“She’s very pretty,” Kimberly said, looking at a picture of Dymphna sitting on a stack of hay. Dymphna’s hair was blowing in the breeze and she was laughing as she tried to keep a long, curly strand out of her face. “But I meant pictures of the dog.”
“Oh.” The professor scrolled again—this time much faster. He held the phone out again. “Here he is. This is Thud.”
“Oh, he’s a real beauty,” she said. “He looks very smart.”
“He is. And fearless. I know I’m not objective. But I really think he is the greatest dog in the world.”
“I bet he is.” Kimberly moved closer to Professor Johnson and looked at the phone. “Do you have any more pictures of him?”
CHAPTER 13
Titan couldn’t think where else to look for Rocket. He’d gone up and down the creek, through all the clusters of trees in the area, up behind Dymphna’s farm, and looked over his own thirty or so acres that fanned out behind the forge. Nothing. He returned to the forge, dispirited and hopeless.
“Poor Rocket,” Titan said to Fancy as he entered. “He must be terrified out there—and he might be tangled in branches, or caught his hoof—who knows?”
Titan heard a rustling of feathers coming from Fancy’s perch.
“What’s the matter, Fancy?” he asked the buzzard, turning up the lights.
To the untrained eye, Fancy looked as she always did, glaring through one angry-looking orb. She was sitting on the perch Titan had welded for her when he first arrived in Fat Chance. He may have been bequeathed the forge, but he’d also inherited the bird, who, due to her injured wing, could no longer climb a tree in which to roost at night. The perch was primitive, as it was one of Titan’s first ironwork efforts. After months of honing his craft, Titan presented Fancy with a more spectacular effort—a majestic stand full of curlicues and graceful curves. Fancy had turned her back on it immediately, hopping to her original perch where Titan had tossed it in the back of the forge. She climbed up and stared at Titan fiercely. This perch was her home and she wasn’t about to abandon it. Titan returned her new perch to the forge, added a few flat sleeping areas to the filigree model, and sold it as a cat tree.
But Titan knew the bird’s moods. Right now, she was agitated, swaying from side to side.
“What is it, girl?” he asked again, stepping up and looking her right in the eye.
Fancy let out a loud squawk, jumped off her perch, and lurched into a darkened corner of the forge. Titan stared after her. Titan had taught Fancy how to climb up onto his wrist; Powderkeg had fashioned an arm-guard out of leather so he could handle her without her powerful claws digging into his skin. He wondered if he should pick her up.
Titan headed toward the front of the forge to retrieve the arm-guard when he heard it. A faint knocking at the front door.
“Hello?” Titan asked.
He stepped closer. The sound came again. More like a thumping than a real knock.
“Hello!” Titan called out.
Another thump, this time more insistent. Titan could hear the flapping sound of Fancy’s one wing behind him. Titan took a deep breath and swung the double doors open with one quick pull.
“Rocket?” Titan stepped aside as the longhorn plodded into the forge, gracefully tilting his horns to fit through the doorway. Fancy squawked in panic, but the bull appeared completely calm. Rocket looked at Titan and snorted.
Titan walked carefully around the bull, pulling the arm-guard onto his wrist.
“Hi, Rocket. Thanks for coming by. I’m just going to put old Fancy back on her perch and I’ll be right with you.”
Titan had never felt silly talking to Fancy, but this conversation with a bull whose horns practically touched the walls felt a little awkward. Titan had to duck under one of the horns in order to get to the buzzard, who was spinning in circles in the corner. Rocket stood quietly as Titan coaxed Fancy out of the corner.
“Fancy, come on now. We have a guest! Where are your manners?”
He managed to nudge Fancy onto his wrist, but only under protest. She darted her beak at the bull as Titan carefully put Fancy on her perch.
“We were really worried about you, weren’t we, Fancy,” Titan said, trying to calm the buzzard by including her in the conversation.
The bird seemed to settle. Titan now turned toward the bull, who was still watching him carefully.
“This . . . This really is a surprise.”
Rocket snorted calmly.
