Love Drunk Cowboy

by Carolyn Brown

  “And I hate to stay home. I love you too. Now go before I tear up.”

  “Don’t you dare cry. If you do I’ll shoot the bulls and never leave you again.” He hugged her tighter.

  “Never miss the water until the well runs dry. Now I know what they’re talking about,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m a well and I’ve run dry?”

  She leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and wishing she was going with Gemma that night. Visions of him in that big king-sized bed at the hotel didn’t help matters.

  “For this weekend. Don’t be finding a groupie and forgetting me.”

  He tipped her chin up and kissed her hard. “Darlin’, a man doesn’t eat bologna when he can have sirloin.”

  “What if he’s starving?”

  “I’ve only got an appetite for you.”

  “Don’t forget that.”

  He brushed another kiss across her lips and then deepened the next one into something usually reserved for the bedroom instead of right out in public in broad daylight. When he broke the kiss he asked, “Think that might whet your appetite?”

  “Hell, no! That made me forget watermelon wine and now I’m hungry for good old bedroom sex.”

  He chuckled and got into his truck. “I’ll call you tonight after the rodeo.”

  “Tell Colleen not to gloat too much. I’ll be there next weekend.”

  “She’s comin’ around. She just doesn’t like being wrong.”

  Austin leaned in the window and kissed him one more time. “Drive safe.”

  When he rolled up the window and drove away she groaned, hopped up in her melon hauling wagon, and fired up the rattling engine. Granny had bought three school busses at an auction and then set about making them into something better than a pickup truck for hauling melons from the fields to the shed. School busses set up high to get them over rough roads to pick up kids in back country places, so getting in and out of watermelon fields was no problem. The hired help had cut the windows out of the bus and taken the back doors off. Each year they busted a bale of hay in the floor to cushion the melons, but they weren’t air-conditioned so the work was hot and backbreaking.

  Austin shifted gears and pushed back a few hairs that had stuck to her cheek. Next week if she had time she intended to make an appointment with Gemma to get her hair trimmed. She passed Lobo on the way to the shed and waved. When she arrived at the field she parked and hopped out. Felix and Jacinto already had half a mile of melons cut and ready to toss. On the other end of the field Hugo and Estefan were loading a bus.

  “It’s a wonderful crop this year.” Felix picked up the first melon and threw it to Jacinto who threw it up to Angelo in the bus. He handed it off to Austin who stacked them carefully to prevent busting.

  “I’m glad,” Angelo paused to translate from Spanish to English, “that you are,” another pause, “staying to make the farm run.”

  “You will all come back next year, won’t you?” She suddenly had a panic attack. What if they didn’t want to work for her another year? How would she go about getting help?

  “Si. We will be here. We were worried that we wouldn’t have jobs next year and we like it here. Our family has been coming to this place for more than forty years. Way before I was born.”

  Her panic attack eased and she continued handling each melon as if it were a newborn baby. “I’m glad that this will be done in a few weeks. I hate being away from Rye.”

  “What did you say?” Angelo asked.

  “I was talking to myself,” she laughed.

  “Sometimes I do that too. I talk to my wife at night before I go to sleep,” he said.

  “You must miss her so bad.” She couldn’t imagine being away from Rye four months out of every year.

  “Si. I miss her and my three children, but this is a very good job and it takes care of us all year in my small village. I am happy to have it.”

  At dark they called it a day. She’d lost count of how many trips she’d made back and forth to the watermelon shed and she was bone tired when she kicked off her boots and went into the house. She had dozens of melons waiting in the garage to run through the colander, but a shower was the first thing on the agenda.

  She unhooked her overall galluses and was halfway down the hall when she heard the crunch of tires in the driveway. She redid her overalls as she headed back up the hall and heard people talking. She opened the front door and was struck speechless.

  “Hello… damn it to hell! Look at you!” Barbara said.

  “What the hell?” Joan’s eyes widened.

  “You look like shit,” Clydia said.

