Luck Of The Draw

by Candace Schuler

  Bear was beside himself, dashing back and forth, barking wildly at the blue tick hound in the back of one of the pickups. Clara the goat was straining at the end of her rope, bleating loudly in protest at all the activity. Slik was grunting and squealing, his snout raised in piggy ecstasy as she sniffed at the wonderful scents of so much food in one place.

  Eve identified each of her nieces at a glance, easily picking them out of the crowd. Gracie was playing tag with the youngest children, her long blond hair in a wild tangle around her head. Laura had her arm slung companionably around the neck of another little girl, each of them with a Dr Pepper soft drink in their free hands, heads together as they whispered secrets. Amanda, her hair carefully combed, her usual jeans replaced by a flounced denim jumper over a pale blue blouse with a ruffled collar, stood talking to a gangly young rancher’s son who was all hands and feet and worshipful adoration.

  Gus was helping three other men unload two large washtubs full of beer, sodas and ice from the back of a pickup.

  Travis was standing with a small group of people by the dust-covered hood of a dark green Cadillac, a Lone Star beer in one hand, laughing as if someone had just told a joke.

  Eve recognized a few of the people he was with. Margo and Mel from the Double M Café. The grizzled, dignified judge who had married them last week. A plump, pretty brunette she thought might have been one of the checkers at the Piggly Wiggly where she’d bought groceries a couple of days ago. And the teenage Galahad who’d stopped on the road that first day to ask if she needed any help.

  Eve hefted her baby higher on her hip, pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the covered porch.

  Travis looked up immediately, as if he’d known she’d been standing there just inside the door, and had only been waiting for her to make her appearance. He stepped a little away from the group, holding out an arm in invitation, putting it around her shoulders to pull her into the circle when she got close enough.

  “Eve, darlin’.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Baby all changed and fed?” he asked, giving her an unexceptional excuse for having been delayed.

  “Yes.” She smiled up at her husband, trying to look like a happy new bride, trying not to think about the way her breath caught and her stomach started to jump at his touch. “He’s dry and full. For a little while, anyway.”

  “He’s a darling baby,” said the plump brunette. “I thought so when you were in the store buying grocer ies the other day. A darling baby,” she repeated, and grinned at Travis. “Looks just like his daddy.”

  Eve smiled weakly and let it slide. Travis was right; it was easier to let everyone think Timothy was his son. It saved awkward questions all around. And it was nobody else’s business, anyway.

  Travis squeezed her shoulders encouragingly, letting her know he thought she’d done the right thing, and introduced her around the little group. “Judge Griffin here was just telling us a little story you’ll be interested in,” he said to Eve, after they’d all smiled and said their hellos. He tilted his beer toward the judge. “Go ahead and tell her, Judge. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

  “I had a call from the county child protection services down to Dallas the other day,” the judge said, his voice rich and sonorous, the Texas twang heavily pronounced. “Some dang fool woman, a social worker by the name of Miz Gillespie, filed a report as to how ol’ Travis here—” he smacked Travis on the back in case anyone didn’t know who he was talking about “—is exertin’ a bad influence on his nieces, corruptin’ their moral fiber and suchlike with his loose-Iivin’ ways.”

  Eve sucked in her breath and looked up at her husband. He shook his head, silently telling her to keep still and listen.

  “Well, now, I agreed with those folks as to how our boy here has certainly corrupted the moral fiber of any number of women—back in his single days, of course, ma’am,” he said with a gracious tilt of his head toward Eve.

  “Of course,” Eve murmured dryly, with a slanting sideways look at her husband that made everyone laugh.

  “I told ‘em, hell…beggin’ your pardon, ladies,” he apologized. “I said, hell, Travis Holt hasn’t ever corrupted any woman under eighteen, nor one who wasn’t more than willing to be corrupted in the first place.” He laughed heartily at his own wit. “And it’s not like he ever went out looking for women to corrupt, either, I said. Our boy, here—” He whacked Travis on the back again. “Is a four-time National Bull Riding Champion. He doesn’t have to do much looking. The ladies come looking for him. Besides which,” the judge added, his voice booming through the lighthearted laughter, “he’s a married man now, I told ‘em, with a nice little wife and a baby of his own. Local rancher, too, I said, with a real nice spread. A real upstanding member of our community. That had them back-pedaling, right quick, I tell you.” He nodded decisively, as if he’d just pronounced a verdict. “Right quick.”

