The Hard-To-Tame Texan Page 5

  She said, “Baloney.” Then she turned and began to walk away—ahead of him, but at his pace. She did not speak to him. He mentioned things he observed which wasn’t easy because the tableland was level and empty.

  She did not reply in any way. She was really angry. She had better things to do with her time.

  But then she began to remember what a good person her mother was and how her mother loved Mrs. Keeper. It was a nuisance. JoAnn didn’t need this type of experience. She disliked a sly man who pretended to be more fragile than he was.

  Then she considered his father who pretended to be fragile so that his wife paid close attention to him. And JoAnn considered the male population en masse. Men are strange. They are strange. But what else do women have to mate with?

  With hostile endurance, she looked at Andrew. He was biting his lower lip as he watched along the way. He was in pain. His brow was wet. He wasn’t faking it. She slowed down.

  She stopped and sat down on the ground to empty a collection of dirt from her shoes. He watched her. She ignored him, but she’d given him a breather.

  With her shoes carefully emptied, she carefully put them back on. She asked, “Are your shoes filled... you have boots?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. That’s smart on this land.” She’d given him a compliment.

  He said in a sharing manner, “I’ve worn boots since I came home from England.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Through my school years.”

  “Why did you want to go...there?”

  “My parents.”

  “I wonder why they sent you...there.”

  “My daddy likes my mother’s full attention.” There. He’d said it out loud.

  “Some parents are thataway. It’s no problem. We have our own lives to live and can’t change theirs.”

  Andrew looked at JoAnn in an entirely different way. In one day he’d gone from rejecting her to understanding she was smarter than he thought.

  Four

  It was after breakfast the next day. JoAnn dressed in a long-sleeved shirt with cotton trousers and boots. She went to the busy, distracted Mrs. Keeper and said, “I probably should just go on home. Andrew Parsons is beyond my lure. He treats me as if I am a child who is obstinately in another world from his. I agree.”

  Mrs. Keeper chided, “Darling, you can’t abandon me now. I still have to find someone to help the poor man come along into current reality. You must stay just a while longer. It won’t kill you to endure him. Your staying a while and distracting Andrew would help me tremendously.”

  Suspiciously, JoAnn asked, “Is this coercion?”

  Mrs. Keeper put a sympathetic hand to her own tousled hair as she replied, “Why...yes. I believe it could be called that. I need you.”

  Levelly, JoAnn retorted, “You said that you were looking for someone to take my place.”

  Shocked, Mrs. Keeper exclaimed, “Oh, I am, darling. I am searching for a woman who will jibe with Andrew. This just isn’t at all simple. Be kind. Be patient. You can help this poor man.” Then she tacked on: “Your mother loves you...too.” She’d just barely remembered to add on that last word.

  The almost forgotten last word indicated Mrs. Keeper remembered she also loved JoAnn who was precious. JoAnn very much doubted being precious or loved by Mrs. Keeper.

  Disgruntled, aware she was being used, and her own mother was a part of the conspiracy, JoAnn advised, “Keep looking. You must find someone and soon!” She gave Mrs. Keeper a very hostile stare and squinted her eyes in a rather mean manner.

  Mrs. Keeper sighed from her very toes and said, “I’m spending all my waking time...searching.”

  As JoAnn turned away, she warned, “Get to it.” She was heartless.

  It was time for JoAnn to find Andrew and communicate with him. Good gravy! This was not what she was raised to do. Her mother could not know exactly why the Keepers needed to keep this asinine guest. This Andrew Parsons didn’t know beans!

  Then she thought, hmmmm—maybe she could... change him. Maybe she could actually bring him up-to-date? Civilize him for the woman Mrs. Keeper would find for him? Yeah, she could do that. She didn’t have anything else to entertain her.

  Yesterday, he had actually talked about the Russian space station! That was certainly current. Maybe he wasn’t as badly focused as Mrs. Keeper thought!

  So, thinking her own way, JoAnn went in search of the boogeyman. He was the kind her daddy had warned her about long ago. He’d said if she kept on getting out of bed and exploring in the night when she was a child, she would find just such a person. Fathers tend to be hyper.

  Andrew Parsons was not hyper. He was self-centered and obnoxious.

  Since she didn’t care about him one way or the other, and she wasn’t at all afraid of him, she would simply entertain herself. She would pry things out of him and reject them all, slowly making him into a better man.

  She found him in the garden. He was wearing a hat, a long-sleeved shirt tucked into khaki pants, and he was whistling as if expecting someone, something, to answer.

  Andrew turned and saw JoAnn. He said, “Good morning.”

  Instead of responding to his greeting, she asked, “What are you whistling for?”

  With undue patience, he mentioned, “My dog is missing.”

  She looked around. “He isn’t around here. When did you realize he was gone?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “And you’re only looking for him now?”

  “He can generally take care of himself...and me. But he has vanished.”

  That boggled her. A tad more strident, she repeated, “Only now, you’re calling for him?”

  “I looked for him yesterday when we walked.”

  “He was gone yesterday, but you didn’t whistle then.”

  “I looked.”

  “And you could see if he was in the grasses or stubby growth?”

