Free Desert Angel by Pamela K Forrest

comfortably against her breasts. “Ma would say I’m probably jealous because it’s not mine, but personally I think everyone can state their opinion. What do you think?”
    When the sleeping baby declined to answer, March smiled and walked toward an adobe building where she could see two men sitting in chairs under a porch. It was time for her to meet the other employees of the ranch.
    “Good afternoon,” she called as she approached. One of the men stood up from his chair and removed his hat, while the other one spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the ground.
    “Where’s the youn’en?” the seated one asked gruffly. “Got me an interest in him, since I spent so much time changing his towels.”
    “I changed his towels,” the other man stated. “You fed him his vittles.”
    “You was always busy when that youn’en sprung a leak.”
    “Seems to me I ‘member you handin‘ him to me and telling me to fix him.”
    “You’re gettin‘ old; havin‘ trouble rememberin‘ things is a sure sign.”
    “Ain’t as old as you!”
    “Hell you ain’t! Why you was already brandin‘ cows while I was still learnin‘ to ride.”
    “That’s cause you still don’t know how to ride!”
    “I can outride you any day of the week!” March smiled at the two men, enjoying their bickering banter. Only old friends who had spent years cultivating their friendship would feel able to argue as these two were doing, without worry of hurting feelings. She had never been in one spot long enough to develop that kind of relationship with someone.
    “Lookee here,” the old man who was standing pointed out to the other one. “You got this here girl laughing at you. Ain’t you ashamed?”
    “She ain’t laughin‘ at me, are you, girlie?”
    “My name is March,” she informed them. “And I’m not laughing at anyone.”
    “She polite, which is more than I can say ‘bout you.” The standing one ran his fingers through his thin gray hair. “I’m Hank and this here is Woods.”
    “Where’s the youn’en?” Woods asked again. March pulled the sling back enough for them to see the baby’s head, then readjusted it to assure that the sun didn’t touch his tender skin.
    “Why if’en that don’t beat all! Got him all snug and tight, and still got your hands free.”
    “Women just seem to know how to do those kinds of things with a youn’en. Guess it comes naturally.”
    Woods nodded in agreement. “Just like cookin‘, cleanin‘, and bickerin‘. Ain’t never known no woman that can go long without findin‘ somethin‘ to sink her teeth into.”
    “Or someone, more like.” Hank deposited another stream of tobacco juice in the dirt. “Women was born just to make man miserable.”
    ” ‘Cept for mamas,” Woods added. “My ma used to be the bestest cook this side of the Big Muddy. Ever’ year for my birthday, she used to make me a big pan of Spotted Dog, just for me, said I didn’t have to share unlessin‘ I was a wantin‘ to. Oowhee, I can still remember bitin‘ into it. Seemed to just melt in my mouth!”
    “Back when you had ‘nough teeth to bite into somethin‘. Now you’d just have to gum it to death.”
    “What’d your ma make you for your birthday?” Woods asked with a smirk.
    “Didn’t have no ma or birthdays, either. Man don’t need to be reminded that he’s gettin‘ older. I know that every mornin‘, when I wake up a half hour before my body’s of a mind to move!”
    “Only place it moves is from yore bed to that rockin‘ chair.”
    “Seems like I ‘member you still snorin‘ loud enough to shake a cactus, when I already had breakfast cookin‘ this mornin‘.”
    “I don’t snore! Why a body cain’t get no sleep around here for all the noise you make. If’en you ain’t snorin‘, yore snorting or talkin‘.”
    “I’ll see ya’ll later.” Shaking her head with amusement, March started to move off. They were getting ready for another round, and as entertaining as it was,