Free Never the Twain by Judith B. Glad Page A

and
nodding, like the stem of a dainty flower. Genny turned one way and another. Sophie had woven
dozens of tiny braids together into an intricate pattern. The ends of the braids were loose for several
inches, and curled. The result was sophisticated, elegant, and oh! so feminine.
    "This is going to look peculiar with my outfit," Genny said, eyeing the hairstyle
dubiously.
    "No, it won't, dear. Trust me." Sophie smiled reassuringly. "Now, I must hurry, or we'll be
late. Mr. Ruiz will be here in less than half an hour."
    And that was another worry. "Sophie, Pancho Ruiz isn't like the men you're used to," she
began, not wanting to meddle, but worried about her aunt. Sophie didn't seem to realize that western
men weren't like those she was used to dealing with. They weren't tame.
    "I know that dear," Sophie answered through the half-open bathroom door. "That's
precisely why I find him interesting."
    Genny dropped her robe on the bed and picked up the new jeans. Prewashed, they were
soft as a baby's blanket, and faded just enough to make them look well worn. She pulled them on,
liking the way they fit. Tight enough to be attractive, yet not so tight she couldn't sit. Padding to the
closet, she pulled out her shirt, a red plaid perfectly matching the shade of her new fingernail polish.
"But Sophie, he's a cook!"
    "Genille! I've never heard you sound like a snob before. Cooking is an honorable
profession. Remember Brillat-Savarin, after all!"
    Genny slipped into the elaborately decorated shirt, liking the feel of the fine cotton against
her skin. She buttoned the front, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on her dressing table.
Sophie had been right. The hairdo, elaborate as it was, suited her outfit perfectly. "I'm not being a
snob, and you know it. I'm just worried. You're used to dealing with businessmen, gentlemen...." As
soon as the word was out of her mouth, Genny knew it was wrong.
    Sophie peered around the bathroom door. "Now Genille, that is really going too far. You
have no reason to believe that Mr. Ruiz is any less the gentleman than any of the men I work with."
She disappeared. In seconds, she spoke again, her voice raised over the sound of running water.
"And speaking of men one is unused to, Mr. McConnell is not your common sort either. Now there
is an old-fashioned, courtly gentleman. So unusual in one so young."
    "I guess it all depends on one's definition of a gentleman," Genny said, doing her best not
to snort at Sophie's lack of perception. "I've seen another side of him."
    "Of course you have. That young man is enormously attracted to you, Genille, but he
doesn't quite trust his feelings." Sophie's smile was reassuring. "There! I'm ready to go." She turned
on her heel, letting Genny see all sides of her attractive silk print dress. "Am I not suitably attired for
a picnic?"
    On Boston Common, perhaps , Genny thought, but she only smiled and nodded.
Sophie was going to be quite an experience for the ranchers of Owyhee Country. The wide, pale
blue straw hat, with its garland of mauve silk roses and trailing chiffon scarf, would certainly cause
its share of comment. Genny just hoped no one laughed in her aunt's face.

Chapter Six
    "Allemande left with yore left hand. Swing yore pardner and a right-and-left grand..."
Someone grabbed Genny's right hand and pulled her forward, then someone else grabbed her left.
Giving up, she just let the men in her square toss her where they wanted her. This was all much too
complicated for her.
    Across and around she went, passed from man to man like a bag of spuds. When she
heard, "Bow to yore pardner and that's all boys!" she gasped in relief and nearly collapsed onto the
floor. All that kept her upright was pride.
    She staggered across to where Sophie was sitting with half a dozen matrons, fitting in as if
she'd always been a part of them. Somehow her expensive silk dress failed to look at all incongruous
among the jeans and polyester slacks and cotton print dresses worn