(This story is for the Earth Day Contest. It's not your standard stroke material, so if that's what you're looking for, perhaps moving on would be your best bet. But thanks for stopping by, ya'll.)
*
"Gettin' any dirt for your worm?"
Beth couldn't help but overhear the two handsome cowboys directly in front of her in the checkout line. The one asking about worms was tall, lanky, with a bushy walrus mustache. The other one was short and thick like a fire hydrant. Beth held her breath as the short one answered.
"Naa. Ever since Mary Joe left, I ain't been gettin' shit."
Beth closed her eyes, a sinking feeling in her chest. She hated it when people used foul language. It was like an affront to God, even if they didn't take the Lord's name in vain. But then the tall one spoke up again and she couldn't resist taking another peek at him.
"Tell ya what, Zeke, if I don't get some dirt for my worm soon, it's gonna shrivel up and die."
Before she knew what she was doing, Beth had left her place in line and was now standing directly in front of the tall handsome cowboy.
"I heard you mentioning worms?" she stammered, her heart pounding. "I'm taking an environmental studies class in college, and I'd be interested in helping you with your worm problem. Are they common earth worms, or some sort of exotic species?"
The cowboy grinned, a gold tooth sparkling in the garish lighting of the supermarket. "Tell ya what Ma'am. Why don't you come on out to the ranch this weekend and we'll see what you can about my worm problem."
"I'd love to come out to your ranch," she said, ignoring the problem of explaining her whereabouts to her nosey Aunt, who was providing her a room for the duration of her college term. Would her Aunt approve of this handsome cowboy? Phooey. She could just tell her Aunt she was going to the library to study, which would only be half a lie, since she was going out to the ranch to study earth worms.
"Here," the cowboy said, handing her a brown, wood-grained business card.
"Thank you," she stammered, glancing at the Bar M logo on the card and the address underneath. "Will your ranch be hard to find?"
"No Ma'am. Just follow highway 79 south till you get to Lambert Lane. Hang a right, and I'll be the first gate on the left. You'll recognize the logo on the sign."
"What time?" she asked, fighting the urge to fan herself with a magazine off the rack.
"Around ten? Is that too early for ya?"
"No, that's fine," she said, mesmerized by his Montana sky blue eyes.
"By the way, I'm Porter." He stuck out his calloused hand and she blushed.
"Sorry," she giggled. "Beth." The feel of his touch was warm, comforting, and she forgot all about the earth worms. She just stood there, trying to ignore the squishy feeling that was threatening to drench her panties. "All right then," she sighed, "see you on Saturday."
Porter flashed his gold tooth one more time, and then he and his pal were ambling out the door, looking a lot like Clint Eastwood and his sidekick from a Hollywood western movie.
Beth jerked her shopping cart out of line and headed for the restroom at the back of the store, not because she had to pee, but because of a different kind of wetness. The intermittent dripping between her legs wasn't something she was overly concerned about. She just assumed it had something to do with her virginity. How many sleepless nights had she spent with a pillow stuffed between her legs, trying to make the wetness go away? Yes, being a virgin was a burden, but with Jesus giving her strength, she knew she could get through it.
*****
The ranch was, indeed, easy to find. After bumping down a short stretch of dirt road, she rounded a rock abutment and came face to face with a small adobe dwelling. It was the color of faded earth, with an equally faded Ford 4X4 out front. As she climbed out of her rented Escort, she saw Porter emerge from the shade of the doorway, his lanky frame anchored by a pair of sharply pointed cowboy boots.
"You found it," he grinned, a stick of straw protruding from between his teeth.
"Yeah," she said, suddenly self conscious. Instantly, she was second guessing her wardrobe choice; khaki shorts and a pullover top. Shouldn't she be wearing jeans and a flannel shirt?
"Love the outfit," he grinned, cocking his hat back on his head.
"It's all I have at the moment," she sighed, looking down at her feet. "My parents have me on a very strict budget.
"No problem," Porter said, his velvety voice soothing her ragged nerves. "It's going to be a hot one today, and now I'm sort of wishing I was wearing shorts too."
Beth let out a sigh of relief. On the one hand, she was as scared as a six year old on her first day of school, coming out here in the middle of nowhere all by herself. On the other hand, she was reassured by his confidence and calm, as if God himself was embodied in this mysterious, but gentle cowboy. Looking into his weathered face, she noticed the lines around his eyes. Although he carried himself like a college guy, he could have been thirty or even forty. All those years in the sun made it hard to tell.
"The worms?" she asked. "Are they in your garden?" Looking around, she didn't see a garden, although there were hints of green peeking out from behind the house.
"This way," he said, kicking up little puffs of dust as his boots stirred the bone dry ground. She followed, staring at his broad shoulders and narrow waist. It reminded her of the way the football players looked when they were in their pads, their bodies top heavy, their tight butts impossibly firm from all the workouts and weight lifting. Imagining Porter on horseback sent her off into a sunny daydream of green fields and spring flowers.
"You got family here?" he asked, jarring her out of her fantasy.
"I'm staying with my Aunt. She moved out here from Chicago a couple of years ago. My parents are still there. When they saw the brochure for William-son West they made up their mind, and here I am."
"School is good," Porter said, more to himself than to her. "Out here in the boonies, Mother Nature is our teacher, and flunking out is not an option."