One Lucky Cowboy (35 page)

   "Do you eat as much when you're mean as when you are mad?"

   "Don't test me."

   Mercy but he felt good. Every nerve was on red alert. Every emotion jumping around like worms on hot ashes. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music from the radio. He'd made her just as angry as she'd made him by turning up at his ranch without so much as a "let's talk about this situa tion between us." Not even a phone call to see what his thoughts were on her buying a corner of his land. What in the hell was she going to do with five acres, anyway? Grow a vegetable garden?

   He turned north on Clay Street in Nocona and followed the road several miles to a sandy bar where they could swim. It wasn't the ocean and the sand didn't resemble sugar, but it was wet and the day was hot. Sometimes a person got rib eyes; sometimes bologna sandwiches.

   "This is beautiful," she said. "I'm calling that spot over there under the shade tree and reading for a while before I go in the water."

   "You'd sink like a rock if you went in now, with all that dinner in you," he said.

   "My, oh my, but aren't you complimentary today. Did you never learn how to sweet talk a lady?"

   "You're not a lady."

   "Go swim but be careful, honey. If you drown, I won't save your sorry ass," she said.

   "What makes my ass sorry?" he asked.

   "It talks when it should let your mouth do the talking," she shot right back at him.

   He turned quickly so she wouldn't see him smiling and walked out into the warm water until it was deep enough to swim. She pretended to read but kept an eye on him, growing more nervous by the minute when he got so far out toward the distant shore that she couldn't see him anymore.

   They fought like tigers. They made love with such passion it was scary. She didn't want to lose a single moment of life with him. He'd come around to her way of thinking eventually, if he didn't drown first.

   Finally he reappeared, coming up out of the water like a Greek god, all wet and muscled. Jane didn't blink for fear he would disappear. He grabbed the towel, dried his hair and face, and spread it out beside her. "Okay, I'm ready to talk. What are we going to do about us?"

   "I'm reading," she said.

   "Hey, you're the one who started this. You came to me; I didn't go to you. You tagged along today when you weren't even invited. So we're going to talk," he declared.

   "Don't order me around. I'm not one of your clingy, gold-digging bimbos with big boobs and too much hair. I don't care if you've got money or not. I've had it. It don't buy happiness."

   "What does?"

   "Being home."

   "What are you talking about? You left your home," he said.

   "It hasn't been home since Mother died. It's been a place to live. A place where folks were paid to do what I wanted. Home is where they love you and take care of you even when you aren't nice."

   He began to understand the edges of what she was talking about. He'd never thought of her being so alone and lonely in that big house. There were people every where, just like on the Double L, but his hired help were more than just employees. Take Vince, for instance. The boy was like a younger brother to him. Marty was an uncle for sure and the rest made up the family.

   "You never have to worry about family, Slade. You could kick any mesquite tree between here and Louisiana and find a Luckadeau relative who'd stand up for you. The only place I've felt at home since that whole fiasco is at the Double L. So you tell me, what are we going to do about us?"

   "Would you go to dinner with me next Friday night?"

   "You askin' me for a date?"

   "I am. We could try the courtin' process and see if it will endure us," he said.

   "Then yes, I will go to dinner with you."

   "Okay, we've been nice five whole minutes. We've got a date and a week of hard work ahead of us. Nice is over. Now I'm going to pitch you out in the middle of that lake," he said.

   She was on her feet in seconds and running so fast she lost her flip-flops. But her speed couldn't match his. He caught her up in his arms, but he didn't toss her out into the water from the edge of the lake. He kept walking when he reached the water's edge, laughing the whole time she screamed that he was the product of a filthy swine and a whore. He carried her out into the deep water and pitched her as far as he could throw her. She remembered to suck in a lung full of air before she hit the water so she came up ready to fight rather than trying to survive.

   He was back on the bank stretched out on his back by the time she swam to shore. Life was good now and he was as happy as he'd been in years. Not to say that in ten minutes she'd have him ready to drop-kick her all the way back to Mississippi. But in that few minutes when he was honest with himself, he realized that he'd never be happy with a clingy woman who needed his opinion on every single item. Jane was his kind of woman—but he'd have to be very careful not to let her know. With that kind of power, she could lead him around like a boar hog with a ring in his nose.

   She picked up her towel and carried it to the edge of the water, away from the grassy knoll right off the road where the scrub oak trees were located. She laid the towel out as though she was going to let the sun dry her and her clothing, sat down, and began piling handfuls of sand in the middle of the towel. She'd teach him to throw her into the water.

   When it was full enough that she could barely drag it, she looked back at him. He was snoring. Things didn't get any better than that. She picked up all four corners and eased it up beside him, carefully pulled his bathing suit open, and dumped all the sand inside. He came up from a dead sleep kicking and screaming.

   She beat him to the water that time and was halfway out into the lake before he got free of the sand in the lining of his suit. It had been years since she'd played. She'd dated and even fancied herself in love a few times before John. But the dates had been dinner and movies or dinner and a play. Never had she had so much fun just plain playing. She really was growing up to be like Ellen.

   "You have to come in to the shore sometime," he yelled.

   "Don't go to sleep or I'll do something worse," she yelled back.

   He chuckled. She would. There wasn't a doubt in his mind. Would they always have fun together? He hoped so. He hoped that when he was eighty he'd still be trying to figure out a way to get ahead of her. It might take that long to find a way to get the job done, but what fun the journey would be.

THEY WORKED HARD ALL WEEK AND HAD LITTLE TIME TO talk, passing in the hall in the morning and evening. Slade was in the fields until after dark and she drove the ladies to their Thursday night dance, then went on in to Wichita Falls to do the weekly grocery shopping at the Wal-Mart super center.

