There was no in case. She would be back!
Polly’s shop, called Polly’s Tops, Hats and Tails gave way to Professor Johnson’s establishment, once a saloon called the Boozehound, and now a museum dedicated to the history of Fat Chance. The museum was a labor of love that Professor Johnson was sure was going to pay off one day. Every now and then, his enthusiasm for the town did manage to engage the interest of a random cowboy who had come to town to buy a saddle or boots, but Professor Johnson’s overkill approach usually had the man making excuses and escaping the museum within minutes. Next was the Cowboy Food Café, which Fernando had made the shining star of Main Street. When they’d first been challenged to spend six months in Texas, Professor Johnson’s aunt Cleo had run the place. She was the one who instigated the custom of all of them meeting for breakfast. Cleo was long gone, but the rest of them still met for breakfast five days a week.
That counts for something, doesn’t it?
Dymphna was not a fan of confrontation, and the morning town meetings often left her with no appetite. She gripped the steering wheel firmly.
Who cares if Pappy was elected mayor or not? As far as she could tell, only Professor Johnson.
Next to the café, Dymphna saw the darkened windows of the bank and jail—both Pappy’s domain long before the rest of them arrived. After that, Powderkeg’s carpentry shop. Powderkeg’s skill with leather went back into the older man’s past; he was actually a belt-maker who went from craft fair to craft fair when he’d first been discharged from the army in the early seventies. It was at one of those fairs that he first met the very young heiress Cleo Johnson. Although that marriage didn’t last long, thanks in part to Cutthroat Clarence’s intervention, Dymphna’s romantic nature hoped that Cleo and Powderkeg’s brief renewal of passion when they first arrived in Fat Chance might have stuck. Dymphna had only heard about Cleo’s life as one of the richest women in the world when Professor Johnson made his weekly call to his aunt’s mansion in Beverly Hills. Of course, the news was always a little hazy by the time Professor Johnson recapped their conversations to Dymphna. Cell phone reception was still only accessible in one spot on Main Street and temperamental at best. And Professor Johnson never had much interest in the interpersonal side of things. Cleo could be a challenge, but Dymphna had really been pulling for her, both at the beginning of her rekindled romance with Powderkeg and when she came back six months later to try again, only to find Powderkeg was already in love with someone else—a gorgeous pilot from the Rolling Fork Ranch.
Dymphna shook her head. She was full of romantic ideas back then. She was feeling much more practical these days. It was probably Professor Johnson’s pragmatic side rubbing off on her. Because he was nothing if not pragmatic. Granted, he was the one who discovered grapes—not only grapes, but grapes of historic significance— growing in Pappy’s backyard. And now everything revolved around the grapes. The whole group had decided they could parlay the grapes into a solid future. According to Professor Johnson, everything was on track to start producing wine within another year.
Fernando very vocally disagreed with Professor Johnson. Fernando spent his high school years helping his father work the vineyards in Napa Valley, and could out-wine-snob Professor Johnson any day. Fernando thought the grapes needed at least another two years on the vine before anything drinkable could be produced. It seemed to Dymphna only time could settle this argument, but Fernando and Professor Johnson discussed it heatedly almost every day.
Dymphna was now rolling past the last store on Main Street, Wally’s Groceries. Old Bertha ran the store, but even newcomers to town knew about Wally. Wallace Watanabe, a recently released petty criminal who went by the name Wally Wasabi when Dymphna first met him, was one of the original band of Cutthroat’s beneficiaries. When they’d first arrived in town, Dymphna suspected Wally had a crush on Polly. Then, Dymphna suspected Polly had a crush on Wally. Wally turned out to be a romance writer who had a following even he didn’t know anything about. A lucrative deal with a prestigious New York City publishing house put an end to any possible romance in Fat Chance. So many romances took wrong turns here.
Was her romance next?
