Resilient. By God, his little cousin was indeed resilient and Scott would argue the point with any man who claimed otherwise. Kinsey weathered most storms with timely recovery. Her latest one with his father qualified as a quick rebound. The subdued little lady he dined with last evening had returned to her animated, cheerful self by morning. Seated next to Murdoch as he steered their surrey home, she chatted away.
Scott adjusted his hat to shade his eyes from the sun. Despite limited leg room, the methodical clip-clop of horse hooves, mixed with San Joaquin’s warm breeze, lulled him into a state of satisfying relaxation. Crossing his arms, he settled in between their few pieces of luggage - half listening to the conversation filtering back.
“Yes, I know Bradstreet’s work. Scott’s mother enjoyed her writings very much.”
The corners of Scott’s mouth dipped with a shake of the head. She did? How was it, like so many other times, he learned more about his mother from second-hand discussions instead of meaningful conversations with the man seated in front of him? Your mother read Anne Bradstreet. Common knowledge, son. Where were you? Scott let out a heavy sigh. I was in Boston - waiting for my father. Before his current thoughts took hold to ruin the day, Kinsey’s next statement came to the rescue.
“Sir, I’d like to review my list of chores, if possible. There are a few items I need clarification on. You don’t mind, do you?”
Well, now - this was more like it. Scott straightened up. There were many aspects of his cousin’s personality he identified with their Garrett heritage - her thirst for adventure, her strong will and her mule-headed stubbornness to name a few. But in the art of negotiating - the ancestors responsible for that attribute were Harlan and Fletcher Garrett. Negotiation. It had made the brothers successful businessmen and, someday, would make Kinsey a fine businesswoman.
Murdoch cleared his throat. “I think the list I provided is quite clear, young lady.”
“Oh yes. You were very direct in your requests.” Kinsey opened her handbag, removed a piece of paper and carefully unfolded it.
Ah, chores were now being referred to as requests. Scott gazed up at the bright blue sky. Anticipating his cousin’s next word, he silently mouthed it with her.
“However -”
A snicker escaped as Scott grinned.
“Everything all right back there, son? ” Murdoch didn’t turn around.
“Yes, sir. Couldn’t be better.”
Kinsey ignored the interruption. “However, I have questions and concerns. Please forgive me - it won’t take long - with your permission, of course.”
Murdoch nodded. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“Number one. Painting the chicken coop.” A slight pause for dramatic effect.
“Correct?”
A red flag rose with Kinsey’s need for confirmation of a simply stated task. Something was afoot but her strategy eluded Scott.
It appeared his father also detected a ploy. “Is that what I wrote, Kinsey?”
“Yes - to the letter.”
“Then that is what I meant - to the letter.” Murdoch shifted in his seat.
“My concern is the rooster.” Kinsey’s voice reflected disbelief. “The bloody bird hates me.”
The bloody bird hated everyone, in Scott’s opinion. The damn thing should roost in Hades.
“Could Jelly relocate the bird each morning? It would put my mind at ease.”
The patriarch slowly nodded in agreement. “I see no reason why Jelly couldn’t assist you.”
“Of course, he should return the rooster each afternoon.” Kinsey added her reasoning. “We wouldn’t want the chick production reduced.”
Scott coughed to mask his laugh.
“Too much dust, son?”
“No, sir.” Scott recrossed his ankle to knee. “Just the right amount.”
With a side glance, Kinsey’s attention briefly focused on her backseat companion. “Number two.” A return to the list. “Polishing the silver. This would be the tea sets and serving dishes?”
“Yes.” His father rubbed the back of his neck.
“How many tea services are there?”
A moment was needed for calculations. “There are four...no wait - five.” Murdoch teetered on the edge of a rabbit hole.
“Fiiiiiiive.” Kinsey retrieved a pencil from her handbag to take notes. “Does the silver include knives, forks and spoons?”
“Young lady.” The disciplinarian stepped back before toppling headfirst down the hole. “If it’s silver, you’ll be polishing it.”
