The Hard-To-Tame Texan Read online

“Some of the kids might hear you and realize what hungry gropers we—you are.”

  “How are the love birds doing?” John asked.

  “Okay.”

  Cautiously, John inquired, “Will they...make it?”

  “I think they already have.”

  “How shocking.” Then John sighed in a blue manner as he asked his wife, “What are we gonna do about Tom? He’s getting long in the tooth. And he’s supposed to be the one who supplies the next generation.”

  Mina said kindly, “We’ll see.”

  “You’ve gotten Cynthia out here how many times, and he’s never even noticed.”

  She finally admitted, “All the women I’ve dragged out here were primarily for Tom. Matching them was getting rid of them because Tom wasn’t interested.”

  “He’s...okay...isn’t he? Masculine and so forth?”

  “No problem.”

  “He’s gonna be thirty-six this year!”

  “I know.”

  “Should I look around for him?”

  Mina replied pretty fast, “No!”

  “Well, if I can help you in this, I would try.”

  “Men are very strange characters.”

  He gasped, “Men are? I thought it was w—Other people.”

  “So. You think women are strange?”

  “They sure as hell baffle me.” Then he added hastily, “How come you’re a woman and you’re logical.”

  “I’ve taught you to recognize logic.”

  She was on the very edge of hilarity.

  He sighed and hugged her gently. “I was lucky to find you. Do you know I love you?”

  “I don’t recall ever hearing you say something like that.”

  “Your memory’s flawed. I’ve told you at least every week.”

  She mentioned gently, “Perhaps that isn’t often enough to remember what you’ve said.”

  “I suppose. Be quiet and I’ll tell you now.”

  She was silent.

  “You asleep?”

  “Listening.”

  “I love you, Mina.”

  She put her hand on his face and then she kissed him.

  Then John asked Mina, “What are we going to do about Tom? He’s here. He’ll stay here, but how can we find him a wife? He never leaves the place anymore—”

  “Let’s ask.”

  And her husband told Mina, “This is man talk, I’ll handle it,”

  While she shivered in appalled terror, she said, “Yes.”

  And he would! He’d chide Tom and bully him and ruin everything.

  The shooting of Andrew Parson’s horse still lay under all their skins. A horse is precious to TEXANS.

  With all the other things that were going on at the ranch and in the little town, nobody forgot that they were in danger. People live in fear just so long. Two things happen. Constant pressure causes resistance. And if someone is pushing, but nothing else occurs and time passes, those harried begin to look around and they become gradually bolder.

  No man allows more than he can handle. He will gradually become too intrusive and he will be dangerous. He always thinks he can handle anything on his own, and he generally can, but the police grieve when a loner is needlessly killed.

  The police in that area were aware of the odd danger. In TEXAS, they were called Rangers out in the boondocks. They are careful of the people they protect. They share in knowledge and advise the ranch crews on how to conduct themselves.

  They insist on groups. Never go alone. What they should do was clear. The men were never to hesitate in calling for help. The police would rather be called and not needed, than needed and called too late.

  The ranch hands kept their eyes open for intruders or any indications that somebody was crossing their land. The two pilots did flyovers with care as to seem unknowing. And word of anything odd was shared not only with the police, but with their neighbors.

  And of course, the cattle rustlers were reported in a routine, rather bored manner.

  The biggest gossip and knee slapping that happened was when the police hired some rustlers to watch for the intruders! That seemed a little like giving a honey pot to the bees. But the ex-rustlers were diligent and concerned and very good watchers! Very competitive.

  It is always odd to have someone cross a line one way or the other.

  The supposedly easy, self-loving Andrew still grieved for his horse. No one knew that. He would be solemn and still, looking out over the land, but always to the north and west. Mentally, he would be in a faraway land, gone.

  JoAnn found him and asked, “What is it?”

  He turned and frowned a little as he asked, “What?”

  “You were a hundred miles away.”

