Mrs McKenzie's Dude Ranch

"Yeah I went to college in Iowa where I lived on a ranch with my aunt and uncle after mom ran off with a guy and dad died of a broken heart."

"You'll not fawn sympathy from me talking weepy stuff like that."

"I know and that's why I like you Sarah. You are so machine-like, not at all like a woman."

Sarah looked shocked, that is until he winked. She smiled at him but ground her teeth.

"Why may as well have a couple of beers and wait for Fiona. That will save a second trip."

"She's leaving it late if she wishes to return home."

"She's only here to kick you off the island."

"Oh yeah?"

"I suggest you pop over a buy some condoms. My thinking when she sees you Fiona will decide to stay a couple of nights to check out your work-rate."

"You have to be joking?"

"No but by work-rate I mean how well do you work on the ranch."

"Oh yes, there was no other work-rate she could assess."

"If you say so," Sarah said dryly.

They were finished their second beer when they heard an explosion of noise.

"Where the hell can I find a boat if as you say there are no boats for hire?"

"Calm down lady. We are a peaceful village here and that's a private lake, no unauthorized boat trips allowed."

"Listen you weasel, do you want your sunglasses mashed into your face."

Sarah grinned. "Sounds like my Fiona has arrived. Some women are ever so suited to red hair. Come on, let's go and save the deputy-Sheriff calling for reinforcements."

Fiona was a flaming beauty, really flaming. She was pushing forward as fast as the deputy Sheriff was stepping backwards. He reached for his gun and Fiona smacked his hand away and he cried, "That's assault on an officer of the law."

Sarah emitted a piercing whistle.

Fiona's flame went out and the cop straightened his back and returned his smile.

"Hi Sarah," he called, adding have a nice day and walked off.

"Oh hi mom," Fiona said, staring at the guy beside her mom. "Is this him?"

"Yes dear but where are your manners? Harry this is my middle daughter Fiona McKenzie or whoever she is calling herself these days. Fiona this is my new farm hand Harry Titter who comes of Wyoming via Idaho and he went to college in Idaho.

"You went to college like hell."

"No it actually was a good college, nothing like hell."

"That's bullshit."

"Please yourself."

"Mom told me on the phone your parents split and after your father died you went and lived with an aunt and uncle who scraped a living on a farm."

"That's correct, in Idaho, and they had to find some money but I gained admission on a golf scholarship."

Fiona snorted. "Golf, you. You don't look like a golfer. This is so totally bullshit."

Harry said patiently, "What does a golfer look like Fiona? You don't look anything like a rude, bullying bitch but you are because I've heard you and seen you in action. You haven't seen me play golf or taken the opportunity to assess my knowledge and ability to teach business and marketing education at secondary level."

Sarah barked, "Fiona you have been challenged and he's more or less called you a bitch. The way you are behaving is simply reinforcing his belief. Work this out in your mind in a mature and dignified manner. I believe Harry is what he says he is, although it's a surprise to me, and I will continue to believe him until my belief in him is upset by fact. Let's go. We are making quite a scene here."

As they took off in the boat, talking loudly above the noise of the motor, Fiona said, "It's not necessary to believe your claims anyway Harry. I'm sorry for being rude to you, for trying to bully you and being such a bitch."

"Thank you Fiona. Without attempting to be smart I must say I admire you energy and focus. If you played golf and could harness both attributes you could become a pretty good golfer."

"I am already. I play off a three handicap."

"I believe you."

"You don't. I heard it in your voice."

Harry said, "I'll continue to believe you are on a three handicap Fiona until my belief in you is upset by contrary evidence."

"Mom tell him I'm the senior woman's champion at my club and have been so for nine years."

"I'm staying out of this Fiona. It's so petty. Listen to what Harry says to you rather than dwell on what you think he means."

When they landed Fiona and Harry climbed out of the boat to ease the strain on it taking itself up the hill with Sarah at the controls.

"I'll take your overnight bag Fiona."

"No way."

"Please."

She hesitated and then handed it across.

"Come up to the barn you two," Sarah said above the noise of the motor.

"I like all this painting mom. Did you have a gang over to do it?"

"No Harry did it all this morning before breakfast."

"That's bullshit," Fiona snorted and her mom just waved.

Up at the barn Sarah produced her golf clubs.

"I suggest you two use these to sort out your dispute."

"Not is not fair mom, these are women's clubs."

