Kicks for a Sinner S3 (7 page)

“Knox never needed any help in the past.” Suspicion tinged her statement.

“Well, ma’am, the Charolais cows are dropping their calves this month. Sometimes that keeps Knox up all night. If that happens, I’ll see to the stock during the day so he can get some rest.”

“I wouldn’t call seven horses and a small herd of beef cattle ‘the stock’.”

“We call it that in Oklahoma where I come from, and they do need care every single day, ma’am.” Howdy tipped his hat again and hoped he wasn’t overdoing it.

“Would you stop with the ma’am! I told you to call me Cassie.”

“I don’t feel we’re that friendly, ma’am.” He resisted the urge to tip his hat again.

She stepped closer as if she wanted to kick away the boot that rested on the pillar and send him sprawling, but she stopped a foot away. Still with those long legs clad in skinny jeans, she could probably do it from there if she wanted.

Instead, she stared at him hard. “You look different.”

“New haircut. Now it doesn’t get into my eyes.” Pretty sure he hadn’t worn it long enough to have hat head he removed the cowboy hat to show her.

“That’s an improvement,” she granted. “Nice jacket. New?”

“Yep.”

“I’m surprised it doesn’t have fringe considering your orientation.”

“Told you before, I’m straight as they come. What I can’t figure is why you don’t like me.”

“Maybe it’s your freckles. I can’t stand freckles on a man.”

Tarnation! He knew he should have gotten some goop to cover them up even if he only had a few across the bridge of his nose. He noticed Tommy standing behind his young mother, heartbreak all over his face. The boy had come up on them while they were engrossed in each other.

“I got freckles,” the kid said. “Lots more than Mr. Howdy.”

Cassie spun around and immediately stooped down to hug her child. “No, Tommy. I didn’t mean you. It’s cinnamon freckles I don’t like. You have orange, my favorite color.”

“The nuns at school say people shouldn’t be hated because of the color of their skin. Mama Nell says so, too.”

“They are right, absolutely right. Maybe Mr. Howdy’s freckles aren’t so bad, and I really love yours.”

McCoy took the opportunity to tip his hat at her again. “Thank you, ma’am. Somehow, I suspect you might have hidden freckles of your own, and I do like the orange ones, too.”

“She does!” Tommy answered for his mother. “But she puts stuff on them to make them disappear because she’s a girl. But we’re men, and we don’t wear makeup. Right, Mr. Howdy?”

“Right,” he answered, so glad he hadn’t gotten that goop after all. He offered Tommy a high five enthusiastically accepted.

“Corazon says lunch is ready. Are you two coming? You can sit next to me, Mr. Howdy, and maybe after you can help me with my kicking.”

“Sure,” he said, carefully sliding his boot down the pillar in order not to go pitching forward. His calf muscle had gone to sleep, and he limped after mother and child.

Cassie tossed a venomous glance over her shoulder. “Don’t you have stock to see about in the barn?”

“I will after we eat. Maybe Tommy can help me muck out those stalls so we can get down to kicking practice earlier. That was the rule at my grandpa’s ranch.”

Tommy held out the hand not being gripped by his mother. Howdy took it, and like a happy family, they went into have lunch.

EIGHT

“I’m sorry,” Joe said.

Nell moved her eyes from the view of falling snow that covered the entire Grand Canyon like an opaque white bed sheet hung out to dry. Nothing could be seen beyond it. They had a rim cabin possessing a funky sort of fake adobe charm at Bright Angel Lodge. Plain furnishings, a double bed, small private bath, and a television made up the amenities. The wood in the fireplace popped merrily making the room cozy and bright if by no means as luxurious as the bedroom they shared at home. Their vast Jacuzzi overhung with a crystal chandelier back at Lorena Ranch would have overflowed the space allotted for bathing here.

Nell smiled slightly at the thought. She and Joe had broken up while he built his pseudo-ante-bellum mansion at the ranch, and his often questionable taste in furnishings had come into play in the bathroom. Really, what woman wanted a thousand watts of light illuminating her when she lay naked in the tub? And he’d put in another bidet, never used, but a great spot to raise African violets. Oh, Joe, how she did love him, bad taste and all.

