by Nancy Martin
Hellrazor bellowed and put his head down. He charged Hondo.
“Fred!” I cried.
Fred was already racing down the porch steps. He took a flying leap and landed running, straight as a bullet toward the bull.
Hondo knew cattle, and he made a neat escape, dodging sideways. But Travis Joe had only one hand on the saddle horn, and that grip wasn’t enough. As the horse went one way, he went another. In midair, he tried to grab the fence for safety, but he didn’t quite make it. He hung for an instant, then fell to the dust and sprawled there.
I heard a scream and saw it was Posie. Hut Junior shoved her out of the way and stepped into Hellrazor’s path. The crowd saw what was happening before it actually occurred, and their chorused shout distracted the bull just enough that he caught Hut Junior with his head, not his horns. Hut Junior went airborne and made a crash landing against the fence. Hellrazor turned to charge him again, but Fred was there, barking bravely. Hellrazor hesitated.
I don’t know how it happened, but I was suddenly in the mix, grabbing up Travis Joe and boosting him up onto the corral fence. I climbed up beside him and pinned him there, safe. I felt rather than saw someone rush past us—then realized it was Ten in his clown clothes. He vaulted into Hondo’s saddle and reined him around to face Hellrazor.
I had dropped Miss Ruffles. But she appeared, side by side with Fred, both of them with their forepaws splayed, their stumpy tails high as they faced their adversary. Together, they barked, then Fred dove in to nip the bull and get him moving. Miss Ruffles took her cue from Fred and did the same—barely escaping when the bull thundered forward to gore her. Fred led her around the bull, moving so fast he was a blur. Hut spurred his horse forward, waving his hat, and together the three of them forced Hellrazor to step back away from the people still on the ground.
It was Trey who swung the corral gate wide. With that opening in sight, the dogs and Ten rounded Hellrazor up and chased him into the big arena. Trey slammed the gate shut behind them, trapping Ten and Hondo with the bull. Fred and Miss Ruffles raced around Hellrazor, herding him to the back of the corral. Once he was pinned there, Ten spurred Hondo to the gate, and Trey let them out.
I let go of Travis Joe and climbed higher on the fence. “Fred! Miss Ruffles!”
Happily, the dogs gave up on the bull and streaked across the corral to me. I clambered down, and they ducked under the fence and came up, leaping against my legs with delight. I was laughing—and maybe crying, too—as I roughed them up.
Ten jumped down from Hondo and gathered me into his arms “Are you okay? Not hurt?”
“Scared silly,” I gasped. “You?”
“I heard the screaming, went to help. While my back was turned, somebody must have opened Hellrazor’s gate. Next thing I knew, he was out.” Ten’s hands were all over me, as if making sure I was still in one piece. “I knew you were here. I was afraid—”
“I’m okay,” I said on a shaky laugh, holding him, too. “We’re all okay.”
“You found Miss Ruffles!”
It was hard to ignore the dogs. Both of them cavorted around us in celebration.
The crowd settled down as families were reunited, parents finding their children safe and accounted for after the mayhem. We heard laughter again, and everyone moved to the fence to get a look at Hellrazor. He snorted around the corral, flashing his horns menacingly, pleased to be the center of attention.
Trey appeared beside me, the picture of teenage remorse. “Here’s the water.” He handed over a plastic bottle. He kept his head low. “I’m sorry about Miss Ruffles.”
He looked genuinely contrite. I wasn’t sure if he was sorry for his actions or sorry he’d been caught, but I accepted the bottle from him.
Hut Junior and Posie rushed over to gather up Travis Joe. Weeping, Posie clutched her younger child. Hut Junior put his arm across Trey’s shoulders and drew his older son close, too. They were a family unit again.
I stood still in the shelter of Ten’s arm, still trembling with adrenaline. Or maybe something else.
The rodeo announcer got up on his platform and, using the microphone, he made an announcement.
“Folks,” he said, “the Weather Service says we’re going to get some rough weather soon. We’re going to postpone the rest of tonight’s events until another day. There’s time for everybody to get home safe, if we take our time and don’t panic. See y’all here tomorrow night, now, hear?”
