a Sweetwater Saga short story
Copyrighted 2015
KC Branson shuffled over to stand next to the kitchen table where her mothers and grandfather were sitting. Folding her arms on the rough surface, she rested her head on them then sighed loudly.
Stanley Branson glanced down at the young girl. “Jus' wha's ailin' ya this mornin'?” he asked.
“It's raining, Grumps,” KC responding gloomily without raising her head.
“Ain't tha' the truth,” Stanley agreed shifting to address Jesse and Jennifer, his daughter and daughter-in-law. “It was rainin' buckets when I walked over from the cabin,” he told them.
Intriqued by her grandfather's comment, KC straightened, spun around, and ran toward the window at the back of the kitchen.
“KC,” Jennifer Branson said sharply. “What's the rule about running in the house?”
Sitting on the floor by the toy box, Charley Branson responded, “Mommy say no running.”
“Sorry, Momma,” KC immediately apologized while tossing her younger brother a narrow-eyed glare. Then she pressed her nose to the window and studied the sheets of water falling from the sky. After a moment, she walked back over to the table. “I don't see no buckets, Grumps.”
Stanley shook his head. “Tha' young ‘un is definitely yers,” he muttered to Jesse. “Seems ya tol' me the ‘xact same thing once.”
Jesse laughed. “Poppa, it is a mite strange expression if you don't explain it.”
“Mommy, where are the buckets?” KC asked hopefully.
Jesse reached over and ruffled KC's unruly head of hair. “There aren't any, Sunshine.”
“Grumps says there's buckets,” KC protested.
“It's just a saying, sweetie,” Jennifer explained to the perplexed girl. “It means that it's raining really hard.”
“Like someone is up on the roof dumping buckets of water down on us,” Jesse added.
Placing her arms back on the table, KC tilted her head as she considered this new information. She sighed again and peered sadly up at her grandfather.
“Now, young ‘un, jus' wha's tha' look fer?”
“Wants to play,” KC said mournfully.
“Rain don' seem ta be stoppin' Charley from playin',” Stanley said watching his grandson hop a stuffed pony around the floor. “Best ya sit and play with him.”
KC flipped her head over to contemplate joining her brother.
“We better be gittin' if'n we plan ta move the herd today,” Stanley told his daughter after emptying his coffee cup.
“They'll be fine another day or two in that pasture,” Jesse replied.
“Thought the plan was ta move ‘em.”
Jesse nodded then stood. Walking across the kitchen to the wood stove, she picked up the coffee pot and carried it back to the table. “It was,” she said filling Jennifer's cup, “'fore the rain came. I just don't fancy spending the day in the saddle being soaked to the bone,” she continued pouring coffee into her father's cup. She added coffee to her own cup before taking the pot back to the stove.
“So's ya plannin' on wastin' the day inside where's it's dry and warm?” Stanley asked brusquely adding sugar to his cup.
“That's exactly what I'm planning.”
“Ya growin' soft, daughter,” Stanley huffed although he wasn't about to complain about the change in plans. “If'n we ain't movin' the herd, give me time ta catch up on sum things in the barn. Can't be usin' the buckboard ‘til tha' broken axle gits fixed.”
“I'll give you a hand,” Jesse offered.
“Ya sayin' I ain't cap'ble doin' it on my own?” Stanley questioned abrasively.
“Nope,” Jesse said with a shake of her head. “Just offering to help. But if you don't want any, I've got plenty of my own chores to work.”
“Sounds like a fair trade off,” Stanley stated lifting his cup to his lips. He swallowed the hot coffee in one long gulp then stood up. “'Preciate ya cookin' me breakfast,” he told Jennifer.
“Oh, Stanley,” Jennifer laughed. “You're here every morning for breakfast… you don't have to thank me.”
“Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' polite,” Stanley said lifting his coat off the back of his chair.
KC flipped her head back over.
Stanley grabbed his Stetson from its peg on the wall then headed across the kitchen to the screen door.
KC watched her grandfather push the door open and walk out onto the expansive porch at the back of the ranch house. She listened until she could no longer hear his boots steps on the wooden planks. Straightening, she pushed the recently vacated chair over to the wall underneath the neatly arranged pegs. Climbing up onto the chair, she stood and retrieved her own coat.
“You planning on going somewhere, Sunshine?” Jesse asked, her lips twitching into a grin.
“Going to help Grumps,” KC said seriously as she buttoned her coat.
Jennifer grinned. “Didn't Stanley say he didn't need any help,” she asked her wife.
