ANDERSON'S FEED AND SEED
Burt wasn't kidding about how busy he expected that Tuesday to be. Zac had already loaded four trucks with the brand new feed and it was barely noon. And this was after he had already had to pack and unload the pallets they came on before the farmers started to arrive.
That June Tuesday was a hot one. He could feel the sun burning the skin on his face and his arms and he wished he could roll his sleeves further up his arms than they were. They were already rolled so far up his arms that the material squeezed his biceps uncomfortably every time he lifted a bag of feed.
Zac was sitting on a stack of feed bags, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket and contemplating a wardrobe change for working in the store, when the old man hollered, "Zachary!" from inside the building.
Zac sighed and shook his head. Much as he appreciated Burt, he was sure working him like a dog today. Speaking of dogs, why the hell was Scout tearing through the stock room like a bat out of hell?
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Anderson, I'm so sorry. Scout!" Bessie's sweet voice rang out from the front of the store.
Scout met Zac with a near crash and jumped up on him, leaving Zac no time to calm the palpitating of his heart at the sound of Bessie's voice. Much to his own dismay, Zac reached down with both hands and scratched the dog behind his ears--with a smile on his face. Damn if he wasn't going soft on this beast. Scout's tongue hung happily out of his mouth and Zac found himself whispering, "Hey, there, boy. You getting into trouble today?"
Scout's only response was his panting and the wagging of his tail and the sound of Bessie's voice brought Zac back to reality.
Ducking into the tiny washroom, Zac leaned on the sink and looked at his frightful reflection in the mirror. His face was red and pouring with sweat and his hair was an awful mess, despite the high ponytail he had tied it up in. He looked down at the rest of himself and frowned. That was it. If Bessie was going to start visiting, he would have to start bringing along a fresh shirt.
Quickly, he splashed a little soap and water on his face and retied his hair. He couldn't help the sweat that soaked his shirt and he stared at himself for a minute before he untied his apron and took it off. Unbuttoning his shirt and removing it, he decided he'd spend the rest of the day in the white t-shirt he wore underneath. It was lighter and cooler anyway, and it sure didn't have those dreaded sweaty armpit stains on it. Tying his apron back on--then thinking better of it and trading it for a cleaner one--he decided that he smelled better and he looked better and he was presentable enough to be in Bessie's presence.
As Zac made his way from the stock room to the front of the store, with Scout at his heels, he witnessed Burt look him over and snicker, knowingly, at his fresher appearance. Zac shot a glare at him and then focused his attention on his girl. He was instantly weakened at the knees at the way her smile brightened upon sight of him. "Hi, Zac," she said cheerfully. He would never tire of hearing her say his name.
"Hey," he smiled as he met Bessie and Burt at the front counter. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
As Bessie blushed, Burt interjected, "Afraid we don't have much time for social calls today, sweetheart. Busy day today."
"Oh, I won't be here long," Bessie said, shaking her head. "Promise. I just came by to--"
"You come by to let that mutt help himself to my merchandise?" Burt interrupted, pointing across the room.
Zac and Bessie followed Burt's finger across the room, where Scout was nosing around the dog food bags. "Scout, get over here!" Bessie hissed, the dog completely unphased by her command. She sighed helplessly and she shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I try and I try with him but he just won't listen to me." Then her eyes widened in pain. "Oh, no, now he's pawing at the bag. Scout, I said stop it!"
Without thinking about it, Zac snapped his fingers and barked loudly across the room, "SCOUT, SIT!"
At the sound of the bass Zac had put in his voice, Scout hunkered his body and walked over to Zac, laying down beside him. His tail still swept excitedly on the floor behind him, however, and the poor dog just couldn't stay still, so he busied himself by licking Zac's shoe.
Bessie's eyes were wide as she stared up at Zac by the time he looked back at her. Damn it, she had to stop being so skittish all the time. "What?"
"He listened to you," she breathed. "I can't believe it. He never listens to me. And the only time he listens to Daddy is when he threatens him with his belt. But he never hits him with it, though. But look at him. He respects you. He loves you, Zac." Then her face turned into a grin. "Isn't that just wonderful?"
Zac curled his nose up at the notion, hiding the fact that he was pretty proud of himself that he was able to get the dog to mind him.
"Don't be so modest, you know you love that dog," Bessie giggled. "Anyway, I came by to bring lunch for you boys. Daddy read in the paper this morning about you getting that new feed in, Mr. Anderson, and he commented that it would likely be a busy day with all the demand for it from the farmers and then I knew you probably wouldn't have time to stop for lunch, so I got right in the kitchen and busied myself."
Bessie was wonderful. Just absolutely amazing. The way she took care of Zac made him feel like he was on top of the world, all the time, and he didn't think she even realized she was doing it. He watched as she sat a sack up on the counter in front of Burt and began unloading its contents. "There's meatloaf and cheese sandwiches here, potato salad, and I cut up some fruit, too. And if you didn't mind, I thought I'd join you."
"Absolutely," Zac blurted without a second thought. Anything that kept her around longer. Anything she wanted, anything at all.
Burt's eyes widened as he peered at the food spread out on the counter. A smile crept across his face as his adjusted the bifocals on his face. "Well, now. That's a social call I can get behind." Then he looked up at Zac and motioned for the door. "Well, don't just stand there, boy, go and lock that door. We're closed for lunch."
Smiling and shaking his head, Zac did as he was told as he overheard Burt say to Bessie in a half whisper, "If you go right through that doorway right there, there's a refrigerator around the corner. Reach in there and grab us some soda pops, will you? Anything you want."
As Bessie happily bounded away from the counter, Zac returned and the two men wasted no time opening the packages and sinking their teeth into their sandwiches. As Burt vocally expressed his appreciation with his mouthful of the dense, juicy goodness of the meat, Zac nodded as he swallowed. "Boy, Mrs. Harlow sure outdid herself this time, didn't she?"
Burt nodded in agreement. "Yes, siree, she sure did."
"I hope you like it," Bessie's voice rang out from the other room as they head the clanging of the glass bottles as she closed the refrigerator door. "I made it myself. All of it."
Zac's eyes widened at Burt in surprise as Burt took another bite. "Keep her," he said simply, with his mouth full.
"You don't have to tell me twice," Zac replied earnestly.
As Bessie returned with the drinks and began to nibble on her own lunch, Zac couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was amazing. Absolutely amazing in every way. She didn't realize it, but she was coming into her own, having come such a long way in the very short amount of time they'd known each other. She'd gone from barely looking him in the eye, to wearing sexy underwear for him and spending all morning in the kitchen just so she could bring him lunch. Every time he looked at her lately, he heard wedding bells.
And then something in his peripheral vision snapped him out of it and he looked at the floor in just enough time to catch Bessie slipping a pinch of her sandwich into Scout's mouth. "That," Zac blurted suddenly, startling Bessie and causing Burt to lean over the counter to see what was going on. "That right there is why he doesn't listen to you. Because you give him whatever he wants."
"But look how hungry he looks," she objected. "And he likes it."
"No. He is not hungry. Dogs are never as hungry as they want you to think they are. They'll eat anything you give them, just 'cause you give it to them. And then they don't listen 'cause you've already given in with the food."
"Well I'm not gonna let him starve," she retorted.
"Fine," Zac shrugged. "When he's chewing up your bedposts and scratching up your mother's fine rugs, don't say I didn't warn you."
Behind the counter, Burt began to chuckle. "You two sound like an old married couple, you know that?"
Zac beamed proudly at the old man. "That's the goal someday, I hope."
Bessie only blushed.
"Well, son, you gonna tell your little lady there your news?" Burt said.
This caught Zac off guard. "What?"
"Your news. About taking over my store." Then he looked at Bessie and told her himself. "I gotta go out of town for a few days and your beau, here, is gonna look after my store for me. How do you like them apples?"
