Texas Standoff

He enjoyed her sense of humor. The lady was as naturally easy as her nickname implied. What’s more, he discovered that his first impression of her had been right: she was every bit as passionate as her looks suggested. He couldn’t help but make the comparison to his ex-wife. Making love to E.Z. was akin to riding an intense Texas heat wave. She created a thirst within a man that made him want to drink her in quenching gulps. Gwen had been more like a cool, smooth libation, light refreshment sampled in measured sips. He’d been hungry for many things in his life-money, success, professional recognition-but thirsting for a woman was a new sensation for him, one he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Yet wary as he was of being the one consumed rather than the consumer, his need to know whether the sensation was fleeting or something more lasting in nature was even greater.

So here he stood, in her kitchen, his palms sweating and heart pounding, waiting for her to appear.

Minutes passed. Spying the coffeepot, he poured himself a cup of the steamy brew and sat down at the table. He drummed his fingers and glanced at the clock, finding it unbelievable that he was even up at this unholy hour. The earliest he’d ever made it into the office was eight. It wasn’t even six yet. He thought ranch people were supposed to rise and do whatever it was they did with the chickens. Where was everybody? The place was like a mausoleum.

Finally the sound of approaching boot steps. Someone paused on the back porch. Colin grabbed the untouched newspaper from the center of the table and did his best to appear nonchalant. At the creak of the screen door, he lifted his glance from the headlines, only to peer into a pair of deep-set gray eyes wedged between a maze of wrinkles and sagging lids.

“Mornin’,” the old man grunted as he stepped inside and removed his dusty hat.

“Morning,” Colin echoed, exerting great effort to hide his disappointment.

“The name’s Riley-Riley James. Miz Winston sent me to carry you into San Antonio. Whenever you’re ready, that is.” Ill at ease himself, Riley scratched his stubbled neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You ate yet?” he inquired.

“No.” Colin’s reply sounded more irritated than stunned. Actually he was both.

“Well, no hurry,” Riley assured him, settling his stooped form in a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Andele will fix ya up and I don’t mind keepin’ ya company. Matter o’ fact, another cup of coffee would hit the spot.” He favored Colin with a lazy grin. “Sure would like a plug o’tobacco to go along with my coffee, but Miz Winston don’t allow chewin’ in the big house. She don’t much trust our aim when we spit.”

Andele breezed through the swinging door, carrying an armload of dirty linens to the adjacent laundry room.

“Buenos dias,” the spry Mexican chirped as he blew past them. “Un momento.”

The old man made a big production of clearing the phlegm from his throat as he shoved back the chair and ambled over to the stove. “Yeah, ya better feed this fella so’s we kin get under way, Andele.” He wet a finger, testing the temperature of the blue-and-white-speckled coffeepot simmering on the burner. Satisfied it wasn’t too hot to handle, he grabbed a mug from the counter and poured himself a cup of the stout java. “Miz Winston wants me back out at South Camp by lunchtime.”

“Si, I take care of pronto.” Andele began slinging skillets, frying up ham and scrambling eggs in double-time. Fresh-squeezed orange juice appeared at Colin’s elbow in a blink.

“Quick, ain’t he?” the old gent snickered between sips of his coffee.

Colin concurred with a nod of his head.

“Might as well throw an extra slice of that there ham in the skillet, Andele. Drop a few extra biscuits while you’re at it. Roads might be slow after the rain ‘n all. There’s a chance I won’t make it back before lunch and it’s a long stretch till supper. Figure I need a bite to tide me over.” Riley knew he had the dubious reputation of having an appetite that was greatly disproportionate to his work habits, but it didn’t bother him overly much.

Colin was only half paying attention to Riley’s breakfast order. He was more interested in finding out why he was sharing the table with him rather than E.Z.

“I was hoping to see Miss Winston this morning. Where is she, anyway?” He tried to pry the information out of the whiskered emissary.

“She’s out at South Camp. Storms have a way of spookin’ the cattle. Gotta scour the countryside in search of ‘em. Ya wouldn’t believe some of the tight places they kin hole up in,” he explained. “She ‘n the boys rode watch over the herd part of the night, but there’s always a few strays that’s gotta be rounded up and brought in.”