  “I appreciate your putting in a good word for me, Judge,” Travis said, and took a sip of his beer. “I don’t mind saying, Miz Gillespie was beginning to worry me some.”

  “Glad to do it, son. Glad to do it. Hell—beggin’ your pardon, ladies—you should have called me when this nonsense started. I’d have set those busybodies down in Dallas straight for you in a heartbeat.”

  “I appreciate that, Judge,” Travis said again.

  “You call me if that Gillespie woman comes out here, bothering you again, or anyone else from that agency, you hear?” he ordered sternly. “I don’t hold with outsiders coming to our town and telling us how to—Well, I’ll be danged. Jim Belmont. Pardon me, folks,” he said, politely tipping his white Stetson hat as he shouldered his way out of the group toward an influential constituent he hadn’t seen since the last election.

  “Well, if you’ll all excuse me,” Eve said, belatedly remembering her duties as the hostess. “I guess I’d better show all these ladies where to put the food they’ve brought.”

  Travis tightened his arm around her shoulders, keeping her from slipping away from him. “They all know where the kitchen is.”

  “But—”

  “We don’t worry too much about the formalities at these country shindigs,” Margo said, reaching out to give her arm a reassuring little pat.

  “But—”

  “You’re the bride, sugar. You’re just supposed to enjoy yourself and meet all your new neighbors.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, darlin’,” Travis said, dropping a little kiss on her temple as he steered her away from the group. “Let’s go meet everybody.”

  OVER THENEXT several hours Eve met more people than she could remember. Their closest neighbors, who lived six miles away and ran purebred Texas longhorns on their spread; the minister of the Baptist church, who hoped she’d stop by one Sunday and worship with them; Tallie Sweet, who owned and operated the Clip ‘N’ Curl in town and offered Eve a twenty percent discount on her first visit; Herbert Grayson, Jr., from Selina Bank and Trust, who held the mortgage on the Rocking H; all the local ranchers and ranchers’ wives and ranchers’ children. And cowboys.

  There were all sorts of cowboys, some of them family men, who lived and worked the local spreads year ‘round. There were cowboys who lived most of the year in town and were hired on as seasonal help. And there were cowboys who lived from one go ‘round to the next, following the rodeo circuit down the road.

  “Aw, come on, Travis, ol’ buddy,” one of them said as they sat on the top rail of the corral, cheering for the kids who were trying to stay on the backs of bucking yearling calves. Gus and Slik were in the corral, too, clowning for the crowd and seeing to it that the kids didn’t get stepped on. Neither one of them were as fast as they used to be but the audience loved them anyway. “Don’t tell me you don’t miss the rodeo, at least a little bit.”

  “Well, hell, sure,” Travis admitted with a shrug. “Some.”

  “Just some?” the other cowboy scoffed. “What about going down the road with the guys? B
ein’ your own boss? Fancy-free and answerin’ to no one?”

  “I’m still my own boss,” Travis said pointedly.

  “And the women,” the man persisted. “Tell me you don’t miss all those adorin’ women who used to throw themselves at your feet.”

  Travis frowned at the loudmouth. “I’m a married man now,” he said with a sidelong look at Eve to see if she was listening to the conversation. Thankfully, she was watching the action in the corral with one hand pressed to her mouth, and didn’t appear to be paying any attention to him. “I don’t need more than one woman these days.”

  “Well, what about the excitement, then? What about winning? What about that rush of adrenaline when you ride some sum’bitch of a bull like ol’ Vortex to the whistle?”

  “Nobody’s ever ridden Vortex to the whistle.”

  “Somebody will, someday. ‘Ain’t a bronc can’t be rode. Ain’t a cowboy can’t be throwed.’ That goes for bulls, too.” The cowboy gave Travis a sly, knowing grin. “Wouldn’t you like that somebody to be you, huh? Wouldn’t you like to be the one to ride that meantempered sucker into the ground?”

