty dollars out of your first six paychecks. Will that be satisfactory?”

He wasn’t accustomed to kindness and trust and didn’t know how to respond. With Hap it was easy. Generally men didn’t have to express themselves to other men. They seemed to understand one another’s feelings without having to vocalize them. But with a woman it was different, especially when she was looking at you with crystal blue eyes the size of fifty-cent pieces.

“That’s fine,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt.

“Good.” Coming to her feet, she smiled and extended her hand. Bowie stared at it for a moment and had an insane impulse to wipe his hand on his pants leg before touching hers. He gave it a swift shake and immediately released it. She quickly reclaimed it. There was a second or two of uncomfortable silence, then they both began to speak at once.

“Unless you—”

“Until—”

“You go ahead,” she said.

“No. Ladies first.”

“I was just going to say that unless you have any questions, we’ll look forward to your reporting to work tomorrow.”

“And I was going to say ‘until tomorrow.’ ” He pulled on his hat and moved toward the door. “It’ll feel good to be doing real work again. I sure appreciate the job. Thank you, Miss Tackett.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cato.”

Halfway through the door, he halted and turned back. “Do you call all the men who work for you by their last names?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard. Rather than speak, she shook her head rapidly.

“Then call me Bowie, okay?”

She swallowed visibly. “Okay.”

“And it’s Boo-ie, like Jim Bowie and Bowie knife. Not Bowie like David, the rock star.”