  “Well, I’ve damn sure accomplished something tonight. I’ve got all three of you cussin’. Come right in.” She threw open the door. “Don’t snarl your nose. I’m still working on the mess. I just came in from the fields, so you’ll have to open a bottle of wine and wait for me to take a shower before you tell me what the devil you three are doing in Terral.”

  “We all met in Dallas to shop for a long weekend. We decided to drive up here and take you back with us to do some shopping,” Barbara said.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Have you had supper? I was about to make a sandwich.”

  “We ate at a little German restaurant over in Muenster,” Joan said.

  “Go on and get your shower. You actually stink, girl,” Clydia said.

  “Yes, I do and my boyfriend hugged me in this condition before he left this afternoon.” She grinned. “Wine is in the fridge. Glasses above the sink.”

  She washed the grime from her hair and body, used a blow dryer and a brush on her hair, applied a bit of makeup, and then wiped most of it off because it was too light for her new brown skin. She donned a pair of denim shorts she’d found at the Red Barn, a bright blue knit shirt, and her best cowboy boots and headed back to the living room.

  The sisters were sitting around the kitchen table with a bottle of watermelon wine and three glasses. Joan looked up and swallowed quickly.

  “’Bout choked on that, didn’t you?” Austin said.

  “You look worse now than before,” Clydia said.

  Austin opened the refrigerator and took out a can of cold Coors. “Yeah, but I don’t stink now. You got something to say, Mother? If so, go ahead and spit it out because then it’s my turn.”

  “I can’t bear to see you like this,” Barbara said. “Didn’t you bring anything decent from Tulsa to shop in?”

  “I’m not going shopping. I usually spend my weekends in Dallas with Rye at the rodeo, but it’s harvest time and I’m working all weekend. And I’m happy in my new skin so get used to seeing me like this.”

  “What do you mean, harvest? Don’t you have hired hands that do that work?” Clydia asked.

  “Six of them, but I work too. It’s my farm and I want to know what goes on.”

  Clydia downed the rest of her wine and poured another. She was dressed in navy slacks and an ecru top. Her necklace was a two-carat diamond solitaire on a thick gold chain with earrings to match. “This is good stuff. And you are planning to make it just like Verline did?”

  “I’ve already got two batches in the refrigerator with plans to put another two in there tomorrow.”

  “Well, save me a couple of bottles. It’s damn good.”

  Barbara looked around the kitchen. “God, this place hasn’t changed in thirty years but it’s changed you.”

  “Thank you. I wish Rye hadn’t already left. I’d love for you to meet him.”

  Austin looked out the front window. “Oh, Mother, you’ve rented a Caddy and not a Chevrolet. Saint Peter is going to give you demerit marks for that.”

  “He’s going to tell you to go straight to hell, do not pass go or collect any money at all for moving down here,” Barbara snapped.

  “Maybe so, but if it’s like Terral, I reckon I’ll feel right at home,” Austin shot back. “Why are y’all really here?”

  Clydia set her wine glass down and said, “Your mothe
r wanted us to come help rescue you. She’s given you long enough to come to your senses. She thought if we came down here and took you to the city, did some shopping, and saw a play or a concert, you’d see the difference and change your mind.”

  “It ain’t happenin’,” Austin said.

  Joan frowned. “Even your language is different. You talk like these people. Barbara is right. This place changed you.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” Austin said.

  Barbara whined, “You really aren’t coming back to Tulsa, are you?”

  “No, Mother, I’m not. I’ll visit in the winter probably since that’s my slow time, but from Easter until after July 4 there’s no way I can get away.”

  “You really are happy down here. I hate that.”

  “I am and I’m sorry that you don’t like it.”

  “I’m not coming down here very often,” she declared.

  “You are welcome any time. When I get around to cleaning out the house I’ll even fix up Granny’s old room for you.”

  “I’ll stay in a motel. I’m not staying in Verline’s bedroom. She’d haunt me,” Barbara said.

