On Her Way Home Read Free

himself. He hated the idea that times were changing, and he had to change with them. His friends had nicknamed him “Gramps” when he was only 11 years old. He never could tolerate change and fads. Kirby complained to the district seat last month about the telephone wires strung across the county, but the only thing to show for his efforts was a riled-up younger set, who thought talking to each other every minute of the day was the most exciting thing on earth. Every week there was a new electric this, or fancy icebox that, and wires tying one county to the next, but Kirby missed the old ways.
    On his trip to town last week, Miss Aimee Tucker, who worked the counter at the General Store, had exclaimed to him, “Oh, Mr. Smith, just imagine we’ll be able to talk to people five hundred miles away as if they were standing right here with us.” Kirby’s skin had shivered. The thought that Miss Tucker could annoy people from five hundred miles away didn’t sit well with him. He might need to talk to the boss again and convince him to change his mind about hooking up that telephone wire out at the property.
    Kirby and Leif walked their horses down the narrow alley behind the General Store and tied them to the post. The store owner had recently requested that only automobiles be parked out front, just another change that grated on Kirby’s old cowpoke hide.
    “Kirby, I’m going to head over to the Post office and see about that ad we posted while you price the seed. I’ll meet you at Jill’s,” Leif said.
    Leif Hawkins wasn’t nearly as adverse to change as Kirby. This new technology had sure made things easier, especially on the ranch. Even advertising for a new hand had been easier than in the past. Leif had simply gone to town, picked up the shiny black telephone at the newspaper office, plunked in his penny, and his advertisement that they were hiring at the ranch had been sent down the line. Leif posted that ad three weeks ago and so far had come up empty-handed. He refused to count the interview he’d had last week with a no account drifter, who’d managed to belch twice and doze off once during the five minutes they were together. Leif had been pressing the boss to hire someone since last December, with no luck. Finally, he’d taken matters into his own hands and posted the position without the boss’ say so. Normally, he wouldn’t be so forceful without full cooperation, but the recent copper mine operation in Cutter Falls had robbed them of two of their hired hands. Summer is the busiest time of the year on the ranch, and Leif knew despite the boss’ stubborn streak that the three of them just weren’t enough manpower to get the job done.
    Leif kicked his boots on the side of the walk to clear the muck off before bounding up the steps into the post office with his usual long-limbed grace. The brick post office—a big rectangle building two stories high, with electric lights and marble counters—was the pride and joy of the county. Rich heavy doors opened onto the first floor post office, and the second floor, currently doubling as a county courtroom, was up the wide stairs to the right.
    Leif waited in line at the desk, slyly admiring out of the corner of his eye a beauty with strawberry-colored hair. She moved toward him and glanced up in time to receive a boyishly charming grin from Leif and a “how do” before clicking out the door in her heeled shoes. Leif followed her with his eyes until she was gone . Town sure is busier these days, but it has its perks, more pretty women being one of them , he mused. Leif retrieved the key from the post clerk and opened the shiny box: a letter for Mattie and a flyer detailing the plans for the new county courthouse; that was it. Leif cursed Cutter Falls, his two rogue ranch hands, and the copper mine bigwigs all the way down the post office steps and over to Jill’s Café. He was looking for a strong, honest, hardworking man, and quiet too if Kirby had a say,