The Hard-To-Tame Texan Page 7

  Andrew was a man of a long-ago time.

  Actually, was he that basic? He certainly liked his comfort and his food. He didn’t know any of the sidelines of what all went on two hundred years ago. It was as if he wore horse blinders and saw only what he wanted to see. That was not uncommon.

  But he was not genuine. He wasn’t even a throwback. He was lazy... well, retiring. A loner. His parents ought to do something about him.

  And she thought of his parents who sent him all that way to school in England just so that his father did not need to compete with his son.

  —or was it vice versa?

  Now, that was an interesting thing to understand. He had sisters. One was living with one of the flyers on the Keeper place. Andrew thought his sister, Lu, was still staying at the hospice.

  He wasn’t too bright.

  He probably needed help. JoAnn sighed.

  However—

  He had spoken with knowledge about the Russian space station. Hmmm. And she wondered why he played the throwback. Why was he...hiding in time? She spent restless time thinking of that, as she moved in her bed and rustled the sheet and plumped up her pillow.

  So the next day, JoAnn chose to have breakfast in bed. She was starving and ate every bit. She showered. Then she made her own bed. It was a tumbled mess, and she wasn’t going to have any maid gossip about her restlessness.

  Dressed in a shirt and trousers and wearing riding boots, she searched for Mrs. Keeper. Oddly, JoAnn never managed contact. That irritated JoAnn somewhat but she felt she’d done her best to communicate.

  So, freed of obligations, JoAnn searched for a place and found a small, second floor sunroom with a few chairs. She checked out the wall of books, selected one, sat in a chair with her back to the window, put her feet on the other chair and opened the book to read.

  —and Andrew found her.

  He’d had one heck of a time searching her out. Her room was neat and empty. She hadn’t shared breakfast with the rest of the group. It never even once occurred to Andrew that she was avoiding him.

  Why else would she be in such an isolated place as that very small sunroom?

  Andrew said cheerfully, “So you’re reading.”

  A brilliant approach.

  She slowly turned her head while her eyes stayed on the page. Then she looked up at him sober-faced. She asked, “Some problem?”

  “I was concerned when you didn’t come for supper last night. Obviously, you were tired from our walk.”

  She demurred, “I wasn’t hungry.”

  His lips parted and he became serious. “How could you not have been hungry? We were out for quite a while. Are you ill?”

  “Not at all.” She went back to her book.

  He sat down and looked around.

  She didn’t look up or speak.

  Andrew said, “This is charming.”

  She slowly put her finger on the page and gradually looked up. Then she asked, “What?”

  “This place. I didn’t know it was here. I find it charming.”

  She considered him as one does some odd, rather distasteful thing in a zoo. As her eyes dropped, she said, “Ummm.” She went back to her reading.

  Having spent so much time in England with people who were different, he wasn’t put off. He looked at the books and finally chose one with some satisfaction. He sat down by a low table away from her and opened the book.

  He felt very relaxed and sharing to be reading, with her there and also reading.

  She had abandoned him. Discarded him. Forgotten him. He was like a fly caught on flypaper. She’d seen some once at her grandmother’s house. Too many people went in and out of a porch door and her grandmother got fed up with flies coming in also.

  So grandmother had hung up the flypaper and the flies were ignorant enough to think anything that smelled that nice must be tasty. The new flies, entering, obviously figured the cries of warning from the captured flies were only selfishness since they were eating the yummy smelling stuff on the paper.

  There JoAnn was, hiding on a “paper” and here he was, another fly, caught.

  How would she release herself from this flytrap? She could get up and excuse herself. She did that.

  He rose as he asked, “Where are we going?”

  She could say she wasn’t feeling well and would go lie down. How dull.

  But if she did say she wasn’t feeling well, he would take her elbow and insist that he take her over to the medical center.

  That place was on the other side of the ranch. It was a separate two story house with a large fenced area that was quartered nicely.

