Petticoat Ranch Quotes

“Of course she'd told him she would, but if the man hadn't registered her sarcasm, then he wasn't making full use of his ears.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“To my way of thinking, no one can live in the grandest cathedral on earth, the Rocky Mountains, and not know that there's someone bigger than man in charge of the world.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“I don't reckon men are supposed to think," Sally said philosophically, as the pile of hemp rope grew at her feet. "That's why God gave 'em big muscles.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Are they supposed to cry so much and giggle every second when they're not crying? They never quit finding something so funny that I thought it'd break my eardrums a few times.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“He set her down and held her steady until he was sure she wasn’t dizzy, then he turned on the girls, growled at them, and charged. They squealed and ran, but they didn’t run out of the room. They just dashed around in circles, colliding with each other. Clay snagged Mandy first, and while he held her and tickled her with his whiskery face, Laura toddled up and latched on to his leg. Being careful not to shake her loose while he dragged her around after the others almost made it a fair fight. He grabbed Beth when she danced too close, then, with his hands full, Sally jumped on his back. By the time they were done, Clay was flat on the kitchen floor, buried under three sets of petticoats and one soggy diaper. He remembered his first impression when he’d regained consciousness in that awful shed, that he’d died and he was surrounded by angels. He hadn’t been far from wrong.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Sally said with wide-eyed innocence, “I think you’re pretty too, Pa.” Clay seemed taken aback for a moment, then he smiled down at Sally and chucked her under the chin with his gloved fist. “Well, thank you darlin’. I reckon that’s about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“He wondered why she wasn’t happy. After all, she now had a man to take care of her. Wasn’t that all a woman wanted? She’d actually hurt his feelings just a little bit when she’d agreed so gruffly to his proposal. The little woman should be at least as happy as he was.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Smiling for the first time all day, he came in to supper, slung an arm around Sophie’s waist, and gave her a loud smack on the lips. “The cattle are settled in the summer pasture. Tomorrow I start working around the place, repairing and adding here and there. The men will be able to help, too. I hope you didn’t do all the man’s work yourself, Sophie darlin’. You did leave something for me, didn’t you?” “Clay, you’re filthy.” Sophie slapped at Clay’s chest, but he could tell by her grin that she was pleased with his attention. “It’s hard work and honest dirt, darlin’. Let me share a little with you.” Clay pulled her closer, but she jumped back, grabbed a ladle off the stove, and waved it threateningly at him, failing to suppress a smile. The girls started giggling, and maybe for the first time, Clay didn’t mind it at all.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Try an’ get some rest, darlin’.” Clay pressed her back against her pillow. Sophie nodded. Clay stood and took a couple of steps toward the door. He paused and looked back at her, and then he awkwardly came back, leaned over, and kissed her on the forehead, then the cheek, then her lips. He brushed her hair back again. “You and the girls, and this life I’ve got myself into, will always be a miracle to me, Sophie.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Clay came in and sat on the bed beside her. “Adam and Luther said something was wrong.” Sophie couldn’t hold back a smile even though the tears didn’t quit flowing. Clay rubbed a rough thumb across one cheek. His touch was so gentle that Sophie felt as if she were made of the finest crystal. “Please don’t cry, Sophie darlin’. You know I can’t stand cryin’.” His sweetness and concern made the tears flow faster. “When you cry I feel like some kind of a monster who has hurt you or scared you half to death or. . .” Sophie lunged forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard to get him to quit talking crazy. She pulled back and smiled at his stunned expression. Softly enough to ensure privacy in the crowded house, she said, “A woman doesn’t always cry when she’s sad or hurt, Clay. I was lying here thinking that God gave me a miracle when he sent Adam, Luther, and Buff to me.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Clay caught her hand as she reached for his arm and held it tight. “And the girls can get a meal on, or we’ll go eat in the bunkhouse. I want you to rest.” “Clay, I don’t need to rest.” Sophie dabbed at his oozing wound. “There is nothing in the. . .” Sophie realized her fingers were going numb as Clay squeezed tighter and tighter. “The girls can do it. They have a stew already done, so they just need to mix up biscuits and set the table.” She was talking fast at the end. Clay released her. Sophie sighed with relief and had to control the urge to rub her hand. She arched one eyebrow at her husband. “Good girl,” he said, like she was a well-behaved horse.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“I’m sorry I yelled. Just please don’t take such chances again. I’m glad you were there this time.” He tapped on her chin, and she raised her head to look at him. “You saved my life today, Sophie. Maybe Adam and Luther and Buff woulda come in time, but it woulda been a close thing. So I’m glad you were there. But thinking you might be shot by those men. . .” His arms tightened around her. “Sophie, I—I don’t think I could stand it if something happened to you. I want you to quit trying to do so much. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it for you. I want you to take care of yourself. Please promise me.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Sophie McClellen,” Clay said so grimly, it got her undivided attention. “Yes, Clay?” She was surprised she had such an obedient tone at her disposal. “If you can’t keep your mouth shut, what’s say we talk about what you were doing up here when I told you to stay in the house and rest!” He’d started out whispering, but by the time he was done, he’d built to a roar.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Four agin’ two, and one of ’em a gutless, little female,” Percy said with a cackling laugh. “I’d say that makes you purely outgunned, McClellen.” “Guess again, you low-down polecat,” Adam roared from out of the trees. Adam raised his gun and took aim at the unarmed man closest to his Sophie. Fury such as he’d never known cut through his soul.