Home at Chestnut Creek

by Laura Drake

  Allie bit into a cold bologna and cheese sandwich and got madder each time she chewed. Chili—damn fine chili—Mary Jo’s chili, which was the best in the whole county, was in that house. What was wrong with this picture? She took her phone from her coat pocket and called her sister.

  “I hope you are happy. Blake and Deke are eating chili and I’m sitting in a cold truck eating a soggy, cold sandwich, because I’m proving to you and Mama that this is just a job,” she blurted out before Lizzy could even answer.

  “You get one star in your eternal crown for such a sacrifice,” Lizzy said sarcastically.

  “I deserve two diamond stars because it’s my favorite food and Mary Jo made it and it smelled so good.”

  “It’s not a social call,” Lizzy smarted off. “Eat your sandwich and do the job and forget about the chili. Folks are already gossiping. I’ll be glad to report to the next one that comes in the store that you didn’t succumb to the devil’s wiles because he offered you chili. Got customers. See you later this evening,” Lizzy said.

  “Somebody’s Knockin’” started playing on the radio and Allie groaned.

  She remembered the lyrics so well that said someone was knockin’ and she wondered if she should let him in; that she’d heard about the devil but who would have thought he’d be wearing blue jeans and have blue eyes when he came knocking on her door.

  Allie squeezed the sandwich so hard that her fingers went through it. She wanted a bowl of that chili so bad she could taste it. And she was meaner than the devil and one bowl of chili did not mean it was a social call. It was food that would provide warmth for her to work on the roof in the bitter cold all afternoon.

  Lizzy could fuss at her later that night, but she was going back into that house and eating chili at a table and maybe even a piece of chocolate pie afterward. Besides, Deke loved Mary Jo’s chili even more than she did and he’d tease her all afternoon about how good it was if she didn’t eat with them.

  The house smelled scrumptious when she knocked on the back door and entered without waiting for an invitation. “I changed my mind and I don’t want to hear jack shit from you, Deke Sullivan.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothing. I was about to walk on back to my ranch if you hadn’t come on back in here,” Deke said.

  “Why did you change your mind?” Blake asked.

  “Because the day she turns down chili, then I figure she’s gettin’ that stuff that her granny has and I ain’t workin’ with a woman who’s holdin’ a nail gun if her mind ain’t right. Why are you in a bad mood today anyway?” Deke asked.

  Allie scowled at him. “I’m not in a mood. Where are the bowls?”

  Blake pointed. “There’s a bowl beside the slow cooker. Help yourself.”

  She removed her coat and hung it over the back of a chair.

  Blake’s eyes caught with hers and sparks flew. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you changed your mind. A dinner table is always nicer with a lovely woman sitting at it.”

  Deke pushed back his chair and in a couple of long strides he was beside Allie. “You best not skimp on your helping because I’m having seconds. Mary Jo hasn’t made chili for me in more than a year.”

  Allie filled her bowl to the brim and carried it carefully to the table. She sat down and dipped her spoon deep into the chili, keeping her eyes on the food instead of looking at either Deke or Blake. “Mmm. Mary Jo’s chili is the best in the world.”

  Deke set his second bowl on the table. “If you hadn’t come back I really was going to give you hell about it.”

  Blake pushed back his chair and went to refill his bowl. “Sometime I’ll make a pot of chili and let y’all be the judge if it’s this good. My mama had four old ornery boys and she said that we had to learn our way around the kitchen. So every fourth day one of us had kitchen duty. We hated it but I can make a pretty good pot of chili and I know how to grill a steak. And sharing it with a pretty lady and a friend makes everything better.”

  “Allie still hates the kitchen. Only thing she hates worse than cooking is cleaning. She’s pretty good at both but that don’t mean she enjoys it,” Deke said between bites.

  “I’m sitting right here,” Allie said bluntly. “You aren’t supposed to talk about me when I’m close enough to smack the shit out of you.” Allie reached for a piece of cheese and then cut it up in cubes on top of her chili. “I’m surprised you didn’t buy this place, Deke.”

  “I started to. Went to the bank and asked for a loan and then changed my mind. It’s not what I really want.”

