Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch

INTRODUCTION

Probably the least successful of all dude ranches in America has been Sarah McKenzie's Dude Ranch on Lake Knead Island in Kansas. It's had four initiated foreclosures on it in the past seven years and in the tradition of singer Loretta Lynn's dad, Sarah's dad who was a resident in a nursing home, always managed to find the money from somewhere to pay off the bankers. Unfortunately daddy died last year.

The problem with Sarah's ranch was deep-seated. She didn't farm cattle because most dude ranches run cattle or horses or both and Sarah saw no challenge is taking her share of city folk prepared to be fleeced of big bucks to go on a two-mile cattle drive, chocking in dust and being splattered by cow shit and spit and return from vacation with the 'trophies'' of insect bites and a broken arm and lie about being rodeo star on the cattle drive and being offered same-sex sex.

Sarah switched the goats but a religious sect rustled them off and they were uninsured, so another ranch finance crisis for daddy to come to the rescue just a few days before the foreclosure auction. Sarah thought she'd go in for sphagnum moss and convert the property into a dude ranch for floral art lovers but unfortunately that very first summer was an extra long drought and the peat patches dried to dust. And so a few months later it was daddy to the rescue again, this time only two days before the foreclosure action.

The next brain wave was to fatten pigs, 400 of them, but they all went down with some kind of disease that forced Department of Ag to quarantine the island and the smell of roast pig wafted through six counties for two weeks while the pigs were slaughtered and the carcasses were burnt. Sarah lost big on that project and swore she'd never again eat pork.

She bounced back opting for sheep but a coyote gang from Lister Creek Ravine on the mainland swam across one summer's night and decimated a big slice of the flock. Sarah raced out with a shotgun and managed to kill one coyote and put an ounce of buckshot into the ass of her farmhand who left in a fit of pique and a very sore ass after repairs but a big fat check in compensation. She sold off the remainder of the sheep and actually made a profit.

Sarah took out a new bank loan and is now preparing to restock with a flock, er herd, of llamas because she'd been at a bar drunk in remorse over the loss of her sheep where a drunken old timer taking her up to his room told her coyotes were shit-scared of llamies, er llamas.

*

CHAPTER 1

Harry Titter swam the 600 yards to the ranch and drying him off Sarah asked why didn't he hire a rowboat to cross from the mainland. Harry said he couldn't because he was broke. He'd had a few beers the previous night and negotiated a half hour with a hooker for seven bucks. She sent him into the bathroom to wash his dick before he touched her but she then disappeared with his money belt from her rented room, robbing him of the $700 he was carrying, his life savings.

"Seven bucks was a miserable offer for thirty minutes. Even I wouldn't do it for that."

"How much would you charge Mrs McKenzie?"

"Shut your wicked mouth young man. I was just speaking hypothetically."

"Is that a higher class of fuck?"

"Jesus Harry shut your mouth or I'll close it for you with the skillet."

"Yes ma'am."

Sarah asked Harry about his ranching experience and said he'd done horses and cattle and sheep but stayed clear of swine, now adding a hooker called Melanie as a new species of Sus domestica.

"What about llamas?"

"What about them?"

"I'm talking about South American camelids."

"Oh what the tourists ride in Egypt for have their pictures taken beside a Spink?"

"Sphinx. A little like that," Sarah sighed.

"Oh I know, the cute thinks with long necks and sweet, trusting eyes that turn theatrical when you down them with a bullet."

"I wouldn't know. I don't murder animals. I let the meat works do that. Do you think you could help me farm llamies, er llamas?"

"Sure Mrs McKenzie. Were you thinking of forty-five bucks an hour?"

"What have you been smoking boy?"

"Nothing."

"I pay twelve hundred a month including food and you sleep in my house but if you want someone sleeping with you git out to the barn."

"Hmmm. I'll have to think about that."

Sarah hauled down her shotgun.

"Boy you go dress in your wet clothes and swim back to the mainland."

"Um twelve hundred a month is fine with me Mrs McKenzie."

"Well welcome to Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch boy. Work a couple of days and I'll give you money in advance to pay for a pair of decent boots. Call me Sarah."

"Yes ma'am."

Sarah lifted the twin barrels to point at his chest.

"Yes Sarah. Went do we eat?"