The crowd took his message seriously and moved toward the parking lot. Ten pulled me to one side where we wouldn’t be jostled. I saw two police cars arrive, and the officers got out of their vehicles to direct traffic. The third cop to pull up was Bubba Appleby.
“Hey, there, Ten,” he said out the window of his cruiser. “Poppy says the sky’s looking bad. Y’all best get on home.”
“Thanks, Bubba. We’re on our way.”
“Bubba,” I said, “I thought you were going to arrest President Cornfelter.”
“We did. He’s out on bail, awaiting a hearing.”
“I see. Listen, a friend of mine decided to walk home from here. She lives in town.” I was worried about Gracie. “Do you think she’ll be okay on foot?”
He frowned. “When did she leave?”
“About ten minutes ago. She was … she wasn’t feeling well. I’m worried about her. Her name’s Gracie. Long dark hair.”
He nodded shortly. “I’ll go have a look for her.”
When the cruiser had turned around and departed, Ten looked at me. “I had to fire Gracie today. Are you really worried about her? Or are you matchmaking?”
I laughed, feeling dizzy. “Both, I guess. I bet Bubba finds her.” And Gracie would love being rescued by a handsome prince. “I better take these dogs home. Miss Ruffles needs some TLC.”
“C’mon,” Ten said. “I’ll load up Hondo, and we’ll take my Jeep.”
“What about Hellrazor?”
“He’s been through tornados and worse. He’ll be fine here. I’ll come back and check on him later.”
I ran back to Honeybelle’s car to make sure the trunk was closed. It wasn’t—it was wide open, with no sign of prairie dogs, or traps either. Probably Rudy had taken them. I wasn’t going to worry about that now.
The wind had kicked up, so I put both dogs in the backseat of the car. They were happy to be together, sniffing and nosing at each other. The parking lot had emptied fast, so I drove the Lexus over to where I saw Ten’s Jeep. He was just finishing loading Hondo into his trailer along with three young steers.
He turned to me and leaned down to speak through the car’s window. “I’ll follow you to Honeybelle’s, okay?”
“Is there going to be a tornado?”
“Nah,” he said confidently. “Just some wind.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him.
There was traffic all through Mule Stop for once, but everyone moved with purpose, and I got to Honeybelle’s in good time. I let the dogs into the backyard and went out to the street to help Ten. He was opening the back of the trailer. Above us, thunder rolled in a long, threatening rumble.
“What do you say we put Hondo and these steers in Honeybelle’s garage?” he asked. “I don’t want to leave them in the trailer, and I don’t think there’s time to get them out to the ranch.”
A flash of lightning made his point. The usual Mule Stop breeze had definitely moved beyond brisk to a high wind. Honeybelle’s trees were hissing with it, branches waving wildly. More than the usual amount of dust stung my cheeks. I could taste the grit in my mouth, too.
I moved Honeybelle’s convertible out into the street while Ten led Hondo down the ramp of the trailer.
“Tell me how to help,” I said.
“Hold Hondo.” He handed over the reins. The horse was still saddled, and he stood calmly for me while Ten used a lariat to wave the steers into the garage. The steers were half tame and cantered inside willingly. Hondo went with them and didn’t mind the noise of the garage door going dow
n. A final click of the door reaching the floor was punctuated by a jagged snap of lightning.
“Is this the haboob?” I cried.
“I think so. Keep your mouth closed. We better run!”
Ten took my hand, and we hurried across the dark backyard just as grit filled the air. Fred and Miss Ruffles met us on the porch, and we were soon in the kitchen, slamming the door behind us.
Mae Mae was there, staring at the television, where Poppy was delivering the weather report with a red flashing line crawling across the bottom of the screen. I couldn’t hear what Poppy was saying for the noise outside. Mae Mae had candles ready in case the electricity went out. Mr. Carver sat at the table, looking ill. I patted his shoulder.
“How bad is it?” Ten asked Mae Mae, taking off his hat and shaking the raindrops from it.
“Pretty bad,” she reported.
