English IvyŠ

Free Online Short Love Story

Written by American Author Sky Taylor

Ivy scanned the small country store in search of her new employer, a seasoned cotton farmer. His posts had contained the necessary information for her assignment such as salary, boarding arrangements and details concerning his small niece and nephew, as well as the directions to their meeting place at the country store.

According to Mr. John Quincy Roberts, she would be given free rein of the household, including responsibility and direction of the children. She had found the offer extremely lucrative, as well as a potentially exciting adventure engraved into the rugged scenery of the old west.  

However, in her short-lived bliss she had already discovered one downside, that being the intense heat that seemed to pulsate from the very ground herself.

At least the small store offered a space of relief via the casa-blanca fans whirring high overhead, out of reach for anyone who spontaneously chose to carry a small tot on their shoulders.

Focusing on a large barrel she glimpsed a school of pickles swimming in what appeared to be brine. Although tempting, she decided that the high salt content in the pickles wouldn't mix well with the heat. And she was already uncomfortable enough in the fulllength cotton lace dress and cowboy boots, perhaps a bit mismatched, but she had wanted to make a lasting impression on her new employer. And what better way than embracing the laid-back western lifestyle.

At least according to his posts, she assumed Mr. Robert's imparted a lazy lifestyle - not that there wasn't back-breaking work in the mix. Farming wasn't the easiest of professions. Then too, the area was desolate with miles and miles separating his ranch from what most considered the best of modern day conveniences.

But that was something that Ivy decided she wouldn't miss for she was a simple Englishwoman craving a simple lifestyle. It was the chief reason she had responded to

the position that had been posted in the advertisements of an American publication she enjoyed, Go West & Grow.  

And 'go west' is exactly what she had done once Mr. Roberts had accepted her credentials. Only now, she wished they had exchanged more than the necessary information for it would have helped to have known what he looked like. Although the country store was small, there were several patrons picking up necessary supplies - most of them, men.

Looking past the glass that covered several pounds of tasty looking candies, she kneaded her blue eyes over the area in hopes of finding Mr. Roberts. The taxi she had secured to deliver her here had left a good ten minutes ago, her timing impeccable as Mr. Roberts had instructed her to arrive at noon and it was twelve on the dot.

Honing in on a small group she made her way over, carefully avoiding the tightly stacked cans along the way. Obviously, something had collected the crowd's attention she decided and after she had closed the short gap, automatically she stepped back as the loud rattle filled the air, everyone either gasping or hee-hawing, some of the bystanders going slap-happy.  

Drawing a slim hand to her throat, she managed to glimpse the sign, 'Live Rattlesnakes' as well as the large glass tank where they were contained. A rotted stump of sorts shot up through the glass tank as a rather portly lady stood gapping at one of the larger rattlesnakes behind the glass, her hair locked in primitive rollers, Ivy considering that the snakes might be more frightened of her, than her of them.

However, her assumption was doused as the lady announced in a rather loud, heavily accented southern voice, "Look at that som-bitch. Let's git the hell outta here!"

The lady whirled around, the crowd parting as she made her escape, her large form plummeting into Ivy and nearly knocking her to the ground.  

A shrimp of a man came running from behind the woman yelling out, "Maude! Hold up yer footsteps why don't ya!"

As Ivy collected her breath in a state of mild shock, she watched the couple parade out the door, neither pausing to ensure that any major damage had been inflicted to her small form.

"Ivy Goodnight?" the gentleman asked, taking her by the elbow and steadying her, then steering her out of harm's way - even though it was a mite too late, Ivy silently dissected.

"Why yes," she managed, batting her eyes swiftly over the handsome male who had rescued her.  

He wasn't overly tall, yet the white Stetson he was wearing made him appear as such. From what she could glimpse beneath the hat, he had a mop of blond hair which was nowhere near a military cut. More like an American hippie from the history pages of yesteryear, she went on to decide amid her analysis.

The golden tan, the flashing white teeth and the shadow of a beard soared up Ivy's flared nostrils as she drank in the fresh air mixed with he-man.

Surely this wasn't the seasoned John Quincy Roberts? According to his posts, he was way older - way more boring.

"John Roberts?" she asked, actually surprised to find that her voice eased out smoothly after being knocked breathless.

He nodded, removing the hat and Ivy just wanted to stand and stare at the handsome devil.

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