"We'll get you clothes dry first. I'm not having a guy in my kitchen wrapped only in a blanket. How old are you Harry?"

"Twenty-seven. And you?"

She looked at him malevolently.

"I asked you a simple question Sarah."

"Sixty-six."

"Oh, old enough to be my oldest sister."

She smiled, revealing three missing teeth, and hung up the shotgun.

After clearing away dinner the rotund Sarah came into the living room and saw the new guy nursing Goldie, one of her eight cats.

"What are you doing with my cat?"

"Nothing suspicious. I just like a bit of pussy around me, that's all."

"Boy I'm keeping my eye on you. I've always said nobody from Colorado can be trusted."

"I'm from Wyoming."

"Or did I mean Wyoming?"

Sarah's middle daughter Fiona called that evening and was hugely worried when her mom said she'd hired a young guy who wasn't like the usual piece of shit she usually hired. He was fit, well-built and was only a week away from being born handsome and had farmed horses and cattle and like to have a bit of pussy close by.

She said with pride, "Goldie's taken to him."

"Mom the guy's a pervert?"

"Well you'd be in the position to judge dear after some of the creeps you have cohabited with. Anyways, who says a pervert can't manage Llamies, I mean llamas?"

"What are they?"

"Probable a distant member of the Ostrich family."

"Omigod mom, you're into farming Ostriches now?"

"What are you smoking darling?"

"Mom, you eccentric woman. I'll be there tomorrow to boot that weirdo off your ranch."

"He could drown darling. I'm on an island, remember?"

"Christ mom, why can't you be like anyone else's mom and spend whole days at the hairdressers, have hopelessly degrading affairs, abuse your children and giving money to the church?"

"Because that life would be repugnant to me darling. Go bury your head and come up smiling."

Sarah yelled, "Where are you Harry?"

"About to step into the shower. Want to come scrub my back."

"No I always fell pregnant when I succumbed to that offer."

"How many kids do you have?"

"Well talk about it later. I want to call my livestock agent."

The agent was unable to say how long would it take to procure 500 llamas but it was unlikely he could fill that order any time soon. It could take several months as they were only four times as abundant as hen's teeth. He laughed as his own joke.

He called back an hour later and said he had sourced twenty-four suri llamas, the smooth-coated type, and could have them delivered ready for barging over on Saturday. They were priced at $750 each but if Sarah took the lot the seller would let her have them for $600 each.

"At $600 you could make good money on them Sarah if you breed them successfully. None of them are registered purebreds. The herd comprises five adult males, thirteen adult females and six cria that are now weaned juveniles. The other juveniles were sold. My recommendation is you take them, settle them in and then get me to stock you up with yearling beef cattle. You can't operate a dude ranch without cattle and cow boy hats Sarah."

"Well okay Andy, let's do that. I have the funding available."

Sarah was pleased about that transaction but thought the llam... llamas must have gold feet to be costing that much but the agent said that was the going price because breeders sold them in small numbers to hobbyists who were generally well cashed up. Where the price was going Andy didn't say. Through the roof with suckers like her buying them, perhaps?

"You were asking me about my daughters," Sarah said, handing Harry a cup of coffee and she then sat on his bed.

"Yeah but first where's your husband?"

"Somewhere in Scotland. He returned there fifteen years ago on vacation and now lives there, unmarried, with four more kids but they came after he'd divorced me."

"What was he on after abandoning a real character like you Sarah?"

"Hormones. He could never resist chasing a bit of skirt. I refused to return to Scotland. The Scots make the place so boring."

"So you have three daughters."

"Yeah my eldest Doreen is forty-four and a grandmother and lives in Texas. My youngest Sophia is still to marry and is twenty-seven. She could be a good match for you. Then my middle one is a redhead, Fiona, a real troublemaker. She's thirty-six and has been married five times: one husband was killed in Iran, another was shot dead by an irate husband, another died of over-exertion in bed... he had to be lifted off her... and the other two were straightforward divorces, the bastards in quitting their marriage, claiming my lovely daughter was a shrew."

"Was she?"

"The truth is never far distanced from disparaging claims."

"Ah what mother could admit her daughter was a shrew?"