   She'd worried about "the date" all week, dreading it one minute and looking forward to it the next. When Friday finally ended, she wasn't sure how to dress for a date with Slade. Were they going back to the steak house in Wichita Falls, or perhaps to the lake with a picnic basket?

   He opened the back door at six thirty that night, dirty, greasy, his eyes two white holes in a mass of grime, protected only by his sunglasses all day. She was in the kitchen making peanut butter cookies for the next day's dinner.

   "I thought we had a date," he said.

   "We do. You didn't tell me what time and this is the last dozen cookies. Are we in a hurry?"

   "Evidently not," he said.

   "By the time you get cleaned up I'll be ready. Where are we going?"

   "Your choice," he said. "But I'm hungry."

   "For what?" she asked.

   "Food."

   He came out of the bedroom dressed in starched jeans and a white shirt, his face clean shaven, and smelling so good she had second thoughts about going anywhere but the nearest motel.

   He took one look at her in soft jeans, a T-shirt with Tinker Bell on the front, and sandals. Her hair was washed. The flour was gone from her face and he could smell expensive perfume.

   "You said you'd be ready."

   "I am. You said it was my choice and you are hungry for food. That means something to fill your belly, not tease your palette. I want to go to the Dairy Queen in Nocona for supper. Then I want to take a blanket to the Nocona park. That way we can play for a while and then watch the lightning bugs."

   He couldn't believe his ears. Surely she hadn't worked all week and looked forward to an evening out to eat at the Dairy Queen and lie on a blanket in the park. But hey, if that's what the eccentric lady wanted, he could provide it.

   "I'll change into something more comfortable. Give me five minutes and I'll be ready," he said.

   She breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't fought with her. She'd worried all week about the date and whether it would make or break their delicate relation ship. She didn't want a dinner, movie, kiss good night, and I'll-see-you-next-week date. She wanted to make beautiful memories that would keep her warm in her old age.

   He returned in a few minutes dressed in faded jeans, a T-shirt, and boots. That was her Slade. Not that he didn't make her heart beat like a native drum when he was all dressed up, but her Slade was comfortable with her, not just dating her.

   "So what made you decide on a night like this?" he asked.

   "Dating scares the hell out of me."

   "Wow! You're scared of something."

   "Don't tease. You've seen me scared shitless. When that house was bombed the only thing I thought was that I couldn't pee my pants because I didn't have any to change into."

   He chuckled.

   "Don't laugh. You were scared, too."

   "Amen, sister."

   "Slade, I'm not your sister. Let's get that straight right now. If things never work out between us I might be your friend but don't you ever call me your sister."

   "Are we fighting? Tell me why you are afraid of dates."

   "We aren't fighting. I'm stating facts. I'm afraid of dates because…" she paused, not knowing whether to trust him with the information.

   The way she'd gone pale and her chin quivered scared him far worse than a burning house. "Hey, you're the one who's thrown her past away and started a new life. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," he said.

   "I had dates with John. I had dates with other men. I don't trust any of them. You are the only man in the world I'm willing to put my trust in, Slade Luckadeau."

   "Wow," he whispered. "That must have been hard to spit out."

   "You will never know," she said.

   He felt his chest swelling and his ego inflating. She trusted him, did she? Well, she damn sure better. He'd put his fanny on the line for her so many times he couldn't even count them.

   
Yes, and you enjoyed every minute of the adventure.
It took you out of the vacuum you created for yourself.
So don't go getting all big-headed. Besides, she's the
only woman you've trusted since your mother left you
crying your eyes out on the front porch. You going to
tell her that?

   "Well, thank you for the compliment," he said.

   "It's not a compliment. It's a fact."

   The Dairy Queen was hopping that evening. They ordered hamburgers and milk shakes, found the last available booth, and sat across from each other. The walls were decorated with every Coca Cola tray ever put on the market or so it seemed. Some had ladies from the last century pictured on them; some had polar bears and Santa Claus. The waitress brought their burgers and fries in a red plastic basket and shakes in disposable cups.

   "So, does this feel like a date?" he asked.

   "It feels like a fun time. No pressure. Just burgers and then the park. This might be a good time to tell you that there are five horses coming tomorrow morning. Nellie said you wouldn't have a problem with letting them have some pasture with your horses. I thought I'd better clear it for sure."

   "No problem," he said. "What five horses?"

   "The ones that you liked. The stallion and four mares. Thought we might do a little horse trading on the side."

   "You mean you might do some horse trading. Those aren't my horses."

   "Oh yeah, they are. At least they belong to the Double L as soon as they get here."

"Are you serious? Why did you do that?"

   "Because you liked them and because I didn't want to get rid of those five. And just because…" she stammered.

   He bit into the hamburger. "I can't believe you don't have a catty comeback."

   "Hello, Jane Doe," Kristy said right at her elbow.

   "It's Jane Day."

   "Whatevvver," Kristy drawled. "So your rich bitch did come back, did she?" she looked down at Slade.

   "You didn't learn your lesson the first time about calling me names," Jane said.

   "You wouldn't start something right here in the Dairy Queen," Kristy said.

   Jane slowly laid her hamburger down, slid out of the seat and stood up, her nose only inches from Kristy's when she stood on her tiptoes. Kristy took two steps backward and fell over a chair, barely righting herself before she tumbled all the way to the ground.

   Jane sat back down, picked up her burger, and bit off a chunk.

   "Lady, one of these days you are going to meet me in a dark alley," Kristy whispered loudly.

   "I'll bring the disinfectant spray because if you're in a dark alley, you'll either be pissing on the trash can to mark your territory or something equally as smelly," Jane said.