Bessie's eyes widened with disbelief. "But, Mr. Anderson, you never leave town!"
"Well, this time it's important." Then he winked at her. "Hey, if you kids wanna run the popcorn stand Thursday night, I'll show you how to work ol' Bertha."
Bessie's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh, that would be just lovely!"
"You two come on by tomorrow, I'll show you how it works. I'm leaving Thursday morning and I should be back no later than Wednesday."
Bessie giggled and her eyes lit up at Zac. "Oh, Zac, this is gonna be the best week ever! You get to try your hand at running a store and we get to work the popcorn stand? Oh, it's so exciting!"
Zac smiled at her and shook his head. "Never thought I'd hear you getting so excited over doing work."
"Are you kidding, it's popcorn!"
This made Burt chuckle again as he wadded up his used wrappers. "Well, I thank you for lunch, little lady. It was downright delicious. Anytime you feel the urge to be in the kitchen, I'll be more than happy to taste test for you. But now, it's time to get back to work."
As Burt left the counter to unlock the front door, Zac smiled at Bessie. "That was probably the best thing I've ever put in my mouth. Tasted even better when you said you made it yourself."
Bessie blushed as she smiled. "Well, thank you. I'm glad you liked it."
"I loved it. And I love you. So much. You're such a sight for sore eyes today, I'm glad you came by."
She nodded, a flicker of discomfort flashing in her eyes, as she began cleaning up the mess on the counter and packing the bag back up. "It's, um, it's my pleasure. I love you, too."
He furrowed his brow at her sudden change in demeanor and he studied her as he watched her work. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," she assured him. "I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait. Mr. Anderson says it's time for you to get back to work--"
"You seem like something's bothering you."
"I wouldn't say that. But it's okay, we can talk another time--"
"Hey, Burt, I'm gonna give Bessie a tour of the stock room real quick, if that's all right. If my lady's gonna visit me, I at least wanna show her where I work."
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Burt waved at him. "Don't take too long, next customer's bound to come along any minute."
Bessie looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Zac, I--"
"Come on," he cut her off, taking her by the hand and leading her to the doorway. The sound of Scout's nails against the wooden floor planks alerted Zac that he was following them, to which Zac spun around and pointed at him and commanded, "Stay." Scout never followed another step and Zac led Bessie straight through the stock room and outside onto the loading dock. Sitting down on the same stack of feed sacks from before, Zac patted his leg and pulled Bessie onto his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist. "There," he smiled up at her. "This is more like it. Tell me what's on your mind, sweet girl."
Suddenly, she began to blush and look more uncomfortable. "I, um, I don't really know how to begin..."
"So just say it," he said gently, as gently as he could with as hard as his heart pounded against his chest.
"Um...okay..." She took a deep breath and her eyes darted into the air in thought. "Um...um, Zac, when we...when we, you know, are together...do you, um...do you wear a, um...you know, protection?"
Zac blinked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. This was not what he was expecting to come out of her. Not in a million years. He cleared his throat and answered slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I, um, well I haven't really been prepared each time..."
The blood drained from Bessie's face and her eyes widened. "So...have you been...you know, doing the other thing?"
"What other thing?"
"The, um, the pulling out...thing..."
Shit. He hadn't. Of course he hadn't. Having sex with Bessie was the most euphoric thing he'd ever felt, why the hell wouldn't he want to carry it all the way to the end? But he couldn't lie. He couldn't cover anything up, he had to be honest. "Well..." And then he stopped himself for a moment and thought a second time about what she'd just said. "Wait, how the hell do you know about condoms and pulling out?"
Bessie looked at him, offended. "Well I might have never been with any boys before, but it doesn't make me completely stupid. Besides, Millie says--"
"Ah, shit, are you serious?" Zac breathed, frustratingly wiping his brow. "How come every time we have to have some kind of serious conversation, it always starts with 'Millie says?"
"How come every time we have a serious conversation, you get all hot-headed and mad? How come you can't just talk about it?"
"I'm not getting hot-headed and mad," he shot back.
"You are. I know you are, I can hear it in your voice and I can see it all over your face. It's coming and I can see it. So you better shut it down right now and be prepared to talk to me like an adult."
Zac's nostrils flared as he felt his body tremble. She was right. She was absolutely right, she could read him like a book. He could feel the rage building inside him and he closed his eyes and he took a long, deep breath through his nose. Opening his eyes again, he blinked at the angel who sat on his knee. "I'm not mad," he said quietly, forcing his calm. "I'm not upset. I'm just a little surprised that you're discussing our sex life with your promiscuous cousin, that's all."
"Well who else am I gonna talk to about it? I can't very well tell my mother--"
"Me!" Zac shot back uncontrollably. Then he lowered his voice. "You're having sex with me, not her. Talk to me. I will tell you and show you everything you could possibly need to know--"
"You can't teach me the girl stuff, Zac," she replied, matter-of-factly. "There are some things that girls can only talk to girls about."
"That's hogwash."
"Okay, then. You tell me something that you would only tell your brothers, and I'll tell you something that I only tell Millie."
Zac's eyes widened at her. She had trapped him. He couldn't tell her about all the ways he'd objectified women with his brothers, or tell her any of the dirty jokes, or speak of the private conversations he'd had about his doubts and insecurities. He was a man, he had a reputation to uphold. And, suddenly, he saw her point. "It doesn't make me any less uncomfortable about it," he muttered, defeated.
"That's what I thought," she huffed. "Anyway, as I was talking to Millie, she brought up a good point that I hadn't stopped to think of. It's true that I don't know much about...you know, making love and all the details and things that go with it. I'm still learning. But I do know that making love makes babies. Even babies know that making love makes babies. And if we're not, you know, being more careful, then we could both end up in a situation we're not ready to be in. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Zac felt like a complete bastard. How could he have been so stupid? And so careless? He did the math in his head and he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Twice already--twice he had stolen her innocence and put her at risk. The truth was, in a perfect world, he would give her as many babies as her heart desired. But the reality was, he was in no position to father a child--not in any more of a position than Bessie was to mother one.
He gazed up at her expectant face and he reached up and brushed her hair back off of her shoulder. "I'm not going to wear a condom," he said quietly. "They're a complete waste of money that I don't have and more hassle than they're worth. But I love you. And I don't want you to be uncomfortable, ever. I understand your concern, and I feel the same way. I will be more careful in the future. I'll pay attention, I'll pull out, I'll do anything you want me to do--except for the condom."
Her eyes fell in thought and she wrung her hands in her lap. "How do you feel about corsets?"
"Wow," he said, his eyes widening in surprise. "You're really laying it on me today, aren't you?"
"It's a silly question, I know--"
"Why would it matter how I felt about corsets? Do you have one? Are you thinking of getting one? Do you want one? Because you don't need one. Unless you just want to do a sexy little striptease for me, then I'd be okay with that."
"Striptease?"
"Well, isn't that why women wear them? For their men?"
"Um...it isn't why I was thinking..."
And then he realized what she was referring to and it hit him. "Wait, is this...is this about yesterday? Did you tell Millie about it, is she filling your head with--?"
"No. No, I didn't tell her about it and she didn't say anything, I just..."
"I don't understand..."
"It's nothing. Really, it's--it's okay, I don't wear them and I probably won't ever, it was just an idea..."
"For what?"
"I said it's nothing, can we just drop it now?"
He looked her over and his heart broke. Did she really think that negatively about herself? He knew what corsets were and what they did for women. He picked up on what was going on here and his mind went back to all the times she'd hidden her body or made comments about how she wasn't like all the other women. Not only was she struggling with her age, she was struggling with her body. And he didn't understand why, because he'd never seen such perfection in his life.
"I wish you knew how beautiful you are," he whispered to her. "I could tell you until I was blue in the face with death and you still wouldn't believe me. And I don't understand why."
