Chapter 17

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Chester knocked apart the bunkbed in the room the boys shared for so many years growing up on the farm. They were staying in the bunkhouse now, and Hatti and Chester liked the stillness in the house. At least, they thought they did.

“What are you going to do with the bunkbed,” asked Hatti?

“I ain’t got that part figure red out yet. I’ll put it in the barn loft and keep it for the grandkids,”

“We need a bigger house,” declared Hatti.

“We need a bigger everything around here,” replied Chester. “The farm has grown into a cattle ranch and it’s nothing but more people to hire and more work that needs doing every day.”

“That’s right, also more cash in the bank,” Hatti reminded her husband, with work, a reward often follows, if you do it right.

“Yeaaah, I’m turning into one of those rich maggots,” bragged Chester.

“It’s magnate,” smiled Hatti careful about correcting him.

“Ain’t that what I just said?” mumbled Chester.

“It was close enough,”

“How much money is in the bank,” Hatti asked her husband. His spelling was terrible, but he was good with numbers writing with a pencil, the business operation figures in a book.

“A decent amount,” he replied.

“Is there a number you can tack on to that decent amount?”

“Now that will take some figuring and I am gonna have to do a ‘look-see.’ But don’t raddle your sweet head.”  Chester mumbled struggling for educated words.

“That’s fine – mighty fine,” replied Hatti handing him a cookie and a mug of coffee.

“Sure is quiet here, not having Bart and Colt to jaw with, here on the porch,” Chester commented.

“It is quiet – too quiet. Search your mind and see what to do. The place is getting bigger and we are getting older. You know what that means?” said Hatti.

“A huge birthday cake?”

“Oh, for good grief.” Hatti could see this was going nowhere, so she changed the conversation. Scarlet O’Hara (yet to come along) wasn’t the only woman who thought tomorrow was another day.

******

The Denton’s had the ideal spot. In the evening, the sky filled with blackness became darted with stars. Colt would look upward dreaming. Chester and Hatti unaware that Colt’s dreaming was entirely about Abe. They could never understand their masculine son longing for a man. That just wasn’t possible in their minds. It was another ‘sign of the times.’ in which they were living.

“I should be doing something else, besides sitting here listening to the sounds of the night and lookin at stars,” complained Hatti. She was so used to working and keeping busy, she didn’t see the point of doing anything else.

“I wonder if the boys are okay in the bunkhouse.”

“Oh, for thunder sakes woman! Is that what’s makin you nippy? The boys are spit lickin good, stop fretting,” said Chester. “They are havin a blast, the four of them. I hear fiddle playing, whoopin and hollering. Now don’t tell me that ain’t fitting for young ins, even if they are men.”

“Did you know, began Hatti that they don’t come to the house for breakfast anymore?  Bart got the old cast iron cook stove working and it burns wood real proper like and they are using that. Sparky used to be a cook on a wagon train and he does breakfast. I saw him in the smoke house hackin off some bacon and they got plenty of eggs down at the hen house. Bart got some coffee from the barrel and a coffee brewing pot.”

“It sounds about right to me,” said Chester. “Think of the work it saves you. Let sparky cook all he wants. It will keep me from hiring a bunkhouse cook eventually. They still pile in here for supper, so we need the long table. Don’t forget, we will have Abe with us, after next Tuesday,” continued Chester.”

“I’ve got some socks to darn before going to bed. Stay on the porch and finish that nasty cigar. I wish you would smoke your pipe. It smells so much better.”

Chester grinned and bowed from the waist saying – “Yes mum.”

“Oh, be off with you, crazy old fool,” laughed Hatti going back into the house.

There was loud talking coming from the bunkhouse. The hands were playing cars whooping and hollering when somebody won a pot of money.  There were four men in the bunkhouse; however, they still called themselves, “The Boys,” riding, working and playing together. All four of them were cowboys,

Chester opened the door to the bunkhouse just as Colt was getting up from the table where they were playing cards. 

“Hey fellows, look - it’s pa. somebody yelled greeting the top boss of the ranch.

Chester glowed with joy seeing everybody having a good time. The boys were playing cards and drinking beer. Everybody was in a good mood and Chester loved that. He really loved the manliness of his boys enjoying themselves.  He sat down at the table and got into the poker game. Sparky put his arm around Chester and poured him a glass of beer.

“There you be pa,” said Sparky. “What one does around here, we all do,” he announced proudly.

“So if one of you hombres rob a bank – you all rob the bank?”

“Awe, no, no, it’s nothing against the law. We work together and look out for one another,” sprung back Sparky, “that’s it – plain and easy.”

“Yeah, I knew what you meant, I was just funning with y’all,” Chester replied.

About an hour later, Chester had lost $4.10 in the poker game and it was time to turn in. Morning comes early and they were smart enough to limit their drinking. On the weekends, they went into town, on their own time. 

Chester was especially fond of Sparky. He was older, mature and a no nonsense sort of cowpoke.  Everybody liked Sparky, he was dependable and looked out for the three of them as if his own boys.

There was nothing sexual happening anywhere. However, Bart never stopped sneaking eyeballs at Sparky’s butt. The obvious is still the obvious. The cowboy packed solid with naughty flesh.

Bart could see Sparky playing up to his dad, Chester, getting anything he wanted. Soon, he would be the ranch cook doin chuck wagon work, relieving Hatti from constant kitchen work catering to the men. It was all good.

******

Hatti asked Bart and Colt take the buckboard and deliver a bushel of potatoes and homemade jam to the …... who lived next to their property. Only a fence and a row of pine trees separated the two properties.

They were welcoming now, but barely sociable keeping to themselves on their farm. Still Hatti was a friendly person and neighborly.

After bouncing along for about a mile, Bart started talking. “What do you think of Sparky and Johnny, now that we stay together in the bunkhouse?” he asked his brother Colt.

To be continued……