"She's arriving tomorrow to check you out. I've always hired misfits that pose no threat of sexual impropriety according to Fiona but she can't believe I have hired an able-bodied guy like you and I must have done that for only one reason she claims. She'll throw you off the island if her alarm bells ring."

"And how would she do that?"

"My shotgun stuck up your butt would be one way but never fear, Fiona is very resourceful. She was rather handy with dynamite in her wild younger says."

"Well you go off for your beauty sleep Sarah but don't expected it to work. Swimming that late with my clothes on took a lot out of me and me not knowing when a crocodile would sample my butt."

"You fool those warning notices are fake to deter day trippers crossing to the island. There ain't no crocodiles in Kansas but Washington D.C., New York and Dallas are sure over-run with them."

Sarah ruffled his hair, testing that he had plenty of it, and kissed him goodnight.

"Oh Harry there is something you ought to know. This 400-acre island is on the largest private lake in Kansas and through my inherited ownership I am custodian of the small woodland over to the east between pastures 11 and 12 in which there is a small colony of ivory-billed woodpecker (Campephilus principalis) that the federal authorities are hoping will breed. That's why USA Government notices warn of no unauthorized entry on to the lake or island, another notice you ignored."

"That woodpecker was thought to be extinct until fairly recently. The Government will be engaged in this to win support for spending on protecting endangered species?"

"Can you keep a secret Harry?"

"Yes."

"One of my cats was a champion huntress. In the past three months she brought back for me two of the little fuckers, dead of course."

"Christ Sarah that could represent the entire breeding colony."

"I know but I'm not permitted to go into those woods to check. Well I did tell all my cats not to hunt in that neck of the woods."

Harry grinned.

He lost his grin when Sarah sniffed she had to execute that cat for gross disobedience. She gave it both barrels up the ass as close range. There wasn't a great deal left to bury.

Next morning Harry was up at 5:00 to do something he thought needed doing. He dug through the crap piled high in the barn and found an air-pressure paint sprayer. He de-rusted moving parts and cleaned it thoroughly, found a big drum of white paint that required resuscitation and attached the equipment to the tractor.

Harry then drove down and sprayed the white guard rails down at the passenger jetty and the all-weather passenger shelter and then painted all the fence posts back to the nearby homestead perched grandly on the point. Unfortunately the homestead was partly collapsed with weeds growing through that deceased section and so that rather ruined the picture. Likewise the livestock and freight handing facility beside the jetty looked to need rebuilding and it was likely the connecting amenities on the mainland edge of the lake would be well overdue for maintenance. Harry sprayed some paint around and the on-island freight and stock facility looked less of a wreck.

Sarah belted the gong with a fencing hammer to call him for breakfast at 9:00.

Harry kissed her good morning and grumbled, why not serve breakfast at 7:00?

He smiled and said because she liked her breakfast at 9:00. Such argument was difficult to contest.

"I've seen what you've been doing down there?"

Harry felt his chest puff out as he waited for the praise.

"Before you do anything around here you asked me. Do you understand?"

"Right."

"Good. Then after you've cleared the breakfast dishes away I want you to return and remove all that new paint."

The hairs at the back of Harry's neck rose, his top lip curled back and his fingers made twitching movements and closed to the size of someone's throat.

Then Sarah winked at him. Harry felt the anger flush out of him and he grinned and told Sarah she was such a fucking tease.

She grinned and said there was a faint chance she might get to like him.

Sarah stood and tousled his blonde hair exactly as his remarried mom used to do and went and fetched the coffee pot. Harry knew he'd fallen for her, um in the sense of a surrogate mother. Well someone had to be responsible for her.

When Harry had finished washing the dishes and leaving them to drain he found Sarah lacing up her boots, with a jacket beside her and she'd changed out of her nightdress into jeans and a tight top.

"Don't you wear a bra?"

"Only to go to weddings or funerals or a citizens meeting or mayoral reception. Any objections?"

"No I've seen tits flopping worse than that in a home for the criminally insane."

"Jesus," she snorted and stomped off back inside. She returned wearing a bra or at least holding them up with something.

"We are going across to the village. You'll need a jacket in case the wind gets up on the water."

Harry hadn't seen a boat but guessed she had one under a rock or something. He followed Sarah back to the smaller shed attached to the barn and she opened the doors and he saw a speedy looking boat on wheels on legs.