  “Yeah,” Travis said with relish. “Oh, yeah. I surely would.” And then he shook his head. “But that’s all behind me now. I’ve moved on.”

  “Vortex ain’t on the circuit anymore, anyways,” put in another cowboy. “Old man Bristol up and sold him after he gored Ty Gates in Reno last month. Said it was only a matter of time before that bull up and killed himself a cowboy, and Bristol didn’t want it on his conscience.”

  Travis’s chuckle was just a little rueful. The bull had been a worthy adversary; he was sorry to hear he’d come to such an ignominious end. “That old bull is going to make mighty tough hamburger.”

  “Bristol didn’t send him to the meat packin’ plant,” the cowboy said. “His conscience don’t hurt him that much. Sold him to some rinky-dink rodeo outfit in East Texas, over near Tyler someplace, is what I heard. The owner of the outfit’s been puttin’ all the entry fees into a pot and says he’ll split it with the first cowboy who rides him to the whistle. Pot’s up there a ways, too. Forty thousand, last I heard.”

  The cowboy sitting next to Travis nudged him in the ribs. “It ain’t too late,” he said. “You can still ride that ornery sum’bitch to a win.”

  THE PARTY STARTED to wind down just after twilight. Half of the guests were already gone, those with a long drive ahead of them or evening chores to do. Of those who lingered, most of the men were gathered around the glowing coals of the barbecue pit or down at the corral, helping themselves to a last beer or surreptitious shot of whiskey, out of sight of their womenfolk.

  The women sat on the back porch or in the kitchen, sipping coffee and cleaning up, enjoying the last moments of quiet and camaraderie before it was time to gather up their families and head for home. Sleepy toddlers dozed in their mothers’ laps. The younger children chased fireflies with Mason jars, or played one last game of Hide and Seek or Kick the Can in the dim illumination of the porch lights. The older kids gathered out back at the picnic table under the oak tree, where they could talk, or flirt, or steal a kiss out from under the eyes of their parents.

  Eve sat on the back porch with Margo and Tillie and the plump brunette from the Piggly Wiggly whose name was Cindy. Timothy, replete after nursing, slept in her arms. It had been a long day, a tiring day, in some respects, but ultimately, a satisfying day. She fit in with Travis’s friends and neighbors. She liked them, and they seemed to like her.

  “Aunt Eve?” Laura appeared at Eve’s side and tugged on her arm. “Aunt Eve?”

  “Yes, Laura.” She turned to smile at the child. “What is it, sweetie?”

  “Gracie threw up.”

  “Threw up?” Eve came upright in her chair and peered out through the porch screen, straining to pick out her youngest niece, but it was too dark to see clearly. “Where is she?”

  “Over by the fence, next to the vegetable garden. We were playing Kick the Can on the lawn and she said she didn’t feel good and threw up.”

  “Here, let me take him for you,” Margo said, reaching for the sleeping baby as Eve rose to her feet. “I’ll tuck him into bed while you go tend to Gracie. I know where the crib is.”

  Eve hesitated for only a moment. “He sleeps on his back,” she said as she surrendered him to the other woman’s arms.

  She found her niece sitting on the ground by the vegetable garden with her arms across her stomach and tears on her dirty little face.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Eve said as she crouched beside her. “What’s the matter? Where does it hurt?”

  “My stomach,” Gracie sniffled, and turned into her aunt’s comforting arms. “It’s all mixed up.”

  She felt a little warm, too, Eve thought as she caressed the child’s forehead and neck, but that could have been the result of hard play. Gracie Holt did nothing at half speed. “What have you had to eat today?”

  “Just barbecue,” the child said in a pitiful little voice. “An’ beans. An’ strawberry ice cream. An’ watermelon. An’ peach pie.”

  “And three sodas, too,” Laura said. “And about six pralines.”