  The medics took care of anything that wasn’t feeling up to par. They took care of the staff and houseguests and whatever ailed.

  But the medical crew mostly saw animals who had eaten something stupid, or got tangled up in something wicked, or had been in a fight of some kind, that sort of thing.

  Some years back while visiting the Keepers with her mother, JoAnn had gone there with a sprained wrist. She’d had to wait while the medic looked at a barbwire ripped horse.

  In TEXAS, it was said as “bobed” wire? That is a TEXAS questioning, do-you-understand statement.

  Even then, JoAnn could understand the horse came first, and she helped one-handed to comfort the horse. The medics had bragged about her help. They didn’t mention she’d been in their way.

  But JoAnn didn’t want to be dragged to the medical clinic so she would have to cope with Andrew Parsons. Why couldn’t Mrs. Keeper find someone else for this Parsons person? Life was a drag. It made a thinker wonder, Why are we scheduled to cope with so many whatevers before we fade away and die?

  So she considered Andrew next to her in that hidden place she’d found—and so had he. She asked, “Why do we live on this planet and cope?”

  He lifted his eyes from his book, quite interested. He inquired, “Cope?”

  She circled a hand as she said, “With the other people and other things and weather and food and what all.”

  Andrew guessed, “It’s...stimulating?”

  JoAnn denied that, “Not especially.”

  So Andrew put down his book and considered her question and attitude. He said, “Life would be boring if it wasn’t for the horizon, the weather, eating, seeing someone who was attractive and wanting her.”

  “There has to be something more to living than the—horizon—the weather and eating.”

  He smiled. “You skipped seeing someone who was attractive.”

  She examined all that in her mind and then said, “So...you’re just here, in this place, in order to find someone who attracts you?”

  He smiled at her and his eyes twinkled. “It changes a man’s life and outlook and gives him something to plan for.”

  That frightened JoAnn’s stomach. She didn’t want him considering her. And God help whoever if some other woman had attracted him in the meantime and JoAnn hadn’t been told.

  Then she considered, if Andrew had seen someone who attracted him last night, he wouldn’t be up there in that tiny, secret room... with her. Was he saying he was attracted to—JoAnn Murray? Surely Fate was smarter than that.

  Of course, Mrs. Keeper was more intelligent than to consider throwing Andrew and her together until he was smitten with JoAnn and willing.

  Her eyes moved over and she considered his body. He was in good shape. His body was masculine. No question. He walked carefully, like a man who expects to find a surprise.

  She inquired, “In England, were the other boys rough with you?”

  “Not at all. They ignored me. They had their own cliques and didn’t need me at all. They didn’t shun me, they just never noted that I was also there.”

  And with his words, Andrew understood he’d forgiven them all. How strange to realize that. The realization made him want to go back for that year’s reunion and look at them all again, with clear, seeing eyes.

  He said, “I may go back for the year’s gathering over yonder in Britain. H
ere, it’s like our country’s Homecoming Week. The place is packed.” But he again saw an isolated one in the middle of all that and recognized himself. He’d been so lonely.

  JoAnn said, “At our school over in the southern states, it is a shrill, laughing round of endless exclamations.”

  He smiled. “Anybody would feel a lift at just seeing you.”

  Those words were so kind and different, that her stomach was scared. She said, “I have to make a call. Will you excuse me?”

  “I’ll go with you and be sure the Keepers don’t have coin telephones.”

  Her mouth parted in shock, then she laughed. “They encourage long-distance calls. They like hearing from and about other people.”

  “They are very kind.”

  He really surprised JoAnn. Andrew had said that the Keepers were—kind. He understood what good hosts they were. His thinking was changing? He was becoming...human? He might be easier to palm off on to some other woman with less of a conscience twinge. She asked, “Do you like blondes or brunettes?”

  He looked at her red hair. “I like something a bit different. I like someone who is unique.” And he was amused by his subtlety. His eyes danced and he licked his smile to quiet it.

