Page 10 of Gotta Dig Deep
The rhythmic squeak and squeal of bedsprings lulled him to sleep.
Chapter Three
Glenna
Yawning loudly, Glenna Richeson bent at the waist and tipped as far upside down as she could manage and still retain her footing, adroitly gathering handfuls of her thick hair into one fist. She fished for the hair tie on her wrist with her other hand and snapped it into place, twisting the rope of hair into a messy bun. Righting herself, she looked at the coffeemaker just as it stopped spitting, indicating the pot was ready.
The back door opened and closed, bootsteps stopping nearly as quickly as they’d begun.
Glenna grinned over her shoulder.
Turned to face back towards the door he’d just come through, a tall man stood brushing scant raindrops off his shoulders. He slapped his hat against one lean thigh before angling to the side to hang the big, felt monstrosity on a hook above the tray that already held his boots. On socked feet, her husband came towards her, and she held the grin even when he bent and pressed a kiss to her lips, only losing it when she kissed him back.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” Pinning her to the kitchen counter with his hips, he reached around her for a mug and picked up the coffee carafe with his other hand. She let him fill the mug, then deftly stole it from his grip, ducking underneath his arm as she wormed away.
“Mornin’,” she gave back, warmed by the smile he sent her direction. “Everything okay after that storm last night?”
Late in the darkness, there’d been a raucous storm rolling through the countryside with prolonged bouts of lightning and thunder. Loud enough to rattle the walls of their house.
“Yeah, most looks good.” He had already filled the second mug she’d had waiting on the counter and brought it to his lips. Cutting a look at her while he cautiously sipped, the twist of his mouth was a warning. “Owl got into the chickens again.”
“Son of a bitch.” Squeezing the mug with both hands, she steadied it as she lifted it to her face. Hiding behind the mug, she asked, “How many are left?”
“Looks like three hens.”
“He got Avril?” She let her head drop backwards, glaring at the ceiling. “Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah. The netting got damaged, probably debris skimming across the top of the coop.”
“Dammit, Avril was a good rooster.” Blowing a rude raspberry, she shook her head. “At least two of the hens are broody. Maybe they’ve got good eggs and we’ll have some chicks in a couple of weeks.”
Hands settled on her shoulders and Glenna followed their lead, swaying back against the hard chest she knew so well. Pendleton Richeson had been it for her since she’d laid eyes on him ten years ago. It had hit her out of the blue, the feelings immediate, and strong.
He’d been in town visiting a friend and they’d literally run into each other in the grocery store. Him rounding a corner talking on the phone and her guiding her buggy whilst reading from the list her grandmother had written.
Their whirlwind romance lasting exactly six days had him turning in notice at his job in Kentucky and looking for work in Longview. Glenna’s grandmother hadn’t been in favor of their relationship at first, reciting lines of doom and gloom about marrying in haste leading to a leisurely repentance.
Four months into the relationship, Pendleton had proven himself and then some when a local rancher’s bull had broken down a half mile of fencing. He’d not only separated their bull from the hostile visitor, he’d stayed on the fence line in a driving rain until every shattered post was replaced and every strand of barbed wire resecured. Penn might not have grown up on a ranch, but he took to the way of life as if born to it.
“Cattle good?” She stepped to the side and frowned, watching Penn massage the back of his neck. “Back still bothering you? I’m telling you, a visit to the doc would not go amiss. You’ve been hurting for a year.”
“If it gets bad enough, I will. Until then, my routine of nightly massages from the talented fingers of my lovely wife is not a bad treatment.” His smile lit up his face.
“Now I’m your lovely wife?” Moving to stand next to him, she leaned her shoulder against his sturdy body. “Pretty sure I was a harridan this morning when I was kickin’ you out of bed.”
“You can’t hold anything I say against me if it happened before I had a shower and coffee. That’s sleepin’ Penn talkin’, and he isn’t the smartest peg in the house.” Pressure against the side of her head was a kiss, lengthened and paused when he sniffed softly. “You smell good, pretty lady.”
“Same shampoo I’ve used since before we met.” Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his arm. “You’re such a sap.”
“Your sap.” He switched the coffee mug to his other hand and rubbed the back of his neck again. “Slept crooked or something. It’s really buggin’ me this morning.”
Glenna ignored his actions and words, already having put in her plea. She knew from experience if she harped on the idea of a doctor, he’d sull up and then they’d argue. If he was still sore tonight, she’d get the jar of watered-down horse liniment and give him a good working over. But knowing still didn’t stop her from worrying.
She tried to set it aside, focusing instead on their normal routine. “What’s on tap for today?” Draining her mug, she reached for the carafe, but Penn beat her to it, twisting to bring it to fill her mug again. “Thanks, baby. I gotta go to town at some point. Do you need anything?”
“Going to the cemetery?”
She nodded, cheek rubbing up and down against the fabric covering his strong arm. “Yeah, need to say hello to Grammy.”