"That's very sporting of you Fiona but if Harry is any good he'll be able to still hit well with them. Do you wish to show Fiona up Harry?"

"This won't prove anything to Fiona because her mind is made up. Anyway it's childish."

Fiona pushed her hair back, an action that made Harry look at her tits.

She caught him looking and smiled faintly.

"Harry are you willing to bet you can hit thirty yards or farther than me with just one shot each?"

"Make that fifty yards."

Fiona grinned. "You be the judge mom. The bet is we hit towards the woolshed, which is 250 to 280 yards away. If Harry can't hit more than fifty yards more than me then I decide whether he stays on this island."

"No that's not fair," Sarah said. "I have the feeling Harry will be the best guy I've ever had working for me on this island. I can't let him go, I just can't."

"Don't worry Sarah. If I lose the drive competition there is still Fiona's fair-minded decision-making to get me off the hook."

"Fair-minded? You mean Fiona? Oh god!"

"Thanks mom," grinned the adult brat.

Sarah loosened up by stretching and then did more than twenty practice swings before she was ready to go. She placed the ball on the tee, pulled her mom's driver with the extra large head and then smoothly and powerfully hit the ball straight and true. It stopped about thirty yards from the woolshed.

"Wow, great drive baby," Harry said.

He looked up to see both women looking at them with their mouths open.

"What? It was a great shot. Can't a guy express appreciation?"

Fiona said, "You called me baby um affectionately."

"Any female who can hit drives like that Fiona deserves a full accolade. Just accept it."

"Yes Harry and thank you."

Sarah stared at her daughter with a funny look.

Harry took the driver from Fiona and tickled under her chin with a finger on his other hand.

Sarah appeared to be holding her breath, as if expecting to see her daughter cut loose. Instead Fiona just smiled at him.

Harry put a ball on the tee after pulling the tee up higher than Fiona had set it. He whooshed three practice shots through the air to get the feel of the extra flexibility of the women's club with its shorter shaft, stood over the ball, aimed, turned into a tight curl and then let it rip.

They watched the rapid arch of the ball in flight. It hit the woolshed roof and then bounced back towards them to finish closer to them than where Fiona's ball was at rest.

"Damn it needed to go over the roof to be the clear winner," he said.

"I agree," Fiona said, grinning at her mom.

Sarah stood still and expressionless.

"I declare Harry stays on the island. Mom can he sleep with me tonight?"

The elated Sarah shouted yes, that's if Harry wanted to do that. Sleeping habits on the island were not subject to the control of management.

Back at the house Fiona opened a bottle of sparking wine and handed Harry the beer he'd requested. A happy afternoon was underway.

At dinner Sarah asked, "Will you sleep with Fiona?"

Harry hesitated and asked, "Are you married Fiona?"

"I have been, several times, but am not married at present. I'm in a relationship but it is rather casual. Sometimes he goes home to his wife."

"The answer is yes, Sarah. I'm accepting your daughter's invitation to sleep with her."

Just after 10:00 Sarah kissed them both and left carrying a torch.

"Where's Sarah going?"

"Mom told me she'd sleep in the woolshed to allow us to have a fair go. There's a couple of beds over there in the loft."

"Good old mom."

She smiled. "Yes good old mom. You like her don't you?"

"She's a real character Fiona, the best I've ever met. She can be my surrogate mom any time soon."

"I'll tell her."

"Please don't. If the thought occurs to her she'll do something about it. I'd like it to happen like that, solid like."

"God Harry, I do hope Sophia gets to meet you. You could be everything she wishes to find in a man."

"You've had too much to drink and are now hallucinating. It's time I was giving attention to your tits."

CHAPTER 2

Fiona had horsepower to spare but it was the first time in years she'd had a guy with the strength and staying power to do leave her sated. She finished exhausted, covered in sweat and other drying liquids and feeling elated rather than vanquished because she knew this was how it was meant to be. Anyway after seeing Harry unwind that golf drive she'd been half-expecting him to unwound his brute power over her nude body.

She saw Harry looking at her tiredly as she slowly lifted and swung out of bed. Fuck he looked ready to have another crack at it if she'd given him the nod.

Jesus.

She waddled to the bathroom, most of her muscles and sinews over-due for energy-fuelling relief, her vulva feeling squashed and the entrance to her vagina giving the impression it was a couple of sizes wider that at the start of the evening.

