Dusty Britches by Marcia Lynn McClure

lacked all those years b ack—its intonation all the more dreamy! As she saw him come out of the barn, she stepped back so he could not see her watching him from the window. He set down two buckets of milk and closed the barn doors behind him, whistling the tune instead of singing it this time and heading for the back porch. There he ’ d set the milk buckets down outside the back door and cover them with the old dishcloth Becca had left out the night before.
    For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed. Yet making busy to dispel any further sentimental reminiscing, Dusty dressed and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. By the time Becca came rushing into the kitchen, Dusty had all but finished the flapjacks and bacon.
    “I’m so sorry, Dust. I- I really thought I was gettin ’ up early enough, ” the girl apologized sincerely.
    “ It ’ s fine, Becca, ” Dusty assured her with a kind smile— an apologetic smile. “ I was up earlier than usual and thought I ’ d just get it done. ”
    “I’m— I ’ m sorry for last night, Dust. I was so cruel to you, ” Becca told her.
    “ It was me, Becca, not you. How well you must know that by now. ” Dusty hugged her sister tightly. It had been so long, far too long , since she ’ d hugged her little sister. “ I did want to ask y a about something you said though, ” Dusty ventured. “ About me not bein ’ the only one who —”
    “ Good mornin ’ , my sugar lumps! ” Hank greeted as he entered the kitchen, stretching his suspenders up over his shoulders.
    “ Oh, Daddy! ” Becca whined delightedly. “ Sugar lumps? ”
    “ Yes, Daddy! Please! I certainly hope we ’ re not lumpy yet ,” Dusty teased. She returned her father ’ s morning kiss as he paused in passing her.
    “ Them hands up yet? ” he asked as he sat down at the table.
    “ Well, I saw Ryder millin ’ around out there while I was gettin ’ dressed, ” Becca offered.
    “ Yep! That boy ’ s still got a mighty fine voice in his gullet, don ’ t he? ” Hank yawned and stretched again. “ But Feller oughta have them other boys up by now. ”
    “It was a long day, Daddy. I ’ m sure they ’ re wrung out, ” Dusty defended. The silence was deafening , so she turned to see both her daddy and Becca staring at her with raised eyebrows. “ What? ” she asked.
    “ Well, if you ’ ll pardon my sayin ’ it, Dust, ” Becca ventured, “ you ’ re nearly harder on ’ em about gettin ’ up early than Daddy is. ”
    Dusty ’ s initial reaction was to get angry with her sister. Of course she was hard on them all! She wa s the one who had to prepare their meals most of the time , and it was a lot of work . Why shouldn ’ t she expect them to be prompt? But her musings of the night before gave her reason to pause. She was mean, and she was trying to change that now. “ I am, aren ’ t I, ” she stated rather than asked. Her daddy, obviously not wanting to say anything unkind, simply rubbed at his whiskery chin and looked away.
    “ Mornin ’ , all, ” Ryder said as he entered the kitchen through the open back door. For a moment , his eyes met Dusty ’ s , and he grinned. She smiled slightly at him but looked away quickly. How was she going to live through this? How could she endure having him so close—so wonderful— so untouchable?
    Feller was right at his heels and said, “ Mornin ’ . ”
    “ Mornin ’ , boys! And ain ’ t it a beauty? ” Hank greeted.
    “ It is that, sir, ” Ryder agreed, taking a seat at the table.
    “ What ’ s on the list today, b oss? ” Feller asked, taking a seat next to Ryder.
    “ Mornin ’ , ” Ruff mumbled as he entered, followed by several others.
    Hank nodded at each man as he entered, answering Feller ’ s question at the same time. “ Figure after everyone who ’ s leavin ’ has rode out , we ’ ll get to brandin ’ . Might as well get it out of the way. ”
    Dusty dropped the spoon she was using , and it clattered to the