Dymphna looked on the bright side. In the course of just under three years, Fat Chance now claimed a literary star. Although not the same caliber as Cynthiana, Kentucky, which could point to Robert Kirkman of Walking Dead fame as one of its own, Wally Wasabi’s career was just beginning.
On the other side of Main Street, Dymphna saw a light shining through the rickety walls of the forge. Titan must be awake. She applied the brakes. Should she go say goodbye? Her breath caught. Titan had been her best friend since she’d met him at Cleo’s house just before they’d all heard the news that they’d be going to Fat Chance. She remembered the two of them walking up the longest, best-manicured driveway Dymphna had ever seen and her telling Titan how nervous she was. He promised her he’d be her wingman—and he had lived up to it.
Dymphna sat staring at the forge. She and Titan had cooked up a plot to distract the pro-asphalt people, who were so gung-ho on “improving the town.” But neither of them was a match for Professor Johnson or Pappy, so they stayed silent.
Dymphna wondered if Titan would ever mention their plan now that she was gone. Should she go ask him?
She let her foot off the brake and gently pressed the accelerator. She wasn’t very good at goodbyes.
Chapter 4
As he and Thud made their way into town, Professor Johnson could see the tire tracks the Outback left on Main Street earlier that morning. There was no missing Dymphna’s frown as she drove away. He wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the road.
“Let the dust settle” had never seemed so apt.
He knew he tended to obsess about things. This character trait had ended more than one relationship, but he was surprised to find it annoyed Dymphna. She was always so easygoing. Thud ran ahead as soon as he saw Pappy and Old Bertha and waited at the front door of the café for them to open the door. The trio entered the café together, Thud oblivious to the fact that Old Bertha harbored a not-so-secret desire to have the dog banned from the restaurant.
She certainly can go on and on about that, Professor Johnson thought, shaking his head. Some people are just relentless.
By the time Professor Johnson had gotten down the hill, Titan was making his way up the boardwalk. Two cowboys stopped him. Professor Johnson could see by their gestures that they wanted to order horseshoes, but Titan was shaking his head. The cowboys shrugged and went into the café. Titan stayed on the boardwalk, looking around. Professor Johnson thought he looked worried.
“She’s still missing, Titan?” Professor Johnson asked, walking over to him.
He saw the huge, brown biceps and forearms clenching with tension. Titan had been a bodybuilder before his life in Fat Chance, and his job at the forge kept him in perfect form.
“I’m afraid I’m never going to see Fancy again,” Titan said, without taking his eyes off the street. “She’s been gone almost two months. I’m starting to give up hope.”
“Don’t feel that way,” Professor Johnson said. “Sometimes we don’t see Crash for months, and he always comes back.”
Titan gave Professor Johnson a watery smile.
Fancy was a one-eyed buzzard with a broken wing, who had taken to Titan when the group first moved to town. She limped along beside him to the café every morning. She waited patiently for him to appear after breakfast, at which point she would limp back to the forge, Titan taking tiny steps so she could keep pace. They were quite a sight, the giant man and the tattered bird. As more and more people came to town, the sight of Fancy frightened some people. Titan was afraid he would have to keep Fancy locked in the forge in the morning, but Powderkeg built her a special hitching post around the side of Main Street. He also fashioned a leather glove for Titan. Their latest morning ritual was that they would leave the forge, which was across Main Street, and Fancy would hobble over to the
hitching post. Titan would lower his arm, Fancy would climb up on the leather glove, and Titan would deposit her on the hitching post for an hour or so.
Professor Johnson once asked Titan if it wouldn’t be faster to just carry the bird over to the hitching post, but Titan looked at him scornfully.
“I don’t want her to feel handicapped,” he said. “I always tell her, ‘You’re handi-cap-able!’ I don’t want to ruin whatever self-esteem she has left.”
Professor Johnson remembered turning to Dymphna once when Titan was out of earshot, to ask if she thought buzzards had self-esteem. She did. He kept his opinion to himself. Dymphna and Titan were crazy about animals. Any discussion about anthropomorphizing would only cause hard feelings—and who was he to say what was right or wrong?