  “And that would be?” Blake asked.

  One of Deke’s shoulders raised a couple of inches in a shrug. “I want the place my cousin has across the road from mine. He’ll get tired of his bitchin’ city wife within the year and put it up for sale. Besides, this place ain’t nothing but mesquite and cow tongue cactus. Only thing it’s got going for it is those three spring-fed ponds so you don’t have to carry water to the cattle in the hot summertime.”

  “Mesquite can be removed right along with cactus, and the ranch was cheap.” Blake changed the subject. “Got a wife and kids, Deke?”

  Deke slapped his forehead. “I forgot the beer. Not that this sweet tea isn’t good, but I said I’d contribute the beer to our dinner. Sorry about that.”

  “He doesn’t have a wife or kids.” Allie answered the question for him.

  “And you, Allie? Got a husband or kids?” Blake asked.

  “No.” Her answer was tight and left no room for discussion.

  Deke went on. “I got a little spread of about three hundred acres and I run some cattle, grow some hay, and do odd jobs with Allie when she needs a tough cowboy. It butts up to your place on the west side. Other than that, I’m a rodeo junkie. I ride a few bulls and broncs and even play at rodeo clown when they need me. No wife. No kids and ain’t interested in neither one right now.”

  “That’s because no sane woman could live with you. He’s so set in his ways that you’d think he was eighty-five rather than twenty-five.” Allie pushed back her chair and took her bowl to the cabinet for a refill. Lizzy could scream that she’d sold her soul but the chili was worth every bit of her sister’s bitching.

  When she returned she reached for a piece of cornbread at the same time Blake did, and a shiver ran from her fingers to her gut. Dammit! She was not giving in to her hormones. She had to keep things in perspective.

  “You look like you are getting in that mood again,” Deke said.

  “She might be fighting with the voices in her head. My brother gets that look on his face when he is doing that,” Blake said. “Most of the time it involves which woman he’s taking home from a bar. You thinkin’ about a fellow, Allie?”

  “Hell, no! That’s the last thing on my mind. Do you ever fight with yourself, Blake?” Allie asked.

  One of Blake’s shoulders hitched up a few inches. “I do it all the time.”

  Deke made circles with his forefinger up next to his ear. “I swear she’ll be loony by the time she’s thirty. Maybe I should leave the beer in the truck. She can’t hold her liquor worth a damn.”

  “What are you talkin’ about? Just because you are big and mean and tough don’t mean I can’t drink you under the table,” she protested.

  Deke held up a finger and swallowed. “They say that liquor kills brain cells and you’ve been talking to the voices in your head. I rest my case.”

  Allie shook her fist at Deke. “Enough. Eat your dinner and stop being a clown. We’ve got to get at least half the shingles kicked off today and new felt put down if there’s not rotting boards.”

  “Y’all get in a bind, holler at me. I can leave what I’m doing and help any way I can,” Blake said.

  “We might do just that if it starts to get dark. Days don’t last nearly as long in January as they do in July.” Deke polished off the last of his chili. “Is it all right if I get the chocolate pie out and slice it up?”

  Blake refilled his glass with sweet tea. �
��Help yourself to the pie. There’s a Mexican casserole in the refrigerator and lots of leftover chili. Y’all might as well join me at noon while you’re workin’ on the roof. I hate to see good food go to waste.”

  Deke said. “Count me in. Is that Sharlene’s Mexican casserole?”

  Blake nodded.

  “Thanks for the offer, but you don’t have to feed us every day.” Allie met Blake’s steely gaze down the length of the table.

  “It’s no problem. The food is already here. We just have to heat it up and I sure like to have someone other than Shooter to talk to while I eat.” He smiled and went back to eating.

  Deke reached under the table and squeezed her knee. She jumped like she’d been hit with a stun gun and shifted her gaze to him. He was warning her that he could and would go home before the first shingle was removed if she didn’t agree to Blake’s offer.

  “Okay, then,” Allie said. “Thank you. It’s very generous of you to invite us.”