  “She might at that,” Austin agreed, remembering all the times when she could swear Verline was meddling in her life. She sat down, reached across the table, and touched her mother’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Mother. I’ve missed you but not Tulsa so much.”

  Chapter 21

  Rye swaggered into the Hyatt Regency in his starched jeans, freshly polished cowboy boots, silver belt buckle, and a crisp yellow and green plaid western-cut shirt. His black hair was combed straight back and he carried his best Stetson hat in his hands. He crossed the lobby and went straight for the restaurant on the other side of the bar. Everything was quiet for a Saturday morning, but then it was only ten o’clock.

  He’d called for brunch reservations and ordered a pot of coffee and waited. Being early gave him the advantage. He’d finished off one cup of coffee and had just poured another when he saw them step out of the elevator. He’d recognize them anywhere because they looked like older models of Austin, but which one was the mother and which were the aunts was a toss-up.

  They were all dressed in black slacks and muted colored tops. Their hair was cut in different styles and two of them had a few more wrinkles around their eyes. Austin had mentioned that her mother was the youngest one by several years, so he took a chance when the waitress led them to his table. He stood up, shook his jeans legs down to stack over his boots, and stuck out his hand.

  “Miz Lanier, I’m Rye O’Donnell. It’s right nice to meet y’all.”

  Barbara admired his firm shake and appreciated his manners in holding the chair for each of them before he sat back down. “It’s nice to meet you, also. I’ve heard a lot about you from my daughter.”

  He picked up the pot. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. We’re all coffee drinkers and I haven’t had any at all today,” Clydia said. “I can see why Austin is attracted to you.”

  “You’d be Clydia?” he asked.

  “Yes she is and I’m Joan. Fill it to the brim. I’m not a pansy like these other two. I drink it black.”

  Rye filled it up. “You sound like my kind of woman.”

  “I could be if I was thirty years younger. Now tell us why we are here?”

  “I wanted to meet you all. I’m lonesome for Austin and she’s dog tired with the harvest, but it won’t be but a few weeks until she can play with her wine making all fall. By the time it’s planting time again, she’ll be antsing to get back out in the fields. But right now I’m down here alone and y’all are here so I thought we’d meet and have brunch,” he said.

  “So she’s behind this brunch?” Joan asked.

  Rye shook his head slowly. “No, ma’am. She is not behind this. She doesn’t even know that I sweet-talked the desk lady into putting the call through to your room for me. I’ll tell her all about it later. By the way, have you had the pancakes? They are wonderful.”

  “You’ve stayed here before?” Barbara asked.

  “Couple of times. Shall I order pancakes for all of us or would you like to do the all-you-can-eat bar?”

  “I’ll have the pancakes. The way we’ve been eating I’ll have to spend two hours a night in the gym this next month,” Clydia said.

  “Y’all are all like Austin. Always fussing about weight and never gaining a pound, I’ll bet.” Rye smiled.

  “Austin is like Verline and her father. They could eat elephants and it wouldn’t affect the scales,” Barbara said.

  “Believe me, we have to watch our weight,” Joan said. “But I’m having pancakes.”

  “They bring warm syrup and serve them with raspberries,” Rye said. “More coffee?”

  Clydia held out her cup and he poured. “Tell us about yourself, Rye?”

  “I’m thirty-two years old. I own a cattle ranch right across the road from Austin’s watermelon farm. I also ride bulls and pretty often take home the purse from that. I raise Angus cattle and own rodeo bulls. I make a few dollars hauling them to the rodeo, which is why I’m in Dallas this weekend and every weekend in the summer months. The Resistol Rodeo Arena is in Mesquite and I have a contract with them to provide stock for the events. Want to go to the rodeo tonight? You can be my guests,” he said.

  All three heads shook from side to side without hesitation.

  “And you ride bulls as well as raise them?” Barbara asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Make a little on the side doing that. Been close to making enough points to go to the pro bull rider events a few times.”

  “Has Austin seen you ride?” Joan asked.

