The old house sat on a half acre of enclosed land. The fence was to keep the cattle out of the yard and away from the outbuildings. The yard was just a piece of dried up grass, about the same color as the rest of the terrain. They crossed over the cattle gate and Rollie pulled up next to the house.

“So do you live here all by your lonesome?” Susan inquired.

Rollie jammed the truck into park as he got out.

“Well kinda,” he said. “If ya don’t count a couple thousand head of cattle roamin about.”

He hurried around and opened the door for Susan, standing right in front of her as she got out. She had to tilt her head back to look up at his grinning face.

“Help me carry in the groceries,” he said stepping back to allow her to move.

He grabbed a bag of groceries out of the back of the pickup and handed them to her, then grabbed the last two himself.

“This way,” he said leading her to the front door. “Out of the way Scruff,” he yelled, at the mangy looking dog standing on the porch. “Don’t mind him, he’s a cross ‘tween a coyote and a wild cat,” he joked, looking back over his shoulder and Susan. “I just keep him around ‘cause he keeps the sidewinders out of the house.”

The interior of the house looked like a disaster area. There were dirty clothes laying everywhere and twenty or more empty Budweiser cans on the tabletops and floor. Rollie walked over and with his arms still holding the bag of groceries he pushed the counter full of bud cans to one side, half of them falling to the floor with a clatter.

“Sorry,” he said weakly, setting the bags down and reaching for the one she carried, “I don’t get much company.”

He raised the lid on the ‘out of place’ chest freezer sitting in the kitchen and sat two of the bags directly into it. The other bag containing toilet paper, paper towels, dish soap, which he obliviously ran out of a couple of weeks ago by the stack of dirty dishes in the sink, he left sitting on the counter.

“Here Susan want a beer,” he asked opening the refrigerator door.

The bottom two shelves of the refrigerator had been removed, to accommodate the six cases of Budweiser sitting in it. He grabbed two, handing her one and popping the top on the other.

“I don’t get to town much, so I stock up,” he said. “Oh, here, let me get that for ya,” he added reaching up and taking Susan’s hand to pop the top on her Bud. Holding her hand a minute longer than was necessary to open the can.

He released her hand, grabbed a garbage bag, and started to pick up all the empty can sitting around, tucking dirty clothes under his arm as he went.

“Have a seat,” he smiled clearing off the easy chair.

He did a quick clean up of the living room and kitchen, improving the mess by a hundred percent. Smiling at his work, he tossed the garbage bag out the front door, and his dirty clothes into the closet.

“That’s better,” he said. “The phone is right there when you want to use it,” he added pointing to it. “Right now, I need to take a shower. I’m starting to smell like a range heifer myself.”

He tilted his beer up and emptied it, sitting the empty can on the counter as he went by on his way to the shower.

Ten minutes later he was done. He came out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his old Tony Lamas on his feet. His damp blonde hair was sticking in every direction. His blue eyes were bright and clear, and his nose and cheeks were shiny clean.

“Better,” he commented. “Need another beer Susan,” he asked, heading for the refrigerator.