So that was why she went back out into the storm, Colin reasoned, marveling at the sheer stamina of the woman.

Andele placed a plate heaped high with ham, eggs, grits and biscuits before each of them. Riley immediately started scooping the tasty vittles into his watering mouth.

Colin had the good manners to at least thank Andele before filling his fork.

Riley merely offered the Mexican an indelicate burp. His appreciation was understood. No need to go ‘round thankin’ a body every time they done somethin’ they was paid to do anyways. That was his philosophy.

True to form, Andele left them to their breakfast and hurried off to tend to his next chore.

Colin decided to try a different approach with the old geezer. “I really was hoping to thank Miss Winston for her hospitality. How far away is South Camp?”

“It’s a fer piece,” was the scant information provided. Riley swallowed a mouthful of coffee and studied him over the edge of the mug. “It ain’t necessary for you to chase her down to tell her that. Takin’ folks in outta the weather is just common courtesy.” The logic he put forth made perfect sense to him.

“All the same, I’d like to say goodbye,” Colin persisted with a determined chomp of ham.

“Well, I dunno,” Riley stated ponderously. “Miz Winston might not take kindly to the notion o’ me haulin’ you out there. She might accuse me of dawdling ‘cause she knows I don’t care much for chasin’ down steers in the heat o’ the day.”

“I’ll explain that I insisted.” Colin intended to see her again if he had to walk to South Camp.

“Yeah, well.” Riley sopped up the last of his eggs with a hunk of biscuit, shoveled it into his mouth and rolled it around the same as he rolled around the idea of cartin’ the pilgrim out to the lower range. “I suppose it’d be okay for me to run ya by. To tell you the truth, Miz Winston has me pegged. I ain’t real keen on sittin’ a saddle no more. I’d rather ride that pickup out yonder.”

For the first time that morning, Colin smiled. “Good, then it’s settled. I’ll just go gather my things and we can get started.”

“Whatever you say.” Riley swiped his shirtsleeve across his mouth and let loose with another belch. “Only don’t blame me if she ain’t excited at seein’ ya. The woman’s one-minded where work’s concerned and kinda short on patience when it comes to somebody interruptin’ her schedule.”

“I’ll consider myself warned.” Colin couldn’t care less if his unexpected intrusion upset her work schedule. He was not about to leave Cheyenne Moon without a word or an inkling as to what part he might have in her future.

It was a bumpy trip to South Camp. The rain-rutted road cut through long stretches of grazing land. The brunt of the conversation was carried by Riley. For the most part, Colin tuned him out, concentrating, instead, on the native habitat of the wild cowgirl he’d body-wrestled with the previous night and the longhorns that roamed the area at will.

Not until Riley stated that they were nearing the area in question did he snap to attention. “It’s just around the bend. I figure she’s still at the camp house. Her and Andy Smallwood was hashin’ out buyin’ fresh breedin’ bulls at the upcoming stock sale over in Luckenbach next month.”

As the pickup drew closer to the wood-frame house, his pulse quickened. The place was set between two giant shade trees in the middle of a vast panorama of grasslands encircled by a natural barrier of swelling hills. In spite of the glare of the sun and the screen enclosing the wraparound front porch, he recognized E.Z.’s shapely figure immediately. As Riley had predicted, she was talking with a lanky man Colin assumed to be Andy Smallwood. Even from a distance Colin could plainly make out a certain carriage of authority about the ranch manager as he propped a foot on a chair rung, rested his forearm on a knee and argued a point with E.Z.

Their heads jerked up simultaneously as the pickup came to a stop short of the hitching rail out front. The manager eased himself to an upright position and took measure of the unknown caller as Colin got out of the truck and came up the walk. E.Z. displayed no surprise, at least not outwardly, at his unexpected appearance. She merely strolled out the screen door, tucked her hands into the back pockets of her snug-fitting jeans and waited for him to draw near.

Now that he actually faced her, Colin hadn’t the vaguest notion how to behave. He glanced up at the man behind the screen, then over to the woman seated in a rocking chair on a far corner of the porch, whom he hadn’t noticed until now. The plump matron swayed to and fro, the wicker rocker creaking with each backward motion and her bare feet tapping the porch floorboards with every forward swing. She was as plain as the alamo switchgrass covering the countryside; almost homely. And she was studying him. For that matter, so was E.Z.