Fiona McKenzie again conceded to herself she was well and truly fucked. Perhaps it had been her Highland ancestry pushing her go over the top, to test her warrior attributes, or perhaps it was just a personal desire to be finally over come. Bathed in cum actually. Whatever, she now knew she did have a physical limit to sex and now could perhaps ease back and even try to become pregnant and visit a school to be with her kid on parent's day like other mothers and yes, is she chose carefully, there could be a good chance the kid's father would be there alongside her.

She waddled back to bed on near-buckling knees thinking this was the first day of a new stage in her life and with relief saw that Harry was deeply asleep.

Throughout next morning after breakfast Sarah watched the tired couple closely. They touched occasionally and even squeezed butt a couple of times but she was relieved to see no sign, at least no sign she recognized, of deep affection and that pleased her.

Early afternoon the following day as Sarah and Harry returned from dropping Fiona off at her car in the village to make her 140-mile journey home, Sarah watched Harry lock the boatshed doors and she said, "I'm going up Ugly Hill to make a long distance call. Phone reception is clearer up there."

"Right I'll go and repair fences. Those llamas arrive Saturday."

Sitting on a rock that protruded alone on the roundish hill, with the bulk of it buried and possibly a relic of the Pleistocene Epoch (Ice Age), Sarah called a number in Kent, England.

"Hi Sophia."

"Oh hi mom, is everything okay? You usually call on the last Sunday of the month."

"I've had Sarah staying with me two nights and now she'd returned home. That's made me think. She lives 150 miles from me, Doreen is the best part of 600 miles from me and you perhaps 3500 miles from me and I haven't seen you for nigh on two years."

"Oh poor mommy. Look I've been thinking of shifting to Canada to write my next girly novel. This is England done so perhaps I could relocate in Kansas again. That first novel I wrote when living with you feeding me money remains my best-seller and that's rather disappointing. I'm close to wrapping up here and so give me a month to think about it."

""Let me know as soon as you decide darling. Please let me have a few words with Lily if she's there."

"Yes she's watching the end of the evening news. Mom don't say anything but Aunt Lily has a gentleman caller."

"Oh that's interesting."

"Hi Lily," Sarah said to her younger stepsister. "Sophia tells me the gamekeeper's son is sniffing around your panties?"

* * *

On Thursday and Friday Sarah and Harry went on vacation for two nights. They took her red Ford F150 out of a garage she rented across the road from the lake and garaged the boat. She watched Harry's eyes light up as he ran a hand over the faded paint of the pickup and she smiled and said, "Harry I have a headache. Please take the wheel."

"What are you having a period?"

Sarah cackled and shook her head and then wondered perhaps she was laying an egg with all that cackling.

They stayed away one night, sharing a twin-bedroom at a motel, and visited three llamas breeders and learned as much as they could about the gentle creatures that would be arriving on Saturday. Initially the ranchers were concerned that Sarah was starting off from scratch with a herd of twenty-four but relaxed when they found she and Harry had both had experienced farming sheep.

"Can you shear sheep boy?" an elderly rancher asked and Harry nodded.

Sarah gaped at her farm hand.

When they returned to the village they went into the general store and Sarah introduced Harry to old Fred Watkins who'd been several classes ahead of Sarah at grade school.

"Fred take my man into the gunroom and let him choose what he wants."

"What's wrong with the 30-20 I sold you for your farm hand 20-year ago?"

"Twenty seven years ago actually. The successive bastards let the barrel rust and carved the stock. Harry's father never gave him a gun and so I'm doing this little thing for him."

Harry froze in shock but fortunately Harry pulled out a big key and stroke off to the adult male toy shop and Harry trotted after him. They were back within five minutes.

"Christ it's great to deal with a male and a male who knows what he wants," Fred sniffed. "Makes retailing satisfying when that happens."

Harry was still down beside the locked door examining his new possession. As Fred was ringing up the cost of the rifle and two boxes of ammo Sarah asked what had her man selected?

"The kid made a beeline for it, the last one I have left as they are no longer made. Christ Sarah, you ought to have seen the look on his face."

She sniffed, "Well he's probably been wishing for it since he was sixteen."

"He told me since he was seven-year," Fred almost whispered and he hurried round the counter to comfort Sarah who'd burst into tears.

She burst into tears again when Harry came up with the rifle cradled in both arms and, eyes shining, said to Sarah reverently, "It's a Model 94 lever action Winchester.'