  But he scared the spit out of JoAnn. She tilted her head and said, “I’ll look for women for you. As you know, I’ve been appointed to find you someone who would interest you.”

  “You... interest me.”

  “I’m not available.”

  He became quite solemn. “Who is he?”

  “That isn’t important at this time. We need to know what sort of woman is interesting to you.” So. She’d spilled the plot. He would now know that she was one of those involved in finding him a wife.

  He said with élan, “I don’t know of any reason to look any farther. You delight me.”

  “Balderdash! You can hardly endure being around me!”

  He was open. “That was then. I’ve come to know you. I find you...charming.”

  “Baloney. You’re bored out of your gourd. Anyone will do.”

  “Well, don’t discard being female.” He grinned with great charm.

  She watched him with squinted eyes for a short, silent time and then she said, “You must be desperate.”

  He watched her cautiously with intensely riveted interest. “—for you.”

  Her body lax, JoAnn shook her head from side to side in exasperation. She said, “Let’s back up to just yesterday when you wanted to drop me in a hole to get rid of me, and stomp dirt in on top of me. You couldn’t change in this short a time.”

  He grinned slightly, and his eyes danced with her words. He said in a considering way, “I suppose you wouldn’t know of all the women who tag along trying for my attention. They are mostly as good-looking as you—don’t protest, just accept that you are a gem.

  “But so are most women.” He admitted that. “I just don’t long to be the interest of a woman who only wants a—thrill.” He lifted his hand as he considered his words intently. “A woman who wants—” he sought the word “—a—” he shook his head and his face was intense as he stumbled for the word “—a thrill that is brief. Something to mark a check in her clothes closet? A winner of a time.” He looked at JoAnn.

  She nodded. “Some women do that. They take after men. Probably some man used them thataway, and the women are finding revenge of a kind?”

  He said earnestly serious, “I’m not trying to ... use you.”

  She discarded his reply and explained, “You need a wife.”

  So he grinned and replied, “Okay.”

  And that went over her head as she said earnestly, “Mrs. Keeper is supposed to’ve found one for you. The woman is to come here so that you can look at her and agree, or reject her with some discretion so that she won’t be devastated.”

  “That is considerate. I don’t need to see another woman. I’ve seen you. You are willing to bend, you are interested in the land and in the creatures we’ve seen.” He was earnest. “You walk along and see things as you look around. You’re a jewel.”

  “I’m not interested in getting married or being the ‘friend’ of someone at this time.”

  “We’ll take it easy.”

  “There are women who are coming here for you to see. Promise you will be courteous and kind to them.”

  “I would be.”

  “You were about as rude as any person I’ve ever known. I had no desire for you nor do I want to see if you can be courteous until you have your way.”

  He was shocked. “Have I been rude?”

  “You know damned good and well you’ve been a snot!”

  “Wow! As bad as that?” He looked at her with interest.

  Carefully, she enunciated, “I was being subtle and courteous.”

  “If my mother heard that report, she would have gone into a decline.”

  JoAnn shook her head. “I don’t spill the beans. But I don’t want anything to do with you. Mrs. Keeper asked me here to help you find a wife. I have asked her for release. She has said I may leave—”

  He gasped and looked dismayed.

  “—as soon as she finds someone to replace me. I thought I’d been asked to come and just run you off. I’m especially good at that. Then I found she wants to find you a wife. God only knows who that would be.”

  “Not you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tell me what sort of woman you might cotton to. Give me a physical idea. Tall or short—that sort of thing.” She found a pad and pencil. The Keepers would have something like that everywhere in a house...car...tractor? Whatever.

  Andrew looked soberly at JoAnn and said very carefully, “I like redheads.”

  She wrote that down and asked, “Age?”

  “How old are you?”

  She looked up and inquired, “Do gentlemen ask that?”