I filled a water bowl and set it on the floor for Miss Ruffles. She shared with Fred.
Mae Mae didn’t question why Ten was in the house. I said to her, “Should we go to Honeybelle’s storm shelter?”
Ten was grinning. “Would that make you feel better?”
No, probably not.
Mae Mae finally took a look at him and said, “What are you wearing? If you’re going to meet your maker tonight, you don’t want to do it looking like a clown, do you?”
“I’ve been a fool before,” he said amiably.
Outside, the wind kicked up another notch. With it came a knock at the door that made the dogs renew their barking.
I went to open the door and found the Blues Brothers standing on the porch, looking unnerved. I hadn’t noticed their car out on the street when we moved the animals into the garage, but I had been distracted. Nor had I noticed if any of the federal officers were still outside, butI assumed they had taken off before the storm started.
“Mr. Costello!” I grabbed his arm. “Come in before you drown.”
“It’s raining mud out there!” he cried. “How is that possible?”
“All the dust in our air,” Ten said. “When it rains, we get mud.”
“Mind if we come inside for a while?” Costello asked plaintively. “This weather’s making us nervous.”
“Welcome to Texas,” I said. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Mae Mae, there’s coffee, isn’t there?”
A thunderous crack of lightning made her answer impossible to hear. The dogs began to bark again and dashed around our feet. The lights flickered. Mae Mae said a prayer.
In the chaos, Mr. Carver went to the window and peered out. “Looks like one of the big tree limbs came down in the pool.”
Another crack followed the first, and the rain beat hard against the window. The lights flickered again and then went out. The television died with a loud pop, and the dogs dove under the kitchen table. I must have let out a frightened yelp, because a moment later I found myself enveloped in Ten’s warm arms. I held on tight. If everything was big in Texas, I could only imagine how bad a Texas storm could get.
Around the house, the noise grew even louder. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. Fred began to howl. I heard Mr. Costello reel off a string of curses, and Mae Mae’s prayer got faster.
Lightning flashed against the window, filling the kitchen with a wild, blazing jolt of light that blinded us all. The tremendous crash of thunder that followed made me think the whole roof was coming down on us.
The door burst open, and the storm blew inside. Another blast of lightning flashed, illuminating a human figure in the doorway.
Honeybelle Hensley said, “What a night to come home!”
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The roar of the storm filled my ears. Or maybe it was my head exploding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Manure happens.
UNIVERSAL OBSERVATION
My mother used to say that the scientific method is the logical and rational order of steps by which scientists come to conclusions about the world around them. I had used some of her method, and I thought I had just about everything figured out. But obviously I was wrong about one big thing.
Honeybelle was alive.
Honeybelle slammed the door and unwound a big scarf from around her shoulders and threw it at the nearest chair. “A party! Mae Mae, you know I love champagne during a storm. Get us a bottle from the icebox.”
The electricity came on at that instant, and the lights nearly blinded us all over again. When we blinked, it was definitely Honeybelle standing in our midst. She looked suntanned and exhilarated. She set down her travel bag and smiled. “Champagne for everybody!”
Miss Ruffles was the first to react. She yelped from under the table and burst out, barking and throwing herself at Honeybelle, who bent down and cooed into the dog’s face. “My darling girl! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! I missed you so much!”
I found my voice at last. “It’s you. You’re alive!”
“Yes, it’s me, and yes, of course I’m alive. More alive than I’ve ever been! I brought you a scarf, Sunny. And presents for everyone! I love Europe! I can’t wait to go back!”
Mae Mae collected herself next. She grabbed her black skillet from the stove and raised it over her head. Her face was furious. “What in the name of Sam Hill did you do to us?” she shouted. “We thought you was dead!”
“What? But I … Mae Mae, what are you saying?”
“You was dead and buried! They had a funeral for you! Two funerals!”
“Well, I … that’s almost what I had in mind for everyone else in town, but surely…” She looked prettily astonished. “Surely you read my letters?”
“What letters?” I asked.
“I left them on the desk! One for Hut Junior, and one for the three of you. And—oh, hello, Ten. My goodness, what are you wearing?” She gave his colorful clown outfit a startled glance.