“I’m not sure what to do with you.” Titan looked around the forge. “As a matter of fact, I’m not sure there’s enough room for you to turn around and go out the way you came.”
As if longhorns always stopped in after dark, Titan casually ducked under the horn again and walked to the back of the shop.
“I think if I cleared a path you could walk straight out the back,” Titan said to Rocket. “The door isn’t quite as wide as the double front door. But if you’ll let me help you, I think we can manage it.”
It took about an hour for Titan to clear a path through all the metal scraps of all sizes, tools, and several projects he was working on. He strained to open the enormous barn door at the back of the forge. It had never worked properly, but in the past, he’d only needed to push it far enough to the side to let himself in and out. He chided himself for not having worked on the door sooner. But he cut himself some slack. Who expected a longhorn to come visit?
Titan slowly guided Rocket out the back of the shop. He patted the coarse hair between the massive horns.
“You’re a good boy.” Titan stood stroking the bull’s side. He didn’t know what to do with Rocket, now that he’d gotten the longhorn out of the forge. He couldn’t just turn the bull loose. It was dark and those tree branches would be more menacing than ever.
“I’m going to take you back to Dodge in the morning,” Titan said. “You can stay here tonight. I’ll get you some water, but I don’t have any . . . hay? Do you eat hay? I’ll ask Pappy in the morning.”
Titan went over to the pump at the side of the forge. He grabbed the rusted handle and pumped several times. Water splashed into a trough at the base of the pump. Titan may not have gotten the barn door in working order, but he kept the trough clean, so Jerry Lee, Fancy, and Thud could stop by for a drink whenever they were on his side of the street. Before the trough was full, Rocket had wandered over.
“Here you go, buddy,” Titan said.
He jumped free of the horns as the bull lowered his mighty head to the trough. Titan thought about finding a rope, to tie the bull to a hitching post for the night, but instinct told him that Rocket wouldn’t go anywhere. Titan gave Rocket another resounding pat on the ribs.
“Good night, big boy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Titan went back into the forge. He closed the back door but left it slightly ajar, so Rocket would know he was not alone.
Fernando had been stocking the kitchen for hours. He was shocked to see night had fallen when he decided to take a break before working out the morning’s breakfast menu. He walked to the dining room, sat down and stretched out his legs. He had just closed his eyes when he heard the front door squeak open. Leaping to his feet, he saw Polly standing there, looking alarmed.
“I’m so sorry!” Polly said. “I saw the light on and just thought you might like some company.”
“Oh, honey, you scared me to death.” Fernando grabbed his heart. “I thought I’d locked the door.”
“Oh, none of the locks work around here,” Polly said. “I mean, what’s there to steal anyway?”
“Want some peach brandy? It was the only thing of any interest I found at Spoonerville. I bought the place out.” Fernando headed toward the kitchen. He turned back toward Polly. “You are twenty-one, right?”
“Yes.” Polly smiled. “I’m actually twenty-three. Had my very first real birthday party right here.”
“Must have been a blow-out,” Fernando yelled from the kitchen.
“It actually was
,” Polly yelled back. “It was before all the guys left.”
Fernando returned with the peach brandy and two juice glasses.
“I think there might be some real brandy snifters in Professor Johnson’s bar,” Polly said, pointing through the archway into the darkened saloon. “If you’re a purist.”
“I don’t think we need to be purists when we have screw-top brandy.” Fernando twisted off the bottle top. “I’m thinking I might be able to make some fruit wines and brandies. I hear Dymphna has a ton of fruit growing up on her farm.”
“She does,” Polly said. “And I know she can only make so much jam. Her cellar is already full of the jams and jellies from last year’s crop. She might be happy to hear of other things to do.”
“Good to know,” Fernando said. “I’d be happy to make some sort of deal with her.”
“That’s the way it works here. We’re very big on the barter system.”
He poured them each two fingers full. They toasted, and then Polly stared first at the pinkish liquid and then at Fernando.
“This was your idea, dude” she said. “You first.”
“Dude?” Fernando raised an eyebrow.
