Chapter One

 

Charlotte yawned hugely, her arms stretching up and back behind her head as she arched her lithely muscled body beneath the paper-thin sheet. It wasn't much past dawn, but the air was already moist with the promise of high humidity later. Not to mention the heat. But then, that was nothing unusual in Mississippi in the summer.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, running her fingers through her long brown hair before turning and padding to the window to look out on the farm. She leaned forward until her elbows were on the windowsill, noting as she did that her breasts hung below her now in a way that they certainly hadn't only a few short years ago.

It reminded her she had to milk the cows. I was not a pleasant morning thought, comparing herself to a cow.

She straightened up and turned to look at the mirror with a scowl. Everyone looked at her breasts now. Every male, anyway. And a good many of the females, though they seem to be filled with a lot more disapproval than the men.

She brought her hands in beneath them and cupped them lightly, lifting them a little before letting them go. There were very firm as long as she stood upright. And even more so if she drew her hands up and back behind her head.

She knew she was supposed to be proud of them, and of her body. But all they did was get in the way and embarrass her. Not to mention drawing very much unwanted attention and remarks from men and boys.

She sighed and scratched her abdomen then opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of panties, stepping into them and drawing them up her legs. She opened another drawer, ignoring the bras there. Ugly things. She hated them, especially having to work with them on a hot day with those straps digging into her shoulders and back and the cups making her boobs feel even hotter than usual.

She pulled on a halter instead, then a checkered shirt with the arms cut off at the shoulders. She drew the sides up and in together beneath her breasts and tied it there then checked herself in the mirror before doing up a couple of buttons. She pulled on her cutoffs and zipped them up and then padded to the door and headed downstairs.

Her father, brothers, and mother were already in the kitchen when she arrived. Her father gave her his habitual scowl and muttered something about sleeping beauties. Charlotte ignored him and went to the counter.

It was all right for him and her brothers to sit at the table and be served, but she as a girl had a considerably lower status, as far as her mother was concerned. She served herself. And if her mother was busy, she served her brothers and father too.

She put sausages and eggs on her plate and sat down, noting her brothers' eyes skimming across her chest as she did. At least they wouldn't dare say anything in front of her parents. They certainly made enough crude jokes any other time.

"You'll be going into town with me today," her father said. "Need to pick up some more feed at the farm supply."

She cut a piece of sausage and popped it into her mouth, nodding without speaking. It wasn't love of her company that had him bringing her with him, she knew. But he didn't want to spare her brothers from the work they'd be doing on the farm. She, on the other hand, could simply make up the time later, as far as he was concerned. It wasn't like she had a social life.

"Going to talk to Mr. Anderson?" her brother Bob asked.

"That bastard," her father said.

"You watch your language, William Sims," her mother said. "You know what Pastor Evans said."

"Bastard is probably the best name for a banker," her brother Connor said.

Her mother slapped the back of his head, and he yelped but didn't question it or complain.

"We might have a word or two," her father growled.

Charlotte didn't look up from her breakfast, wanting no part of the conversation. She wasn't supposed to know anything about bills and loans and stuff like that, but she'd overheard her father and brothers talking from time to time.

She knew that her father owed money to the bank he was having a hard time paying off. There'd been drought the last two years, which hadn't done the crops any good. She worried about that, a bit, but then put it from her head. She didn't know anything about it and couldn't do anything about it. Best to leave that to the men folks.

She knew that other farmers had lost their farms to the bank, though. She had no idea what would happen to them if that happened to their farm. Where would they go? What would they do?

She shook her head and thought no more about it. There were the chickens to feed and eggs to be brought in and the cows to milk and the barn to clean out and a hundred other chores she had to get through on top of going to the supply store and loading up a big pile of feed sacks.

Two hours later she was already sweating like a pig. The temperature outside kept rising and the air was heavy and damp. It looked like rain, maybe. That would be good for the crops, and also maybe break this humid heat. She cleaned out the last of the dung and hay and then picked up the broom to sweep scattered remnants.

Her father came into the barn. "Well let's go, girl," he growled.

She put the broom aside and turned and headed towards the barn door as he stood watching her.

"You'd best be having something better to wear than that," he said. "I don't want you going to town dressed like a slut."

"I'm dressed like I always have," she said.

"I don't want you waving your boobies at every man in town," he said in a disapproving tone.

"I ain't waving nothing! They don't wave. They just sit there. Ain't my fault everyone wants to stare at them. I didn't ask for big boobs."

