Page 47 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse

about 10 pancakes with maple syrup, a dish of crispy bacon and fries with cheese. After filling ourselves with that hearty meal, all that was left was to have a couple of cool beers for the road.
We set off just before the light left the sky, to get home before midnight. I had noticed Josh having a serious chat with the young waitress as he paid for our food at the café. On the drive home he confessed to quite fancying her. Her name was Liz and she told him it was a family business and she was the daughter. He had promised he’d try and get back to see her in a couple of weeks. He would have to ask his father’s permission, to go back to Truth. This I found concerning, as he was old enough to drive himself to see her and not have to get permission from his father.
It would be heart-warming to see the flicker of lights when we neared the Homestead. I was weary, and sore and looked forward to my bed. I smiled as I glanced at Josh who had settled down when we set off and he had slept most of the way. It gave me an insight into his dreams of Liz, no doubt, judging by the permanent smile on his face and the sounds coming from deep in his throat. We parked the truck securely and went straight to our cabins to get a good night sleep.
The next morning, we started unloading and distributing the provisions to the folk of Homestead. John made a point of summoning me to the big house to work out the receipts, and no doubt to quiz me on our day, in the town of Truth. The meeting with John Tirrell was like an interrogation. He asked about every detail of our day, including the couple of hours we had free after shopping. I just mentioned going for a meal and a couple of beers before leaving, without giving too much detail. I had advised Josh not to mention Liz, in case it would cause a problem. I decided that, at a later date, I would like to take a trip back to Truth to look over the town and invite him along. As I left the house, I collided with Sofie.
“Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?” she asked grabbing my arm.
“Just had a meeting with your father, or should I say an interrogation,” I giggled.
“I told you he was not an easy man to deal with. He does upset certain people. I thought you could handle him?”
This comment irked me. I felt my face grow hot with anger. Why do I have to handle him? He is my boss. I only have to answer . . . Yes sir. . . no sir. I’m a ranch hand, how hard is that, I thought. I wanted to show Sofie I was not ready to give in to her father’s bullying, so instead of using words to defend myself, I pulled her to me and kissed her hard on the lips, showing her, I was all man.
“Ned” Sofie cried, pushing me away, “don’t . . . my father will see, and he will forbid me talking to you.”