The Flying Cross Ranch Romances Volume One

Chapter 5

It was times like these that Savy James felt like Cinderella. Here in this old, cluttered house, she scrubbed the floors and tended to the pots of food cooking on the stove. There weren"t rats scuttling about in the walls, but a few ants had made their way inside since technically she lived in the wild. Unfortunately, unlike her girl Cindy, none of the wild creatures taking up space in and around Savy"s home raised their voices in song or picked up a broom to help her clean.

Savy supposed that was fair. Her voice wasn"t the delicate soprano of the Disney princess. She was an alto. Her voice was rich and full with a hint of smoke, though she"d never had a single cigarette. Still, she supposed with a voice slightly deeper than Ursula in The Little Mermaid, the mice and woodland creatures might think her a villain rather than the heroine.

The Little MermaidThey weren"t the only ones.

"Yo, give it back. It"s mine. "Fore I drop you like a dime."

"You are so lame. You"ll never make it as a rapper, not even for a candy bar."

"We gone see who be lame, when my records brings me fame."

"Ms. Savy"s stupid rule says it"s communal property, so it"s not yours."

The shouted words were followed by a loud crash. The crash was the splintering of wood, not the break of bones. Savy had learned to distinguish those sounds at a young age. So, she didn"t rush to the other room.

They were expecting an important guest soon, and the house was still in disarray. But she supposed it would look bad if she was mopping up blood when their visitor arrived. So, Savy decided to pick her battles. She rested the broom against the kitchen counter and walked calmly into the other room.

"Ashton, Denny," she said, raising her alto voice.

The commotion immediately stopped. It was always jarring to others when Savy used the bass in her voice. She was technically a contra-alto, the lowest register for a female singer along the lines of Cher, Tina Turner, and Billie Holiday. However, if someone made her mad enough, she could reach the heavy tenor of Luciano Pavarotti. Most of the time, she had the smokey voice of the actress Kathleen Turner.

"If one of you kills the other, not only will that person have to clean up the blood, but I"ll make you dispose of the body all by yourself. Do you hear me?"

The loud ruckus stopped abruptly, followed by two sulky, "Yes, Ms. Savy."

Had this been a Disney movie, she and the kids would"ve broken into a song and dance about cooperation and sharing. Savy could"ve pulled off the song. Not the dance. It wouldn"t have mattered anyway because the two young boys scurried off in opposite directions.

The kids at the Bright Horizons foster home all hated chores. Which was entirely normal. All kids hated chores, especially if they involved a rag and a broom.

Not Savy.

Chores had been one of the few consistencies in her life. As a young girl surrounded by the chaos of narcissistic and addicted parents, she"d clung to any routine and sense of normalcy. So, although Savy gave each of her charges daily chores at the foster home, she still went behind their work with a rag and a broom each night. It was the only way her mind settled enough for her to go to sleep.

Savy headed back to the kitchen to retrieve her broom as well as her zen, when another crash from a different room shook the walls. Once again, Savy let go of her trusty broom and went in search to see which hellion in her charge was trying to let loose the Devil in this house.

"Daria, what are you doing?"

That sopranic voice belonged to Savy"s youngest sister. Along with her high-pitched voice, Foxy could"ve physically passed for a Disney princess with her wide eyes, button nose, and heart-shaped mouth. She most resembled Princess Jasmine with her golden tanned skin and raven braid hanging over her shoulder. All she needed was a tiara to complete the look. A tiara and a washcloth with lots of soap.

Foxy was bent over, looking up into the fireplace. She was covered from head to toe in soot, like she was the little Cinder girl instead of a runaway princess off on a magic carpet ride.

"What"s going on?" said Savy.

"Daria climbed up the chimney," said Foxy.

"Oh, no," Savy groaned. "Not another superhero stunt."

"Remember that kid Neil who was here last year," came a disembodied voice from the chimney.

"Daria, get down from there," said Savy.

"He stole money and hid it somewhere in the house," said Daria. "But no one ever found it. I saw him in here, and he looked suspicious."

"Neil always looked suspicious," said Foxy. "Because he was always doing something he shouldn"t."

"Which is why they took him to juvie after he stole from the library and tried to sell the books at the school book fair," said Savy.

"He was not the smartest," sighed Foxy, wiping the soot from her cheek, only to replace it with more streaks.

"Exactly," called down Daria. "I thought he hid the money he earned in the chimney."

Savy wanted to argue that money gained from thievery wasn"t earned, but she had to keep her priorities straight. Once again, she picked her battles. "Daria, get down from there. You"ll hurt yourself."

There was a sharp intake of breath that echoed down the chimney. Then a puff of soot. No child emerged.

"But, Ms. Savy, if I find the money, then we can buy the foster home from the government, and they can"t take us away. We can all stay together."

If Neil had stashed money in the chimney, it wouldn"t be enough. Because this house wasn"t for sale. The land was being taken over by the government in favor of the protected wildlife in the valley. The herd of mustangs had tugged on the heartstrings of the community more than the wildlife inside the foster home. And now, they were the ones who had to fend for themselves.

"Daria, I need you to get down here now," said Savy, putting bass in her voice. "The representative from the government will be here any minute, and you"re supposed to be in a dress with a clean face."

"A dress?"

There was another plume of soot. Along with a scuffling sound. Daria was likely climbing higher, more likely over the threat of a dress than a clean face.

"You"ll need to get that, sis," said Foxy, canting her head toward the front hall.

Savy didn"t ask for clarification. Foxy fancied herself a bit of a psychic. Their Creole grandmother had had the touch. Every once in a while, Foxy got a prediction right. When it came to expected visitors, her clairvoyant sister was batting a thousand.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"I"ll stall," said Savy. "You get her out of there. And then clean both of your faces."

Savy headed to the front door, but Ashton was already there. The kid wore a faded T-shirt with the explicit lyrics of a rap song that were blacked out. But the gist of the song was still easy to get by filling in the blanks. Savy believed in allowing the kids to express their personalities. She just wished she"d censored Ashton before he"d gotten to the door.

"What you at my door for? When you don"t know the score?"

The brown-skinned man in a dollar store suit stepped back. He looked at the address, which was crazy, as this was the only house on the road. Then he looked again at the pint-sized wanna-be rapper with blond cornrows.

Savy had talked with Ashton—who insisted on being called Ashtray—about manners, opening the door to strangers, and misappropriating other people"s cultures. What Ashtray spat back was the notion that he had freedom of speech. And yes, he spat it all in rhyme. The kid walked around with a thesaurus and rhyming dictionary. Which was a boon to his education. So, Savy decided not to pick that battle.

The government official took one look at Ashtray, then Savy, then the mess left in the hall, and began to jot down some notes. This was not going well. She knew that if she didn"t win this battle, then she might lose the entire war.

"Mr. Davidson, hi. I"m Savy James."

Savy gave the man her most winning smile. His facial features didn"t c***k as he regarded her. Before he could take her hand, a scream came from the other room. Then a thud. Followed by a plume of soot.

"I think I broke my arm," sobbed Daria.

Savy looked outside at the deserted road. A white horse ran in the distance, wild and free. There was no rider on its back. Even as she thumbed at the plastic ring she wore around her neck, she knew better than to wish for a prince to ride in and save her.

She knew Prince Charming existed. She"d found her prince when she was a little girl. The problem was he never showed up at the right time, and he always left too soon. Forever was off in the future for her and Charlie Matthews. Forever definitely wasn"t today when she needed him most.