Bessie swallowed and she blinked at him. "I hear an engine. It's time for me to go."
"Bessie--"
She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before she stood up and smoothed her dress out. "Have a good rest of the day. Try not to work yourself too hard. And be careful of the sun, you should really be wearing a hat."
"Bessie," he said softly again before he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. He let the back of his free hand brush across her cheek. "I love you. You are, quite literally, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen--both inside and out. I'm not...really sure what you're so...you know, unsure of or whatever, but you never have to question how I feel about you. You don't have to question my feelings, or my attraction to you, or--or anything like that. Okay? Those things will never change."
She looked up into his eyes, suddenly filled with warmth and admiration. "Really?"
He smiled at her, sweeping his thumb across her cheek. "Absolutely." Then he winked at her. "As a matter of fact, I want you right now."
"Zac," she grinned. "Don't be fresh."
"You mean like this?" Then he snuck his hand around and found himself a handful of her cute backside and widened his eyes at her in amusement.
"Zac!" She giggled, pushing his hand away. "I get your point, okay?"
He leaned in and stole a kiss, this one more romantic than the first one. "Thank you for coming by today. And thank you for lunch, you really know how to take care of a guy. You're an amazing cook."
After another minute, she disappeared back into the store and Zac smiled after her, letting out a sigh and shoving his hands in his pockets. Did other men feel as lucky to have their women as he did? Whistling a cheerful little tune, he turned his attention to the approaching truck. Time to finish the last half of this long day. At least it would be a good half, as his heart, his mind, and his belly were all full and satisfied.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
District Attorney Stanley Connors liked young girls. It wasn't a trait he was especially proud of--he had several traits he wasn't especially proud of--but he couldn't deny that he liked them. His affliction for young girls was much like a wild animal's affliction for blood--once it got that first taste, there was no going back.
Stanley got his first taste when his son was fifteen and he'd brought his prom date home late after the dance. Stanley had woken up after hearing commotion downstairs and found that Billy and his date had gotten into his secret liquor stash. Before he knew it, Billy passed out from the alcohol and that left Stanley no choice but to drive the girl home and dream up an excuse for her parents to keep his son out of hot water.
Driving down the dark road, however, Stanley learned that the girl was a promiscuous drunk and had begun a little peep show in the passenger seat. Before he knew it, he had pulled the car over and got her in the backseat, shoving her prom dress up over her waist and listening to her sweet voice moan and sigh as his tongue swept eagerly through her virgin fruit--though he hadn't learned she was a virgin until after the fact.
However, after that night he was hooked and every time Billy got a new girlfriend, Stanley was close by with the liquor.
Stanley sat in his car behind his farmhand's truck and watched Bessie Harlow sit on Zac Hanson's lap, disgusted. Stanley had only started noticing Judge Harlow's daughter over the past year. He had never attempted to act on anything, though, so as to not ruin his friendship with the judge. When the judge suggested setting Billy and Bessie up on a date, Stanley hadn't thought about it, mostly because he'd had his own eye on Sue Wilkerson before Billy got the idea to ask her out, and that's where his mind had been at the time. It wasn't until the fiasco at the dance happened that Stanley realized that he could have had a shot at that innocent, unspoiled, virgin piece, and the fact that his boy had managed to have his tail handed to him by a poor gypsy left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't sure what upset him more--how his son could have been such a dolt or how Zac Hanson had inadvertently interfered with Stanley's affairs.
He watched Zac hug Bessie and kiss her and cop a feel of her backside while she giggled and Stanley grunted with jealousy and disgust. At that, he cut a turn around to the front of the store, letting his farmhand handle his truck and his feed load on his own.
Bessie must have gotten out of there relatively quickly because by the time Stanley got out of his car, she was driving away with a mutt hanging out the window. Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow, the brim of his gray hat barely shading his eyes, he made his way up the porch steps and opened the glass door of the feed store. "How goes it, Mr. Anderson?"
"Just fine, Mr. Connors," the old man replied, pushing up his glasses. "How's the story-telling business?"
Stanley chuckled off the insult, adjusting his leisure suit jacket, and choosing to chalk it up to the old man's obvious senile nature. "Only non fiction stories in my business."
"Huh," Burt Anderson huffed as he adjusted the cans on a shelf. "Could have fooled me. Looked like a whole lot of fiction to me when that group of football boys got by with a slap on the wrist with all those witnesses, myself included."
Stanley seethed with this comment, but he kept his composure. "Well, Burt, I don't recall your testimony--"
"That's 'cause there warn't no trial."
"I never saw a statement from you, one, come across my desk--"
"I told at least three of Tulsa's finest and they all wrote it down. See? Fiction, I tell you. Fiction, all of it."
"Ah, come now," Stanley said, trying to reason with the old man. "Boys will be boys, you know that. Those boys were just sticking up for their friend--"
"Without giving my boy a fighting chance, like a real man. What those boys did was pure cowardly. They're all afraid of him, the lot of them. And, apparently, your boy couldn't handle him, either."
"Your boy?" Stanley scoffed a laugh. "You talking about that gypsy out there on your loading dock?"
"He ain't no gypsy, that one. He's smart. Smarter than me. And more of a native Tulsan than you'll ever be. His family's been in these parts much longer than your yankee tail has been. You know that just like everybody else."
Stanley took a deep breath to stave off his growing anger. After all, Anderson's Feed and Seed was the only feed store in town and he couldn't afford to burn any bridges. "So," he said, attempting to change the subject. "Just saw the Harlow girl leave out of here."
"Yep," Burt acknowledged, returning to his counter and his record book. "Nice enough to bring lunch for me and her beau." Then looked up and eyed the district attorney accusingly. "Her beau's out back on my loading dock, you know. The smart one with the healthy back and strong arms." Then he went back to his books. "Anyway, cute little couple, those two. Gonna be married someday."
"Oh?" Stanley's eyes widened with question. "Where'd he afford the ring?"
"He hasn't proposed. I can just tell."
"Well, I think your senses might finally be going, old man, cause I can about guaran-damn-tee you that Judge Harlow is not about to give that boy permission to marry his only daughter."
"Eh," Burt sounded nonchalantly. "I beg to differ with that. Might be surprised."
Stanley huffed and began strolling through the store, looking over Burt Anderson's merchandise. "Nah," Stanley muttered. "He ain't worth nothing."
"Excuse me?" Burt said, straightening his back to attention and removing his bifocals. "Did you come into my store to insult my staff or to pay me for this week's haul?"
"Don't worry, Burt, I'm gonna pay you--"
"And you're gonna tip my boy out there real good, too."
"Yeah, well, that remains to be seen."
"You can't refuse to pay him forever. You need a haul next week, you're gonna have no choice but to put your money in his hand, cause I'm not gonna be here."
Stanley swore he heard his ears perk with this tidbit of information. Now he was completely intrigued. "Oh? Where are you off to?"
"Oklahoma City to take care of personal family business. Zachary's taking over my store. For the next week it'll be Hanson's Feed and Seed instead of Anderson's and I expect you to pay him the same respect that you do me--if you want to call it that, anyway."
"Of course I respect you, Burt. You're a fine man with a fine business. But I don't have to respect the man who has jeopardized my son's potential football career."
"Well, then, I expect you don't need feed and fertilizer as bad as you think you will next week. Hope you stock up real good today, Mr. Story-Teller. I'd hate to see what your animals and your crops are gonna look like going a week without their essentials since you're gonna be stubborn and pig-headed over something as simple as a little business. Thought you were better than that." Burt shook his head and put his glasses back on. "Crying shame."
Stanley was having a hard time controlling his annoyance. "How'd you even end up with him, anyway? He doesn't know anything outside of hokey hat tricks."
