I Love This Bar

by Carolyn Brown

  "Naw, his name is Harlin and he's a sweetheart. Love his momma to death, too. They both think I'm just the ticket for their son. Jim Bob says they all got the middle name of Bob because his momma was so bumfuzzled at havin' three at one time she didn't know what to name them so she thought up first names and then put Bob on all of them. Actually, she told me one time that her maiden name was Roberts and the boys have real fine names. It's just that they got shortened down. Billy Bob is William Robert. Jim Bob is James Robert and Joe Bob is—"

  "Joseph Robert," Daisy finished for her.

  Chigger nodded. "The whole family is wealthy ranchers and oil men. You could do worse than Billy Bob, Daisy."

  "Probably, but he don't make my little heart dance. I'm not ever settlin' for less than passion," Daisy admitted.

  "That's right, sister. Have it all or take nothing," Chigger threw over her shoulder as she headed back toward the table where Jim Bob waited.

  Daisy filled two jars with Miller beer and watched Chigger sashay across the floor. She said something to Emmett before she turned her attention to Jim Bob who popped up like a windup toy and led her to the dance floor. Daisy wished she had life by the horns as well as Chigger did.

  At midnight she turned around to find Jarod leaning on the bar at the far end. She made her way to him, filling a couple of orders as she went. "What can I get for you?"

  "Nothing. I'm taking Uncle Emmett home. He's tuckered out. I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to come to dinner that Sunday. He'll forget all about it by tomorrow. The Alzheimer's gets worse every day. He'd argue with a stop sign. I swear he would."

  Daisy could have listened to him talk for hours. His deep voice mesmerized her. Her eyes were half closed and a smile tickled the edges of her full mouth as her imagination ran rampant. Would his voice go even deeper if he was in bed with her and whispering sweet things in her ear as he nibbled his way to her lips?

  "Did you hear me?" he asked.

  "Sorry. My mind was somewhere else." She blushed. "I gave my word and I'll be there. I was joking about the beef steak. I will definitely bring the cheesecake in case he remembers. It's no trouble. I'll just pick one up at the grocery store."

  "I'd rather you didn't. What did he mean it was time for you to come out there?" he asked.

  "It isn't your ranch and what goes on is between me and Emmett. You don't want to be there for dinner, that's fine. Go somewhere else. Why are you staying anyway if you don't want to be there?"

  Jarod shook his head. "Don't call it dinner. It's supper. He'll really go off the deep end if you call it dinner. That's the noon meal. And I'm there because he needs help. My dad will probably sell the place or else give it to one of the grandsons when Emmett is gone."

  "It's the old way of thinkin'. He's just holdin' on to what he knows. Why aren't you going to keep the ranch?"

  "I don't want it. I refuse to let it dry up and blow away, but I damn sure don't want to live in this godforsaken country. And you got that right about him holdin' on to what he knows. He won't let go of a damn thing. Guess I'll see you a week from tomorrow."

  "That's your choice. I'll be there. You decide where you'll be," she said.

  "Sassy piece of baggage, aren't you?"

  "I am what you see."

  He let her have the last word and made his way through the dwindling crowd for the door where Emmett was shuffling along with his walkers, in the plural sense of the word. He had his aluminum walker surrounding him. Jim Bob Walker was on one side, Joe Bob on the other, and Billy Bob held the door open for him. Jarod wondered if it wouldn't solve a whole hell of a lot of problems if he went back to Oklahoma and let Emmett bequeath his ranch to the Walker brothers.

  ***

  Daisy shut the doors at two o'clock. She popped the top off a bottle of beer, propped her legs up on a table, and went back over the night's events. Every single thought either began with a vision of Jarod or something he said.

  "Damn it," she swore and attempted to turn her thoughts away from him by thinking about the Honky Tonk. The beer joint had been good to her, had given her a job and a family of sorts. What was a family anyway? A bunch of people connected by a bloodline? Well, the Honky Tonk was home to a bunch of people connected by friendship. That could make a family, couldn't it?

  She raised her bottle up in a toast. "Ruby, I don't know what in the hell you saw in me that day, but I'm glad for everything you did. Thank you. You changed my life. Now could you erase that sexy man out of my heart and mind?" Daisy asked.

  She started across the floor when a hard pounding on the front door caused her to change course in the middle of the room. Before she took two steps, they hit the door again, this time harder and longer. She swung it open, expecting to see a Mingus citizen with a cat that had been hit on the road and needed to either be sewn up, bones set, or put to sleep. She hoped it wasn't the latter; she still got misty-eyed when she had to put an animal down.

  "You didn't even ask who was here. You got a death wish or something?" Jarod asked.

  "What do you want? And it's none of your business what I do."

  "Uncle Emmett left his wallet on the table back there. I told him you'd find it and I'd come back tomorrow but he can't sleep until it's safe in his hands. I asked him what was in it and he said Aunt Mavis' picture when she was a young woman."

  "Well, come on in and find it," she said.

