The Widow Brannigan Pt. 01

Mom smiled as I avoided her gaze.

"Certainly is a looker."

She was definitely that.

"I guess," I mumbled as I grabbed the pitcher and poured myself a mug of milk trying hard to not look that interested in whatever it was she wanted to talk about. We hadn't really spoken about what happened yesterday when I got back. Most of the late evening was spent getting ready for the storm.

"How's she bearing up?" asked Mom.

I glanced up at her. "Alright. Seems to be coping and everything," I sat back in my chair frowning, "Uncle Joe says she's as tough as a pair of old boots. Keeps mostly to herself I reckon. Why you askin'?"

Mom waved a hand. "Oh, no particular reason is all," she replied, "Some of the ladies in town were talkin' about her and wonderin' how she was doing with no man around the place anymore. Her being relatively young and all as she rarely comes into town from the sound of it. Keeping herself to herself seems to be her thing."

"That ain't a crime," I said.

"No it ain't," Mom smiled knowingly at me as she got up and went to stoke the fire, "Folks is curious about her that's all. See, Son," she said, "Some women need to mark out their territory just in case. It's just in their nature because that's the way they are. That Lady has looks to burn. When God put her together he used the best parts and took his time."

I didn't say anything but just shrugged. What Mom had said was true though. God had done a real damned fine job with the Widow Brannigan.

***

Mid-morning found me in the truck heading into town.

The roads were as bad as I thought they'd be as I wrestled with the wheel bouncing up and down like a jalopy as the wheels struggled for traction in the deeply rutted snow. Thankfully, the nearer I got to the junction and the main road into town it looked like the plows had been out which made the going easier as there was already a bunch of cars and trucks left stranded by the roadside.

Bedrock Falls had a population of a couple of hundred folks and serviced not only those that lived and worked there but the wider farming community in the district. Its single main street was made up of various suppliers, tradesmen, stores, and conveniences of one sort or the other.

It was the social hub of the area and where people congregated and mixed together in their daily lives. McGinty's General Store had been the first establishment to open back in the early 20's and as more people moved into the interior, the town had developed around it and became a waypoint for the shipping and selling of cattle and grain when the railroad finally came through.

Most people knew most everyone else and a strong community had emerged as the social foundations were laid with the first church being built on the hill to the West. As time passed, more civic structures were put in place with the formation of a town council who laid out certain statutory rules and laws with a Sheriff's Department being set up to enforce those laws.

Winters in these parts were usually biting cold and severe with folks hunkering down and going into hibernation until Spring came around. As I crested the rise and drove over the railroad crossing, I was surprised to see a decent amount of people and traffic moving around in town. No doubt they were taking advantage of the break in the weather to replenish their supplies just in case. Better to be safe than sorry and all that.

I pulled into a spare parking space and turned the engine off as I jumped out of the truck into about six inches of packed snow. As I made my way along the sidewalk to Tanners Hardware Store, I didn't notice another truck pulling in a few spots up from where I had parked.

***

Archibald Tanner was as wide as he was tall.

He was a stout, hearty man with a bald pate and a set of whiskers that could best be described as exotic. Archie, as he liked to be known, rubbed his hands in his apron as he licked the tip of his pencil and jotted down my order.

"Alrighty," he said as looked at me over his half-moon spectacles which hung around his neck on a silver chain, "Five inch or seven?" he asked as he bounced back and forth behind his counter pulling his wooden ladder after him.

Uh. What had Uncle Joe said again? I scratched my head as I stood there holding my hat in my hands. That's right. The South ridge might need reinforcing he had told my Mother over breakfast this morning and we were running short of long nails and leather binding to do the job.

"Make it seven," I nodded, "Give me five packs of seven and some fence clips."

Archie scooted up his ladder like a rat up a pipe, pulled open a long wooden drawer and counted out what I wanted. Already on the counter were a dozen lengths of rolled tanned leather strips to bind fence posts and gates together.

"Here we go," he said as he put everything into a big cloth sack, "That it?"

"Yup," I nodded, showing him my Mothers note.

He totted up the total and handed me the slip of paper with the amount due on it as I took out my wallet to pay him. With our business done, I tapped the brim of my hat and bid him a good day as I left his store and headed towards McGinty's where I had more things to pick up for Mom who had ordered some things a couple of weeks ago and were due to come in as freight on the railroad.

As I made my way along the sidewalk, there was a group of men standing outside of Harveys Barbers just shooting the breeze and laughing amongst themselves. Two of them I recognized from town meetings as tenant farmers with the other two being townsfolk about the same age as myself.