“There, I saw that smile! This place isn’t so bad. I mean not nearly as nice as our suite at the Sheraton in Phoenix, but kinda cute, huh? I didn’t know about the weather. It’s like spring in the south of Arizona and here we got snow. Who would have thunk it?” He poked at the logs in the fireplace and sent sparks spiraling up the chimney.

“It does get cold at this elevation. I guess we should have expected some snow.”

“Some! We can’t see a damned thing out that window. We could get lost and fall right off the rim on our way to the lodge for dinner. Don’t think they have room service for the cabins.”

“Most likely not. Really, I don’t care.” Nell sighed and returned to watching snow fall.

“Since we’re snowed in, how about some sex—anyway you want it? A few more days, and we’ll have to hold off until we’re sure the babies are settled. We can watch the Super Bowl tomorrow and have a drunken orgy. Last call for alcohol before you get pregnant.”

“That’s your idea of fun, not mine. Besides, I doubt alcohol is such a good idea with all the drugs in my system right now.”

“So. No sex?” He gave her that pitiful puppy dog look he could pull off so well with his large, dark eyes.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just I thought we’d be taking pictures of the canyon and e-mailing them to the children, not sitting around in a whiteout.”

Joe stopped aggravating the fire and moved closer to his wife to attempt stirring up another kind of spark. He wrapped one big arm around her and drew her to the bed. The mattress wasn’t the best but after a while, they wouldn’t notice.

“Ah, ah, ah! My choice.” Nell pulled him to the fireplace and gestured to the probably faux Navajo rug in front of the hearth. “Take off your clothes and lie down.”

Joe did a mini-striptease for her, taking one button at a time, inching his zipper down. She reciprocated by slowly raising her top and slinging it aside, then shimmying out of her own jeans so her breasts in a low-cut, pretty pink bra jiggled in the process. She stood there in lacy matching panties and pushed him down using one palm. Not that she could have done it without his cooperation since he outweighed her by a hundred pounds, but when it came to sex, Joe always cooperated. He’d already erupted from the black briefs that stretched across his pelvic bones. She knelt between his knees and took them off.

“I bet I know what comes next,” he said eagerly.

“And you would be wrong. Switch places with me.”

He did. “Okay, old school then.”

“Nope. Down there, between my knees. I want some tongue.”

Joe had a tongue almost as talented as his throwing arm, but he didn’t rush to the spot. He disposed of her panties and teased his way there, starting at the navel and working down until he arrived at the swollen nub already anticipating a good licking. He did his best, making Nell purr until she came with an unexpected upheaval that almost split his lip.

With one hand grasping the short, black curls on his head, she said, “Sorry. I guess I need to make that up to you.”

“I won’t last long, sugar. Why don’t you mount up?”

They reversed positions again. Nell rode astride. Her breasts weren’t big, but they still had a nice bounce to them when he unhooked that little pink bra. He watched their rhythm as his orgasm built, then shut his eyes and let go with a gasp. Nell collapsed on his chest. Joe rubbed her back.

“Reminds me of the first time we made love. You got right up on top and stayed there.” He’d long learned to replace the word “fucked” with “made love”. It worked so much better with women. The two of them lay there, lazy and half-asleep until a sunbeam penetrated the window and a passing tourist heading for the lodge shielded her son’s face from the sight.

“Hey, the sun is out. Guess we should have closed the curtains, but I mean who knew when the blizzard would end.” Joe put on his briefs and went to the window. “Tink, you gotta see this,
cher.
”

Nell got completely dressed before standing up and going to his side. The Grand Canyon capped in snow spread out before them. Small, bristly pines growing in crevices lent the scene a Christmas card look with their white branches. The late afternoon sun bought out bands of pink, gold and purple in the rocks, and every cranny glistened with snowflakes. A college girl passed on the footpath and eyed Joe’s muscular body up and down. Nell ripped the curtains shut, trading one nice view for another.

“Joe, we need to take pictures for the kids. Get dressed right now—all the way dressed.”

They bundled up and went out into the frigid air, slipped and slid to the best overlook in their athletic shoes, and took a bunch of pictures to put on their laptop in the evening when they had a Skype session planned with their family. After that, a raid of the souvenir shop for trinkets for the kids. Nell picked out Zuni fetishes appropriate for each child, a black bear for Dean, a red fox for Tommy, and two cute but not quite identical jet ravens with red berries in their beaks for their twin girls.