  Jarod went straight for the table. The wallet had been kicked back against the wall. He held it up for Daisy to see. He damned sure didn't want her to think he'd invented an excuse to come back to see her that late. He'd tried every argument in the world to keep from driving fifteen miles back to the Honky Tonk at two thirty in the morning. He'd been sound asleep when he heard Uncle Emmett yelling at him from the bottom of the stairs. He'd thought the old guy was sick or had fallen. Adrenaline had shot through his veins like lightning and he didn't even remember how he'd gotten to the living room, but he could have strangled Uncle Emmett when he heard what the commotion was all about.

  "Can't sleep so I wanted to talk to Mavis and when I do I look at that picture. It's at the Honky Tonk. You go get it right now," Emmett had said.

  "I can't go back there now. The place closes at two o'clock. Besides, that bartender will find it and put it up for you," Jarod had argued.

  "Daisy isn't just a bartender, boy. She's a fine woman. Why, one time your Aunt Mavis even said that she'd make you a wonderful wife. You could do a hell of a lot worse in this world than Daisy O'Dell."

  "I wasn't being snide or condescending."

  "That ain't what I heard. I heard you say 'bartender' like it was dirty."

  When he'd exhausted every excuse in the world, he'd dressed and gone to retrieve the wallet. Now he felt pretty stupid standing there with it in his hands.

  "Lock the door and ask who's there before you answer it," he said.

  "Don't tell me what to do."

  "You aren't big enough to stop someone from hurting you."

  "Good night, Mr. McElroy."

  She'd no more locked the door and started back across the dance floor when he knocked hard again. She slung the door open. "This is not funny."

  "You need to ask."

  "You need to mind your own business."

  "What if I'd been drunk and rushed inside to hurt you?"

  "Try it," she said.

  He took two steps forward only to find a sawed off shotgun pressed firmly in his ribs. He held up his hands in surrender, his left one still holding Emmett's wallet.

  "How'd you do that?"

  "I told you not to worry. I can take care of myself. Just remember that it's loaded at all times. Permit to have it is posted right beside my license behind the bar. And I'm not one bit afraid to use it."

  "Did you ever have to?" he asked.

  Not only was Daisy full of sass, she was brassy as hell.

  "Not at the Honky Tonk. Now go on home and take Emmett his picture. Bar is closed at two o'clock and I'm too tired to p
lay these games with you," she said.

  "What'd you mean, not at the Honky Tonk?" he asked.

  "That's my business. Good night, Jarod." She shoved him out the door and locked it behind him.

  She went back into the apartment and poured a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal.

  Lucky.

  Charms.

  Two words she didn't really believe in. A person made their own destiny. Their choices brought their consequences. Luck was a figment of someone's imagination. Charm? Well, some folks had it. She, like Emmett, did not.

  She'd always figured that she'd used up her share of luck when she landed at the Honky Tonk. And she'd never been accused of having much charm. That was her mother's claim to fame. So charming that she had three husbands and too many boyfriends to count before she died in a car wreck at the age of thirty-seven.

  She filled her mouth with the cereal and looked at the leprechaun on the front of the box as she chewed. Suddenly the critter had Jarod's face. She moaned. She had to get him out of her mind or else he was going to drive her crazy as an outhouse rat.

  Chapter 4

  The wind blows constantly in Texas. Cold wind in the winter months, warm breezes in the spring, and then June comes and it feels like it's coming straight out of a bake oven with the temperature going from hot to hotter to hottest as July passes a day at a time.

  Daisy slathered sunblock all over her pale skin, donned as few clothes as possible, and fired up the lawn mower. The backyard wasn't very big, but by the time she finished mowing the temperature had raised in direct proportion to how sweaty she'd gotten. She put the mower back into the garage, wiping at her forehead with a bandana she'd tucked into the back pocket of a pair of cutoff jeans. She sat down on the small back porch shaded by one lonesome old scrub oak tree and fanned herself with the damp bandana. A tall glass of sweet tea sounded wonderful but she'd have to make a pitcher.

  The cell phone in her pocket began to vibrate and she fished it out.

  "Hello."

  "Miz Daisy, Runt is down and havin' trouble gettin' the baby out. Momma said to call you."

  Daisy recognized the voice immediately. It was Tommy Joe Horton and Runt was his show goat for the 4-H club.

  "You reckon I need to come out there and help?" she asked.

  "Yes, ma'am. Wait a minute. Momma is hollerin'. She says that Runt has got the baby out now and it's breathin'. Thanks, Miz Daisy. I knew things would be all right if I talked to you."

  "You are very welcome, Tommy Joe. Take care of the new baby."

  "I will."

  She shoved the phone into her pocket and leaned her head back against the porch post. A coyote howled out in the woods beyond the area she mowed. Hounds bayed to the north. Before she could figure out if the hounds were actually chasing the coyote, another noise obliterated everything.

  It sounded like a thresher coming up the road but it was too early for wheat harvest. When the thing turned off the highway and into the Honky Tonk parking lot, she stood up and peeked around the end of the building. She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand and watched an old Ford pickup rumble right up to the back porch.

  She was already headed for the door to get her black bag when Chigger crawled out of the passenger seat and yelled, "Hey, Daisy!"

  "Good grief!" She stopped and looked again. Surely there weren't two identical trucks in Palo Pinto County running on rust, dirt, and prayers.

