by Abigail Armani
Clem's small town diner was heaving with customers. As well as the regulars there were a dozen or so ranch hands who'd been hired for short term work up at the Landers ranch, and more were piling in through the door looking mighty hungry.
Mary Sue deposited two steaming hot plates of food on the counter. "Here ya go boys. That's the best breakfast you'll get in the county. You guys sure can eat. Doesn't Landers provide meals as part of your contract?"
"John Landers can kiss my ass," said one of the men. "Pay's poor. Accommodation stinks. And the food's rancid. Ain't that so, Josh?"
Josh nodded. "Landers is one tight-fisted sonofabitch."
"No way!" Mary Sue poured more coffee for the two farm workers. "John Landers has a reputation for being mean, but I didn't know things were that bad."
"They sure are ma'am," chimed a weather-beaten olive-skinned farm worker in a battered Stetson. "He reckons to feed us three meals a day, but the stuff that comes out of the Landers kitchen ain't worth feeding to a dog. Not like this chow..." He tucked in to his plate of buttermilk pancakes, back bacon, fried eggs, sausage and maple syrup.
"Grace," Mary Sue called to the waitress clearing tables, "bring me a fresh pot of coffee over, and get Clem to put more bacon on the grill. We'll feed these boys up."
"Much appreciated, ma'am," chimed Josh.
"Sure, Mary Sue." Grace put down her tray and went over to the grill where Clem was flipping eggs over easy. "Can you fix more bacon, Clem? Oh, and two rib-eye steak and eggs for table 7, and corned beef hash and eggs for table 9 please."
"Sheesh!" Clem mopped his brow with his sleeve. "This is crazy. I got so many orders on the go I don't know what the hell I'm doing." He would have said more but a strong smell of burnt toast diverted his attention.
"Yeah. I know the feeling." Grace gave Clem a sympathetic look then took a fresh pot of coffee to Mary Sue. After that she busied herself clearing a few more tables before the next load of food was ready to serve. She'd been on her feet 16 hours yesterday working a double shift, and today looked as though it would be no different. Stifling a yawn, she began stacking another tray with dirty dishes.
The conversation in the diner ranged from fancy hookers, cattle, snakes, baseball and horses, to managing crops and harvesting. But as she passed one table, the conversation took on a different slant. A hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
"Hey!" Grace tried to shake free of the man's grip but he held fast.
"Well ain't you a pretty lil' thang." With his free hand he grabbed her butt and squeezed it.
"Lay off, you jerk!" Grace glared at the man. He had pawed her butt yesterday morning too. She pulled away from him and stepped back. He stunk of cow dung. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.