  “That’s an awful lot for such a little girl,” Eve murmured sympathetically. No wonder the child’s stomach was “all mixed up.” “Let’s get you into the house and into bed, shall we, sweetie pie? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  She lifted Gracie into her arms, settling the child on her hip, and carried her into the house. Margo was just coming out of the master bedroom when Eve stepped into the front hall.

  “He went right down, easy as pie,” Margo said, gesturing toward the front bedroom where Timothy slept. She nodded toward the child in Eve’s arms. “Is she all right?”

  “Too much rich food is all, I think,” Eve said. “I’m going to take her upstairs and put her to bed. I’ll be back down in a few minutes to say goodbye to everyone.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Margo assured her. “Travis is in the kitchen right now, taking care of the goodbyes.” She reached out and patted Eve’s arm. “You just take care of this little angel, and well see you later, sugar. It was a real nice party.”

  Eve smiled and nodded her thanks. “Find your sister, Laura,” she said as she headed up the stairs with Gracie in her arms. “It’s time all three of you were in bed. You’ve had a long day.”

  It took her nearly an hour to get Gracie settled, by which time she had decided the child might have some thing more complex than just an upset stomach. She was running a slight fever and complaining of a headache as well as a “mixed up stomach.” Eve gave her a mild bicarbonate of soda for the stomachache and children’s Tylenol for the rest of it, and sat by her bed, rubbing her tummy lightly and reconstructing the plot of The Little Mermaid from memory to help her off to sleep.

  She heard the two older girls whispering as they came up the stairs, and Travis’s deep voice, wishing them good-night and telling them to hurry and get ready for bed. He poked his head into Gracie’s room, the wor ried frown on his face changing to a reassuring smile when he saw that his youngest niece was still awake.

  “How you feelin’, punkin?” he asked, leaning over Eve to reach down and smooth the hair back from Gracie’s little face.

  “Not so good,” Gracie whispered.

  “She’ll be fine,” Eve assured her husband. “I’ll be down as soon as she’s asleep.”

  It took another ten minutes for Gracie to drift off, and then Eve stopped by each of the other girls’ rooms, to make sure they were tucked in. She whispered goodnight and touched their soft cheeks to make sure neither of them was running a fever.

  She went into the kitchen, after, checking to see that things had been put away, pausing at the sink to scrub her hands and forearms with the disinfectant soap she kept in a dispenser on the counter. It wouldn’t do to take Gracie’s germs—if germs they were—in to Timothy. She’d expected Travis to be waiting for her, in the kitchen or out on the porch, but
he wasn’t. And maybe that was best for tonight. It had been a long day for all of them. They’d waited this long to consummate their vows, they could wait one more night.

  She moved through the house, turning out lights as she went, repositioning a chair, straightening a cro cheted doily, taking a moment to right one of the framed silhouettes on the wall before she finally entered the master bedroom. Travis was standing at the crib with Timothy cradled in his arms, crooning a cowboy lullaby in a soft, sweet tenor.

  “You left the monitor in the kitchen,” he said by way of explanation. “I heard him fussing. I thought he might need to have his diaper changed or something. But he just wanted a little company, is all. He’s already drifted back off.” He leaned down and gently lay the sleeping infant back in his crib. “I’ll go now,” he said as he straightened. “Let you get some sleep.”

  Eve closed the door and leaned back against it. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow night, after all. She couldn’t wait one minute longer. “I want you to stay,” she said.

  11

  EVERYTHING IN TRAVIS went very still. His muscles tensed, his breath caught, even his heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he murmured.

  “You said we’d finish it later.” She stepped away from the door, put her thumb on the old-fashioned lever under the glass knob and, very deliberately, pushed it down, locking them into the bedroom. “This is later.”

  “It’s also been a long day. You’ve had a lot thrown at you, what with the party and Gracie and…” His voice trailed off as she just stood there, staring at him. “I don’t want this if you’re just doing it for me,” he said finally, distilling it down to what he really meant. “Not now. Not ever.”

  Eve sighed softly. Despite everything that had gone before, despite the shameless flirting and the cocky grins and what had happened in the barn, he wasn’t going to push. Or ask. Or take. She was going to have to make the offer in no uncertain terms. This time, the first time, she was going to have to take the initiative.