  Chigger crawled out of the passenger side of the truck. "What're you doin'?"

  "You buy that truck from Henry Green?" Daisy asked.

  "Yep, I did," Jim Bob yelled from the driver's window. The truck had been white at one time but now it was covered with rust spots. The front bumper had long since fallen off and the tailgate was gone. "It's my new fishin' wagon."

  Chigger winked. "Cute, ain't it? We come to take you fishin' with us. We got beer and pop and bologna sandwiches."

  Chigger wore jean shorts cut off so short the pockets hung below the denim, a pink tank top, and her signature pink cowboy boots.

  "It's too damn hot to fish. And why'd Henry sell his truck?"

  "Cause he bought a newer one," Jim Bob said.

  "It's not too hot where we're goin'." Chigger stuck a cigarette in her mouth and cupped one hand around the lighter to keep the wind from blowing out the flame.

  "You goin' to be fishin' under air conditioning?" Daisy asked.

  Chigger took a deep drag. "No, but there's shade trees all around the pond and Jim Bob says if we catch anything he'll cook them for supper and catfish is my favorite meal. Besides, I told Momma the reason I wasn't comin' home for church is because I was going with you over to the Mingus church this mornin' and we were goin' fishin' afterwards. You goin' to make a liar out of me?"

  "I don't have to. You do a fine job of that yourself," Daisy said.

  "Way I see it is you got two choices. Either get your ass up off that porch and in the truck with us, or else Jim Bob will come throw you over his shoulder and put you in the truck. All you do is bartend and run around the whole country fixin' folks' ailin' animals. You need a day of fun. What's it goin' to be?"

  "You already lied. You didn't go to church with me. What's one more matter?"

  "God overlooks one little white lie. He don't abide two, especially on Sunday. You got to pee, you better go before we leave because it's about fifteen miles to the pond and I'm guaran-damn-teein' you, that truck will give your bladder a workin' out. If you got to go out there you'll be squattin' behind a mesquite tree and usin' a McDonald's napkin for toilet paper," Chigger said.

  "I don't own a fishin' pole," Daisy said.

  "We got a dozen in the back of the truck and we dug worms for bait before we left Jim Bob's place. You mean enough to bait your own hook?"

  "I can put a worm on a hook."

  "Then let's go," Chigger said.

  Jim Bob leaned out of the driver's open window and yelled, "Do I need to come on over there and help persuade her?"

  Chigger shook her head. "Naw, I think I've got her talked into it."

  "Okay, okay, I'll go fishin'," Daisy said. "But I've got to go inside and get my purse and my bag. I better take my car."

  Chigger eyed her suspiciously. "Promise you won't lock the door and stay in there."

  "You got my word on it. I'll go fishin' with you. I just need to get things."

  "You ain't goin' in your car. Whole reason to have a fishin' truck is to go fishin' in it or maybe use the bed for lookin' at the stars at night." Chigger giggled softly.

  "If I have to make an animal run, you going to drive me?"

  "Yep, I am. I can drive a stick shift good as Jim Bob. If you have to go sew up a dog's leg or take care of a horse, I'll take you."

  "Okay, I'm holdin' you to it." Daisy went inside to get her emergency bag and purse. She thought about cleaning up but figured she didn't look a bit worse than Chigger or that rattle trap truck.

  "I wasn't sure you'd keep your word," Chigger said from inside the door when she reached the living room.

  "I always keep my word. Didn't I go meet your momma?"

  Chigger smiled. "Yep, you did. Why don't you leave that cell phone and bag at home today? How long's it been since you just had an afternoon with no calls?"

  "What if someone needs me?"

  "They can call the vet out of Stephenville and pay for a weekend emergency call. Come on, Daisy. One day with no phone or bag."

  "Can't do it. I'll compromise. I'll go fishin' but I'll take my bag and my phone. Couldn't live with myself if something happened and I could have helped."

  "That's not a compromise."

  Daisy picked up the bag. "It's the best I'm going to do."

  Chigger led the way to the truck and scooted across the seat to sit in the middle. "Then I'll be satisfied with that much. Grab a beer out of the red cooler. You look hot as hell and I don't mean in the take-me-to-bed hot, but weather-hot."

  Daisy followed behind her and set her vet bag behind two tackle boxes.<
br />
  "Y'all want one?" She brought an icy cold can of beer from a cooler.

  "No thanks," Chigger said.

  Daisy pulled the tab and gulped a couple of times before she hopped up into the seat beside Chigger. "You sure this thing will go fifteen miles? I'm going to be one pissed off woman if I have to walk home in this heat."

  Jim Bob grinned. "Trust me, she's a lot sturdier than she looks. Sounds like a thrasher and looks like hell but it's a fine fishin' wagon."

  South of Thurber, Jim Bob took a dirt road and dust boiled up around them as thick as cigarette smoke in the Honky Tonk on a busy night. It rolled behind the truck then chased after them, scattering all over the cow tongue cactus lining the sides of the road and drifting into the cab of the truck. It stuck to the sweat on Daisy's face and neck and smeared when she wiped at it.