  “You are implying that he was harmed or dead?”

  She shrugged. “He didn’t respond. Did he vanish? Did you send him somewhere? When did you last see him?”

  Andrew found her irritating, but she was better than the silence he’d had to endure. He didn’t say it had been several days since Buddy had asked to leave his room. Instead Andrew said, “It was the other morning.”

  JoAnn echoed with underlined snottiness, “The other morning. When have you looked for him? I haven’t been aware of you watching for a dog or calling him.”

  “He’ll turn up.”

  “If he isn’t in some trap.”

  Andrew looked at her coldly. “A trap?”

  “Ranchers have all sorts of traps for mice and rats and coyotes.”

  Andrew was indignant. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “No rancher wants to support such creatures. The animals proliferate, take up room, eat ranch animals’ foods, or the animals themselves and are a nuisance.”

  “So.”

  She shrugged. “They are controlled.”

  “Controlled.” He tested the word.

  “That means they are killed off but not entirely.”

  Andrew, the one who knew everything about a man in this country, retorted, “They are killed? That seems rather rude.”

  “It’s logical. The ranches can’t allow too many creatures to eat or live off the land around them. Your dog could be in some coyote trap.”

  He instantly looked around, stretching up to see farther. “Where are the traps?”

  She indicated the area. “Along the animal trails.”

  “Where are those?”

  “You don’t know about animal trails?”

  “I’ve never seen any.”

  “And you are a man of the past? When do you think snaring animals began?”

  “I have never snared an animal. It is ruthless and cruel.”

  “So you’ve heard of it?”

  “On occasion.”

  “But you didn’t find out what it was.”

&nbs
p; He looked at her stony face with eyes that were equally stony. He disliked her.

  She waited.

  He made no reply. He moved away. He whistled. There was no reply. He put his two fingers into his mouth and whistled shrilly. He knew it was impressive. That’d break her damned eardrums.

  She didn’t even flinch.

  They both looked and listened. Nothing responded. Some birds flew over but they were flying high and might have been on their way anyway. Nothing came. Nothing was curious. All was quiet.

  Birds sang. TEXAS birds always sing. The scissortails flew. They are odd birds with tails crossed like open scissors.

  There were mockingbirds who could mock any of the other birds. One—or maybe more than one—had sleepily echoed the Swiss cuckoo clock JoAnn’s mother had. But the bird was dumb. It didn’t quit at twelve sounds at midnight. It just went on a little beyond that. Then trilled a few other birds’ comments before it went back to sleep.

  JoAnn lifted her face. She wore a wide brimmed cowboy hat to shade her from the sun. It was just right. Closing her eyes, she breathed the TEXAS air and was filled with the fragrance.

  Andrew realized she was a very well-made female. How could he shut her up and just enjoy her body? He considered her. Then he managed to look away when she turned her head.

  He whistled again.

  She mentioned, “Obviously, your dog cannot hear you since he has not responded to your whistle from this point. I would suggest you move to another area.”

  That was irritatingly logical. The suggestion offended Andrew. She thought he should move? The dog should come to him! He looked at her with about the same expression he gave spinach. He retorted as if he’d known what she’d volunteered, “Of course.”

  They walked in silence. They looked for the dog. After a while, she commented on the outdoors. She said, “I love coming here. Being in a town isn’t what I want.”

  “You’re an outdoor girl?”

  “—woman.”

  He licked his lips to hide his humor about this harridan. He courteously echoed, “—woman.”

  “I like it both ways,” she told him. She lifted her chin and looked around. She didn’t miss a thing. She saw no dog tracks nor did she see a dog. She told him, “Whistle again.” And she put her fingers in her ears.

  He rather liked it that she had to protect her ears from his whistle. He took a deep breath and gave the Come Here now whistle.

  The dog did not appear.

  She said, “He’s dead or he’s run off after some bitch.”

  Andrew’s eyes slid over and he looked down her body. He could understand a brief encounter with a female. He inquired, “Does your mother know you use that word so carelessly?”

  “No. I protect her ears’ fragile knowledge.”

  He said with snide courtesy, “How kind.”

  She allowed that to slide on off. She didn’t give two hoots what he thought. She mentioned kindly, “Since I know the territory, I would suggest you try that area—” she pointed to the west, northwest “—for your—”

  “Why, there?”

  “If you will allow me, I shall finish my sentence—dog, because there are many kinds of small, easily caught animals in that particular area. Notice that the ground is rather a tilted soup plate. The trees are closer. It is warm in winter and cool in summer. And herds avoid the crush of the trees.”

  “The shade?” He touched on that sounding kindly.

  “The prickly cactus.”

  “Ahhhh.”

  “Yes.”

  So she knew the territory. Andrew slid his eyes over to her in such a way that he could avoid looking at her if she was watching him. She was ignoring him. Now that was interesting to know. She didn’t like him. So why did she seek him out? Probably for the very reason he tolerated her? There wasn’t anyone else that she could talk with?

  Boredom is worldwide. The solutions are mostly what had happened to the two of them. JoAnn and Andrew. They were together, speaking reasonably and searching for a dog. Together. Together because it was easier than being alone.