  “No. I was thinking.”

  “About... what?” The trouble with minds is a woman can’t see into them and know everything a man is considering. She needed to know what distracted Andrew from her. Was it a woman crossing from the house to the car lot?

  How revealing that she wanted all of his attentions.

  Then one day, Andrew simply vanished. JoAnn couldn’t find him anywhere! She searched. She asked people on the place, “Have you seen Andrew Parsons?”

  “Not for this day.” That was one of the house women.

  “No, not today.” One of the men in the house replied.

  “Nu-uh. Ya look in the house?”

  “I’ve looked there and around the outside of the house...”

  And the hand nodded seriously before he asked, “Ya wan’ me to look fer ’em?”

  “Please. Do you need me to tell someone you will be searching? Maybe you ought to take someone with you?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “And tell them where you’ll be searching, so’s Rip can keep track?”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Keeper.”

  “That’s a good idea. Be careful.”

  He smiled toothlessly with a two-week beard on his scratchy chin. He told her, “I’ll be careful because I know how precious I am.”

  “So’s Andrew.”

  “Ahhhh. We’ll find him.”

  So JoAnn went to Mrs. Keeper. “I asked one of the crew to look for Andrew. I’ve searched for him and asked everyone, but no one’s seen him. He couldn’t just—vanish!”

  “Don’t worry, yet. We’ll find him. I’ll call John.”

  “Andrew isn’t anywhere. His car’s here. The horse he rides is in the barn.”

  Obviously, JoAnn had searched.

  Mrs. Keeper soothed, “We’ll help look. Get a hat, thin gloves and wear long sleeves, boots. We’ll ride something. Horses or pickups.” Then as JoAnn turned away, Mrs. Keeper called, “Take a gun with you.”

  That caused JoAnn to pause. A gun? It could be deadly serious. Where was Andrew?

  She turned back. “I don’t have a gun.”

  “I’ll bring one for you.”

  JoAnn blinked. She was going to carry a gun. She would never tell her mother that she had done something so rash, and that the Keepers had offhandedly assumed that she would lug a gun around. How shocking.

  Carrying a gun would have to be something else she’d never mention at home. Actually, considering what all she had secretly overheard, or recently experienced, she wondered what all her mother had withheld from her mother.

  And what all secrets had been kept beyond that to her great-grandmother? It was a shock to think any of those gentle ladies had been sly, withholding.

  It was obvious that JoAnn would have to observe her kinswomen more closely. She would have to listen without appearing to listen. Yes.

  And she looked soberly into her mirror and asked of her reflection, “Where is he?”

  She was going out looking for her lover, and carrying a gun because there were people around who killed horses. Would they fire those remarkably powerful, long-distance bullets at them?

  She needed to find Andrew before something terrible happened to him...and therefore...to her.

  So she understood that she loved And
rew. Their experimenting hadn’t been just curiosity...for her.

  Had Andrew left to shed the earnest woman from his back? To lose her?

  At the stables, others were mounting their horses or standing around talking. Her horse was ready. It was the one the crew had given her, and one of the crew held her horse...for her.

  He smiled and held the horse steady so that she could get onto the horse. He was the one who’d been in the stable when she’d been in the hayloft with Andrew. The new, anticipating lovers had waited silently for him to leave.

  Her lover. Where was Andrew?

  They would look for Andrew. They would search the area and count the horses. All the trucks and cars were accounted for.

  There was no question but that Andrew was out somewhere, alone and on foot.

  As the riders milled, their horses eager to leave, there were crew members who brought out filled canteens with leather shoulder slings.

  Sandwiches were delivered from the kitchen, and they were put in saddlebags and probably squashed. The people were given compasses and maps. Everyone had a compass and an area map.

  A burly man who was her father’s age told JoAnn, “You’ll stay with me.”

  It was obvious to any one that he felt she was untried and didn’t know how to use the compass or figure it out.