"Then you got a lot to learn. Seems you got your own mind made up, though, which is probably why your son ain't got sense enough to keep better company. My guy developed back problems and I needed another one to help out around here. So I recruited the Hanson boy. He's helped me before, so I knew he was good for the job. Best decision I ever made."
"I remember when you used to let Billy work for you during the summer."
"Yeah. And the boy spent all his time goofing off with his pals on my loading dock and could barely sweep a floor. Don't imagine he's amounted to much more now then tossing around a leather ball. That Zachary, though--he's got a mind for business. He could potentially turn a new profit in this place with some of these ideas he's got. It's good to have him around. I'm getting older now, starting to need more help with things." Then he looked up at Stanley and waved him off. "Bah, why am I telling you any of this, anyway. Ain't none of your business."
Stanley studied the old man for a moment, looking him over as he turned his back and counted something on a shelf behind him. He watched as his hand trembled a little as he counted and he knew the old man was in his seventies, easy. Burt Anderson wasn't kidding about aging--he'd lasted a long time but he didn't seem to be getting around quite as sprite as he used to. Stanley studied him a moment longer, wondering what would ever happen to the store when the old man kicked the bucket. Then he got one good look at Zac Hanson as he came through the doorway from the back and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Surely this wasn't happening. Surely Burt wasn't prepping this homeless lowlife to carry on his family's legacy.
Upon sight, Zac cut eyes at Stanley tensely and nodded a short nod. "District Attorney Connors," he acknowledged. "How do you do?"
Choosing to make light of a situation that he was finding himself immensely displeased with, he replied, "Well, I'm doing just fine, Mr. Hanson, how about you?"
"Busy," he replied. Then he pulled Burt's book across the counter and took a pencil in his left hand and busied himself with it. Then he shoved it back across to Burt. "There's the bill for the truck I just loaded. He asked for a few extra things, so I added them to the already-existing order."
"Whoa," Stanley objected, approaching the counter. "You talking about the farmhand in the red truck? That's my guy out there, and I didn't order no extras. Take that mess off of there."
"You can take it up with your farmhand," Zac said curtly, wiping his hands with a towel he had pulled from his back pocket. "He's the one who ordered the extra, not me. I'm only the messenger."
Stanley Connors fumed, mostly because he knew he had absolutely no control over any of the situations that were going on at the moment. He hated not being in control. He controlled everything--the courtroom, his son, his money, the things he told his wife...but this time he had no control over this gypsy invading every aspect of his life and making him look like a fool and going after all the things he seemed to have a vested interest in. But he would fix that. One step at a time, by god, this dirty gypsy would not make a fool out of District Attorney Stanley Connors.
Forking over his money to Burt Anderson and begrudgingly fishing through his wallet for the extra his farmhand had ordered, Stanley stiffed Zac and walked out the door. At the moment, he needed a word with this hired help. After that, he would brainstorm.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
"I never liked that guy," Burt muttered, shaking his head as he watched Stanley Connors leave the store. "Never could trust him as far as I could throw him."
"Which wouldn't be very far," Zac snickered. "Did you get a look at him?"
This garnered a healthy chuckle out of Burt as he adjusted the bifocals on his face. He watched Zac as he made his way around the store, adjusting and moving different types of merchandise to organize it and make it more easily accessible to customers. Burt hadn't asked him to do it. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of things that Zac just did on his own accord without being asked. The boy would probably never know it, but Burt appreciated the hell out of him. He walked through his door when the old man was in crippling need of help and he hadn't lied to Stanley Connors when he told him that hiring Zac was the best decision he'd ever made. He was telling the truth--and it was proven to him every time Zac worked.
Studying him a moment longer, Burt glanced down at the counter and then leaned his arms on it and took a load off for a moment. "Say, boy, life ain't been too kind to you, has it?"
Zac didn't respond at first. Then, finally, as he turned a can around, he muttered, "Not always."
"I knew your pap, did you know that? Knew your daddy, too, since he was a little thing. Used to be loyal customers of mine."
Zac nodded. "You've been around a long time, Burt."
"Yep. I have. Been around long enough, I like to think I know everything there is to know about this town. Especially who to trust and who not to trust."
"Think I've had to learn that the hard way."
"Well, that's unfortunate. I think a lot of the problem with you and your brothers is that people here were jealous. Jealous that you boys actually found a way to get out of this town and see the world and make a name for yourselves. People like to see other people fail sometimes, Zachary. It's a shame there are people like that out there, but that's just life sometimes. But you can't mind them. It's up to you to play the hand God dealt you--and you're either gonna fold or you're gonna get that royal flush. It's all about how you play the game."
"I already had the royal flush," Zac replied, turning around and leaning back against the shelf. "And I didn't fold, I got beaten at my own game. Now I'm just another face at the table."
"On the contrary," Burt smiled. "You're holding the full house and you don't even know it yet."
Zac scoffed. "Please. Thanks for the words of wisdom, but let's not go overboard."
"Nah, boy. Think about it. I ain't gonna be on this earth much longer. One of these days I'm gonna be gone and somebody's gonna have to carry this store for me. Will it be you? Could be. Don't know. We'll see how you play. But if you did end up with this store, then between that and making a wife out of that Harlow girl, well...there's your literal full house. Yours is coming someday, Zachary. It's coming. But it's all up to you."
Zac took in a breath and Burt could practically see him taking in his words as he studied him. Then he said, "Connors don't like the idea of me being here. It's plain as day."
"Well, it ain't his business. And he ain't got nowhere else to buy supplies for that fancy excuse for a farm he's got out there, so he'll be on his best behavior, I'm sure. He's just a lot of hot air."
"Yeah. A lot of hot air that got me locked up three times."
"Well, son, did you do the things you were accused of?"
"Yeah..."
"Then you deserved to be locked up. End of discussion. Anyway, he's still bitter over that fatheaded boy of his, like he ain't got nothing else to do with his life but vicariously play ball through him."
"Word on the street is he likes to take chances with his money, if you know what I mean."
"Saying 'gambling' ain't gonna get you arrested son, you ain't gotta talk in code to me. That's no secret. I'm sure half the money I've took off of him is money he ripped off from someone else. Which reminds me, I noticed he stiffed you. Sorry about that, I told him to tip you."
"Nah," Zac smirked. "I'm not even worried about it. I don't want his money. The fact that his farmhand and I had a heart-to-heart about how much he can't stand him was tip enough for me. I'm just glad we're not the only ones who can see how crooked he is."
"Pretty bad when your own farmhands can't stand you," Burt smirked, amused. "You know what, son? I know I told your girl a little while ago that I'd show you two how to use the popcorn machine, but I think it might be more special for her if you taught her."
"No," Zac objected with a smile. "Bessie adores you. And besides, I bet she'd make you lunch a lot more often if you taught her."
"Yeah, but if you taught her, we might get lunch every day."
Zac chuckled. "Well played, old man. Well played."
"If you want to stay after hours for a few minutes, I'll show you how she runs."
"Sure. Absolutely, I'd like that."
Burt snuck a smile as he watched the youngest Hanson brother get back to work. He didn't have a problem with either one of the boys--he never had. But this Zac was something extra special. This one had motivation and drive and a desire to better himself. And Burt had watched his inspiration come in and out of the store in the form of a young woman he'd been feeding popcorn to since she was just a little tyke. His heart warmed a little and he had a moment with himself for a few seconds as he remembered what it was like to be young and in love. He'd never felt a feeling quite like it and he never did again after his wife passed away. So he said a little prayer for the young couple he'd witnessed today and then he set about his own work once again.
Then Burt looked up again as he heard Zac grunting and moving things in the stock room through the doorway. He smiled again as he opened the register to do a count. There was life in Anderson's Feed and Seed. A life and an energy that he'd long since forgotten. It was a good, comforting feeling, and he knew he'd made the right decision in leaving Zac in charge.