“What brings you this way? I thought you’d be on the road to San Antonio by now,” she said.

His mouth went dry. He wished for a drink of water, wished he’d heeded Riley’s advice and not bothered with saying goodbye. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was the way she’d have preferred it. Maybe she’d pegged him for some demented sex maniac and purposely arranged to be absent when he departed Cheyenne Moon. Maybe he’d been too filled with romantic notions to realize her intent and was about to make a colossal ass of himself.

“I thought I should say goodbye personally. I wanted to thank you for.” He hesitated when their gazes collided. In the bright sunlight, those blue green eyes possessed a startling clarity, as though capable of penetrating the outer layers of a person and peering straight into the soul. “For everything,” he managed to get out.

For a long, painfully awkward moment, she just stared at him, as if she was weighing the actions of the previous night and sizing up the man all at once.

“I appreciate your taking the time to track me down, Mr. Majors. It was no trouble a’tall to put you up for the night.” Such was her noncommittal response. But he thought he detected a hint of melancholy, a flicker of some betraying emotion that swept across her face and crept into her voice a split second before she extended her hand.

The creak of the rocker and the rustle of tree leaves stirring on a gentle breeze were the only sounds filling the hot air. The two of them were oblivious to Andy Smallwood’s approach until he drew dead even with them. He acknowledged Colin with a respectful dip of his head and a touch of a hand to the brim of his Stetson.

“Yes, well, perhaps we’ll see each other again,” Colin said to E.Z. Aware of watching eyes taking in their every move, he was doing his best to conduct himself in a manner that would not betray their secret tryst or compromise her good name. The only means by which he could communicate his intimate regard for her was a firm and lingering squeeze of her fingertips.

Feeling Mamie Smallwood’s gaze boring through her back, E.Z. extricated her hand from his grip, swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged off the silly hope that he might mean what he said. “Well, you know where to find me should you happen to pass this way again.” It was not exactly an open invitation to visit, but neither had she slammed shut the door on the possibility of future contact.

There was nothing left to say now. He knew it and so did she. As if on cue, Riley started up the truck. With a nod and a parting smile, Colin turned his back to her, climbed into the truck and went his own way. After all, they both had very separate lives to get on with.

E.Z. returned to the porch. Mamie raised a brow in silent question.

“He’s nobody special, Mamie. Just somebody I rescued from the road yesterday,” she explained.

“That so,” her friend said in her usual dry fashion.

Standing at the screen door, E.Z. stared after the truck until it became a speck in the distance. “I suppose he broke up the monotony a bit,” she admitted.

“He’s sure a fine-lookin’ man.”

Knowing her friend like she did, E.Z. was well aware that the casual observation carried a subtle probe. “Don’t make more of it than is there, Mamie.”

“I reckon it’s no different than making less of it than is there,” was the astute comeback.

The two women traded looks. It was then that Mamie knew for certain that the man was a complication in Elise Winston’s life, and not a minor one, either. Nope. Considering the circumstances, she’d venture a guess that the tall, tanned pilgrim had pretty much put a hitch in E.Z.’s plans.

CHAPTER FOUR

COLIN HAD NO DIFFICULTY getting back on course once Riley deposited him in San Antonio. Since the boss lady had ordered the old wrangler to take good care of Mr. Majors, he’d done exactly as instructed, driving him to a reputable garage and supplying the exact location of the out-of-commission Mercedes to the tow truck driver. Though Colin tried to assure him he could handle the remaining arrangements himself, Riley hung around the garage, drinking soda pop and making small talk with the mechanics while Colin spoke to his insurance agent and got the matter of his stranded vehicle completely resolved.

“We’re in luck. There’s a satellite claims office here jn San Antonio. The agent said to have my car towed directly there and they’ll fix me up with a rental.”

Riley apparently wanted to make certain he could tell E.Z. that the pilgrim was on his way to parts unknown when he’d left him. “Hop in ‘n I’ll carry ya over to the claims place.”

Colin considered declining the offer, but Riley seemed to think of him as his personal responsibility. It was more expedient to let the old man complete his babysitting assignment than debate the point. Four blocks and a handshake later, Riley was headed back to Cheyenne Moon, and Colin was inside the claims office asking to borrow their phone.