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Well, it’s not gonna be like that this time. There’ll be a doctor, and there’ll be no creek, nor a thicket!” Clay seemed to gather his wits about him. “And you’re not gonna do anything that might hurt you or the baby.” He seemed happiest when he was issuing orders, so Sophie let him. His eyes suddenly got serious—serious to the point of frantic. He grabbed both her arms and almost beseeched her, “You’re going to sit in that house and rock in a rocking chair and rest!” “Clay, we don’t own a rocking chair.” “I’ll build you one.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“You can fill that house to the rafters with all the baby girls you want, now that you’re married to me. And I promise to be nothing but grateful.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“I don’t reckon men are supposed to think,” Sally said philosophically, as the pile of hemp rope grew at her feet. “That’s why God gave ’em big muscles.” Mandy tilted her head sideways for a second. “Makes as much sense as anything else.” Sophie nodded. “Men do the lifting and women do the thinking. That sounds fair. I suppose God could have planned it that way.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“What kind of blamed fool notion got into your head, to go running out of the barn while there were bullets flying. There I had you all tucked away safe, and instead of staying put, like anyone would who had half a brain, you had to go haring off. . .” It went on the rest of the day. He even woke up a few times in the night. At first he’d hold her tight and close and long and touch her as if he were desperate to make sure she was alive and well. Then he’d start in on his scolding again.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“What are you doing?” Sophie jumped at his harsh tone and whacked her thumb. “Ow!” She grabbed her finger and looked at it for a minute, then stuffed the tip into her mouth and glared at him. Clay forgot his temper and chuckled at the sight. “There is nothing funny about me smashing myself with a hammer!” she growled around her thumb. “You look like Laura sucking her thumb. It’s cute.” Clay smiled at his wife. Her hair was bedraggled. She had on her stained work dress. She was wearing boots five sizes too big for her, and she was wildly irritated. He thought about how pretty she was and wondered if he could tease a kiss out of her. “Cute?” Sophie withdrew her thumb, scowled, and bent over to go back to work on the board. Clay remembered why he’d hollered at her to begin with. His amusement faded. “I’ll do that. You wouldn’t have hurt your thumb if you’d been doing the work God intends for a woman to do. Get back in the house!”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“He’s a low-down scoundrel! He accused Cliff of being a horse thief, refused to chase after the posse that hung him, and asked me to marry him, all in the same breath!” A woman could sure get upset over the least little thing. “Now, darlin’, don’t get all fussed about that.” “Fussed! About a man calling Cliff a horse thief,” Sophie stormed. “I will never stand by and listen to talk like that!” Clay carefully reached for his hat, hoping Sophie wouldn’t notice he was planning to run for it. She was fuming at him with her back mostly turned, only peering over her shoulder once in a while to scorch him with a furious look. Clay tried to placate her. “After all, the man had a job to do, Sophie darlin’, and what man wouldn’t want you to marry him?” There, a little flattery. Wasn’t that what women wanted?”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“What’s the matter?” “They’re fighting again.” Sophie cocked her head a bit to listen to the squabbling that distance had nearly erased. “You call that little spat fighting?” “What do you call it?” he asked impatiently. Sophie shrugged. “There isn’t room for any of the girls on that seat, and they all know it, so they’re just making noise. I didn’t pay it any mind.” She walked up to him and patted him on the arm. “That’s just how little girls are. You’ll get used to it soon enough.” Clay nodded silently for a while, then turned to go to the wagon. As he walked out Sophie heard him mutter, “I’ll get used to it or go deaf. In the end, I reckon that’s the same thing.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Are they supposed to cry so much and giggle every second when they’re not crying? They never quit finding something so funny that I thought it’d break my eardrums a few times. And Laura pitched a daisy of a fit when Beth tried to give her a bath. Then Beth asked me to help, but Laura was stark naked, and I didn’t think that was proper, so I said no. Then, well, maybe I said no a little. . .loud. Beth started crying.” Clay ran his hands into his hair and made it stand up on end.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Clay said, “Okay, you can come on one condition. . .” “Anything,” Sally said, clapping her hands together joyfully. “If you come, you gotta call me ‘Pa.’ ” Clay tried to sound stern, but a grin broke out on his face as he said it. Sally’s eyes got as bright and round as double eagle coins. For a second she looked so awestruck Clay was afraid she was going to swoon or something. Then she said fervently, “I’d be right proud to call you ‘Pa,’ Pa.” “Can we call you ‘Pa,’ too?” Beth asked. Clay drawled, “Well, I reckon that’s what I am now, your pa, so I’d say you’d better get to calling me that.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Clay shrugged. “ ’Cuz we’re getting married right now, whether you understood what I wanted or not.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“It doesn’t matter anyway, whether you’ve been asked proper or not. I guess I’ve heard of women who want fancy sweet talk and even rings and such, but I didn’t take you for a woman who’d need that nonsense.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch

“Where did you get the outlandish notion that we were getting married?” “Outlandish notion?” Clay’s brows shot up. “We talked about it. You said yes. What do you think I went to town for?” “The parson?” Sophie screeched. “Yes,” Clay answered in a sarcastic drawl. “The parson!” “We have not talked about getting married.” Sophie jabbed Clay in the chest with her index finger. “I think I would have remembered a proposal!” Clay grabbed her hand. He must not like being poked. Good. She’d remember that if she ever needed his attention again. Clay got a very thoughtful look on his face. “I asked you if you knew what we had to do.” “Yes, but I can’t imagine how you got, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you’ out of that brief exchange.” Clay released her hand, lifted his Stetson, and ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it before setting his hat back on. “I asked you if you were a God-fearing woman,” Clay added. “And I am one.” Sophie crossed her arms, stiffened her jaw, and waited for the man to make some sense. “Well, we have to get married!” Clay said tersely. “So that’s what I meant when I asked you if you knew what we had to do. What did you think I meant?” “I had no idea!” Sophie could hardly remember him making the comment.”
― Mary Connealy, Petticoat Ranch