It was as if he'd found a Dead Sea Scroll in perfect condition.

"Are you all right Sarah?"

"Yes son. I kinda think Sarah's decided you are more than a farm hand, if you know what mean."

"No," Harry lied and winked at Sarah.

"Oh my mistake," Fred said. "You probably already have a mother. It's just like I've never seen Sarah scatty like this since Doreen the fool married that Texan rancher 20-year ago."

"Twenty-seven," Sarah sighed. ""By golly Harry that's a might fine looking piece of hardware."

"I know why you're doing this Sarah and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Here Fred, hold my rifle while I kiss my heroine."

"My God," Fred sniffed, "I feel I've been caught up in an old-time Western movie."

They all laughed.

* * *

Sarah steered the motorized barge down to the lakeside stockyards to the east of the village next day at noon to await the arrival of the stock truck. While they were waiting Harry said he was figuring out a marketing plan for the dude ranch.

"What would we do with that?"

"Use it to convince people to come and enjoy five-days on the ranch. Five days means you would have your weekends on the island back to normal."

"Oh," said Sarah sarcastically. "You spend my money writing stuff on a piece of paper and no one comes."

"Behave Sarah," Harry said sternly. "I didn't go through the process of gaining my degree to be mocked by an empty-headed bunny."

"Sorry."

"How many family cabins do you have?"

"Ten."

"Well at say 80% occupancy of families of four that means thirty-two people, less some because some families might book with two grandparents who'd want their own cabin and some families might only have two or even only one kid. So let's say we will average twenty residents a week, no make that twenty-five to be optimistic."

"What are you smoking Harry?"

"Close you legs. I can see your panties."

"Liar I'm wearing jeans and you know it."

"I want you to buy thirteen bicycles."

Sarah snorted and said that was an odd number.

"Yeah but one is spare. We send up to three families out together on a cattle round-up riding bicycles. The terrain here is pretty flat isn't it?"

"Well yes but have you even heard of a dude ranch promoting cattle round-ups on bicycles?"

Harry said nothing.

"Don't sit their grinning at my stupidly. Why are you...? Omigod. Half of America rides bicycles, no other dude ranch is stupid enough to offer bicycle round-ups and so with twenty-percent of Americans being stupid, twenty percent of those riding bikes and with twenty-cent of them captivated at the thought of stampeding cattle when yelling Yippee while riding bicycles with have the potential of attraction possibly 30 million American's to this ranch."

"Excellent Sarah although I do think your twenty-percent slicing should probably reduce to 1.2 percent but that's still a huge potential watershed."

"Harry please hand me one of those weeds you're smoking. I need to get on the same wavelength as you."

"Just please get those bicycles delivered before you bring in those yearling cattle. They will mature being driven by you and me on bicycle and we'll set up a cattle trail and get they bored shitless going backwards and forwards along that route and could do it with their eyes closed. With such successful drives our short-stay cowboys and cowgirls will think they are skilled cowhands."

"Wouldn't it save a lot of time and trouble on our part if I simply purchased cattle with a lobotomies?"

"Very droll mom er Sarah."

"What did you just call me?"

"I began calling you a stupid cunt but stopped thinking you might be offended."

"You just watch your mouth Harry, that's all I'm saying."

The truck arrived and Sarah and Harry watched in pride as the new herd eyed them, obviously with friendly approval.

"They traveled well," said the truckie. "My count is twenty-four and I see no broken legs so no insurance claim to fill out."

"Agreed and thanks."

"Sign here Sarah. Sandra wants me home to take the kids swimming."

"Merv would your two boys love to round up cattle on their bikes?"

The driver had to think about that. "They'd love it. But ranchers round here welcome kids as they would welcome a locust plague. You know Sarah, Sandra and I could have a hellava day with the kids doing that, especially if we could shoot some of the cattle."

"Bye Merv," said a now bilious looking Sarah.

"Bye pal."

Harry grinned and waved to Merv.

"Jeeze Harry, did you hear Merv's reaction?"

"Sure did baby. You're on the way to becoming famous and will probably be on the front cover of Time as America's most unexpected revivalist of dude ranching and raising the fitness of American's. We could allow our bike riders to shoot the cattle with paintball guns. If we took the cattle trail inland we could add some hills and gullies to the route. You best call in your Federal Government pals and tell them to erect an 8ft high fence around the woods and erect signs about unexploded WW2 bombs."