“One of the guys who left—Wally?” Polly shrugged. “He was one of my sort-of-boyfriends for a while. He called everybody ‘dude.’ I guess I picked it up.”
“One of your sort-of-boyfriends?”
“Yeah,” Polly said. “The good old days. So are we drinking this stuff or what?”
Fernando smiled and saluted her with his juice glass.
“Is brandy always this thick?” Polly asked, staring into her own glass at a liquid the consistency of warm honey.
“I’m not a connoisseur of screw-top peach brandy, I’m afraid.” Fernando knocked back the brandy in one gulp. He closed one eye in a painful squint. “Lord Almighty, this is sweet. It must be half sugar.”
“Really?” Polly said. “That’s awesome!” She took a sip. “Hmmm, I love it. My idea of a good alcoholic beverage is one that would taste good over ice cream.”
“It’s always refreshing to come across a sophisticated palate,” Fernando said, getting up.
Polly bit her lower lip. Had she offended him?
“Did I bum you out?” she asked. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the kitchen,” Fernando said. “To get ice cream.”
He came back with two bowls full of vanilla ice cream. He picked up the brandy bottle and toasted Polly.
“Salud,” he said as he poured the brandy over the ice cream. The alcohol danced across the top of the ice cream scoops, then tumbled down the sides like a tipsy volcano.
He handed one of the bowls to Polly.
“So, it seems you and I are on the same page,” he said. “How to get some good-looking cowboys to visit Fat Chance.”
Polly licked her spoon clean and held it up. She and Fernando clicked silverware.
“I’ll eat to that,” she said.
CHAPTER 14
Fernando’s head was already spinning with ideas for his new restaurant as he rang the chuck wagon triangle that hung on a post outside Cleo’s Café. The townspeople had made sure Fernando knew of the existence of the triangle. They were serious about their breakfast.
He watched as Old Bertha, Polly, and Powderkeg headed over from the Creakside Inn. He was disappointed that they were all heading over as a group. He wanted to talk to Old Bertha alone. His room was on the top floor, and trying to leave the inn at 5:30 a.m., walking over stairs that groaned with each step as if they were being murdered, made it a tense way to start the morning.
The women were bent over some paperwork in Powderkeg’s hand. Every so often, Powderkeg would look up and point at the café.
What’s going on with those three? Fernando wondered.
As they approached, Polly waved. “Dude, wait till you see Powderkeg’s design for your sign!”
“It’s still pretty rough,” Powderkeg said, “but I think I’m on the right track.”
Fernando took the drawing as the three reached the boardwalk. The pencil sketch was of a sign similar to those that hung over each of the stores on the boardwalk. The words “Cowboy Food” were carved in letters that appeared to have been weathered. All the O’s were lassos.
“J’adore cette,” Fernando said.
“Knock it off,” Old Bertha said. “We’ve got enough problems around here with everybody speaking Texan. We don’t need you throwing around your third-grade French.”
“High school French,” Fernando said. “Get inside, my lovelies. I’ll clang again for the latecomers.”
Before he struck the triangle, Thud leapt onto the boardwalk, followed closely by Dymphna.
“Sorry we’re late,” Dymphna said. “I was spinning yarn and was . . . just in another world. I guess I’m just like Cinderella.”
“Sleeping Beauty,” Fernando said.
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me, darling,” Fernando said. “I know my Disney princesses.”
Thud ran into the café. But Fernando caught Dymphna’s arm and held her back.
“Hey,” he said. “I want to talk to you about the fruit up at your farm. I’m thinking about making wine and brandy to go with your jams and jellies. Interested in a partnership?”
“That sounds great.” Dymphna beamed. “Last year I had a ton of all kinds of berries and some peaches left over, even after all the canning. Actually, I have a bunch of it in cold storage in the cellar, if you want to experiment with them.”
“You make me sound like a mad scientist,” Fernando said. “Which, come to think of it, might be about right. Yeah! That sounds perfect. I can play around with the frozen stuff until this year’s harvest comes in. Thanks.”
“Thank you,” Dymphna said.