  It was easier to monitor her entirely than it was to go out and search for another pilgrim.

  He told her, “Stay close where I can see you.”

  She understood him entirely and replied, “Yes.” She wished for the dog Buddy. He would know where to find Andrew.

  Then she thought: What if Andrew had gone to Rip’s house where Buddy was staying? It was a logical walk. She mentioned this to the brusk, slightly overweight director.

  With her inquiry, the older man looked at her. Then he sighed and hollered, “Call Rip’s and see if Andrew is there.”

  Everyone was silent. They tilted their heads. They considered JoAnn. She was alert.

  People dismounted and stood petting their horses’ noses and mentioned things to other humans.

  The talk was low. The horses were frisky. The group waited.

  A houseman came out on the porch and called, “Yeah. The dog’s there and so is Andrew.”

  Mrs. Keeper decided who of the group could stay and who was released from the gathering, but since they already carried their lunches, the rest would just go on out for a jog along the drop.

  How intelligent their hostess was. If they’d had to go back inside, they’d have been disgruntled. This way, they all had an outing.

  Mrs. Keeper was a smart cookie. A hostess. She knew how to smooth anything.

  Nine

  That morning, Andrew had just gone on off, without even thinking of telling JoAnn anything at all about his leaving her there. He had given her no clue as to what he was doing or where he would be.

  Andrew Parsons was supposed to be her...lover?

  His disappearance had really rattled her. She’d searched everywhere and not found him. She’d been so panicked that just about the whole entire staff and guests at the Keepers had seriously gathered to search for Andrew.

  They had been solemn and sober. They had listened to that middle-aged, ham-handed, very serious leader...whoever he was...and he’d directed who was to go which way in searching.

  But with her last-minute question, as to where Andrew Parsons just might be, and the confirmation that Andrew was, indeed, over at Rip’s, the search mood had changed quite markedly.

  Several of the people had kindly said to her, “I’m glad he’s found.”

  But there were those disgusted ones who tilted back their heads and closed their eyes as they used Moses’ name.

  Mrs. Keeper had trained the crew to lambaste Moses instead of ticking God. God could get angry with their comments. Getting God angry wasn’t worth the risk. Moses didn’t have that much clout. He could handle it.

  Those disgusted ones were all male. In low growls, they mentioned the lack of thinking in females.

  So JoAnn went to her room, bathed and changed clothes. Then she went out and got into her car. She went on off away from the Keepers’ Place, not leaving him any note at all. If he wanted her, he could just look for her and find her!

  She knew full well, that had she been missing, Andrew Parsons would search by himself. It would never occur to him to gather the crowd and search. That very day, when he came back and couldn’t find her, he would look for her.

  If he did, it would be an intense search. Andrew could find out what disgust meant when he found her—when she reappeared—three days later—in one of the mini libraries and was calmly reading.

  Meanwhile, over in the Keeper’s town, Andrew was confronting Rip on Rip’s own front porch. Rip came slowly over to Andrew and crowded Andrew. Rip lifted his hand and gently tapped Andrew’s chest. Rip’s eyes were mean. He said, “Back off.”

  With logic, Andrew asked, “Is she here of her own choice?”

  And Rip said, “Ask her.”

  So the woman who was his sister, Lu, was standing quietly on the other side of the screen door. Andrew was appalled that his sister was actually living there. But that she was all right and undisturbed did soothe her brother.

  She smiled at him.

  Andrew was standing on Rip’s porch. Andrew limped somewhat, or perhaps more so. He had a cane. He soberly observed his sister.

  Was Lu embarrassed to be found out? Andrew wondered. She seemed interested in seeing him. But she had not invited her brother inside the house. It was Rip’s house. Yes.

  Keeping track of Rip, Andrew saw that Rip had gotten stiff-legged. His shoulders looked bigger. His arms looked like hammers for those curled steely hands. Rip’s eyes actually shot sparks.