Burt wasn't kidding about how busy he expected that Tuesday to be. Zac had already loaded four trucks with the brand new feed and it was barely noon. And this was after he had already had to pack and unload the pallets they came on before the farmers started to arrive.
That June Tuesday was a hot one. He could feel the sun burning the skin on his face and his arms and he wished he could roll his sleeves further up his arms than they were. They were already rolled so far up his arms that the material squeezed his biceps uncomfortably every time he lifted a bag of feed.
Zac was sitting on a stack of feed bags, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket and contemplating a wardrobe change for working in the store, when the old man hollered, "Zachary!" from inside the building.
Zac sighed and shook his head. Much as he appreciated Burt, he was sure working him like a dog today. Speaking of dogs, why the hell was Scout tearing through the stock room like a bat out of hell?
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Anderson, I'm so sorry. Scout!" Bessie's sweet voice rang out from the front of the store.
Scout met Zac with a near crash and jumped up on him, leaving Zac no time to calm the palpitating of his heart at the sound of Bessie's voice. Much to his own dismay, Zac reached down with both hands and scratched the dog behind his ears--with a smile on his face. Damn if he wasn't going soft on this beast. Scout's tongue hung happily out of his mouth and Zac found himself whispering, "Hey, there, boy. You getting into trouble today?"
Scout's only response was his panting and the wagging of his tail and the sound of Bessie's voice brought Zac back to reality.
Ducking into the tiny washroom, Zac leaned on the sink and looked at his frightful reflection in the mirror. His face was red and pouring with sweat and his hair was an awful mess, despite the high ponytail he had tied it up in. He looked down at the rest of himself and frowned. That was it. If Bessie was going to start visiting, he would have to start bringing along a fresh shirt.
Quickly, he splashed a little soap and water on his face and retied his hair. He couldn't help the sweat that soaked his shirt and he stared at himself for a minute before he untied his apron and took it off. Unbuttoning his shirt and removing it, he decided he'd spend the rest of the day in the white t-shirt he wore underneath. It was lighter and cooler anyway, and it sure didn't have those dreaded sweaty armpit stains on it. Tying his apron back on--then thinking better of it and trading it for a cleaner one--he decided that he smelled better and he looked better and he was presentable enough to be in Bessie's presence.
As Zac made his way from the stock room to the front of the store, with Scout at his heels, he witnessed Burt look him over and snicker, knowingly, at his fresher appearance. Zac shot a glare at him and then focused his attention on his girl. He was instantly weakened at the knees at the way her smile brightened upon sight of him. "Hi, Zac," she said cheerfully. He would never tire of hearing her say his name.
"Hey," he smiled as he met Bessie and Burt at the front counter. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
As Bessie blushed, Burt interjected, "Afraid we don't have much time for social calls today, sweetheart. Busy day today."
"Oh, I won't be here long," Bessie said, shaking her head. "Promise. I just came by to--"
"You come by to let that mutt help himself to my merchandise?" Burt interrupted, pointing across the room.
Zac and Bessie followed Burt's finger across the room, where Scout was nosing around the dog food bags. "Scout, get over here!" Bessie hissed, the dog completely unphased by her command. She sighed helplessly and she shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I try and I try with him but he just won't listen to me." Then her eyes widened in pain. "Oh, no, now he's pawing at the bag. Scout, I said stop it!"
Without thinking about it, Zac snapped his fingers and barked loudly across the room, "SCOUT, SIT!"
At the sound of the bass Zac had put in his voice, Scout hunkered his body and walked over to Zac, laying down beside him. His tail still swept excitedly on the floor behind him, however, and the poor dog just couldn't stay still, so he busied himself by licking Zac's shoe.
Bessie's eyes were wide as she stared up at Zac by the time he looked back at her. Damn it, she had to stop being so skittish all the time. "What?"
"He listened to you," she breathed. "I can't believe it. He never listens to me. And the only time he listens to Daddy is when he threatens him with his belt. But he never hits him with it, though. But look at him. He respects you. He loves you, Zac." Then her face turned into a grin. "Isn't that just wonderful?"
Zac curled his nose up at the notion, hiding the fact that he was pretty proud of himself that he was able to get the dog to mind him.
"Don't be so modest, you know you love that dog," Bessie giggled. "Anyway, I came by to bring lunch for you boys. Daddy read in the paper this morning about you getting that new feed in, Mr. Anderson, and he commented that it would likely be a busy day with all the demand for it from the farmers and then I knew you probably wouldn't have time to stop for lunch, so I got right in the kitchen and busied myself."
Bessie was wonderful. Just absolutely amazing. The way she took care of Zac made him feel like he was on top of the world, all the time, and he didn't think she even realized she was doing it. He watched as she sat a sack up on the counter in front of Burt and began unloading its contents. "There's meatloaf and cheese sandwiches here, potato salad, and I cut up some fruit, too. And if you didn't mind, I thought I'd join you."
"Absolutely," Zac blurted without a second thought. Anything that kept her around longer. Anything she wanted, anything at all.
Burt's eyes widened as he peered at the food spread out on the counter. A smile crept across his face as his adjusted the bifocals on his face. "Well, now. That's a social call I can get behind." Then he looked up at Zac and motioned for the door. "Well, don't just stand there, boy, go and lock that door. We're closed for lunch."
Smiling and shaking his head, Zac did as he was told as he overheard Burt say to Bessie in a half whisper, "If you go right through that doorway right there, there's a refrigerator around the corner. Reach in there and grab us some soda pops, will you? Anything you want."
As Bessie happily bounded away from the counter, Zac returned and the two men wasted no time opening the packages and sinking their teeth into their sandwiches. As Burt vocally expressed his appreciation with his mouthful of the dense, juicy goodness of the meat, Zac nodded as he swallowed. "Boy, Mrs. Harlow sure outdid herself this time, didn't she?"
Burt nodded in agreement. "Yes, siree, she sure did."
"I hope you like it," Bessie's voice rang out from the other room as they head the clanging of the glass bottles as she closed the refrigerator door. "I made it myself. All of it."
Zac's eyes widened at Burt in surprise as Burt took another bite. "Keep her," he said simply, with his mouth full.
"You don't have to tell me twice," Zac replied earnestly.
As Bessie returned with the drinks and began to nibble on her own lunch, Zac couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was amazing. Absolutely amazing in every way. She didn't realize it, but she was coming into her own, having come such a long way in the very short amount of time they'd known each other. She'd gone from barely looking him in the eye, to wearing sexy underwear for him and spending all morning in the kitchen just so she could bring him lunch. Every time he looked at her lately, he heard wedding bells.
And then something in his peripheral vision snapped him out of it and he looked at the floor in just enough time to catch Bessie slipping a pinch of her sandwich into Scout's mouth. "That," Zac blurted suddenly, startling Bessie and causing Burt to lean over the counter to see what was going on. "That right there is why he doesn't listen to you. Because you give him whatever he wants."
"But look how hungry he looks," she objected. "And he likes it."
"No. He is not hungry. Dogs are never as hungry as they want you to think they are. They'll eat anything you give them, just 'cause you give it to them. And then they don't listen 'cause you've already given in with the food."
"Well I'm not gonna let him starve," she retorted.
"Fine," Zac shrugged. "When he's chewing up your bedposts and scratching up your mother's fine rugs, don't say I didn't warn you."
Behind the counter, Burt began to chuckle. "You two sound like an old married couple, you know that?"
Zac beamed proudly at the old man. "That's the goal someday, I hope."
Bessie only blushed.
"Well, son, you gonna tell your little lady there your news?" Burt said.
This caught Zac off guard. "What?"
"Your news. About taking over my store." Then he looked at Bessie and told her himself. "I gotta go out of town for a few days and your beau, here, is gonna look after my store for me. How do you like them apples?"
