The Texas Blue Norther

by Lass Small

  And she’d been honest. “Phillip wanted me to see the doodlebug holes.”

  They’d looked around. Phillip was nowhere. Then they looked back at Lauren. They had laughed. They’d thought her reply was a tease. They hadn’t believed her.

  But her older sister, Millie, had said, “You’re just a bit literal. Come on, before you get in trouble.”

  But all that had gone right over Lauren’s head. She thought Millie meant Joe would be cross with them being in the garage with his cars, because one of them might put a bare hand on a polished fender. Joe was responsible for the cars and he was excessively picky. No one had permission to go into his garage.

  So since then, Lauren had noted the term, “You’ll like it” was universal. It was a preliminary. It was staid. She’d heard it many times after Phillips’ try.

  Now here was this probably fake cowboy who claimed to know her family. He was saying she’d “like” it if she slept in the living room with the fire going in the fireplace and him on the other sofa. Yeah. Sure.

  But she was curious.

  How was she to handle this?

  She could say, I’ve always been curious, shall we?’

  She was curious. So why not?

  But she wasn’t about to tell him she was and have him spread the word around that she was. easy. She had enough trouble with males without allowing any gossips to talk about her. If her papa ever found out she’d ever done anything so rash, he’d horsewhip Kyle.

  She had used that very threat on occasion, and it had had a sobering effect on most of the younger guys. The older ones could handle being snubbed.

  One guy had told her that she was completely heartless. She’d just met him! So she’d said, “So are you. Also your daddy didn’t do much in raising you. He should have given you more direction.” His daddy worked for her daddy.

  Then she’d gotten out of his daddy’s car and begun to walk home. That had infuriated her date and he’d had to drive in a crawl alongside her to see her the three miles home.

  He’d rolled down her car window and said, “Get in. I won’t touch you.” And he’d said it in a deadly way.

  She’d told him to go jump.

  He’d snarled that she’d never marry.

  And she’d replied, “Not you, anyway.”

  He’d married young and their first baby had arrived about six months later. He played a lot of golf, and his wife stayed home with their kids. He was a rotten father.

  So she’d made a lucky escape on that one. And she could remember some others. But she’d lost a couple of really earnest guys who’d honestly wanted to be…her daddy’s son-in-law.

  Several would have been charming husbands. They were courteous and attentive. But they’d mostly wanted to just be kin to her daddy.

  And she tried to think of any of the courters who’d wanted…her.

  Yeah. There’d been a couple. She just hadn’t wanted them…enough.

  Courtship and marriage were a nuisance. It was difficult and serious. And right over there, in the same room, was a tricky man who’d pretended to be a ranch hand, who’d admitted he’d been in her court at the Fiesta some years back.

  She didn’t remember him.

  She wondered if he lied.

  People do lie. If it will soothe someone or postpone something, people will tell something acceptable to the other person. Like her daddy telling her mother a super storm would be “all right” and they would be okay.

  Her daddy hadn’t had one clue that it was the Storm of the Century. But he’d lied and calmed her mother who in turn had calmed those there. Her mother had been serene and logical even as the roof of the house had been damaged and partially lost.

  The lightning in the storm had been spectacular. The rain had blown so hard that it was parallel to the ground. Lauren had never seen anything to compare to it. It had been awesome. What had it looked like from space?

  It had probably seemed local because it moved on up the East Coast in a remarkably short time. The rest of our planet was okay. It was a storm only in that portion of this earth. It was wicked. And her father had told her mother, “It’s okay.” And her mother had believed him.

  Was her mother gullible?

  Lauren wondered if perhaps she had gotten her genes from her mother? Had her mother been as literal as her second daughter? It was a curse.

  And it was then that Lauren decided it was her own life. She should make her own rules. She was mature and in control. She could live her life as she damned well pleased.

  That was a heady decision. She looked at Kyle differently. He watched her with avid eyes…and some caution.

  She said, “The fire’s nice. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She smiled a little. “Which is my sofa?”

  “That one’s closer to the fire.”

  She tilted her head and considered. “You’ll probably be so hot that you’ll turn your sofa away from the fire.”

  “I’ll turn it away from you.” He meant she was the heat.

  She didn’t get it and said, “I knew it. You’re probably like my daddy and rarely wear a coat.”

  “I’ll bet you take after your mother.”

  “Actually, I’ve just begun to notice Mother and I are similar.”

  “In what way?” he asked, tilting his head back and watching her with avid interest from under his thick eyelashes.

  “Just in little things.” She shrugged. “I always thought I was like my daddy.” She was busily arranging the pillows on the sofa and discarding some to one of the chairs. She was like a busy mouse who still didn’t know a cat was watching.

  She admitted, “I’m more like my mother.”

  “How?”

  “Ah, I am almost as logical as my mother. My imagination isn’t vivid. I have a level head.”

  In those silks, she leaned and moved and reached and about drove him crazy. She walked back and forth being neat and tidy, and the fire showed her silhouette.