I do have a PhD from Harvard in natural sciences, and that should count for something, he thought.
But in Fat Chance, it actually didn’t.
“I’m wondering if I did something to offend her,” Titan said. “Maybe she really didn’t like being stuck on the hitching post every morning. Maybe she found it degrading.”
Professor Johnson thought a crippled buzzard who feasted on carrion feeling degraded by anything was a little farfetched, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Or maybe I’ve been too focused on the forge,” Titan continued. “I’ve started to work on a life-sized sculpture of Cinderella’s carriage.”
Dymphna always said that horseshoes were Titan’s bread and butter, but he had the soul of an artist. He made jewelry, housewares, and sculptures that looked like they had been fashioned from lace instead of metal.
Professor Johnson knew better than to say what he was thinking, which was:
We’re in the Texas Hill Country and she’s a lame buzzard with only one eye. She’s lucky she’s gotten this far.
But he could feel Dymphna’s gentle disapproval at the very thought of these words coming out of his mouth. Instead he said, “Let’s go in to breakfast. She knows your routine. She’ll come looking for you one of these days.”
“Do you think so?” Titan asked hopefully.
No.
“Of course,” Professor Johnson said, steering Titan toward the café.
Dymphna might not be here, but there must be somebody in that café who will have a comforting thought.
“Any sign of your damn bird?” Old Bertha called out.
Okay, maybe not.
Titan took a seat at the far end of the table, shaking his head dolefully. Professor Johnson sat next to him. Under normal conditions, this was Dymphna’s seat—but these were not normal conditions.
She’ll be back, Titan,” Pappy said gruffly. “She’s a tough old girl.”
That’s not what you said ten minutes ago,” Old Bertha said under her breath.
Professor Johnson looked up quickly. Titan didn’t seem to hear it, or care.
“We’ll get up a search party,” Powderkeg offered. “Remember when Thud got bitten by that rattler and we looked for him until we were dead on our feet? We could do that again.”
“But we didn’t find Thud,” Titan said, listlessly stirring his coffee. “Dodge did.”
Dodge Durham was Public Enemy #1 in Fat Chance, having tried to steal the town out from under them in the early days. He ran the store in Spoonerville, which was the only place to buy supplies for miles, so there was no getting away from him. But nobody in Fat Chance had anything to do with him if they could help it. The fact that he had saved Thud from dying from a snakebite drove them all crazy. He was also the man who begrudgingly sold Rocket, his prize bull, to Titan when the bull refused to stay on the ranch. Dodge always acted as if he’d done Titan a favor selling the bull to him, but everyone from Dripping Springs to Fat Chance to the Rolling Fork Ranch knew the bull had a mind of his own. From time to time, there was speculation as to where Titan got the money to pay Dodge, but Titan and Rocket weren’t telling.
“We know a lot more people now,” Polly said, as she put a plate of pancakes in the center of the table. “I’m sure we can get the boys to help.”
Polly called all the new cowboys and ranch hands “the boys.”
“How old is Fancy?” Fernando asked, appearing suddenly from the kitchen.
“I have no idea,” Titan said. “I mean, she’s been with me three years and seemed like an old soul already.”
“I’m not asking how old her soul is,” Fernando said. “How old is she in years, Pappy?”
“Beats me,” Pappy said. “One day she wasn’t here, the next day she was.”
“You must be able to narrow it down more than that,” Professor Johnson said.
“Let me think,” Pappy said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Everyone stared at him intently. He looked up. “Nope. Nothing comes to mind.”
“Why do you want to know?” Professor Johnson asked Fernando.
“Well, maybe she’s rebelling. She might be looking for more of her own kind,” Fernando said. He looked meaningfully at Titan. “If you know what I mean.”
“I think she was happy with Rocket and me, don’t you?” Titan asked Polly, a tremor in his voice.
