My Give a Damn's Busted

by Carolyn Brown

  “So?” Betty said.

  Larissa blinked away enough naughty thoughts to earn her a backseat in hell on a barbed wire fence for eternity. “It’ll have to be an all-or-nothing deal. If one person in Mingus holds out, he can’t put in an amusement park, can he? He’s teasing us with big money to get us all worked up and ready to sell. But when it comes time to put our name on the line it won’t be much more than market value. Anything else doesn’t make a bit of business sense.”

  Betty stood up, leaned on the cabinet, and waited for the coffee to drip. “I figured that out but Elmer is flipping back and forth. One hour he says he’d never sell his great-grandparent’s home; the next he’s saying that when we are dead and gone our kids will sell it and won’t get a tenth of what the Radners are offering if we sell first.”

  “Well I ain’t sellin’,” Linda said. “And I own a whole block of Main Street. If he wants to build a park around my land that’s fine and dandy. I may put in a hog farm on my lots if he does. Let the city slickers get some real good country aroma.”

  “What’s J. C. say about that?” Larissa asked.

  “He don’t give a shit what I do. It was my momma’s land and before that it belonged to her daddy. J. C. says he wouldn’t move for half the money in Fort Knox. He’s a damned old pack rat and he’s too lazy to pack it all up. That’s the real story. Truth is I don’t give a damn why he won’t sell because I don’t want to leave Mingus. It’s home.”

  Janice ate a cookie while she waited on the coffee. “Frank says that he was born in that house we live in and he reckons it’ll do to die in. We’re three couples and one beer joint owner. Think we can sway everyone else to sit tight and refuse to sell?”

  “I reckon we can have us a town meeting and ask everyone to attend,” Larissa said.

  Betty poured coffee and the women gathered around the table. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Why don’t we invite Hayes Radner to come to the meeting? That way he can see that we don’t intend to do business with him and he can get his sorry ass on up the road to the next town he wants to raze and take over.”

  Larissa nodded. “I had a call too and I put him going but I think a town meeting would be just the thing. It would show those people that money don’t always get its way. How about a month from now? We can put up fliers down at the Smokestack and around town, maybe even get someone to write it up in the newspaper. I’ll take care of all that and we can have the meeting at the Honky Tonk. There’s plenty of room and it’s empty in the daytime,” Larissa said.

  Janice figured days in her head. “Today is the fifteenth. How about Saturday, July 31. That’ll give us a couple of weeks and a few days past that. If you drag it out a whole month, the community will lose interest. If we hit ’em hard and fast and keep talking it up we can fire everyone in town up real good. We ought to have it at the City Hall. There’s a big oak tree where we can string up him and his henchman, Mr. Johnson, if things get out of hand.”

  “Can’t get enough people in there. The religious folks will just have to suck it up and repent later for going into a beer joint. We can put a little note at the bottom of the fliers that the bar will not be open during the meeting. And if things get out of hand I’ll just poison the bastard’s punch. Ain’t no use in dirtying up a good rope,” Larissa said.

  Linda dipped a cookie into her coffee and got it to her mouth just before it fell apart. “That ought to give us enough time to get everyone all worked up. I reckon I can light a fire under the ladies’ asses in my Sunday school class. J. C. can talk it up to all the folks in the feed store and down at the Smokestack when he goes for coffee. Give them men something new to fuss about other than politics and Monday night football.”

  Larissa stood up and pushed her chair under the table. “I’ll get on the computer and make fliers and start getting the word out to all the customers at the Honky Tonk over the Internet. You’d be surprised how many have asked me to be their friend on Facebook. But right now, I’ve got a new friend and we’ve made an agreement. I have to haul hay today for him to help me paint this house. Maybe I’ll invite him to our meeting too. He’s new to these parts but he’s pretty impressive. He might help put old Hayes’ nose out of joint. Y’all put Stallone out before you leave. I’ll see you tonight, right?”

  “Hauling hay? Are you crazy, girl? Don’t that beer joint make enough money that you don’t have to take on a second job?” Janice asked.

  “Y’all ever hear of Henry Wells?” Larissa asked.

  “Hell, yeah. He’s got the biggest spread in the county. Up north of Palo Pinto. Back when Ruby Lee first built the Honky Tonk, he used to come in pretty often. He was one smooth dancer. If I hadn’t already branded Elmer, I might’ve gone for him,” Betty said.

  “Did you know his son Hank?”

  All three shook their heads.

  “I heard Henry got married to a rich bitch and it didn’t last until the honeymoon was over but I didn’t know about a son,” Linda said.