  Andrew had read of such in fiction. In this case, it was not fiction, it was real. Rip’s eyes could shoot those sparks.

  Without a greeting, at all, Andrew said to his sister, “I’m surprised you haven’t gone on home. Do the parents know you’re here?”

  And she shrugged her shoulders and that wobbled her—chests! She smiled kindly. “They believe I’m with you, helping you recover.”

  “Is that so.” An observation and reply with no meaning at all. No question.

  She smiled in a rather sassy manner as she said, “Did daddy direct you to fetch me home?”

  Andrew replied in a carefully civil way, “Our daddy has never spoken to me or given me any advice or direction.”

  “He’s strange.” She tilted her head. “Do come inside. You’ve met Rip. He’s again taking care of your dog. Buddy arrived back here several days ago. Did you bore him into leaving you? Join us for a chat. We’re about to have lunch.”

  For a fallen woman, she was certainly sassy and snooty. Andrew looked at Rip. Rip was dangerous. And Andrew almost began a smile as he wondered if he could...handle...Rip. Then Andrew wondered if he scared Rip. That would be interesting to know.

  He asked Rip, “May I go inside?”

  Rip laid it out, right away, “The dog’s chosen to stay with us.”

  Andrew moved his head down just a tad in acknowledgment as he replied, “I understand.” He said, “I’ve some of the dog food sacks here with me.”

  Lu exclaimed, “Good. He’s eating all our meat.”

  Andrew said soberly, “You’ve probably ruined him.”

  Rip retaliated, defending Lu, “That’s what the dog’s eaten since I first had him.”

  And to prove he was adult, and that he was logical, Andrew replied, “You were very kind to take the dog in and keep him so well. I understand he flies short hops with you.”

  “After I flew him out looking for you, I find he likes flying. He’s a good dog.”

  Andrew looked at Buddy sitting silently between the two lovers in front of Andrew. He asked the dog, “Will you come back with me?”

  Buddy backed up two steps. That was clear enough. He would not go with Andrew.

  Anybody that’s been around them know
s dogs understand human words. God was smart to keep dogs from vocally communicating. Think of all the advice and arguments God has prevented by not allowing dogs to talk human talk. It would be endlessly critical, and there would be all that advice.

  This way’s better.

  Lu urged her brother to sit with them while they had lunch. “You’re sure you don’t want to share our lunch?”

  “I’ve eaten.” He was of the kind who could go some long time without food. He didn’t want to eat at their table while he was still hostile that his sister was living with—in Rip’s house.

  Andrew was just about as stiff as the man of two hundred years ago that he felt he was. He watched his sister and in no time at all, he understood that the two really loved each other. So Andrew sighed and frowned a tad as he then sorted out Rip.

  He asked Rip questions about flying. That was Rip’s field. What would he have to say that Andrew could listen to Rip’s manner of speaking? Andrew needed to probe Rip’s knowledge. His future. His means in caring for a woman. Was he serious about her? Andrew set out to find out.

  Actually, in spite of being a throwback to a long-ago time, the subject was current. Could Rip provide for Lu? Did he love her...enough? Really timeless questions.

  Andrew sat back in his dining-room chair, at the table, and watched the two. He watched his sister smile at Rip, and he saw how vulnerable Rip was to her.

  Buddy was under the table. It was obvious that the dog had chosen sides. Andrew was concerned about the dog attacking his own very vulnerable legs that were under the table. So far, to the riveted listening of the dog, Andrew’s voice sounds were mature and logical.

  The two lovers would never know how much the dog’s intense attention to Andrew helped them. While Andrew had no real business to intrude on them at that time and chide the two, his conscience demanded that as her brother, he needed to appear profound, concerned, directive.

  Rip began to relax. First because Lu accepted her brother with some delight, and second because the ponderous Andrew was logical—although he talked too much, too long. It must be stacked up conversation left over from his long, plodding adventures... without a radio. Without one, the man had too much time to think.