It startled him to hear his cousin’s voice on the opposite end of the line. They hadn’t conversed very much through the years.

“I figured you’d be callin’.” His cousin had a slow, heavy drawl that made every elongated syllable he uttered the same consistency as lead. Hud acted as though words were either a precious commodity or a real bother. He sometimes butchered the English language, but he never squandered it. He preferred to dole out his words sparingly.

“I got delayed by yesterday’s storm. The high water washed out my car.”

“Where are ya?”

“San Antonio.” Colin began measuring his words, also. He did not want to reveal too much of what had occurred during the past twenty-four hours to his cousin. It was none of Hud’s business, and he’d meant it when he’d promised E.Z. to keep private matters private. He did not want to risk compromising her standing in this community by loose words that could be strung together to make idle gossip.

“Need a ride?”

“No, just directions from San Antonio. I’ve made arrangements for a rental car. Did I miss the meeting with the oil company rep?”

“Naw. He postponed comin’ out. Supposed to show up this afternoon. Had better sense than to try it yesterday.”

His meaning was clear-only a damn fool would’ve braved such a gully washer. Colin envisioned his cousin smirking into the receiver. Ever since they were boys, Hud had had a way of ticking him off with his briny brand of humor: It was probably a good thing they hadn’t been thrown together very often throughout the years. Colin had the impression that Hud got immense pleasure out of cutting the younger, city-bred, University of Baylor graduate down to size. Of course, it was done in slow, mocking doses of dry West Texas wit-a trait Hud had inherited from the other side of his family and perfected by age ten.

“Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you know I’m okay in case you were forming a search party.” It was on the tip of his tongue to remind his ungrateful cousin that if he had simply refused his request for free legal advice, he would’ve avoided this disastrous trip-the grueling drive, the pleasure of floating like flotsam on ravaging flood waters, the loss of a brand-new Mercedes. Then he thought of his rescuer and, in spite of it all, considered himself lucky. Had it not been for Hud’s mistrust of strangers and unwillingness to part with a dollar, his path might never have crossed with E.Z. Winston’s. That truly would’ve been a loss, a very personal one.

“Got a pencil?” His cousin’s voice reclaimed him.

“Yeah. And don’t send me via any shortcuts. I want to stick to the main roads.”

Hud obliged, ending with, “It’ll take ya longer.”

It was Colin’s turn to smirk. “Maybe, but I’d just as soon avoid taking another swim in a ravine with mesquite branches scraping my ass. See you in an hour or so.”

UPON RILEY’S RETURN to Cheyenne Moon, he reported to Elise that Mr. Majors was, by this time, well on his way to wherever he’d originally been headed. She received the news with a dismissing nod. Neither Riley nor anyone else at the ranch, with the exception, perhaps, of Mamie Smallwood, gave the overnight houseguest another thought. Elise did her best to put him out of her mind, also, by burying herself in therapeutic work. The day passed quickly. With sunset came the usual quiet that settled over Cheyenne Moon at the end of a hard day. Supper had been devoured and the hands were unwinding in the bunkhouse or lolling about on the grounds. Elise had no appetite. Her supper sat untouched on the kitchen table inside the big house. Andele noticed her ensconced in the porch swing beyond the back screen door.

He addressed her in Spanish, asking if she wished him to rewarm the food.

“Has Buddy eaten?”

“Si,” he told her.

“Then just clear it away. I’m not hungry tonight.” He heard something more than mere weariness in her tone.

“Is the senorita sick?” he asked, worried.

Sensing he was studying her through the screen door, she angled herself in the swing so he couldn’t read her face. “Just moody, I guess. Call it a day, Andele. I know you’re anxious to be off. I’ll see you on Monday.”

