My Kind of Trouble by Becky McGraw Read Free Book Online

and
gave the fuzzy little kitten a scratch on his back. He licked her
hand then rolled on his back and she scratched his belly and he
purred loudly.
     
    When she lived here, she'd always spoiled
the barn cats with milk, and extra food. She was glad to see there
was still some around. She couldn't count the times she'd come up
here when she was upset and cuddled with them until she felt
better. They were good listeners.
     
    Cassie pushed to her feet and grabbed the
hay up in her arms. The rich alfalfa filled her nostrils and
tickled her nose. She made another round through the stalls and
gave each horse a share.
     
    Cleaning the stalls was something she'd deal
with this afternoon. They looked relatively clean, like they always
did. Clean stalls was something that Buddy demanded. Hoof rot was
not something he would tolerate. He loved his animals, like they
were his children.
     
    Slightly sweaty, her muscles aching a little
from the unusual physical exertion, she made her way back outside
and saw that the sun was up fully now, and the sky was cloudless, a
blue so vibrant it hurt her eyes. She pulled her hat down a little
then headed for the back porch. Leaning on the doorframe she
scraped her boots on the brush beside the door then went
inside.
     
    The wonderful smell of bacon and eggs frying
and warm biscuits baking drew her to the kitchen like a zombie in a
trance. Her stomach grumbled and she put a hand over it, when she
walked in the kitchen and saw Imelda tending a pan at the stove,
her ample waist cinched with a flowered apron, her gray-peppered
black hair up in the same bun it was in every day. "Mama Melda!"
Cassie called out enthusiastically.
     
    The short round woman jumped and then spun
around. "Cassie Bee!" She shuffled around the breakfast bar and
grabbed Cassie tightly around the waist. Cassie squeezed her just
as hard. "God, I've missed you girl."
     
    "I've missed you too, mama." When her own
mama had died when Cassie was ten, Cassie had been distraught and
beside herself asking Imelda what she was going to do without her
mama. Imelda, with five children of her own, jerked her to her
breasts and hugged her tight, telling Cassie that she'd never be
without a mama as long as she was around.
     
    Cassie had started calling her Mama Melda
after that day, and Imelda had been the closest thing to a mother
she'd known since. It didn't make her miss her own mama any less or
regret that instead of being able to go to her mother when she
started her period, or when she'd had her heart broken the first
time, she went to Imelda instead, but it had given a lonely, sad
little girl the comfort she needed to survive.
     
    "My goodness Cassie Bee, you're skinny as a
rail. Sit down and let me feed you."
     
    Cassie smiled. She wasn't skinny, but no
matter what, Imelda worried about her, and her solution to
everything was a good meal. Her own round hips told that story.
"That sounds wonderful, mama. You need any help?" Cassie walked
toward the breakfast bar.
     
    "No, you just sit there and tell me what
you've been doing with yourself for the last ten years. Your daddy
tells me things, but I want from the horse's mouth."
     
    They talked for a few minutes, then Imelda
put a heaping plate of scrambled eggs, grits and bacon in front of
her then handed her a fluffy perfectly golden-brown biscuit.
"Wow...this looks scrumptious."
     
    Cassie picked up her fork and dove in, and
had made quite a dent in her meal when the doorbell sounded. She
looked up at Imelda standing at the sink washing dishes and raised
a brow. "You expecting anyone?"
     
    "Nope. Buddy told me yesterday he'd be out
this morning. He was going to town to try to find some hands. He
wouldn't be ringing the bell though."
     
    She set down her fork and slid off the
barstool then walked through the family room to the front door,
just as someone knocked. She reached for the knob and swung the
door open and there stood Luke Matthews dressed in tight-fitting
Wranglers,