  “Well, me and his son made a deal. He stopped by to see if I was all right after our little wreck incident and I think we’re going to be pretty good friends. He’s been by the Honky Tonk a couple of times and I’m going to haul hay and he’s going to help paint my house.”

  “Is he pretty?” Janice asked.

  Larissa placed one hand over her heart and fanned her face with the other. “But even better, he’s a good old hardworking cowboy. He don’t care about impressing a girl with flattery or fancy duds. He’s just plain old Hank and I like that.”

  “Then get on out of here and go get all hot and sweaty with the man. Wish I was thirty-five years younger and I’d go with you, but gravity got my boobs and ass years ago,” Betty said.

  Larissa could hear them giggling as she backed the car out of the carport.

  ***

  Hank had parked the hay hauling truck and was on his way into the house for dinner when he noticed a puff of dust following a vehicle on the way down the lane. When Larissa stepped out of her car he lost his ability to talk and was very glad for sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes. She wore faded jeans, work boots worn down at the heels, a chambray shirt opened to show a skin-tight red tank top underneath, and a bandana wrapped around her forehead.

  “You ready to haul some hay?” She was surprised that her voice came out normal. He looked like something from one of those old Marlboro cigarette commercials. All he needed was a horse instead of a flatbed truck. The burning embers blazing between them had nothing to do with the hot Texas summer wind. He had trouble shutting up that niggling voice that said he had no right to feel like he did when he hadn’t been honest with her.

  “I’m going to have some lunch. Have you eaten?” His words sounded stilted and formal.

  She smiled and his heart thumped against his chest. “No, I haven’t had lunch.”

  “Well, come on inside and set up to the table with us. Can’t have you working all afternoon on an empty stomach.” He motioned for her to walk beside him.

  She was careful not to let her hand brush against his and kept her eyes away from him. Friendship, girl. That’s all you’re interested in. Toss some ice water on those hormones.

  “Where did you get that Mustang? I’ve never seen one that old in such good shape,” Hank asked.

  “My grandfather left it to me. Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to sell the damned thing. My grandfather bought it brand new back in ’65. I inherited it when he died.”

  “Why would you ever want to sell something like that?”

  “I said sometimes. There are days when I’d like a small truck. Someday I might buy one anyway. There’s lots of room in the garage out behind the Honky Tonk. I could have both. So do you like my Mustang?”

  Not as much as I like you, he thought.

  He said, “Of course I like it. It’s a classic. You ever want to sell it, call me. I’d be interested in buying it.”

  They reached the door and he opened it for her. She stepped inside to wo
nderful odors coming from the kitchen. “Mmmm, something smells good.”

  “Oma made potato soup and quesadillas today.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I had four chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. I expect they’ll disappear before the afternoon is half gone and I’ll be plumb faint with hunger.”

  He opened the door into the house and stood to one side. “We’ll keep you fed good if you’ll help haul hay. Hey Oma and Dad, we got a guest. Set another plate,” he called out.

  “You sure this is all right?” Larissa whispered.

  Henry met them at the dining room door that opened off the foyer. “Come right on in here. Hank said he’d made a deal with you. I can’t imagine a little slip of a thing like you haulin’ hay. Did you grow up on a ranch?”

  Larissa was in awe. Henry was taller than Hank by three or four inches, had a beautiful mop of thick gray hair, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. He reminded her vaguely of the actor Sam Elliott, and his voice was just as deep and southern. If he ever came to the Honky Tonk, she’d have to arm Luther with a two-by-four just to keep the women, young and old alike, from attacking him.

  “Yes, sir, I did. Not a big operation like this but I did live out in the country.”

  Henry led the way to a dining room table big enough to seat twelve people. A tall, thin woman who’d been blond at one time carried a big pan of soup straight from the stove and set it on a trivet in the middle of the table.

  “I’m Oma, chief cook, bottle washer, diaper changer when Hank was a baby, and housekeeper around this place. You remind me of Ruby Lee,” she said bluntly.

  Henry grinned. “She does, don’t she?”

  “Was Ruby Lee part Indian?” Larissa asked.

  “No, she just had dark hair and was about your size,” Oma said. “Well, y’all better get busy on this food. Hay won’t bring itself to the barn and you got to eat for the energy to do the work.”

  “I need to wash up before I eat. Y’all go on ahead,” Hank said.

  Henry seated Larissa. “Help yourself. Oma will bring in the quesadillas soon as that last fryin’ gets done. Tell me about the Honky Tonk. Did you make any changes?”

