Chapter 13 Frannie
Claire slammed the saucepan down on the stovetop. “It’s not rocket science, Frannie. Isn’t that what you said?” Her voice was almost as loud as Jenny’s screams.
Frannie’s heart squeezed and her eyes prickled with tears. “Geez Louise,” she said, “it’s not the end of the world.” She hadn’t meant to mess up so bad. She swallowed hard and stuck her hands in her pockets.
Claire turned to her and Frannie felt even more terrible. Her sister sure looked pooped. If this was what having a baby did to you, she was never going to have kids. The door slammed and Red came in.
He took one look at Claire and went to her, taking the crying baby from her arms. “What happened?”
Jenny’s howls dwindled to soft whimpers.
Claire’s voice was all shaky. “Frannie mixed the formula yesterday. I told her three tablespoons of formula per cup. Tablespoons.” She shot a murderous glare at Frannie.
“She put in three teaspoons. Poor Jenny has been hungry—that’s why she didn’t sleep last night and why she’s been crying all day. ”
Frannie crossed her arms in front of her. “I didn’t know.” Tablespoons, teaspoons, how was she supposed to know the difference?
“I told you.” Claire screwed a nipple on the hot bottle. “Now I have to wait for this to cool so she can get some nourishment.” Claire’s eyes were shiny as she put the hot bottle in the refrigerator.
Red walked Jenny across the kitchen, patting her back. He paced back to Claire, bending to kiss her cheek. “You go get some rest. After she has her bottle I’ll put her down for her nap.”
Frannie watched Red with surprise. He sure was sweet to Claire, even when she was being such a pain. And he seemed like he didn’t mind taking care of the baby at all. Except for Dad, she’d never heard of a man taking care of a baby.
Half an hour later, Jenny and Claire were asleep in the bedroom. “Let’s go outside,” Red said. He grabbed a fishing pole and tackle box and led Frannie out the back door.
“I swear, I didn’t know,” Frannie said when they reached the river. “I thought she said teaspoons.”
Red selected a fly and tied it on the end of his line.
Frannie sat down on a rock, her shoulders slumped. “Will Jenny be okay?”
Red gave her a look that might have been sympathetic. “No harm done other than a sleepless night for your sister.”
“I told her I was sorry.”
“Did you?” Red asked as he threw out his line.
Frannie watched the fly on Red’s line land on the far side of the river and scowled. Maybe she hadn’t exactly apologized, but Claire knew she was sorry. She picked up a rock and tossed it into the rippling shallows. “Claire and Bridget treat me like I’m still a kid and I’m not.”
Red gave her a sideways glance like he wasn’t buying it. “Why do you want to grow up so fast, anyway?”
Frannie watched Red flip his fishing rod, the fly whizzing back and forth over their heads.
She knew Red had been raised in an orphanage.
She’d overheard Claire telling Bridget that he’d run away when he was just a kid and had been on his own ever since.
That sounded kind of cool to her, and it didn’t seem to have hurt Red any to not have a family telling him what to do every second.
She threw another rock in the river. “Because I want to do what I want.”
Red let out a bark of a laugh like she’d said something funny. “I hate to break it to you, little sister, but growing up is mostly about doing things you don’t want to do.”
“That doesn’t sound like very much fun.”
“Sometimes it isn’t.” Red turned back to his fishing, but not before Frannie saw a troubled look on his face.
She didn’t get a chance to ask him, because a man was making his way down the riverbank toward them.
He was tall and skinny and had white-blond hair and a tanned face that made it hard to tell his age.
His jeans were dirty and he wore a cowboy hat that looked about a million years old.
Red nodded to him, then to Frannie. “Bucky, this is Claire’s sister, Frannie.”
Frannie forgot all about Claire then. “You mean, the Bucky?” she squealed, jumping to her feet. “The one who was Claire’s date to the dance?”
Bucky froze and looked from her to Red.
“You are,” Frannie crowed. This was terrific.
“Millie told me all about it. She said she called dibs on Red but Red only had eyes for Claire.” Frannie had pestered Millie until she spilled the whole story about how Red and Claire met.
Millie told her how she’d literally run into Red on the sidewalk of West Yellowstone that summer Claire had worked at Old Faithful.
He’d apologized and set her back on her feet, but Millie had taken one look at him and finagled a double date for the West Yellowstone Grange dance.
She’d told him she and her friend were only in Yellowstone for another two weeks.
“We have to go to a cowboy dance with real cowboys,” she’d pleaded.
By the end of the night Claire had stolen Red’s heart.
It was a dreamy story, and Frannie could understand why Claire had fallen for Red like a ton of bricks.
He really was handsome with that red hair and blue eyes, like a cowboy out of the movies.
Bucky’s ears were pink and he looked back up the river where he’d come from like he was going to make a run for it.
Then Red asked him what kind of fly he was using and Bucky started talking about boring fishing.
Frannie lay back on the grassy bank and closed her eyes, soaking in the sunshine.
“Wait until I tell Millie I met the Bucky,” she said.
At least this day hadn’t been a total disaster.