Bessie's eyes widened with disbelief. "But, Mr. Anderson, you never leave town!"
"Well, this time it's important." Then he winked at her. "Hey, if you kids wanna run the popcorn stand Thursday night, I'll show you how to work ol' Bertha."
Bessie's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh, that would be just lovely!"
"You two come on by tomorrow, I'll show you how it works. I'm leaving Thursday morning and I should be back no later than Wednesday."
Bessie giggled and her eyes lit up at Zac. "Oh, Zac, this is gonna be the best week ever! You get to try your hand at running a store and we get to work the popcorn stand? Oh, it's so exciting!"
Zac smiled at her and shook his head. "Never thought I'd hear you getting so excited over doing work."
"Are you kidding, it's popcorn!"
This made Burt chuckle again as he wadded up his used wrappers. "Well, I thank you for lunch, little lady. It was downright delicious. Anytime you feel the urge to be in the kitchen, I'll be more than happy to taste test for you. But now, it's time to get back to work."
As Burt left the counter to unlock the front door, Zac smiled at Bessie. "That was probably the best thing I've ever put in my mouth. Tasted even better when you said you made it yourself."
Bessie blushed as she smiled. "Well, thank you. I'm glad you liked it."
"I loved it. And I love you. So much. You're such a sight for sore eyes today, I'm glad you came by."
She nodded, a flicker of discomfort flashing in her eyes, as she began cleaning up the mess on the counter and packing the bag back up. "It's, um, it's my pleasure. I love you, too."
He furrowed his brow at her sudden change in demeanor and he studied her as he watched her work. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," she assured him. "I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait. Mr. Anderson says it's time for you to get back to work--"
"You seem like something's bothering you."
"I wouldn't say that. But it's okay, we can talk another time--"
"Hey, Burt, I'm gonna give Bessie a tour of the stock room real quick, if that's all right. If my lady's gonna visit me, I at least wanna show her where I work."
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Burt waved at him. "Don't take too long, next customer's bound to come along any minute."
Bessie looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Zac, I--"
"Come on," he cut her off, taking her by the hand and leading her to the doorway. The sound of Scout's nails against the wooden floor planks alerted Zac that he was following them, to which Zac spun around and pointed at him and commanded, "Stay." Scout never followed another step and Zac led Bessie straight through the stock room and outside onto the loading dock. Sitting down on the same stack of feed sacks from before, Zac patted his leg and pulled Bessie onto his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist. "There," he smiled up at her. "This is more like it. Tell me what's on your mind, sweet girl."
Suddenly, she began to blush and look more uncomfortable. "I, um, I don't really know how to begin..."
"So just say it," he said gently, as gently as he could with as hard as his heart pounded against his chest.
"Um...okay..." She took a deep breath and her eyes darted into the air in thought. "Um...um, Zac, when we...when we, you know, are together...do you, um...do you wear a, um...you know, protection?"
Zac blinked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. This was not what he was expecting to come out of her. Not in a million years. He cleared his throat and answered slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I, um, well I haven't really been prepared each time..."
The blood drained from Bessie's face and her eyes widened. "So...have you been...you know, doing the other thing?"
"What other thing?"
"The, um, the pulling out...thing..."
Shit. He hadn't. Of course he hadn't. Having sex with Bessie was the most euphoric thing he'd ever felt, why the hell wouldn't he want to carry it all the way to the end? But he couldn't lie. He couldn't cover anything up, he had to be honest. "Well..." And then he stopped himself for a moment and thought a second time about what she'd just said. "Wait, how the hell do you know about condoms and pulling out?"
Bessie looked at him, offended. "Well I might have never been with any boys before, but it doesn't make me completely stupid. Besides, Millie says--"
"Ah, shit, are you serious?" Zac breathed, frustratingly wiping his brow. "How come every time we have to have some kind of serious conversation, it always starts with 'Millie says?"
"How come every time we have a serious conversation, you get all hot-headed and mad? How come you can't just talk about it?"
"I'm not getting hot-headed and mad," he shot back.
"You are. I know you are, I can hear it in your voice and I can see it all over your face. It's coming and I can see it. So you better shut it down right now and be prepared to talk to me like an adult."
Zac's nostrils flared as he felt his body tremble. She was right. She was absolutely right, she could read him like a book. He could feel the rage building inside him and he closed his eyes and he took a long, deep breath through his nose. Opening his eyes again, he blinked at the angel who sat on his knee. "I'm not mad," he said quietly, forcing his calm. "I'm not upset. I'm just a little surprised that you're discussing our sex life with your promiscuous cousin, that's all."
"Well who else am I gonna talk to about it? I can't very well tell my mother--"
"Me!" Zac shot back uncontrollably. Then he lowered his voice. "You're having sex with me, not her. Talk to me. I will tell you and show you everything you could possibly need to know--"
"You can't teach me the girl stuff, Zac," she replied, matter-of-factly. "There are some things that girls can only talk to girls about."
"That's hogwash."
"Okay, then. You tell me something that you would only tell your brothers, and I'll tell you something that I only tell Millie."
Zac's eyes widened at her. She had trapped him. He couldn't tell her about all the ways he'd objectified women with his brothers, or tell her any of the dirty jokes, or speak of the private conversations he'd had about his doubts and insecurities. He was a man, he had a reputation to uphold. And, suddenly, he saw her point. "It doesn't make me any less uncomfortable about it," he muttered, defeated.
"That's what I thought," she huffed. "Anyway, as I was talking to Millie, she brought up a good point that I hadn't stopped to think of. It's true that I don't know much about...you know, making love and all the details and things that go with it. I'm still learning. But I do know that making love makes babies. Even babies know that making love makes babies. And if we're not, you know, being more careful, then we could both end up in a situation we're not ready to be in. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Zac felt like a complete bastard. How could he have been so stupid? And so careless? He did the math in his head and he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Twice already--twice he had stolen her innocence and put her at risk. The truth was, in a perfect world, he would give her as many babies as her heart desired. But the reality was, he was in no position to father a child--not in any more of a position than Bessie was to mother one.
He gazed up at her expectant face and he reached up and brushed her hair back off of her shoulder. "I'm not going to wear a condom," he said quietly. "They're a complete waste of money that I don't have and more hassle than they're worth. But I love you. And I don't want you to be uncomfortable, ever. I understand your concern, and I feel the same way. I will be more careful in the future. I'll pay attention, I'll pull out, I'll do anything you want me to do--except for the condom."
Her eyes fell in thought and she wrung her hands in her lap. "How do you feel about corsets?"
"Wow," he said, his eyes widening in surprise. "You're really laying it on me today, aren't you?"
"It's a silly question, I know--"
"Why would it matter how I felt about corsets? Do you have one? Are you thinking of getting one? Do you want one? Because you don't need one. Unless you just want to do a sexy little striptease for me, then I'd be okay with that."
"Striptease?"
"Well, isn't that why women wear them? For their men?"
"Um...it isn't why I was thinking..."
And then he realized what she was referring to and it hit him. "Wait, is this...is this about yesterday? Did you tell Millie about it, is she filling your head with--?"
"No. No, I didn't tell her about it and she didn't say anything, I just..."
"I don't understand..."
"It's nothing. Really, it's--it's okay, I don't wear them and I probably won't ever, it was just an idea..."
"For what?"
"I said it's nothing, can we just drop it now?"
He looked her over and his heart broke. Did she really think that negatively about herself? He knew what corsets were and what they did for women. He picked up on what was going on here and his mind went back to all the times she'd hidden her body or made comments about how she wasn't like all the other women. Not only was she struggling with her age, she was struggling with her body. And he didn't understand why, because he'd never seen such perfection in his life.
"I wish you knew how beautiful you are," he whispered to her. "I could tell you until I was blue in the face with death and you still wouldn't believe me. And I don't understand why."