  An hour later, Deke had unloaded shingles from the trailer onto a couple of pallets, and had repositioned the trailer to catch the old shingles as they threw them off the roof. The sound of the dozer tearing trees up by the roots could be heard in the distance as Deke set up a boom box on the roof and put in a Conway Twitty CD.

  “I’m a pretty damn good judge of bulls, broncs, and cowboys,” Deke said, climbing back down the ladder and then toting two shingle remover tools up to the roof.

  “So?” Allie scrambled up the ladder right behind him.

  “So Blake Dawson is a good man.”

  “And?” Allie picked up one of the bright orange tools with a long handle and slid it under the shingles at the peak of the roof.

  Deke started on the next row, sending shingles sliding down the roof to land on the trailer.

  “He won’t be our neighbor long. And besides I did my homework on this one.”

  Deke’s eyes widened. “You investigated him?”

  “Gossip works more than one way. I can find out things pretty easy, especially if it happened only a little more than a hundred miles from here. There are four of the Dawson boys. The older two are married and settled, but the younger ones have quite a reputation,” she said.

  “For ranchin’?” Deke asked. “Or with the ladies?”

  She expertly popped off a shingle and moved down to the next one. “Both. Rumor has it that they’re both crackerjack ranchers and their cousin Jud, who’s buying the Lucky Penny with them, is not only good with ranching but he can smell an oil well. How are you going to feel if they strike oil on the Lucky Penny and we’ve got all those trucks running through Dry Creek night and day?”

  “Hell, Allie! That might be the kick start that Dry Creek needs to grow and maybe some of us other ranchers can talk Jud into sniffin’ around our land. Now, tell me about the part about him being a wild cowboy.”

  Shingles started sliding down the slope of the roof and landing on the empty trailer. “Why? You afraid of the competition?”

  “Hell, no! I’m the most eligible bachelor in the whole county. I can share. Come on, Allie. Tell me.”

  “They call Blake the wild Dawson and his brother, Toby, the hot cowboy. They say that they can talk women out of their underpants in less than two hours of the time they meet them.”

  Deke threw back his head and laughed. “So that is the reason you wouldn’t look at him at the dinner table. Don’t worry, darlin’, you can super-glue your under britches to your butt and you’ll be safe.”

  Allie moved on down the roofline. “Maybe I want him to sweet-talk me.”

  “What did you say?” Deke yelled.

  “Nothing,” Allie replied from the other end of the roof.

  Chapter Five

  The squeaky sounds of rusty hinges told Blake that he had to start making sure his doors were locked. If Irene had arrived five minutes earlier she would have walked in on him strip-stark naked standing in front of the fireplace. Thank goodness when she eased the door open he was wearing flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved thermal knit shirt. Before the door closed he grabbed his phone from the end table and hit the numbers to call Allie.

  While he waited, he picked up the remote control, put the television on mute, sighed, and threw back the throw he’d tossed over his legs. Shooter’s ears popped up and he growled but he didn’t move a muscle.

  “Gettin’ kind of slow there, old boy. I heard the hinges squeak before you did. And we thought that we were moving to a quiet place. Boy, were we wrong,” Blake said.

  “Walter, darlin’.” Irene stopped and glared at Shooter. “When did you get a dog and what is it doing in the house? They have fur to keep them warm outside. They don’t belong in the house.” Irene crossed her thin arms across her chest. That night she wore purple sweat pants and cowboy boots that didn’t match on the wrong feet. Springs of gray hair poked out around her hot pink stocking hat. The stained work coat was three sizes too big and bright red lipstick had sunk into all the wrinkles around her mouth.

  “Shhh! You’ll hurt my dog’s feelings, Miz Irene. Have a seat. I’m making a phone call,” he said.

  “I didn’t come over here for you to shush me, Walter. Do you think it’s easy getting out of that house? Well, it’s not and besides it’s cold out there. I swear to God on the Bible, it’s going to snow before the end of the week.”

  Allie answered on the fifth ring. “Hello.”

  “Hi there. This is Walter,” Blake said.

  “I’m on my way as soon as I can get my boots and coat on,” she said.