  “I was just getting an idea of the age area.”

  “I’m too old to marry. I’m thirty.”

  “Well, I’m older than you and I wouldn’t want to have to deal with a youngster who doesn’t have any idea how she’s supposed to act or what she’s supposed to do with a husband, a house or kids.”

  “So you want children.” It was a statement. And she wrote that down.

  “Not with a child bride. It’d be like suffering through a double dose of kids.”

  She could understand that. So she squinted her eyes and said, “Actually, someone closer in age should be better. How old would you say she should be?”

  “Oh, about...thirty?”

  She considered and advised him, “You’re not going to get many—untried—women at that age.”

  “How many men have you ... experienced?”

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about reality.”

  Six

  Actually, it was Mina Keeper who racked her brain and invited a niece to come to meet Andrew. Through the phone line, she told her niece, Cynthia, “Darling, the situation here is a very shaky thing, and you must be careful.”

  Through the phone and in Mina’s ear, Cynthia said, “Fascinating. When should I arrive?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Uhhhh...I’ll...have to...adjust a few things. But I love you, and I’ll be there.”

  In a deadly voice, Mina said, “I am counting on you. You will use your skills and be astonishing to JoAnn? She believes she does not care for Andrew.”

  “I’ll rock her!” Cynthia laughed, then she added, “You’re just lucky I love you because—” she sighed into the mouthpiece with excellent drama “—I’ll have to cancel a time with Peter.”

  In an open threat, Mina enunciated, “Do not bring him along.”

  “I won’t! I won’t! Do you think I’m nuts? I’ve seen JoAnn! Look for me at eight—”

  Mina corrected relentlessly, “Tomorrow—at—ten. Don’t get pushy.”

  So Cynthia arrived at the Keeper place on the TEXAS Tablelands at ten-of-five. How like her to tilt
the time just a tad to show independence. She was cheerful, amused and gorgeous. She came into the house and called, “I’m here!”

  And anybody within Cynthia’s rather awesome range of voice, came a-running...to crowd those already gathered around the new guest. Cynthia accepted that as right.

  Mina called out, but she wasn’t the first to hug Cynthia. She pulled one of the hands off her niece and scolded, “You’re supposed to be taking care of the Western herd out yonder.” She pointed in that direction.

  He grinned and said, “I am.” Then he hollered, “Line up! Don’t make a maelstrom outta this here greetings.”

  Mina found her mind tasting that. Maelstrom? How’d Rusty ever stumble onto a word like...maelstrom? Then Mina said out loud to her niece, “Welcome to the Keepers. We’ll discuss, quite seriously, whether we’ll let you leave.”

  How flattering.

  Mina hugged Cynthia and then stood by her as the others pushed to greet their guest. More greeters poured into the hall as others were moved aside. They were all delighted to see Cynthia, and each thought he/she was the one Cynthia loved the most. There were the delighted eyes of females, and the zonked eyes of the males.

  And she met Andrew.

  Where had he come from? Well, in the line, he was just after JoAnn whose eyes were shocked by who was behind her. She stood and stared at Andrew’s greeting of Cynthia like some flawed statue that had been misplaced.

  Andrew shook Cynthia’s hand and he said kindly, “They’ve been wild, waiting for you to get here. The whole, entire place!”

  Cynthia looked at the calm, unagitated male before her as something entirely unheard of, at all. She smiled her flipping-male smile and said, “Well, hello.”

  “Everybody here is excited you got here. I can see why.” Then Andrew stepped aside and took hold of the hand the white-faced, stunned JoAnn owned. He looked at her. Then he asked directly, “You okay?”

  And she managed to mutter, “Yeah.”

  But inside her head was a buzz of shock that was the repetitive, whipping sounds of a mindlessly astonished: “He wasn’t zonked!”

  Then JoAnn frowned. How come, he—wasn’t? And she stared at him as if he might melt like sunburned chocolate.