“Oh yes,” Polly said, putting down the coffeepot and hugging his massive shoulders. “There is no doubt whatsoever that Fancy loved . . . loves you. Maybe she just needed a break?”
“Why would she need a break?”
“Why does anyone need a break?” Professor Johnson asked.
No one in Fat Chance had an answer.
Chapter 5
Dymphna didn’t waste any time sightseeing. She’d made it to Los Angeles in three days. The SUV hadn’t given her even a hint of trouble, but started to buck like an unbroken horse coming up the California Incline, about a mile from Erinn’s beautiful Victorian home. Dymphna looked down at the gas gauge, although she knew it was full. She arrived at Erinn’s as the car let out a bang-bang-bang.
This can’t be good.
Erinn and Virginia must have been watching from the window, because they were in the front yard before Dymphna was even out of the car. She was overwhelmed by hugs, kisses, and tears as Virginia enveloped her. Erinn hung back, grinning but avoiding the emotional tsunami that always seemed to accompany Virginia.
“You look so healthy!” Virginia said. “So tan! You’re wearing sunscreen, aren’t you?”
“When I can get it,” Dymphna said. At Virginia’s look, she added, “But if I run out, I always wear a hat and gloves.”
“Nice save,” Erinn said under her breath.
“I heard that,” Virginia said mildly. “I know you’re waiting for me to be old and deaf, but we’re not there yet.”
It was good to be back.
“Let’s get your bags,” Erinn said, pulling Dymphna’s backpack onto her shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be staying awhile.”
Virginia and Dymphna looked at Erinn with matching quizzical eyebrows. Erinn nodded to the Outback.
“That car isn’t going anywhere,” Erinn said, heading into the house. “You threw a rod.”
“How does she know that?” Dymphna asked Virginia as they followed Erinn into the house.
“How does Erinn know half the things she knows?” Virginia said. “She just does.”
Dymphna looked around as they entered the dark hallway. Nothing had changed since she’d walked out the door three years before. She heard a tinny barking coming from the kitchen and the clattering of tiny toenails on tile.
“Is that Piquant?” Dymphna asked.
“Yes,” Virginia said in reference to her Chihuahua. “I have to keep him corralled now when people are coming over. Age has not improved his disposition.”
“Does he bite?” Dymphna asked in surprise. Piquant was never a charmer, but he wasn’t violent.
“He tries, poor dear,” Virginia said, steering Dymphna toward the noise. “But he only has four teeth.”
“I’ll take this upstairs to the guest room,” Erinn called after them. “Mother will take you out to see
the rabbits.”
Virginia opened the door into the kitchen, where Piquant was barking so forcefully he had backed himself into a corner.
“Piquant,” Dymphna said in a soothing voice. “Don’t you remember me?”
The dog suddenly quieted. Dymphna sat on the floor about three feet away from him and opened her hands, palms up. The tiny dog looked at her, then walked over slowly. Dymphna didn’t move. Piquant climbed into her lap, put his front paws on her shoulders and licked her face.
“Did you miss me?” Dymphna said, finally picking the dog up and holding him to her. “I missed you, too.”
“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Virginia said. “Nobody relates to animals like you.”
“You should meet my friend Titan,” Dymphna said, breaking a rule she’d made for herself to not relate everything to Fat Chance. “He adopted a lame buzzard, and a bull who wouldn’t stay with his owner. He puts me to shame.”
“I doubt that,” Virginia said as Dymphna rose to her feet.
Dymphna carried Piquant as they made their way to the back door. Virginia turned to Dymphna. “I know I’ve told you that only Blanche, Earrings, and Spot are still with us. I cremated the other darlings and scattered their ashes in the roses. Kind of freaked Caro out, but it passed.” Caro was Erinn’s large Himalayan cat, who became friend and protector of the rabbits, even before Dymphna departed.
Dymphna, still cradling Piquant, looked at the floor. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said, her face flushing. “I didn’t think I would be gone so long.”
Livin' Large in Fat Chance, Texas Page 3