  “Not yet but she will. She rode the mechanical bull a few weeks ago. Blew my sister’s mind right out of the place when she hung on for the full eight seconds and even downed a bottle of beer while she was riding. Everyone in the place clapped for her.”

  Barbara gasped. “She did what?”

  “Guess she didn’t tell you about that, did she?” He grinned.

  The pancakes arrived and the waitress set a pitcher of warmed maple syrup in the middle of the table and switched the empty coffee pot with a full one.

  “Thank you,” Rye said.

  “You are very welcome,” she said.

  “We want to hear more about Austin’s bull riding,” Joan said.

  “Well, my sister Colleen dared her to ride. My sister, Gemma, rides the real bulls. Austin let Colleen handle the controls so she wouldn’t say that the handler gave her an easy time. And Colleen didn’t. She probably overworked the mechanical bull but it looked like Austin was a pro. She said later it was because she had had horse riding lessons and was a skier and had danced the ballet. She said it was all a matter of balance.”

  Clydia smiled.

  Rye could have kissed her. It was the first sign that he was getting anywhere with the ice queens of the big city.

  “What else has my child done that I don’t know about?” Barbara asked.

  “Oh, no! You’re not getting me to talking anymore, Miz Lanier. Austin is probably going to throw things at me as it is for telling you about the bull. And this old cowboy ain’t takin’ no more chances,” he drawled.

  “Are you telling me that you are in love with my daughter?” Barbara asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” Rye said without hesitation. “If her father was alive I’d have a visit with him and ask if I could have his blessing on courting her. I suppose I ought to ask you for the same blessing.”

  “And if I don’t give it to you?” Barbara asked.

  “I’m going to do it anyway. She’s thirty. I’m thirty-two. I just happened to be old-fashioned that way. So you can either give me the blessing or keep it in the family vault. I couldn’t any more keep away from her than I could live without breathing.”

  Barbara sighed. “Terral raises passionate men, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know about Terral, but the O’Donnells do,” Rye said.

  “You have my p
ermission to court my daughter. I don’t like it because I don’t want her to waste her life in that town, but being hateful about it will only drive her away from me and she’s all our family has in the way of another generation.”

  “Thank you. Maybe someday your family tree will expand.”

  Joan giggled. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? A bunch of little farmers and ranchers. Mother will have a cardiac arrest and leave all her fortune to charity.”

  Rye chuckled. “I’m not a bit interested in anyone’s fortune. Just in Austin Lanier’s heart.”

  ***

  Austin was waiting on the front porch when he got home the next day. She wore a white eyelet lace sundress with spaghetti straps and no shoes. Her hair flowed about her shoulders and was even lighter after hours of working in the broiling sun.

  She stepped off the porch and met him halfway from the truck to the house. He picked her up and hugged her so tight that she could hardly breathe. “I’ll help you and make Kent help too. You can’t miss another weekend with me. I was too lonely down there.”

  “Me too!” she said.

  He set her down, tipped her chin up, and kissed her. “Let’s go cuddle on my big bed.”

  “Let’s stay here in my small bed and do more than cuddle.”

  “Why don’t you want to go to my house?” he asked.

  “Think, Rye. Every time we try to do anything over there, something happens. At this house we could stay in bed twenty-four hours and the phone wouldn’t ring, the bulls wouldn’t get out, and no one would come visiting.”

  His dark brows knit together above his eyes.

  She giggled again. “Darlin’, it’s Granny Lanier. She’s going to be sure we stay on this side of the road.”

  He laughed with her and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her up to the door and she opened it. When they were inside he kicked it shut with his foot. “I wouldn’t put anything past her and I’ll move my big bed over here anytime you want me to. Hell, I don’t care which side of the road we’re on.”

  When he set her down on the kitchen floor she undid two buttons on his shirt and ran her hands inside across his broad, muscular chest and raised her lips to his for another passionate kiss. “I missed you too, but if the melons aren’t in, I’ll have to miss another weekend. Tell Raylen to take care of the stock for you and stay home with me.”