She grabbed the shirt she'd hung on the edge of a post and half jumped forward as his hand smacked hard against her bottom.

"Don't be back talking me, girl!"

She muttered under her breath as she pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up, with him falling behind. They headed for the old pickup, the one he'd spent most of the weekend working on to get it fixed. The door creaked as she pulled it open and climbed up inside. The torn seat cushion sagged under her as she pulled the door closed.

He got in the driver's side and started the pickup, not without difficulty, and then with a loud shifting of gears, they headed down the dirt road towards the county road at the end of the lane. She let the hot air blow across her face for what tiny relief that was as he pressed down on the accelerator. The car bounced down the rutted road before they reached the county road and then headed for town.

"I don't want you talking to boys, while you're there," he said.

"I don't talk to them. They talk to me," she said. "What am I supposed to do, act like I don't know how to speak English?"

"The worst thing the Lord did when he made women, was make them able to talk," her father muttered.

She sighed and stared out the window at the passing trees and brush.

"I need to get you married off before you get pregnant."

"I don't know how you think I'm gonna get pregnant, given I ain't been alone with no boy in forever."

"And you ain't gonna be!" he said. "I know what's on their minds."

She made a face and tried to ignore him.

They reached town and he pulled into the parking lot of the farm supply store, then walked in with her following close behind. He gave his order to old Paul at the counter, pointed menacingly at her, then headed for the door.

Charlotte wandered up and down the aisles looking at what was for sale to pass the time. Not that it mattered to her since she had no money. She'd never had any money. Anything that needed buying, her father bought, or sometimes her mother if it was something like clothes. Nobody had ever given her any money and she didn't know as anyone ever would.

Andy came and found her, staring at her chest before even talking. "Your stuff is ready, Charlotte," he said." It's right outside."

"Okay, she said, ignoring where his eyes were as she headed for the door. He followed behind, and she knew where his eyes were now too. But that was just the way it was with men.

"There's a barn dance coming up on Saturday," he said.

"That's nice. No way my father's gonna let me go to it," she replied.

"He plans on keeping you there on the farm till you're an old maid?" he asked.

"Well now, I can't say as how he ever tells me what his plans are for anything much."

They walked around to the side of the building where he gathered the sacks of feed onto a big low handcart.

"Let me help you with that," he said.

Charlotte wasn't going to object. The only good part about looking the way she looked was that boys, aside from the ones related to her, seemed to like to offer to do stuff for her. Of course, it wasn't being done out of the goodness of their heart. She knew they were hoping for payment someday.

There were times she wouldn't mind exploring that payment option at least a little. But anything she did would be bound to get back to her brothers and then her parents. Boys gossiped worse than old ladies when it came to girls and what they did with them.

He pushed the cart up to the back of the pickup as she opened the tailgate then they took turns lifting the sacks up and dumping them into the back of the truck. It was hot, sweaty work, but she was used to it. And Andy was a tall strong young man who handled it with ease.

She looked up the street and saw her father walking down the sidewalk towards them.

"You'd best be gone," she said. "My old man is coming."

Her father was well-known for his temper and harsh tongue, and Andy turned away, then hesitated.

"I can get the rest of the feed and bring the cart back," she said.

"See ya," he said as he hurried back to the store.

Her father arrived back at the truck and stood there without speaking, watching as she loaded the sacks. Charlotte felt her anxiety arising, wondering if he was going to make a big scene because he'd seen Andy at the truck. But he didn't say anything until she finished.

"You come with me," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, staring at him in surprise.

"Just do as you're told, girl. That's all any woman ever needs to do. Just do as they're told."

He headed up the sidewalk and she shrugged and followed.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Going to the bank," he said.

She stared at him in confusion. "Why ever for?" she asked.

"When I want you to know something I'll tell you," He snapped.

They walked the two blocks to the bank but instead of going in the front door he led her around to the side. He knocked on the door and it was answered by a tall thin man in a grey suit. The man looked at her and then backed up and she and her father went inside.

Cool air wafted over her the instant she went inside, and she sighed gladly as it cooled her damp skin.

They followed the man down a narrow hallway and into an office, where the man turned and smiled at her.

"So, Charlotte, your father says you're a strong young girl and you know how to do what you're told."

She looked at him blankly. "Yes sir," she said in confusion.

"It happens that I know a man who needs a strong young lady like you, to help him out on his ranch," he said.

Charlotte stared at him and then at father.

"Um, I kinda work at the farm all day," she said.