Joe sorted through stacks of T-shirts hoping to find one that said “We Did It at the Grand Canyon” without any luck. He asked the middle-aged sales clerk who said the National Park Service did not stock things like that and to try one of the shops outside the park, maybe one of the biker places. Given such a casual response, he suspected she’d been asked the question many times. He and Nell mushed to the rustic lodge for hot chocolate to drink before the vast fireplace and stayed on for dinner.

On the way back to their cabin, they took more digital photos of the moon over the snowy, glowing canyon and loaded them all immediately into their laptop to send home. Allowed to stay up late because of the time difference, the children, all talking at once, crowded the computer screen when they connected for a Skype visit.

“Snow, you have snow to play in, and we gotta stay home and go to school. Not fair,” Dean complained.

“Did you get those babies yet? What kind are they?” Jude asked.

“Not yet, honey. And we won’t know for a while what kind they are,” Nell answered.

“Why not?” Annie questioned in her quiet but always perceptive way.

“We’ll discuss that when your dad and I get home. How about you, Tommy? What are you doing?”

“Getting better at kicking. Wait until you see, Dad!”

“Can’t wait, son. Be home in two more weeks.”

A pair of competent hands lifted one of the twins aside. Must have been Annie since Jude would have protested loudly. Nadine’s strong face filled the screen. “We finished up our novena las’ night, so you all set with God and Mother Mary. You go get my grandbabies outta the freezer and bring them on home, you hear.”

“We’re all set up for Tuesday, Mama.”

“Off to bed, children,” Nell prompted. “Nighty-night.”

A chorus of nighty-nights echoed back. As the children departed for bed, they could see Cassie lurking behind them. She slipped in front of the screen for a moment. She looked fresh and young, perfectly made up, and beautifully clothed in a draped turquoise blouse.

“Joe, what great pictures. I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon. It would be a wonderful place to spend a honeymoon, don’t you think?”

Nell elbowed her husband aside and took over. “Yes, we sort of had a second honeymoon in front of the fireplace while the snow came down this afternoon.” She delighted in seeing Cassie blush from so far away. “Now we’re going nighty-night, too. Sleep tight, Cassie.”

Nell disconnected and looked at Joe. “Between that conniving little bitch and your mother, I think I
will
get drunk at the Super Bowl party tomorrow.”

Joe grinned at her, one of those wicked grins that melted the bones of so many women. “Aw, you don’t mean that, sugar. It’s just the hormones talking.”

* * * *

She did mean it. Didn’t take much to get Nell drunk, she was such a little thing. Three glasses of champagne, and she grew tiddly. Two more after their favored team won left her with a hell of a headache in the morning. She had little memory of the orgy that followed. Joe, having more or less sworn off champagne after winning his first Super Bowl and conceiving Dean with the repugnant Margaret Stutes, stuck to beer and did enjoy the festivities. The aftermath, not so much.

As he steered the rented car from the snowy verge of the canyon toward Phoenix, Nell sat beside him with her eyes covered by oversized sunglasses purchased when they stopped for gas. Periodically, she rubbed a cool, damp bottle of water across her forehead. “No music,” she’d begged, unless he put on something classical or maybe easy listening. Anything else made her head throb. So, they rode along in silence, utter silence, as they passed from the uplands to the red rock region and on to the desert saguaro cactus forest outside of Phoenix. Nell slept a good part of the way, and he took care not to wake her.

Bored, Joe got out his cell phone and thumbed out a message while throwing quick glances at his sleeping wife. She did not approve of texting while driving, but he always figured his superior coordination let him get away with it. One arm relaxed on the steering wheel, he texted Howdy.

How R U and Cassie getting along?

An answer returned promptly: Better.

Good news. In what way?

Tommy likes me, so she does. Showed me her barrel-racing. She’s good.

Yes. Take her riding.

Have done. All the kids went with us.

Without kids!

Nell stirred and raised her sunglasses. Gotta go. Joe disconnected in a hurry and shoved the phone into a slot.

“Were you texting while driving? And you want more children. I could end up a widow with seven babies to rear.”

He started to say he’d just kill them both in the accident, then she wouldn’t have to worry about it. The old Joe might have said something like that. Instead he sucked it up like trash talk from an opponent. The hormones and drugs she took to implant those embryos always made her bitchy, not to mention the current hangover. He ignored her show of temper.