  He returned the phone to the end table, flipped the lever on the side of his worn brown leather recliner, got to his feet, and dragged a wooden rocker up close to the fire. “Here, darlin’, you must be freezing. Sit right here and warm your hands while I make you a cup of hot chocolate. Can I take your coat?”

  She must have loved Walter a lot, not only to trudge through the snow, but to wear a coat that weighed half as much as she did. It’s a wonder that the thing didn’t fracture her frail shoulders.

  “Yes, you can and I like my hot chocolate with lots of extra cream, but you know that, and why aren’t you wearing your glasses tonight? You know you can’t see anything without them.”

  “I got those newfangled contact lenses, remember?” he said.

  Irene squinted up at him. “Those what?”

  “Little tiny lenses that go right in my eyes,” he said. “I don’t have to wear glasses all the time now.”

  “That’s crazy, Walter. I bet they were expensive if there is such a thing and your mama paid for them to make you feel guilty about wanting to move her in with your brothers, didn’t she?” She eased down into the rocking chair and held her hands out to the blazing fire. “When did you get that fancy chair? Did she buy that for you, too? I’m not surprised since she let you bring that mangy mutt in the house. She’ll do anything to guilt you into keeping her with you forever.”

  Once she was settled, he went to the kitchen and put a cup of milk into the microwave for a minute. While that heated, he searched in the cabinets and found a box of instant chocolate mix. When the milk was ready, he removed it and added the mix plus a heaping tablespoon of coffee creamer, stirred it well, and carried it to the living room.

  “Did you put in the extra cream?” Irene asked.

  He set the chocolate on the coffee table. “Of course I did, ma’am. I know exactly how you like your hot chocolate. Be careful now. The mug is hot.”

  “Don’t you ma’am me. I’m not your mother or an old lady.” She picked it up and wrapped her hands around the mug. “Ahh, nice and warm for my hands as well as my freezing insides. Well, crap! I hear a car coming down the lane. Who would be coming around this late? Don’t folks have any manners at all? You don’t go visiting after dark. It’s not proper.”

  “Maybe someone lost their way and needs directions or maybe they’re turning around in the driveway,” he said.

  Irene nodded and sipped her chocolate while she rocked
back and forth in front of the fire. A gentle knock on the door brought the rocking chair to a stop, and Irene’s expression changed. Blake turned on the porch light, opened the door, and motioned Allie inside.

  Irene’s old eyes narrowed into little more than slits. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be having a good time with your girlfriends because this is the last night before you get married tomorrow.”

  “Granny, I am Allie, not Katy, and it’s time for us to go home, now,” Allie said.

  Irene’s face went blank as she looked around the room. “Why did you bring me over here to this place? I told you to stay away from here. It don’t bring nothing but heartache and yet here you are, flirting with this cowboy. It’s a good thing I saw you sneaking out of the house and came to get you. I’ll have to watch you closer or else you’ll ruin your life like your mama almost did.”

  “You want a cup of hot chocolate or coffee?” Blake asked.

  Allie shook her head. “What’s this about Mama ruining her life?”

  Irene popped up out of the rocking chair and pointed her finger at Allie. “I don’t want to talk about that, Alora Raine Logan. I told Katy that she’d have to get over it and she did so we’re not discussing it no more. Let’s go home and I swear to God, if I catch you over here one more time, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  “Let me help you with your coat,” Allie said.

  “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need any help,” Irene protested.

  Allie stood aside and let her grandmother get the heavy coat up on her shoulders, then watched as Irene slammed the screen door and stomped out to the van. “Thanks for calling. We thought she was asleep in her room. She crawled out a window. Guess I’ll have to put locks on them so she can’t get out.”

  “She must’ve loved Walter a lot,” he said.

  “I don’t even know who Walter is. He might be a boyfriend she had in the fourth grade and she’s got him mixed up with someone who lived over here at some time in her life. Who knows what triggers what these days.” Allie sighed.

  Shooter whined, yipped, and then opened his eyes wide. He jumped up and raced across the floor like he’d been poked with a red-hot brand. Blake barely had time to sling open the screen door before the yellow blur sped past him and Allie. Then, as if in slow motion, Allie was tumbling forward, grasping at nothing more than air to break her fall.