  Andrew had learned about being alone early in his life. And he realized he was being as aloof to this female as he’d had to tolerate and survive in England. He could be kinder.

  He asked, “Are you kin to the Keepers?”

  She replied simply, “Friends.”

  She did not elaborate. So he inquired, “How...did the friendship start and between who?”

  “School. My mother and Mrs. Keeper.”

  Chatty, wasn’t she? He sought questions. He’d never interviewed or begun any conversation with anyone, at anytime. He tried to think how to open her head up so that she would talk.

  He asked, “Your mother was a classmate of Mrs. Keeper?”

  “Yes.”

  What a reply! “What school?”

  “You wouldn’t know it. It’s a woman’s school over in the south. Exclusive.”

  He said briefly, “Money.”

  “Not necessarily. The board is of women who went there. They are very open. There are scholarships. The students are well trained, and the teas were delightful.”

  “We had teas in England. They were rigid.”

  “You only went to school there?” And before he could reply, she asked, “Why?”

  “My daddy was jealous of me. He wanted my mother’s full attention.”

  “Awww.”

  Somehow he didn’t want her sympathy so he said, “I got along okay.” There was a blatant understatement if he’d ever heard one.

  Their intrusion into the soup plate area was interesting. Andrew whistled and just that shut up everything. But the dog, Buddy, did not respond. They continued their search.

  They were careful. With the silencing of the gophers and birds and coyotes and the hostile scolding of the squirrels, there were a lot of muted and hushed rustles.

  There were snakes. Andrew watched where he put his feet. JoAnn got a little hyper. Andrew did not whisper. He wanted his dog to hear him. He said to JoAnn, “Watch where you step.”

  She let him go first. He had on shoes. She had on boots. She figured if he went first, she would see any movement after he’d passed. She watched.

  Andrew watched the ground also but he mostly looked around, and he called to his dog. There were rustles but no replying barks.

  They looked carefully, but Buddy was not there.

  They went out of the tree-covered, cactus-covered soup plate and stood quietly on the other side of the nature dish. It had been a try.

  They looked beyond and saw the different, used area of grass and mostly Keeper-planted old oak trees with hackberry trees along and around. They were gnarled and interesting. Along the fence lines, under the mesquites, there were sparse growths of weeds.

  JoAnn looked over at the useless Andrew who waited for someone to talk to him or to ask him questions or to expound on his long, wasted life. How could he be brought up to current?

  Why did he avoid realizing his time was now and that was all he had?

  He would lie in his coffin and his spirit would jabber away...too late, unheard? Probably even if he could be heard, he had nothing of real interest to say. How demeaning. How sad.

  JoAnn asked, “Shall we search farther or go back to the house?”

  “Let’s see if there’s a reason for that drop-off over yonder.”

  She looked across the plain to where he pointed. “You believe the Keepers pitch unwanted guests off there?”

  He considered her and decided he wouldn’t actually pitch her. There was no one else who chatted with him. So he replied to the pitching, “Perhaps.”

  She couldn’t stop a rumbling of humor. “I’ll stand back a way, but I’ll walk over with you so that you can see.”

  He cautioned, “You’re not to trip me or push me off, do you understand? I would come back and haunt you with all the boring, discarded tales I’ve gathered.”

  She rejected that, “I think you’re too heavy for me to tilt o
ver the edge.”

  “So you’ve already considered that!”

  She replied, “A mind considers all sorts of things.”

  He considered her. “You’d be light and easy to pitch over the edge.”

  She faked high tension and stuttered anxiously through the words, “Don’t pitch me over the edge. Promise!”

  “Well, darn. You spoil any guy’s pleasures.” He was so amused.

  She laughed.

  “You trust me?”

  She retorted, “Any man who spends all this time trying to locate a lost dog, must have some sterling character in him.”

  “You are misled.”

  “You’re a rake?”

  They were already walking across the flatland to the drop. He replied, “I’ve been discarded by just about everyone I know.”

  That caught her attention. He was not kidding. He was serious. She asked, “How’d you manage that?”

  “Actually, I’m not at all sure. I suspect even my dog has abandoned me. He asked to be let out of the room, and I did that. He left.”

  “Why would he leave you?”

  “I forgot to feed him supper. I was so furious that I wasn’t served, that I just forgot the dog. He was hungry.”

  “When did you realize you hadn’t fed him?”

  “After he left, he didn’t return. I saw that I hadn’t opened any of his food. It was I who was at fault.”

  “He’ll forgive you.”

  “If he’s alive.”

  “You think he could have died of hunger?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I think the crew would have fed a hungry dog if they’d come across one. They are very compassionate to any dog or person who is hungry. You don’t have to worry. You’ve been here how many days?”

  “I think it’s about five. I can’t keep track well enough. I just came from the hospital.” He added that rather quickly. Actually, he’d been there a day short of two weeks.

  JoAnn watched him and said nicely, “You’re walking very well. Are you all right?”

  He said slowly, “I may have to sit down and rest.”

  “We’ll find a place.”

  He smiled with gentleness, but his mind blinked its eyes slowly and there was a snorted laugh inside his head.