“Very good. Number three-”
The surrey came to a halt. “Kinsey, do your questions and concerns cover every single task on that list?”
“Let’s see…” A thorough visual review was given to the recorded chores. “Yes. I’m afraid so. Is there a problem?”
Murdoch peered over his shoulder to make eye contact with his son. Scott rewarded him with a broad grin of epic proportion which relayed the unspoken words - see what I’ve been dealing with?
Facing forward with a grunt, the decision was made. “No problem. Go ahead.” A slap of the reins and their journey home continued.
*******
The little negotiator managed the deletion of two requests from her list by the time they passed under the stucco archway and traveled up the road to the hacienda. A fine outing with the tune caller - better than he or Johnny would have fared.
Maria was the first of the welcoming committee to reach his cousin after Scott assisted the wayward family member down from the surrey. The Lancer Mother Hen ricocheted fast, furious Spanish off the courtyard walls, highlighted by her gestures of prayers to the heavens. Her wagging finger took turns with smothering hugs. Not knowing what else to do, Kinsey repeated sí over and over - hoping for salvation. A quick swat to the runaway’s behind followed by a kiss on the forehead signaled the end of the reprimand. All the Lancer children had fallen victim to Maria’s temper. Scott smiled as he witnessed his little cousin’s initiation.
Teresa was more forgiving with a cluck of the tongue, a shake of the head and a warm embrace. A low whispered discussion between the two young ladies suggested the scheduling of a late night gossip session.
“Decided to come back home, did ya? Ain’t that mighty kind.”
Rolling his eyes, Scott exhaled slowly. Jelly. The man never missed an opportunity to voice his opinion - whether it was asked for didn’t matter. Why would now be any different? Holding his tongue, Scott unloaded their bags.
“Got into a little snit and just took off. Never once thought of the worry ya caused around here. People sick to their death with worry. Oughta nail yer backside to that barn door right over there. Teach ya a lesson not soon forgotten. That’s what needs to be done if ya ask me.”
Nobody’s asking, Jelly. Aware his cousin’s patience with the hired hand matched his own, Scott scrutinized Kinsey’s posture for signs of growing tension. Remember what I told you, little girl. Pick your battles - and this man isn’t one.
“Jelly, I am so sorry.” The sincerity reflected in Kinsey’s voice raised more than one eyebrow. “My actions were thoughtless and self-centered. I don’t expect your forgiveness nor do I deserve it. I only hope we can someday be friends again.”
“Well…” Kinsey’s apology took the wind out of the blustering curmudgeon’s sails. “All right then. That’s better. I best be gettin’ back to the work that’s waitin’.”
Scott was blessed with a half-smile from his cousin that the Mona Lisa would envy. Yes, Freckles, it is easy to be humble knowing your adversary will be soon chasing the rooster from hell. Although he was uncertain if Kinsey’s last laugh on Jelly deflected the upcoming confrontation or her awareness of the real battle currently leaning against a stucco wall.
Johnny’s narrowed eyes zeroed in on Kinsey the moment she arrived and his focus remained unaverted during her welcome home. The dour expression on his younger brother’s face indicated the brewing storm started the day she’d left Johnny in the dust at the Stockton train station. An onlooker might view Johnny’s casual stance with crossed arms as relaxed patience - waiting for others to finish their greetings before offering his own kind words of worry and relief. Scott knew better.
When she reached down for her travel bag, Scott grabbed his cousin’s hand. “Wait. I’ll take it up to your room.”
“Don’t be silly, Scott.” With her free hand, she took hold of the luggage handle. “I can manage just fine.”
Johnny remained unmoving and unavoidable if Kinsey entered through the main door of the hacienda. Not releasing her hand, Scott offered counseling. “Take the kitchen entrance.”
“Don’t be silly, Scott.” Her brown eyes flashed with serious determination. “I can manage. Let go.”
Releasing her hand he admitted it was time to let go. She’d picked her battle.
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