They all turned as I approached and tapped the brim of my hat. "Gents," I nodded.

"Cassidy," replied the oldest. A tall, thin wiry guy called Mitch Jones who worked the soil due South of here to support himself, his wife Agnes and their four kids.

The other farmer was a thick-set man with a weather-beaten face named Jackson Turner who had a cattle ranch East of where we lived and who, from rumor, was courting one of the Simpson twins whose parents owned the funeral parlor at the far end of the main street. He was in his early thirties and every time I saw him he was always chomping on a stogie.

Billy-Bob Hogg and Rufus Ford were two old classmates who I had grown up with over the years and we had spent many a time just hanging around town watching the world go by.

"Where you heading, Tom?" asked Rufus as he stood there in a black coat two sizes too big for him with his curly ginger hair sticking out either side from under his flat cap, "Thought you folks over there would be snowed under by now."

I shook my head and stuck both hands in my pockets. "We're doing okay. Could have been a lot worse if the wind hadn't blown it over. Some places are up to their balls and tits with the stuff but once you get onto the main roads things are passable. What are you lot up to?"

Mr. Jones nodded towards where his truck was parked. "Same as you, Son," he said, "Stocking up on the stuff we might need and some stuff we probably don't but you can never be sure out here. How's your Momma and Joe doing?"

"Doing alright," I nodded, "Always got that big pot of stew on the go."

He laughed. "Yep, that sounds like your Mother alright. Tell her I'm asking after her and that Agnes will be over once the thaw sets in. God only knows when that will be."

The talk turned small as we stood there discussing this and that about whatever news or rumors were doing the rounds. The conversation was slow and easy like the way life was in these parts and it was Billy-Bob who saw her first.

"Holey Moley!" he muttered nudging his friend as he stared over our shoulders at the woman walking towards us with a bag over her arm and purpose in her stride.

We all turned to see what had left him standing there wide-eyed, open-mouthed and fiddling around trying to fasten the top button on his shirt. There was that sudden murmur of surprised appreciation as we all stood there looking like the dumbest bunch you ever did see.

"Geez," said Mr. Turner who grabbed the hat from his head as she approached our little group, "Will you just look at that." he breathed as the Lady looked up to see us all staring at her.

The Widow Brannigan stopped and regarded each of us in turn with a smile. She was dressed pretty much like she had been yesterday but the cut of her clothes was much more striking with her now in a matching dark blue coat and pleated skirt. Over her shoulders, she was wearing a thick shawl and on her head was what looked like a hat made of raccoon fur with its tail intact and curving down over her shoulder. Not a single one us could stop staring at her if we wanted to.

We parted like the red sea and the rest of us removed our hats as she walked between us with a "Mornin' gentlemen," by way of greetings as we all responded with respectful "Ma'am." and stood there coughing and shuffling our feet.

As she was about to walk by me she stopped briefly and glanced up at my red face with a smile of recognition.

"Mister Cassidy," she said, "Nice to see you again."

Then she continued on her way as we all stood there blowing out our cheeks. Slowly the rest of them turned to look at me with frowns on their faces and a "What the hell?" question in their eyes.

Me?

I stood there with a stupid grin on my face and stuck my tongue into my cheek. Swear to God, if I had one of Jackson Turners cigars to hand I'd have taken a long draw on it and checked out my nails like I was the Queen of England.

***

McGintys General Store had been there on the main street for as long as I could remember and probably even longer with the ownership of it passing down from generation to generation over the years.

The current proprietor was Marybelle McGinty who was a cheerful auburn haired Lady with an ebullient manner and voluptuous frame to match. Always one with a nod and a wink, she was a breezy ray of sunshine on a cloudy day and everyone far and wide knew of her and the McGinty's General Store.

"Well," said the fifty year old owner as she nudged her assistant, a fraught looking middle aged woman called Estelle Walker who was as thin as a rake with a head of frizzy grey hair and the oddest pair of brown bug eyes you ever did see, "If it isn't the most handsome young man in town!" she winked as she went over to the counter where she handled the mail.

The other woman tittered and giggled nervously at me as I followed Mrs. McGinty over to where a large stack of parcels was kept. Delivery was usually really early in the morning and everyone knew when the loco was due because you could hear the whistle a mile off as it crossed over the junction and came into the station at the North end of town.

As she went searching, I stood there looking around the store to see if I had forgotten anything that we might need that wasn't on the note. Food wise we were pretty much good to go and the only thing we might be short of was salt which we used to spread around the yard if the ice got bad.

Above the door at the other end of the store, the bell rang as someone came in. The place was getting busy with Estelle running around serving customers and I stepped back from the counter as I glanced up at the mirror above the till which was there so that whoever was serving could see who was coming and going at the other entrance.