He spoke with surprising calm. “Where’s my dad?”
“On vacation, of course. Your grandfather decided it would be best if they were all out of town while I … well, he said I was faking my death, but I wasn’t really, not if I told y’all where I was going to be. I tried to pay for their trips, too, but Max said he was probably going to be disbarred for helping me, but he didn’t want to make things too easy, so he paid for his own. Who are these attractive gentlemen? Hello, I’m Honeybelle Hensley.”
The Blues Brothers stepped forward to shake her extended hand. Ten caught Mae Mae before she could clobber Honeybelle with her frying pan. “Take it easy, now, Mae Mae. Don’t do anything you might regret.”
“Regret!” Mae Mae shouted, fighting against him. “There’s somebody here who’d better regret! We thought you were dead! How could you do such a thing?”
“Well, I wrote you.” Honeybelle’s voice rose, too. “I told you everything. Told you I’d be back in two weeks! Okay, we decided to stay a few extra days, but—here I am! Isn’t anybody happy for me?”
Happy wasn’t my first thought. I couldn’t get my brain to accept all the emotions I was feeling. Stunned, amazed, and dumbfounded all qualified. Mae Mae had a lock on furious.
“Miss Ruffles chewed up the letters,” I said to Honeybelle. “We never got them.”
At that moment, Mr. Gamble walked in the back door, carrying Honeybelle’s suitcases.
I said to her, “You had Mr. Gamble pretend you were dead?”
“It was the best idea!” She was alight with pleasure. “After that awful Hannibal Cornfelter marched up to my car that day and practically said he was going to light a stick of dynamite and throw it at me for declining to fund his ridiculous stadium, what was I supposed to do? Stay here in Mule Stop and put my life on the line? I thought if I died right on the spot, he’d feel terrible, and that’s when I had my stroke of genius. Mr. Gamble and I had been talking about going on a vacation, so Shelby Ann drove me over to his funeral home, and we decided on the spot, the three of us, to seize the day, take a trip. It was your idea, Sunny.”
“Mine?” I cried.
“Yes, you urged
me to see the world. So I did! Shelby Ann and I went first, and Mr. Gamble caught up with us the next week. I thought everybody in Mule Stop needed to see what life would be like without Honeybelle around.” Two spots of pink bloomed on her otherwise suntanned cheekbones as she grasped how little we seemed to enjoy her story. She was quite wounded that we weren’t delighted by her plan. “Besides,” she added, “I got a rather unsettling communication from the government. Why they get worried about flower gardens when there are so many problems in the world, I don’t know, but they wanted to come investigate me, if you can imagine. So I thought it might be a good time to, well, get out of Dodge and let things cool down a bit. Nobody has come knocking, have they?”
“About that,” I began.
Mr. Carver put an end to my explanation by fainting dead away. He fell over like a sack of potatoes, and Ten barely caught him. It took a while to get him up off the floor and into the living room, but the Blues Brothers helped. Ten called for an ambulance; I patted Mr. Carver’s wrists and talked quietly while he came around again. Then we all helped the paramedics make poor Mr. Carver comfortable. The storm eased as if Honeybelle’s homecoming had placated the gods. I tried to calm down Mae Mae, who had begun to pace up and down the dining room, swinging her skillet. Mr. Costello made more coffee, and Ten went out to check on his animals, and Fred took a nap under the table while the tumult raged around him. Miss Ruffles dashed between me and Honeybelle, not sure where she wanted to be.
“Somebody has to break the good news to Hut Junior,” I said to Ten. “He doesn’t know his mother is alive.”
“I guess that’s my job,” he replied, looking grim. “I’m going to have to talk with my dad, too.”
Ten took the phone outside to the porch, where the storm had settled down to a light, muddy rain. Fred followed him.
The Blues Brothers came over and shook my hand with obvious regret. Mr. Costello said, “I guess all the excitement of your boss lady coming home means you’re not coming into money anytime soon?”
“That’s right. You’ll have to tell your boss he’s out of luck. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