  How could she be so unconscious of herself and of her effect on him? He was trying to curb his reaction because she was obviously so unknowing. At her age? She had to still be under thirty. In fact, since she had been eighteen when she was Queen of the Fiesta, she had to be about. twenty-seven.

  And if he was any judge, she was still a virgin. How could that be?

  He’d bet on it.

  That meant she never carried condoms and she didn’t have a diaphragm. She probably never had. Well, it was going to be a test to be with her for three days in such close encounters.

  The house was big. He could go to the barn. He’d bring the dog inside. He wondered if one of the barn cats would come inside the house.

  With the milking of the cows, the cats and dogs came for the leftover milk. They didn’t crouch or scatter when he was there. He might could get a cat inside.

  Then after she left, how would he convince the cat or dog to stay outside?

  His mother had told him, “Don’t let them inside to begin with, and you won’t have any trouble with the animals.”

  “Mice?” he’d asked nicely.

  “Use traps.” His mother had been logical.

  He’d gasped in elaborated consternation and asked, “And open the traps to let the tiny little bodies drop into—”

  “Hush!” His mother had speared him with wide, shocked eyes.

  He’d laughed.

  How like a man.

  So with the evening quickly darkening and the winds shrill and buffeting against the house and carelessly waggling the trees, Kyle went out to the barn to see if any of the livestock—not cows, not horses.not inside—if some of the smaller animals wanted to go back to the house with him.

  One dog was willing. The dogs were male and neutered.

  The one cat that he could pick up was fat and had long fur. It hung on his arm like a rather ratty mottled neck fur from olden times.

  Kyle carried the cat through the snow. They went into the house, and Lauren was in
the kitchen. She turned and said, “Get that cat out of here!”

  So he didn’t even pause but swung around and vanished back through the door to. the outside. He left the dog in the kitchen while he returned the cat to the barn. It didn’t mind. The cat probably hadn’t minded the trip.

  When Kyle returned, he inquired with interest, “Why not the cat?”

  Readily, she replied, “The cat’s fur is the type that a victim of owning such a cat would require all the person’s attention and innovativeness in trying to get the fur under control.”

  A simple response.

  He squinted his eyes. “You’re neat.” A rather censoring statement.

  With acceptance, she shrugged and replied the truth, “Relentlessly.”

  “My God. We’ll be here a good three days. Try to control yourself.”

  “I decline doing attics or basements.”

  “Where did you ever find a basement down here?”

  “My grandmother. They lived on a hill. Part of the structure was a basement.”

  “And she was neat?”

  Lauren repeated the identity. “Overwhelmingly.”

  “I shudder to have you in my house.”

  “It’s only for three days, and I am old enough to control myself.”

  “I’m just thankful for that.”

  She nodded soberly. “Count your blessings.”

  “I will. The entire time. If I look lax, mention just the word.”

  “Basement?” she inquired nicely.

  “Neat,” he corrected.

  “I shall.”

  He watched her for a while before he admitted, “My mother would love you.”

  “She’s neat?”

  “She was so tacky and careless, she got out of any side of the bed that was handy. My daddy mentions that now and then.”

  “I’ll bet she’s a great cook.”

  He nodded. “And she can do any handwork you’d mention.”

  With some preening, Lauren threw in gently, “I can tat.”

  “Glory be.”

  And Lauren laughed. Her eyes sparkled and her dimples were deep. She had dimples.

  “I haven’t seen many blond women who had dimples and brown eyes.”

  “Don’t be impressed. It’s what’s inside, and I’m a stickler.”

  Kyle’s head nodded slowly. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “It saves time for a male to understand from the beginning.”

  He observed, “You play a mean game of cribbage.”

  “I’m good at poker, too.”

  “We’ll go to Vegas while the storm’s running, and I’ll back you.”

  “With the snow, we’d be stuck in some awful place between here and there.”

  He looked confident. “I’d have coins, and we’d match for them.”

  “I’d win.”

  He considered her. “Yeah. You would.”

  She had the downstairs bathroom. He went upstairs. She was seemingly asleep on the sofa nearest the fire when he came back.

  He saw that the lights were already dimmed. He lay on his back, watching the fire dance on the ceiling.

  When the flame gentled, he put more dense wood on the fire. He went to sleep thinking what an odd day it had been. Then he thought of the day to come.

  Lauren wakened to look around the different room. Where was she? She did recall and looked for him. He was gone.

  Then she heard his footsteps on the back porch, and he came in with a dog.

  They stood in the open sliding door entrance and looked at her lying on the couch. Neither male made a sound.

  She said, “Good morning.”

  Kyle smiled, but he didn’t reply. The dog moved but was again still. He was uncertain.

  Kyle asked, “Want some coffee in bed?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll get up.”

  The two males left the door and their steps went to the kitchen.

  After a time she managed to get up from the couch and go to wash her face in the downstairs bath.

  She followed the aroma of the coffee to the kitchen. And she just sat down on one chair and ate what Kyle served.

