“I got a bum leg, woman. Jesus,” Clarence grumbled.
“Uh-huh,” Irene said. “I don’t see anything wrong with your hands.”
I almost choked on my own spit. Clarence turned bright red and gave Irene a look. Then he turned to me.
“I’m not so sure I can recommend marriage, Jimmy. Not at this moment.”
Irene laughed, hearty and full, and it filled me with warmth and gaiety.
“I expect the wind was high on your way over. Your hair looks awfully unkempt,” she said to Oscar, then put a finger to her chin in contemplation and narrowed her eyes. “Though you would have worn a hat—”
Oscar ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps we should have tidied up more before we came back, but we were worried we’d be late.
“Naw, my hair’s just gettin’ too long. Needs a trim, I s’pose.”
Oscar’s hair was awfully long. T’was starting to get in the way and easily tangled, though it still looked all right.
“I’ve got a pair of shears. If you like, I can give your hair a trim after supper. Jimmy’s, too.”
We looked at each other and shrugged.
“Sure,” Oscar said. “I s’pose it wouldn’t hurt.”
After a delicious meal of bear steaks, mashed potatoes and turnips, Irene set up the straight chair in the kitchen, sat Oscar down with a cloth o’er his shoulders and got to work.
I was sitting in the living room with Clarence, talking about the horses and how we needed to get Dixie re-shoed in the spring, and when he’d start working at the blacksmith’s again. T’was so warm and cozy in that room I plumb forgot what Irene and Oscar were up to until a strange looking young man came in the room and grinned at me.
“What the—” I said, standing up. “What thehell?”
Oscar’s smile wavered. He lifted a hand to his head. “Don’t you like it?”
I barely recognized him.
Irene had shorn most of his long hair off. T’was cut so close on the side and around his ears that he seemed a different person. I was speechless. I gaped at him, trying to decide what I thought of it, until Irene came forward and spoke to Clarence.
“What do you think?”
“Looks good. I think it’s just a shock to poor Jimmy, that’s all.”
Now that I was becoming accustomed to it, I did like it. The cut made him look older and younger at the same time. His mouth looked too big for his face in the most charming way. His wide brown eyes popped now that they weren’t competing with his hair. I’d forgotten that his eyelashes were so long. Even with the shorn hair he looked pretty, with those plump lips and his pale complexion that reddened so easy. He seemed vulnerable and more delicate now his slim neck was exposed.
“You look—” My mouth had gone dry. He looked so good but so damn different. “You look good. You look—younger, I think?”
“Really?” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “How much younger?”
Good God. I really didn’t want to think about that. He’d looked young enough before, and now he looked even more like a kid. T’was distracting in a way I didn’t want to think about.
I shrugged, not answering.
Clarence laughed. “You do look a bit like a fresh-faced youth, Oscar. I s’pose when you’re forty and you look thirty, that’ll be a good thing.”
Oscar snorted. “Forty? You think I’ll live that long?”
“Jesus, Oscar,” I said, not wanting to think about any other possibility, “I sure hope so.”
“Yeah, me, too, I guess. There were times I didn’t think I’d make it to twenty, honest to God. But I’ve got you, now, and we seem to be doin’ all right. Maybe there’s hope for me.”
“Sure there is,” Irene said, reaching up to tousle what was left of his hair. “Anyway, it’s your turn, Jimmy. Come and sit in this chair, please.”
