Author: Gail G.
Ratinig: G
"Well, let me think about this for a moment." My eldest son had
a
smirk on his face, and a beer in his hand.
I frowned at his cockiness. "A-dam."
A small grin crossed his face. "Now Pa, if you want my help, you're
going to have to let me think of a plan."
I sighed. I hate when my sons have the upper hand, but this time
Adam did. I needed his help desperately, and he knew it. Had he
been a bit younger, I would have reminded him what happens when he
plays games with his father. I can guarantee you one thing, he
would not have that victorious look on his face.
"Adam, please son, she will be here soon. And remind me to have
a `talk' with that youngest son of mine, when I get home. I can't
believe he sold tickets to raffle me off!" The more I thought about
it the madder I got.
"Well, let me see, Pa." Adam took a long sip of the foamy
beer. "Who did you say won the raffle?" He asked, trying to hold
back a grin.
I smacked the table with the palm of my hand, causing everyone in
the room to look at me. "You. . .you no darn well who won. You're
having too much fun at my expense, young man. Have you forgotten
who I am?"
"No. . .no sir, Pa."
"Good. I would think you'd remember who passes out the duties at
the ranch. Perhaps a month of cleaning stalls will help your brain
function better."
Adam's left eyebrow shot up. "Oh, now, Pa. . .I don't think that is
necessary. It's very simple really, you simply tell the
ummmm. . .young lady that you are not able to fulfill your
obligation, but you have a replacement for yourself."
"A replacement? And who do you suggest, you perhaps?"
Beer spewed across the table as my oldest spit and sputtered at the
ghastly idea of taking my place. "Me? No. . .no. . .no, Pa. I
think the one that held the raffle should be the escort. Would
serve him right, he knew better to do such a thing."
"Well, it may not have been so bad if Widow Hawkins hadn't bought
every single ticket! Why he started at her house is beyond me."
Adam's eyes shifted to the swinging doors. "Speak of the devil and
he shall appear."
I looked up. My youngest was wearing the biggest grin you've ever
seen. On his left arm was the one and only Widow
Hawkins. "Hi. . .hi. . .ya, Pa. I was just escorting Miss Hawkins
over here to see you. I think you heard about the ummm. . .raffle,
sir."
"Yes, indeed. We'll `talk' about that later, when you get home.
Right now, I have supplies to pick up."
"Supplies? But, Pa, Miss Hawkins won the raffle. I promised her a
evening, with a charming man."
I stood up and tipped my hat at Clementine. "I'm sorry for the
misunderstanding, but I'm not the charming man that Joseph promised
you."
She looked slightly surprised. "You're not? Tiny Tim. . .I mean,
Joseph told me that I would `ave a date with you, ducky."
"I'm sorry, truly I am. However, your escort for the evening will
be Tiny Ti. . .I mean, Joseph himself. He'll also refund all of
your money to you, since it was a misunderstanding."
Clementine thought about it for a few moments. She looked at me,
and then to my youngest son, who looked as if he was about to pass
out. "Hmmm. . .he will simply `ave to do. Come along, ducky, we
can `ave dinner at the International House. Afterwards, we'll go to
my house for the evening and I'll tell you all `bout me
husband `arry."
"Pa?" Joe's voice squeaked as Clementine tugged his arm.
I simply smiled. "Have a wonderful evening, Joseph. Don't forget,
we will be having a very `necessary' talk when you get home
tonight."
With those words, Clementine gave Joe one last yank through the
doors and the happy couple were on their way.
Adam had watched the whole scene in complete amazement. "Pa? Are
you really gonna have a `talk' with Joe when he gets home? I mean,
isn't having to spend an evening with Miss Hawkins punishment
enough?"
I glared at my son for a moment. "NO! It's not! Come on,
Adam. . .we have supplies to pick up."
"Yes, ducky."
"What was that?" I snapped.
"Oh, nothing, Pa. I didn't say a word." Adam put his glass on
the
table, and we headed out the door.
When we passed the International House, Joe and Clementine were
sitting in the front window enjoying their dinner.
Well, I know Clementine was. Joe looked more like a mouse caught in
a trap, or as Adam said, a roasted duck on a platter.
The End