Riley's New Life

"Aye, you're already a bit of a legend in our household and yet I'm the only one in my family who has met you. Are you cross about this?"

"Nope, I know I'm no wonder-woman and know that no one can stop people talking. I expect my undeserved legendary reputation to fizzle away quickly."

Blake said she probably could be right about that.

"Why are you wearing jeans and a fancy top, rather than really dressing up?"

"I figured only your mother would really dress up and your sisters would have made your mother angry, and probably your father too, by saying why dress up for an informal dinner with an immigrant school teacher who would probably end up breaking your heart."

The SUV was steered off-line briefly as Blake yelled, startling her.

"Fucking hell, Riley. How on earth could you figure that out so accurately without knowing my family. Perhaps mum called you and bitched about her family acting like peasants about your arrival for dinner?"

"Your mother hasn't contacted me and I've been speaking to no one about this, including motor-mouth Rebecca. I simply visualised that might be happening as I'm familiar with country people and it seems logical to me that after Rebecca's blathering about me, that the females in your family might think that I might dump you after having a brief fling."

"I see. And do you think you're too good for me?"

"Certainly not. I don't think like that and anyway we would not have come this far in our fledging relationship had I gained unfavourable impressions of you from our initial meeting. Please, say nothing to your family about that declaration that I just made."

"I won't, not a word. If I'm asked do you like me, I tell that person to ask you for the answer."

Riley popped the question: "Do you like me?"

"Yeah, heaps. But don't tell my family that. What do you think about me?"

"I believe our relationship is off to a promising start. That's all I need to say."

"You must like me enough to want me to have sex with you."

"That's true, Blake, but tell your family that and I'll possibly have to kill you to quash my embarrassment."

They laughed and held hands briefly until Blake prepared to turn across the road to a driveway leading up a hill to a modern farmhouse that Riley figured was less that 10-years old.

Three females came from the house and down the steps to greet them and a balding guy of about fifty stayed on the porch leaning against one of the veranda roof support poles.

Riley wondered was he chewing on a barley straw while he checked out her conformation and judge her fitness by her movements.

She raced up to Blake's mother and hugged her and called her Eva and said to call her Riley.

"It's lovely to meet you, welcome to our farm, Riley. Omigod, you are beautiful and you had the confidence to call me Eva straight up," Eva said, looking with a touch of disappointment at the visitor's rather plain clothing but probably also admiring her trim body.

Her daughters had closed in and Riley kissed the 27-year-old, greeting her as Emma and swinging around to the 25-year-old and saying, "How are you finding the delight of teaching mostly eager new primary school entrants, Bella?"

"Omigod, you seem to know us already," Bella said.

"Only inasmuch as I asked Blake about you all as we drove up and with him being male, you'll know the information delivered was rather minimal."

The women laughed and gathered closely around the taller Riley and she waved to the guy on the porch and said, "Hi, Mr Watson, I'm Riley from Golden Peach School. I guess you've assessed my conformation already?"

"Yeah, you're not wrong about that, clever Riley. My assessment was Pedigree, A1. Chat to the girls and you Blake come and help me carry the drinks and nibbles out to the front porch table."

When everyone was seated with a drink in front of them, Mr Watson said, "Riley, tell me what are those cattle down below us to the left?"

"I'd say two-year old heifers, the mothers were probably Jersey purebreds and some Jersey-Friesian or Jersey-Shorthorns, crosses, and AI (artificially inseminated) with, I guess, semen from high-performance Shorthorn bulls judging by the look of the hand-full of late calving cows on the other side of the drive-way."

"Bloody amazing Riley, please call me Bill. My guess is Blake was short on specifics when he said he managed his family's dairy farm. We others live in Napier these days."

"Yes, when I asked what did the farm carry, all he said was mainly Jersey-crosses. I recognised the Shorthorn characteristics because I grew up on my parent's farm with a purebred Shorthorn herd and with the sires also grazing on the farm. We milked only 90 cows and that was a large number for herds in our region, with only a handful of amalgamated farms through sales of land creating larger farms milking 400-and upwards cows like they do in New Zealand."

"I understand that, girl, and recognize that small unit farming can producing amazing results in terms of quality, production per cow and so on."

"Yes Mr Blake."

"I thought I asked you to call me Bill."

"Perhaps that was before you dropped my name to call me a girl."

In the short silence that followed, Bill's wife smiled at Riley, her daughters looked at their father apprehensively and Blake was suddenly studying passing clouds.

"I apologise for any offence, Riley. You had proven to me that your knowledge about dairy farm livestock has some depth and that you are self-assured and sufficiently assertive to give any guy and I daresay female verbal stick if warranted."

"I apologize to my joint hosts for being a little rude, Bill. Your calm and considered response was impressive and the content suggests you are a wide reader, perhaps avid reader."

He smiled and nodded and his wife and daughters looked at Riley rather impressed, but she wasn't yet finished.

"Where were you hovering ready to come to my defence, if needed, Blake?"

"I um recognised it was merely verbal sparring between you and dad and appeared ready to collapse at any second."

"Okay, and you also considered that staying on the side-line was a safe way to avoid the risk of getting your arse kicked should I have annoyed your father sufficiently to make him feel compelled to hit out at someone, and that someone would be you because you bought the person riling him here today."

Everyone laughed heartedly.

Eva came around the table, pulled Riley to her feet and kissed her gently.

"God, girl you have guts and I guess plenty of know-all. You appear to be all of what Rebecca told us about you yesterday under intense questioning, and then some. Note that I call you girl, using the term affectionately."

"Omigod," Riley said, slamming Eva into a powerful hug. "I can now tell who wears the pants in this family. Come with me to your kitchen and help me mix Vodka Martinis and let's have a great afternoon. I have the ingredients in my handbag. The guys will probably want to stick to beer."

"Omigod," Emma called. "Cocktails in this house, are you okay with that, dad."

"I say what Riley wants; Riley usually gets. Go to it girls," Bill smirked.

The End