Bessie swallowed and she blinked at him. "I hear an engine. It's time for me to go."
"Bessie--"
She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before she stood up and smoothed her dress out. "Have a good rest of the day. Try not to work yourself too hard. And be careful of the sun, you should really be wearing a hat."
"Bessie," he said softly again before he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. He let the back of his free hand brush across her cheek. "I love you. You are, quite literally, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen--both inside and out. I'm not...really sure what you're so...you know, unsure of or whatever, but you never have to question how I feel about you. You don't have to question my feelings, or my attraction to you, or--or anything like that. Okay? Those things will never change."
She looked up into his eyes, suddenly filled with warmth and admiration. "Really?"
He smiled at her, sweeping his thumb across her cheek. "Absolutely." Then he winked at her. "As a matter of fact, I want you right now."
"Zac," she grinned. "Don't be fresh."
"You mean like this?" Then he snuck his hand around and found himself a handful of her cute backside and widened his eyes at her in amusement.
"Zac!" She giggled, pushing his hand away. "I get your point, okay?"
He leaned in and stole a kiss, this one more romantic than the first one. "Thank you for coming by today. And thank you for lunch, you really know how to take care of a guy. You're an amazing cook."
After another minute, she disappeared back into the store and Zac smiled after her, letting out a sigh and shoving his hands in his pockets. Did other men feel as lucky to have their women as he did? Whistling a cheerful little tune, he turned his attention to the approaching truck. Time to finish the last half of this long day. At least it would be a good half, as his heart, his mind, and his belly were all full and satisfied.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
District Attorney Stanley Connors liked young girls. It wasn't a trait he was especially proud of--he had several traits he wasn't especially proud of--but he couldn't deny that he liked them. His affliction for young girls was much like a wild animal's affliction for blood--once it got that first taste, there was no going back.
Stanley got his first taste when his son was fifteen and he'd brought his prom date home late after the dance. Stanley had woken up after hearing commotion downstairs and found that Billy and his date had gotten into his secret liquor stash. Before he knew it, Billy passed out from the alcohol and that left Stanley no choice but to drive the girl home and dream up an excuse for her parents to keep his son out of hot water.
Driving down the dark road, however, Stanley learned that the girl was a promiscuous drunk and had begun a little peep show in the passenger seat. Before he knew it, he had pulled the car over and got her in the backseat, shoving her prom dress up over her waist and listening to her sweet voice moan and sigh as his tongue swept eagerly through her virgin fruit--though he hadn't learned she was a virgin until after the fact.
However, after that night he was hooked and every time Billy got a new girlfriend, Stanley was close by with the liquor.
Stanley sat in his car behind his farmhand's truck and watched Bessie Harlow sit on Zac Hanson's lap, disgusted. Stanley had only started noticing Judge Harlow's daughter over the past year. He had never attempted to act on anything, though, so as to not ruin his friendship with the judge. When the judge suggested setting Billy and Bessie up on a date, Stanley hadn't thought about it, mostly because he'd had his own eye on Sue Wilkerson before Billy got the idea to ask her out, and that's where his mind had been at the time. It wasn't until the fiasco at the dance happened that Stanley realized that he could have had a shot at that innocent, unspoiled, virgin piece, and the fact that his boy had managed to have his tail handed to him by a poor gypsy left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't sure what upset him more--how his son could have been such a dolt or how Zac Hanson had inadvertently interfered with Stanley's affairs.
He watched Zac hug Bessie and kiss her and cop a feel of her backside while she giggled and Stanley grunted with jealousy and disgust. At that, he cut a turn around to the front of the store, letting his farmhand handle his truck and his feed load on his own.
Bessie must have gotten out of there relatively quickly because by the time Stanley got out of his car, she was driving away with a mutt hanging out the window. Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow, the brim of his gray hat barely shading his eyes, he made his way up the porch steps and opened the glass door of the feed store. "How goes it, Mr. Anderson?"
"Just fine, Mr. Connors," the old man replied, pushing up his glasses. "How's the story-telling business?"
Stanley chuckled off the insult, adjusting his leisure suit jacket, and choosing to chalk it up to the old man's obvious senile nature. "Only non fiction stories in my business."
"Huh," Burt Anderson huffed as he adjusted the cans on a shelf. "Could have fooled me. Looked like a whole lot of fiction to me when that group of football boys got by with a slap on the wrist with all those witnesses, myself included."
Stanley seethed with this comment, but he kept his composure. "Well, Burt, I don't recall your testimony--"
"That's 'cause there warn't no trial."
"I never saw a statement from you, one, come across my desk--"
"I told at least three of Tulsa's finest and they all wrote it down. See? Fiction, I tell you. Fiction, all of it."
"Ah, come now," Stanley said, trying to reason with the old man. "Boys will be boys, you know that. Those boys were just sticking up for their friend--"
"Without giving my boy a fighting chance, like a real man. What those boys did was pure cowardly. They're all afraid of him, the lot of them. And, apparently, your boy couldn't handle him, either."
"Your boy?" Stanley scoffed a laugh. "You talking about that gypsy out there on your loading dock?"
"He ain't no gypsy, that one. He's smart. Smarter than me. And more of a native Tulsan than you'll ever be. His family's been in these parts much longer than your yankee tail has been. You know that just like everybody else."
Stanley took a deep breath to stave off his growing anger. After all, Anderson's Feed and Seed was the only feed store in town and he couldn't afford to burn any bridges. "So," he said, attempting to change the subject. "Just saw the Harlow girl leave out of here."
"Yep," Burt acknowledged, returning to his counter and his record book. "Nice enough to bring lunch for me and her beau." Then looked up and eyed the district attorney accusingly. "Her beau's out back on my loading dock, you know. The smart one with the healthy back and strong arms." Then he went back to his books. "Anyway, cute little couple, those two. Gonna be married someday."
"Oh?" Stanley's eyes widened with question. "Where'd he afford the ring?"
"He hasn't proposed. I can just tell."
"Well, I think your senses might finally be going, old man, cause I can about guaran-damn-tee you that Judge Harlow is not about to give that boy permission to marry his only daughter."
"Eh," Burt sounded nonchalantly. "I beg to differ with that. Might be surprised."
Stanley huffed and began strolling through the store, looking over Burt Anderson's merchandise. "Nah," Stanley muttered. "He ain't worth nothing."
"Excuse me?" Burt said, straightening his back to attention and removing his bifocals. "Did you come into my store to insult my staff or to pay me for this week's haul?"
"Don't worry, Burt, I'm gonna pay you--"
"And you're gonna tip my boy out there real good, too."
"Yeah, well, that remains to be seen."
"You can't refuse to pay him forever. You need a haul next week, you're gonna have no choice but to put your money in his hand, cause I'm not gonna be here."
Stanley swore he heard his ears perk with this tidbit of information. Now he was completely intrigued. "Oh? Where are you off to?"
"Oklahoma City to take care of personal family business. Zachary's taking over my store. For the next week it'll be Hanson's Feed and Seed instead of Anderson's and I expect you to pay him the same respect that you do me--if you want to call it that, anyway."
"Of course I respect you, Burt. You're a fine man with a fine business. But I don't have to respect the man who has jeopardized my son's potential football career."
"Well, then, I expect you don't need feed and fertilizer as bad as you think you will next week. Hope you stock up real good today, Mr. Story-Teller. I'd hate to see what your animals and your crops are gonna look like going a week without their essentials since you're gonna be stubborn and pig-headed over something as simple as a little business. Thought you were better than that." Burt shook his head and put his glasses back on. "Crying shame."
Stanley was having a hard time controlling his annoyance. "How'd you even end up with him, anyway? He doesn't know anything outside of hokey hat tricks."