“Now that you mentioned it… I'm sure that is what he said,” Jesse answered.
“He no need your help,” KC told her mother then she reached up for her own Stetson.
Jesse laughed. “But you think he needs yours?”
“Yep,” KC said matter-of-factly before jumping off the chair, one hand firmly holding her hat to her head.
Lifting her cup, Jennifer murmured, “Doubt Stanley would agree.” She took a sip of coffee to hide her amusement.
“I help Grumps too?” Charley asked tossing his pony back into the toy box.
“No.” Pushing the chair back to the table, KC told her brother, “You stay here where it's dry and warm.”
Charley frowned.
“That's okay, Charley,” Jesse said patting her lap invitingly.
Grinning, Charley stood up then hurried across the room.
Jesse lifted the boy into her lap. “You can help me go over the ranch books.”
“I be back for supper,” KC proclaimed on her way out of the house.
“Considering your father did not want any help,” Jennifer stated in mock seriousness, “don't you think we should make KC stay here?”
Jesse looked down at the boy bouncing happily on her leg. “What do you think, Charley? Should we save Grumps from KC today?”
“Nope.”
#
Stanley was carefully placing a ladder between two sawhorses when the barn door slammed open. He wasn't at all surprised to see a ginger-haired whirlwind burst in from outside.
“Wha' ya doin', Grumps?” KC shouted racing across the straw covered floor. She skidded to a stop at the bottom of the ladder.
“Thought ya momma said ta stop talkin' like me,” Stanley said placing a booted foot on the first rung.
“Yep,” she agreed, her head bent back as she watched her grandfather cautiously climb up the ladder's narrow steps.
“Ya best listen ta her.”
Her neck protesting the awkward angle her head was in, KC laid down on the dirt floor. Folding her arms behind her head, she crossed her ankles. “Momma ain't here,” she said looking upward. “Why ya doin' that?” she asked as her grandfather, balancing on the ladder's top step, placed a bucket on one of the roofs crossbeams.
“Roofs drippin',” Stanley explained pushing the bucket along the beam until it was under the leak. “And I don' fancy gittin' water down my shirt whiles I work,” he continued making his way back down to the barn floor.
“Makes sense,” KC said with a nod.
Stanley eyed the girl dubiously. “Glad ya be agreein',” he grunted picking up the ladder to move it out of the way. Then he stretched a broken wagon axle across the sawhorses.
“It's broke,” KC noted. Having gotten up from the floor, she stood with an elbow on one of the sawhorses.
“I know,” Stanley said gazing at the split section of wood.
“Ya goin' fix it?”
“Best I can.”
“We needs the buckboard.”
Stanley shifted his gaze from the broken axle to the little girl. “Ya sounds like ya already run this ranch,” he grumbled.
KC smiled.
#
A few hours later…
“Tha' should hold it ‘til we can git ta town and buy a new axle,” Stanley said examining the repair he had made.
KC ran her hand over the splint. “It's good, Grumps,” she approved.
“Ya know how ta fix wagons now, do ya?” Stanley asked looking up at the bucket. “Best be emptyin' tha' ‘fore we heads in for supper,” he said walking toward the ladder. He carried the ladder around the sawhorses and set it in place under the bucket. Then, noticing KC was still examining his repairs, he picked up the axle. “I best put this outa the way. Don' want no accidents and git it busted all over again.”
As Stanley carried the axle to where the buckboard had been pushed into an empty stall, KC looked up at the bucket. She spotted a small trickle of water seeping over the bucket's lip and down its side to drip on the floor next to the ladder. “Bucket's goin' spill,” she called out scaling the rungs.
Turning around to see his granddaughter clambering up the unsteady ladder, Stanley dropped the axle and ran toward her. “KC, git down from there,” he shouted.
Reaching the top of the ladder, KC stretched her arm as far as she could. “I got's it, Grump,” she yelled when her fingertips brushed the wire handle hanging against the bucket's side. Her fingers curled around the handle and she gave it a good yank.
“KC, don't—” Stanley's shout of warning was cut off by a cascade of water dropping on top of him. A piercing scream of pain followed an instant after the heavy wooden bucket bounced off his skull.
#
Jesse charged into the barn. “What happened?” she asked in disbelief at what she was seeing.
Calmly sitting on the top rung of the ladder was KC while a very drenched Stanley was rubbing the side of his head and glowering up at her.
“It rained a bucket. Uh, Grumps?” KC answered innocently.
#