When I saw who had come in I felt my chest constrict suddenly with my heart bouncing around inside it like a jumping bean.

Everything else was forgotten. Every single person in the store became nothing more than a phantom as I froze and watched Mary-Beth Brannigan idly browsing around the shelves and racks of this, that and the other. I moved away from the gap that separated each part of the shop so that she couldn't see me but I could continue to watch her in the mirror.

The woman was like an emotional magnet. I had this overwhelming urge just to be around her. To be able to just stare at her without her knowing I was. Merely looking at her made me feel warm inside.

"Here we go," said Mrs. McGinty suddenly, "Three for Cassidy including mail. May as well take those now seeing as George isn't going to be making delivery's anytime soon in this weather!"

She lifted the latch and went back behind the counter and put each package on the scale to weigh it for the postal charge. Mom was always ordering stuff and we had built up enough credit to cover the cost of the freight.

As I was stood there in front of the counter as she flipped each brown package this way and that checking the information on the labels, I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a shiver went up and down my spine. I glanced up to see Mrs. Brannigan standing behind me to my right. It was then I saw she was looking up at the mirror as well and I blinked as our eyes met and held for what felt like an age before I flushed with embarrassment and looked away.

"Sexy lingerie, frilly bloomers, pink panties, and French knickers to go," said Mrs. McGinty with a straight face as I turned back to her in shock wondering if I'd heard her right as she picked up the largest parcel and read out the contents label to the whole store.

"Uh," I mumbled trying to clear my head, "They're what?"

Was she serious?

I twisted around trying to read what she was seeing. What in the name of sweet pickle was my Mother ordering from out of state?

Then the older woman burst out laughing and reached over the counter to ruffle my thick hair as she squeezed her sides in amusement.

"Oh my," she gasped, "The look on your face!"

The Lady behind me was laughing too and I glanced over my shoulder feeling like a ten-year-old being teased by a pair of old Aunts. Mrs. Brannigan came to the counter and leaned over to read the label.

"French knickers to go, huh?" she smiled as she winked at the store owner who was still chuckling away to herself, "Least you've got good taste in underwear."

What? I stuck out my chin. "They're not for me!" I replied lamely.

"I should hope not, Mister Cassidy," she replied, "You'd be the talk of the town if they were."

Mrs. McGinty put the package back down on the counter and picked up another bobbin of string to tie them all together for me to carry back to the truck. The woman standing next to me raised her eyebrows in amusement as I bent down to read the label for myself.

CONTENTS: TWO DOUBLE/ONE SINGLE BLANKET. BED LINEN BLUE THREE

Funny.

***

"Mister Cassidy!"

I looked up from the back of my truck as I was loading up some lumber I'd just purchased from the local sawmill for new fence posts. I came back around to where Mrs. Brannigan was standing on the sidewalk holding her own supplies.

I tapped the brim of my hat and smiled at her "Ma'am."

The thing I had noticed the most was something which I would never even consider at all. That actually looking at her was a difficult thing to do even though it was the one thing I wanted to do more than anything. Another thing was that once you were looking at her it was even harder to look away.

To me, everything about her was perfect. Even though we'd only met briefly over the years, I had always felt she was someone with a good heart and a positive outlook on life. That she was also most definitely the most attractive woman I'd ever seen made just being near her such a pleasure.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun squinting as she smiled at me. "Just wanted to thank you for yesterday," she said, "When you came over with Ned to make sure everything was alright," She paused and stared more intently at me, "That I was alright."

There was little I could do other than stare back and openly admire the beauty of her face and the natural intensity of her gaze. Not sure how to describe what I was feeling but my world was rapidly beginning to revolve around this woman in a way that took my breath away as she began to dominate my every waking moment.

"That's fine," I finally managed to say, "That was absolutely my pleasure, Ma'am."

She just smiled and nodded a little as if she was surprised at something she felt or had occurred to her. "Well, that's good. Good," she replied as she began to turn away before stopping to look back at me, "Hope you enjoy that French underwear, Mister Cassidy," she said with a grin as I watched her walking back up the snow covered sidewalk to where her truck was parked.

I stared at her as she got into her vehicle, reversed out and headed off down the road back home. It was then I noticed a number of folks were standing there doing the same as her truck disappeared into the distance.

As for that French underwear.

The only way I'd enjoy those imaginary things more was if she was standing in front of me wearing them...

***

End of The Widow Brannigan part 1.

Continues in part 2 soon.

Notes: Still working on "The Dreamers" and "Spanking Agency" stories.