It was obvious she wished to be left alone, and Andele was happy to abide by her wishes. One weekend a month he traveled south to return to his roots in Mexico. Once the table was cleared, he retrieved a faded gym bag he’d earlier stowed in the broom closet, bid the kind senorita adios and sprinted down the main drive to meet up with the van full of other homesick Mexican laborers heading for the border at full speed. Elise sat studying the faint star clusters. The sway of the porch swing was soothing. She loved this hushed time on the ranch. The quiet, the stars and the cool touch of night air on her face had a calming effect. Generally she treasured such a moment, especially after spending hours on end with a bunch of rowdy men. Tonight, however, these very same things-the quiet, the distant stars, the cool night air-only served to underscore a feeling of aloneness she rarely acknowledged. It was too quiet after the stimulating exchanges she and Colin had briefly traded, and the stars were a reminder of the great distance between them. She and he might as well be light-years apart for all the differences that separated them. A close encounter of foreign bodies might make for a good sci-fi script, but when the same event was translated into romantic terms, it came off more like a soft-porn novel. Yet the sex between them had been anything but sleazy, and the strong feelings that had prompted the act nothing but honest. The accidental collision was perhaps unorthodox, definitely unreal, but never, ever would she characterize the sex she’d shared with the Dallasite as tawdry.

She had regrets about the whole affair. The fact that she’d let her guard down and given in to the hot blood that flowed through her veins disturbed her greatly. But most of all she regretted having gone to bed with a man she had no chance of ever knowing in the deep way she’d like to have known him.

Engrossed in remembering in vivid detail the kisses and touch of a man who had promised nothing and left with only a vague hint that he might return, Elise did not hear her brother come up the back porch steps.

“Ya thinkin’ hard on somethin’, E.Z.?” Buddy Winston settled on the top step. Stretching out his long legs, he leaned back on his hands, took careful aim and spat a wad of chewing gun dead center in the rock garden Andele had designed and now tended with artistlike fervor.

It never ceased to amaze Elise how handsome a young man Buddy had become. Tall, like their father. Fair, like their mother. Sweet and honest, as so many folks only wished they could be. Perfect in every way-except one. His mind had not developed beyond that of an eight-year-old child, which made him fragile and vulnerable, which made her adore and protect him all the more.

She smiied down at him. “I was just thinking how much I’ve missed seeing your funny face around here the past few days. Did you have fun with Stu in Kerrville?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “His folks are nice. They treated me real good. We went to the picture show. Had ice cream both nights, too.” He beamed as he related the details of his trip to Kerrville. Stu Petty was one of the younger “punks” who’d recently come to work at the ranch. Buddy had instantly taken a shine to him. When he learned that Elise was sending Stu into Kerrville to buy some necessary equipment to mend a broken windmill and that Stu planned to stretch the trip a few extra days so he could visit his family, Buddy wanted to tag along. The Petty boy was fond of Buddy, and like E.Z., he didn’t have the heart to refuse most anything Buddy asked of him.

Though they were both twenty-four, Stu treated Buddy like a kid brother. Sometimes seeing the pair together broke Elise’s heart. Her brother was by far the best-looking of the two, but he would never know the wonder of young love, which Stu had recently discovered. Her brother was physically superior to Stu, but he would never be able to work the same as he did or hold down any real responsibilities. Buddy’s attention drifted, the same as any child’s. He always had to be watched to ensure against any harm coming to him. Sometimes it seemed so unfair. Yet Buddy was the one constant joy of her life. His cheery disposition and disarming innocence were a precious gift. In her eyes, he was a blessing, and anyone who dared to refer to him as a burden was never fool enough to do it again. Though they’d been separated for a year or so after Buddy’s birth, Elise had been the one who’d mothered and cared for him since he was two and she seven. And she’d done a fine job of it.

Elise could not understand or forgive the mother who had, in her lifetime, deserted two children and two husbands. Shortly after Buddy’s birth and the discovery that the oxygen deprivation he’d suffered during the difficult delivery had left him permanently impaired, Lady Pamela returned to England. She’d naively believed her marriage to a cattle baron would be an endless adventure. She discovered quite the contrary to be true and in short order came to loathe the dull reality and solitariness of ranch life. Her parting note to her husband had been brief and painfully blunt:

Dearest Roe,

I have tried but failed miserably at adapting to this rugged life. Unthinkable and as unnatural as it may be, I know I cannot face the daily reminder of our son’s imperfection. He is better off left in your care. You may communicate with Elise through my mother. I am so sorry to end it this way, but eventually you will come to terms with what I already know. Try not to hate me.