"I'll get the tractor."

"No need to," Sarah said. "This critter is amphibious."

They climbed up and were seated high as Sarah warmed up the motor and then they trundled down the driveway and entered the water at the freight and livestock ramps and were off.

"God this must have cost you a fortune?"

"It belongs to the Federal Government. I requested it in return for keeping quiet about my colony of woodpeckers."

"Your woodpeckers?"

"Yes I argued there are certain rights that go with island ownership, er and obligations, and I'd fight them all the way to the Supreme Court if I were told they were not my birds. That scared the crap out of them knowing the existence of the birds would get out and the media people would stampede here. So this little baby was delivered to me two days later. Part of the deal is they send a crew down here to maintain it."

"Oh well done. What do you call this craft?"

"Little Baby."

"Oh I wonder why I didn't think that would be so?"

"Because there's no mothering in a man, that's why."

"Okay I accept that. But how do you know I'm not here on some dastardly mission to kidnap your colony of woodpeckers?"

"Because Goldie told me. Don't you remember her staring at you and you staring back?"

"God yes. It was eerie. But she can't possibly have told you I was clean?"

"You just believe what you have to Harry."

"And?"

"That's all I'm saying except you know shit all about cats."

In the village they walked along Main St. Harry noticed he was ignored but everyone greeted Sarah by name, even the kids, and she called them all by name. They had passed perhaps forty people going about their business with only a few loitering.

They went down a side street and through a gateless picket fence to the front door. Sarah pushed opened the door and they walked down the passage and entered the kitchen. A red-faced guy with a beer belly and weighing perhaps 160 came barging at Sarah and gesticulating.

"Get out of my home Sarah. You're trespassing."

"Shut up Billy and out of my way. You know why I'm here. Let me at your bitch."

Billie thumped Sarah hard on the shoulder with his palm and before Harry could react Sarah calmly swiped Billie over the face. His glasses went flying, blood spurted and he reeled and collapsed on to the table groaning.

Sarah stepped forward two places and pulled the woman from her chair who screamed, "Don't kill me Sarah."

Harry was amazed when recognizing the hooker who stole his money. Sarah even called her Melanie.

"Where is it you bitch?"

"Over there behind the pots Sarah. We haven't spent any of it yet. There's $720 plus his driver license and some papers and Social Security card and an old photo of his family."

"Get it for me."

Melanie returned with the money belt. Sarah told Billy to go over to the kitchen bench and wash the blood away.

"There's no need to count the money Harry. Melanie knows not to lie to me. Count out seventy-five bucks for her and don't you dare ever negotiate to use the services of a profession woman again offering less than seventy-five bucks. No woman deserves such contempt.

"Return Harry the seven bucks he paid you Melanie."

"Does it have to be the money he gave me?"

"No any seven bucks will do."

Harry said no it was fine. Melanie could have that as a tip.

"For what, for stealing your money? Hand it to him Melanie and apologize."

She apologized and did something that represented a curtsy.

"Melanie if you ever steal from a client again you'll never work as a prostitute in this village again. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sarah and I shall confess at church on Sunday."

"Good girl and keep yourself clean. And clean up this kitchen, it's a mess. Goodbye."

As soon as that were clear of the house Harry said, "Jesus, who are you Sarah, Wonder Woman?"

She laughed and said to accompany her to her bank and open an account. "You will be pleased to have your ID back. I'll need your Social Security number when I register you as my farm worker."

Harry asked how did she get dude ranch guests over from the mainland.

"The council keeps a big launch here at the village dock to used on lake inspections and the County keeps a barge there for maintenance of the lake foreshore along the village frontage and two bridges at the entrance and exit of the lake. I charter the barge to transport my livestock and I charter the launch to bring guests across with all their provisions because they have to bring in their food but they have a fully equipped cookhouse over the hill beyond us where there are ten family cabins. But the most guests I've ever had have been eight people because we don't have horses and cattle drives and I've been told folk stay away because we don't charge enough but I guess that's how American economics work."

"Sure does. I worked for my daddy during all breaks when I went through college..."

"You went to college? But I thought you were a dummy like me?"

"Well basically an education doesn't change how you look or how you talk unless you wish to show off."

"Ah so that's why you quoted me Sus domestica'?"