Chancy's Cowboy. Lass Small

was not a mess. You just happened to come at a good time. I could have handled him with one hand tied behind my back.” And she didn’t stop but went right on, “So she’s innocent? If you think I’m going to convince her you’re a safe date, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

      He sighed with great patience and told his sister, “She doesn’t know to wear dresses.”

      “Uhhhhh. What does she wear?”

      “Right now, it’s my old jeans.”

      “What’d she—wear—before your jeans?” she asked with some intent curiosity.

      “Hers.”

      “She slid out of her jeans and wore yours?” Isabel gasped in riveted shock. “What all have you all been doing out there?”

      “Not nearly enough.” Then he just went on, “You need to teach her how to be a girl.”

      “What is she—now?”

      “She was raised by a crew and her daddy. He died a couple of years ago. She doesn’t know how to be—feminine.”

      “In a male crowd like that, who would? But don’t worry. She’ll come around. Kiss her.”

      “Well, now, I think that’s a very good idea. But I’m not at all sure she would understand if I tried that. There aren’t any women out this way.”

      “Big brother, if there is a TV out there, she’s seen a kiss. She knows what it would be. Mother says TV isn’t the innocent it once was. Try it.”

      “Isabel, be a good sister and come out here and help me to help her.”

      “I don’t want to come out to some hick ranch and guide an innocent into your bed. I have morals.”

      “While I’m pristine and pure, I know all about your morals. I went to Fred’s that time and saved your hide. Remember that?”

      “Yeah.” There was a silence. Isabel said, “I remember.” And the silence came again. She said, “I owe you. I guess. Okay. What do you want me to do?”

      With great patience, he reiterated, “Come out and teach her to be a female woman.”

      “Turn back the bed covers and tell her to strip?”

      “Sister, sister, you’re a-way off the track. All’s I want is for you to teach her to wear dresses, maybe even use a little makeup. Help her to let her hair grow and act like a woman. And get her out of our hair! We can’t even talk natural but what she’s around and we have to watch our language.”

      With her eyes then slits of suspicion, Isabel asked in a deadly voice, “Does she chew tobacco?”

      “No.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “On my honor.”

      “You haven’t brought that honor part up in a while. Tell me what your roll is in this reforming of a neophyte?”

      “So you realize she is one.”

      “I want to know the ramifications. If this is a passing fancy so that she is going to sink me in a flood of tears and the weight of bystander guilt, I want to know now.”

      Being underhanded and sly, he then used her nickname. He said in an honorable voice, “Is. All I ask is that you teach her to be a girl and wear dresses—”

      “Good gravy.”

      “When you meet her, you’ll understand. Teach her how to wear a little makeup and comb her hair.”

      Suspiciously, his sister asked, “Does she have head lice?”

      “The only reason I haven’t hung up the phone on you is that I have no one else to ask to help her be a lady. Or just act more female and leave us alone to talk like we want. You can be a lady when you want to. Momma did a good job on you. You are a lady.”

      “Why are you asking me to do this?”

      “I want her to know what a precious woman she is. Just like all the other women we men are so lucky to see and know. I want you to influence Chancy.”

      “Why is she named...Chancy?”

      “Her parents were—different. Her daddy named her that at birth.”

      “Why.”

      “I wasn’t there. I have no idea. I like her. I would like you to help her at this age. She is—”

      “At...what age.”

      “She’s twenty.”

      “And she doesn’t wear dresses? She must be rather feebleminded.”

      “No. She was raised in a different atmosphere than you. She has had no instruction in being a woman.”

      “Where’s her mother?”

      “As I understand it, her mother died when she was a child. I believe it was at three or four years old.”

      “Awww. That would be tough.”

      And that was what lured Isabel into agreeing to help out. She was a pushover for an orphan.

      

      So Cliff asked Chancy, “Would it be okay if my sister came to visit for a while? She’s from San An-tone and never been on a real ranch. It would be interesting for her.”

      Chancy’s eyes widened. “She’d come here?” She’d never had any female guests.

      “If that’s okay with you.”

      And with a totally stark face of panic, Chancy asked her foreman, “How do I do this? Where would she stay? I’m not sure what to do.”

      And instead of taking over and deciding everything for her, Cliff was quick enough to suggest, “Ask Tolly.”

      “Yes! That’s a good idea! I’ll go find him now.”

      And Cliff’s eyes followed her as she went quickly from the room. It came to him that Chancy had never had female company! Think of that! For a woman.

      Chancy had had no trouble finding a place for him. She’d even bought him pants. It hadn’t been any big deal. But now his sister was coming, and Chancy was absolutely thrown off kilter. She was excited. Pleased. She didn’t know what to do. Think of that. She’d never had a female guest?

      That was a thoughtful several minutes, sinking into Cliff’s understanding, then he smiled a little. Isabel would handle it all. And he went off outside, whistling. Chancy would be solved by his sister. Now she’d be busy doing something female and leave the place to the men. They could talk their own way and it would all be easier.

      

      Cliff had read Chancy’s conduct very well indeed. She was thrown for a loop. She told the cook, Tolly, “What’ll I do?”

      And he asked in a superior manner with somewhat lifted eyebrows, “About—what?”

      “Cliff’s sister is coming to visit. Where’ll we put her?”

      Tolly was included, that way, in responsibility. So he suggested, “Upstairs in one of the vacant rooms? They are pristine, as usual. That team scrubs them down to the wood and then waxes them. Any of the rooms is ready.”

      “Yes.” It was as if she hadn’t realized one of those rooms would be just right. Since she’d never had female guests, those rooms had been empty.

      She would have someone else upstairs! And she smiled. She hummed. She cut flowers. That made Jim hostile and competitive. Those were his flowers.

      He asked the humming woman, “What the hell are you doing? Just answer me that.”

      And she blinked and said, “I’m having a guest come stay!” And she grinned