"Your brothers can do your chores for a time," her father finally said. "You just go where Mr. Anderson sends you and do as you're told for time."

And then he turned around and left. Charlotte was bewildered as she stared after him and then looked up at Mr. Anderson.

"Now here's the thing, Charlotte," he said. "A rich man bought a ranch not that far from here. He's not going to be ranching it. He just bought it as a kind of country house where he can go on nice summer days and get away from the city.

"It's a big house, and of course he needs someone to do some cleaning and such around it. He's willing to pay pretty good money too. And that money will go to help pay off your father's loan here at the bank."

"Oh," she said, still confused. "Well, what would I be doing? Just cooking and cleaning?"

"Don't you worry, girl. He'll tell you exactly what he wants you to do. You just do it and keep him happy."

Charlotte still didn't really understand. But if it would pay off the loan, that would be a good thing. Besides working in a rich man's house doing the cleaning was bound to be a lot easier than working on the farm. She bet it was air-conditioned, too."

"Now you come with me," he said, heading for the door.

She shrugged and followed as they headed back down the hall and then outside to the parking lot. There was no sign of her father and she figured he'd gone back to the truck. She felt kind of abandoned. She wondered how long the job was going to be and how she was supposed to get home afterward.

Mr. Anderson led her to his car, which was a bright, glistening SUV. They climbed inside, and he turned on the air conditioning right away before backing out of his parking space and then heading for the street.

"Now remember girl," he said. "Mr. Stone is a rich man. He's used to getting what he wants. He's used to giving orders and having them obeyed. He's got a big company in the city and lots of people bowing and scraping over him there. So don't you give him any backtalk. Just pay attention when he tells you what to do and do it."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Remember, he's not from around here. He's a city boy. They have different ways of doing things there, different ways of talking to."

She wasn't sure what he meant by that. But she nodded obediently.

"He's paying a lot of money, so you make sure you give him good service."

Charlotte stared at him in confusion. Why would anyone pay a lot of money to have someone clean their house? It wasn't like it was all that hard to do or that there were all that few people willing to do it. She'd never heard that housecleaning paid very much. Maybe rich folks were just different.

They headed south out of town, a direction she'd never traveled to. She looked out the windows with interest, enjoying the cool air as the car moved smoothly along the road. Before long they passed a road sign saying they were leaving Kainson County, and she blinked in surprise. She'd never been outside the county before. This was Foster County, and she was a little disappointed it looked exactly the same.

She began to feel a sense of excitement. It was like she was going on an adventure. She was doing something new for once. She hadn't really been aware of how much she wanted to do something new from her boring life with the same things day in and day out.

"How far away is this ranch anyways?" she asked. "How'm I supposed get home tonight?"

He looked at her in surprise. "You don't need to worry about that, girl. You'll be staying at the ranch."

Charlotte stared at him. "What?! But I didn't bring nothin'! I got no clothes or... Or stuff at all!"

"Don't you worry about it. They'll supply you with anything and everything you need."

"Well, they ain't gonna have clothes for me to change into!" she exclaimed.

"They'll probably have some kind of uniform," he said.

"Uniform? Like one of them maid things?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he said.

"Well, how would they know my size?"

"Don't you worry about it, girl. It isn't your place to worry about stuff. All you have to do is what you're told to do. Didn't your daddy make that clear to you?"

"Yes, sir," she said uncertainly.

Charlotte worried, regardless. She hadn't slept away from her family since she was a little girl staying at the homes of girlfriends. And that was something which had become increasingly rare over the last several years as her father had become more suspicious of her virtue.

Everywhere she went, he demanded to know if she'd been speaking with boys or men. Every time he saw a boy or a man with her, he became suspicious. It was like he thought the entire male gender was out to ruin her virtue. Which, she conceded, a lot of them seemed to be.

At first, she had been confused by his growing suspicion and had done everything she could to reassure him that she had no intention of doing anything immoral. But that clearly hadn't worked. Nothing she said or did seemed to convince him that she was anything other than some brainless trollop eager to spread her legs for the first boy who asked.

And so she had grown more resentful. It was like it was a subject they couldn't even discuss without him getting angry, and when he got angry his hands started moving. He had always been a man who believed in not sparing the rod to spoil the child. He didn't allow argument.

So the best she could do was keep her head down and try not to be noticed. It confused her that he was allowing her to go and work and sleep somewhere else away from anyone in the family's supervision. And there was a man there, too, maybe more than one. Wasn't he worried that she'd wind up doing immoral things with them?