"Then you got a lot to learn. Seems you got your own mind made up, though, which is probably why your son ain't got sense enough to keep better company. My guy developed back problems and I needed another one to help out around here. So I recruited the Hanson boy. He's helped me before, so I knew he was good for the job. Best decision I ever made."
"I remember when you used to let Billy work for you during the summer."
"Yeah. And the boy spent all his time goofing off with his pals on my loading dock and could barely sweep a floor. Don't imagine he's amounted to much more now then tossing around a leather ball. That Zachary, though--he's got a mind for business. He could potentially turn a new profit in this place with some of these ideas he's got. It's good to have him around. I'm getting older now, starting to need more help with things." Then he looked up at Stanley and waved him off. "Bah, why am I telling you any of this, anyway. Ain't none of your business."
Stanley studied the old man for a moment, looking him over as he turned his back and counted something on a shelf behind him. He watched as his hand trembled a little as he counted and he knew the old man was in his seventies, easy. Burt Anderson wasn't kidding about aging--he'd lasted a long time but he didn't seem to be getting around quite as sprite as he used to. Stanley studied him a moment longer, wondering what would ever happen to the store when the old man kicked the bucket. Then he got one good look at Zac Hanson as he came through the doorway from the back and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Surely this wasn't happening. Surely Burt wasn't prepping this homeless lowlife to carry on his family's legacy.
Upon sight, Zac cut eyes at Stanley tensely and nodded a short nod. "District Attorney Connors," he acknowledged. "How do you do?"
Choosing to make light of a situation that he was finding himself immensely displeased with, he replied, "Well, I'm doing just fine, Mr. Hanson, how about you?"
"Busy," he replied. Then he pulled Burt's book across the counter and took a pencil in his left hand and busied himself with it. Then he shoved it back across to Burt. "There's the bill for the truck I just loaded. He asked for a few extra things, so I added them to the already-existing order."
"Whoa," Stanley objected, approaching the counter. "You talking about the farmhand in the red truck? That's my guy out there, and I didn't order no extras. Take that mess off of there."
"You can take it up with your farmhand," Zac said curtly, wiping his hands with a towel he had pulled from his back pocket. "He's the one who ordered the extra, not me. I'm only the messenger."
Stanley Connors fumed, mostly because he knew he had absolutely no control over any of the situations that were going on at the moment. He hated not being in control. He controlled everything--the courtroom, his son, his money, the things he told his wife...but this time he had no control over this gypsy invading every aspect of his life and making him look like a fool and going after all the things he seemed to have a vested interest in. But he would fix that. One step at a time, by god, this dirty gypsy would not make a fool out of District Attorney Stanley Connors.
Forking over his money to Burt Anderson and begrudgingly fishing through his wallet for the extra his farmhand had ordered, Stanley stiffed Zac and walked out the door. At the moment, he needed a word with this hired help. After that, he would brainstorm.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
"I never liked that guy," Burt muttered, shaking his head as he watched Stanley Connors leave the store. "Never could trust him as far as I could throw him."
"Which wouldn't be very far," Zac snickered. "Did you get a look at him?"
This garnered a healthy chuckle out of Burt as he adjusted the bifocals on his face. He watched Zac as he made his way around the store, adjusting and moving different types of merchandise to organize it and make it more easily accessible to customers. Burt hadn't asked him to do it. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of things that Zac just did on his own accord without being asked. The boy would probably never know it, but Burt appreciated the hell out of him. He walked through his door when the old man was in crippling need of help and he hadn't lied to Stanley Connors when he told him that hiring Zac was the best decision he'd ever made. He was telling the truth--and it was proven to him every time Zac worked.
Studying him a moment longer, Burt glanced down at the counter and then leaned his arms on it and took a load off for a moment. "Say, boy, life ain't been too kind to you, has it?"
Zac didn't respond at first. Then, finally, as he turned a can around, he muttered, "Not always."
"I knew your pap, did you know that? Knew your daddy, too, since he was a little thing. Used to be loyal customers of mine."
Zac nodded. "You've been around a long time, Burt."
"Yep. I have. Been around long enough, I like to think I know everything there is to know about this town. Especially who to trust and who not to trust."
"Think I've had to learn that the hard way."
"Well, that's unfortunate. I think a lot of the problem with you and your brothers is that people here were jealous. Jealous that you boys actually found a way to get out of this town and see the world and make a name for yourselves. People like to see other people fail sometimes, Zachary. It's a shame there are people like that out there, but that's just life sometimes. But you can't mind them. It's up to you to play the hand God dealt you--and you're either gonna fold or you're gonna get that royal flush. It's all about how you play the game."
"I already had the royal flush," Zac replied, turning around and leaning back against the shelf. "And I didn't fold, I got beaten at my own game. Now I'm just another face at the table."
"On the contrary," Burt smiled. "You're holding the full house and you don't even know it yet."
Zac scoffed. "Please. Thanks for the words of wisdom, but let's not go overboard."
"Nah, boy. Think about it. I ain't gonna be on this earth much longer. One of these days I'm gonna be gone and somebody's gonna have to carry this store for me. Will it be you? Could be. Don't know. We'll see how you play. But if you did end up with this store, then between that and making a wife out of that Harlow girl, well...there's your literal full house. Yours is coming someday, Zachary. It's coming. But it's all up to you."
Zac took in a breath and Burt could practically see him taking in his words as he studied him. Then he said, "Connors don't like the idea of me being here. It's plain as day."
"Well, it ain't his business. And he ain't got nowhere else to buy supplies for that fancy excuse for a farm he's got out there, so he'll be on his best behavior, I'm sure. He's just a lot of hot air."
"Yeah. A lot of hot air that got me locked up three times."
"Well, son, did you do the things you were accused of?"
"Yeah..."
"Then you deserved to be locked up. End of discussion. Anyway, he's still bitter over that fatheaded boy of his, like he ain't got nothing else to do with his life but vicariously play ball through him."
"Word on the street is he likes to take chances with his money, if you know what I mean."
"Saying 'gambling' ain't gonna get you arrested son, you ain't gotta talk in code to me. That's no secret. I'm sure half the money I've took off of him is money he ripped off from someone else. Which reminds me, I noticed he stiffed you. Sorry about that, I told him to tip you."
"Nah," Zac smirked. "I'm not even worried about it. I don't want his money. The fact that his farmhand and I had a heart-to-heart about how much he can't stand him was tip enough for me. I'm just glad we're not the only ones who can see how crooked he is."
"Pretty bad when your own farmhands can't stand you," Burt smirked, amused. "You know what, son? I know I told your girl a little while ago that I'd show you two how to use the popcorn machine, but I think it might be more special for her if you taught her."
"No," Zac objected with a smile. "Bessie adores you. And besides, I bet she'd make you lunch a lot more often if you taught her."
"Yeah, but if you taught her, we might get lunch every day."
Zac chuckled. "Well played, old man. Well played."
"If you want to stay after hours for a few minutes, I'll show you how she runs."
"Sure. Absolutely, I'd like that."
Burt snuck a smile as he watched the youngest Hanson brother get back to work. He didn't have a problem with either one of the boys--he never had. But this Zac was something extra special. This one had motivation and drive and a desire to better himself. And Burt had watched his inspiration come in and out of the store in the form of a young woman he'd been feeding popcorn to since she was just a little tyke. His heart warmed a little and he had a moment with himself for a few seconds as he remembered what it was like to be young and in love. He'd never felt a feeling quite like it and he never did again after his wife passed away. So he said a little prayer for the young couple he'd witnessed today and then he set about his own work once again.
Then Burt looked up again as he heard Zac grunting and moving things in the stock room through the doorway. He smiled again as he opened the register to do a count. There was life in Anderson's Feed and Seed. A life and an energy that he'd long since forgotten. It was a good, comforting feeling, and he knew he'd made the right decision in leaving Zac in charge.