“What the . . .” Fernando looked down the street.
Dymphna turned, her jaw dropping at the sight.
Titan ambled down Main Street, Fancy hopping along with her ungainly gait on one side of him as usual. Rocket followed them, his horns glistening in the morning sun. Titan had a lead rope in his hands, but the bull was untethered.
“I love a parade,” Fernando said. “But this is one for the books.”
Everyone looked up as Mikie’s plane buzzed overhead. Titan waved. The plane’s wings dipped in greeting, then Mikie sped off.
“I see you found Rocket,” Dymphna said to Titan.
“More like he found me.” Titan turned around to pat the bull. “He spent the night out back of the forge. I thought I’d see if Pappy had something for him to eat.”
“I already have a regular old mule and a miniature mule,” Pappy said, stomping up the boardwalk. “What do you think—I’m made of hay?”
“I have nowhere else to turn, Pappy,” Titan pleaded. “It’s just breakfast! I’ll have him back to Dodge’s by lunch!”
“Do bulls have three squares a day?” Fernando whispered to Dymphna.
“You know he’s fine just grazing,” Pappy said. “That’s what cattle do. They graze.”
“Isn’t that what mules do, too?” Dymphna asked innocently. “Especially now. It’s so green around here.”
“Fine,” Pappy said. “He can have some hay. Just bring him around back.”
Dymphna smiled. She never knew Titan to be duplicitous, but he did use his powers for good, not evil, when it came to animals. Everyone in town knew Pappy spoiled Jerry Lee by giving him a little alfalfa with molasses mixed in, even when the fields were abundant with green grass. It was the mule equivalent of a doggy treat. Rocket was going to score!
“Go with Pappy,” Titan said to Rocket, slipping the rope around Rocket’s enormous neck and handing the lead to Pappy.
“Come on then,” Pappy said, turning on his heels.
The longhorn followed, but stopped and looked back at Titan from time to time before turning the corner of the boardwalk.
“Those eyes just kill me,” Titan said. “It breaks my heart that he hates living with Dodge.”
“From what I’ve heard about Dodge,” Fernando said, “can you blame him?”
Fernando opened the door and piloted Dymphna and Titan into the dining room, where they joined the others. Fancy started her long waddle back to the forge. Fernando was relieved that the buzzard wasn’t expected to join them for breakfast.
Dymphna and Titan stepped over Thud, who was sleeping in a patch of sunshine. The trio from the inn sat rigidly—and guiltily—in their seats.
“Nice try, people,” Fernando said. “I saw all of you looking out the window.”
Fernando headed into the kitchen. No one seemed particularly sheepish that they’d been caught.
“It appears, Titan, that you have a new fan,” Powderkeg said.
Titan shrugged and reached for the breadbasket Old Bertha was offering. He was never comfortable being the center of attention.
“Looks like we’ve got bran today,” Old Bertha said, nibbling on a muffin with a glazed top. “Hmm, I think he’s got honey in this!”
Titan passed the breadbasket. Fernando returned with a platter of scrambled eggs on his forearm, carrying a tray of bacon in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” Polly said, jumping up from the table.
“Thanks, dude,” Fernando said.
Polly giggled, which made everyone at the table stop and stare. Polly was not a giggler. Dymphna remembered that Suzanna had said Fernando had that effect on women. She thought Suzanna had said older women, but apparently his magic could work on any female.
Pappy stomped in and sat down. The inhabitants of Fat Chance waited for some snappish comment, but he appeared mesmerized by the food. Fernando really was a magician!
Polly looked at Dymphna. “I haven’t seen you since you went out to help that horse yesterday.”
“It was an amazing experience,” Dymphna said.
“I’ll bet.” Polly wiggled her eyebrows at Dymphna.
“Where’d you go?” Powderkeg asked. “Anybody we’d know?”
Old Bertha snorted. “Do we know anybody?”
“Actually, it wasn’t anybody I’d even heard of,” Dymphna said. “She’s an older lady and she knew about us.”
Slim Pickings in Fat Chance, Texas Page 10