  She moved her head slowly and slightly as she looked around the room. “The house is well-done. Did you furnish it?”

  “Most of the stuff was already here. My mother and sisters and both brothers put their oars in, giving advice and arguing and debating how it all should go.”

  “Who won?”

  “They did. I ran some beeves up to the railroad spur for the market. Both brothers caught up with me and gave me—heck—for not telling them I was leaving.”

  “So your mother and sisters were here all alone, and they did the house to ease their boredom?”

  He squinted a trifle as he almost shook his head. “I don’t think they noticed we were gone.”

  Having finished breakfast, she said, “It is interesting. May I look around?”

  And he replied, “Suit yourself.”

  Because the house was so cold, she wore his sheepskin coat.

  Kyle trailed along. She examined rugs and turned the corners over to see if they were stamped. They were woven. And she tested the chairs and beds. She opened doors. They were the kind that were paneled like the old doors.

  She asked Kyle, “Where did you get the doors?”

  He gestured. “In San Antone, there’re stores that’ve got all sorts of old things from old houses that’ve been razed.”

  “Your mother and sisters chose well.”

  He scoffed. “They’re a nuisance.”

  She put out her hands, palms up. “And you just gave up and let them do as they wanted?”

  He grinned as he nodded. “I like their houses. I don’t find anything in this house that irritates me. They mostly replaced the window hangings. They had some lamps rewired. And they chose the wallpaper.”

  He looked at her as he said that and watched her reaction as she studied the paper in the hall. She said, “It’s perfect.”

  He corrected, “It’s old-fashioned.”

  But she told him, “For the way this house is arranged, it’s perfect.”

  “I’ll tell them I had just such a comment.”

  “You do, and they’ll hound you until you tell them who I am, and then you’ll go crazy with their questions.”

  “They know you?”

  She was patient. “They’ll wonder why you had a woman here.”

  He opened out his hands with logic. “I’ll tell them about the storm.”

  “You idiot. You’ll make them so curious!”

  He chided her. “I’ve always been an honest man—”

  “—until you play cards.”

  He took a patient breath. “I suppose I’ll never hear the end of that one.”

  “You’ll hear it only until I leave. After that, you’ll be safe. I never gossip.” But then she mentioned, “Of course, when I don’t show up with the pod, some of the crew will come looking, and after a day or so, they’ll come back to the drop, and they’ll find my car. It’s a convertible and the top was down. It’ll be full of snow.”

  He disagreed. “Not with the gulf wind that’ll be coming back along. That’ll dry it out in no time.”

  Even the banisters along the back stairs had been denuded of paint and the oak was simply beautiful. Lauren ran her hand along the wood and she felt such pleasure. “The woods are so beautiful.”

  He was watching her pleasure in the grain so perfectly exposed. But he was watching her. And when she said the word “beautiful,” he said, “Yes.” But he was still looking at her.

  She only questioned the drapes on the west in the bedroom upstairs.

  He responded, “It’s the evening sun. We have only new trees on this side, and you’ve got to know about summer sun?” The questioning statement. “So we’ve got thick, porous drapes which allow the breeze while it blocks the sun.”

  She nodded. “Smart.”

  “You should have listened to the harangue over it all. That
’s when I took the cattle for a walk.”

  “—to the railroad spur.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t get as much for them that early, but I did get away from the donnybrook.”

  “Irish?”

  “Yeah. Some. Why?”

  “You called the confrontation a donnybrook.”

  “There’s a real town by that name in Ireland. I went there.” He grinned. “And I kissed the Blarney Stone. My grandfather was in Ireland long, long ago, as a very young man, and at that time he kissed a great, round stone that was on the ground. I went two years ago and they’ve moved the ‘Blarney Stone’ to the top floor of an old, roofless, stone castle and you pay to kiss what they now call a Blarney Stone. It’s blarney, okay. One way or the other.”

  “You believe the Irish tease us?”

  “More than likely.”

  And Lauren grinned. She didn’t laugh out loud because she bit her lower lip and managed to control her humor. She said to her host, “You are an interesting person.”

  And he replied, “So are you.”

  Five

  As they moved along in their tour of his house, Lauren regarded Kyle with some care. He was a man. Her eyes dipped down. Yes, indeed, he surely was a man. Like just about every other man, he was interested in women. She was a woman. There was one hell of a blustery storm outside. They were in the house together and no-body-else was any-where-around.

  Of course, that was a sobering thought to a protected woman. It gave pause to a woman even twenty-seven years old. She was alone in a serious storm with a stranger who was definitely male.

  She shivered. Well, it was cold in the house.

  That shiver wasn’t from cold. Her body smiled. Now, how could a body smile? It smiled.

  Her brain said, Yeah!

  But her conscience was still prim and prissy. That was a surprise. She’d never before realized her conscience was so strong. Really, it was rather adamant. How strange to understand she had no real control. It was as if she was a bystander listening to a debate argued by her staunch conscience.

  Her brain smirked shockingly and said, We’ll just see how strong it is!

  Now what did that mean?