  She ladled soup into her bowl and had a bite before she answered. “The only thing I changed was that we have old jukebox three nights a week now. We plug it up Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.”

  Henry’s heavy white eyebrows drew down into one long length of hair across his forehead. “Old jukebox? You still got one like Ruby Lee put in there? I didn’t know them old dinosaurs were still in existence.”

  Larissa shook her head. “Not like it. The exact same one. We still let the customers have three plays for a quarter.”

  Henry filled his bowl to the rim and started eating. “I’ll be damned. Just goes to show that bein’ old don’t mean wore completely out, but those records should have worn out years ago.”

  Larissa nodded. “I’m sure several have over the years, but there’s a closet full of replacements. Ruby Lee must’ve bought every one she could get her hands on because when one gets scratched up and skips the maintenance man replaces it. He says that the Honky Tonk jukebox is the oldest one in the state that he keeps up. The customers love the old thing. I could’ve sold it a thousand times in the past few months, but it ain’t for sale and never will be, just like the Honky Tonk won’t ever be for sale.”

  Oma set a platter piled high with flour tortillas folded over melted cheese, picante, and chopped chicken. “These go right well with potato chowder. You sure you ain’t related to Ruby Lee in some way? You even talk like her. Full of sass and vinegar and not afraid to speak up.”

  Larissa looked up at her with a question on her face.

  “Even that expression is like her. What do you think, Henry?” Oma asked.

  “She’s a ringer in some ways but I think she looks more like Jessi Colter back in her younger days,” Henry answered.

  “Me too,” Hank said from the doorway. He crossed the floor in a few easy strides and sat down beside Larissa.

  “Can I have your recipes for both of these? I’m teaching myself to cook,” Larissa changed the subject.

  Oma smiled. “I’ll write them down. Come on around and I’ll teach you what I know.”

  “Better plan on staying forty or fifty years if you plan on learning all Oma knows,” Henry said.

  “It would take longer than that for Oma to teach her everything she knows,” Hank added.

  Henry nodded in agreement. “You got that right, son. Now tell me what happens on the nights when you don’t have the old jukebox plugged in? Did you go to live music like they got on up the road at Trio’s?”

  Larissa took a sip of iced tea and said, “Hell, no! We don’t have live music. Who needs that stuff when we got all the old stars and the new ones at the touch of a fingertip? When Ruby Lee was killed she left the Honky Tonk to Daisy O’Dell. Daisy had worked there seven years and she was kind of like a daughter to Ruby. I understand they only fought once and that was when Daisy wanted to put in a new jukebox so the customers could listen to the new country music. They made an agreement that they’d only use it on weekends but it slowly worked its way into other days. Seems like nowadays the customers rather have the old stuff as the new. It’s making a big comeback. They call it vintage music these days.”

  Shut up, Larissa! You are doing it again. Talking too much and too fast because you are nervous. So slow down and hush. Push food into your mouth. It’s impolite to talk with a mouth full so that will take care of it.

  “So you never did know Ruby Lee?” Henry asked.

  She shook her head.

  “That woman was full of spit and vinegar and wouldn’t have backed down from a grizzly with a toothache. I swear she could tell a person to go to hell on a silver poker and he’d not only go out and buy the poker but he’d look forward to the damn trip. She was a lot like you. She would have made a deal with a man to haul hay just to get him to paint a house like you’ve done. No wonder you remind Oma of her. I understand that my boy has to help you paint your house in Mingus in order for you to help us in the hay field. Sounds like he’s gettin’ the easy part of the deal,” Henry said.

  “It needs scraping. I don’t think it’s seen a coat of paint since the original was put on in the thirties. It looks like warmed over sin on Sunday morning right now, so he’s not getting off one bit easy,” she said.

  Hank groaned.

  Larissa spun around and pointed a long slim index finger at him. “You saw the place so don’t you go backin’ out of our deal. Besides, you’re the one who brought up the idea of me helping haul hay so put on your big boy undershorts and suck it up. ”

  “I didn’t say a word,” he protested.

  “I heard that groan and so did Henry and Oma. I expect you know how to scrape a house or am I going to have to teach you how to use a scraper?”

  “Never done it before but I got a feelin’ I’m about to learn. So tell me, Miss Sassy Drawers, do you have any idea how to haul hay?” he asked.

  “I could outdo you any day of the week,” she smarted off.

  It started as a chuckle and built up into a full-fledged guffaw that had Henry dabbing at his eyes with the dinner napkin. “I want pictures of him scraping and painting your house, Miss Larissa. You take ’em and I’ll pay double for them. Only time I ever knew him to paint anything was when he had to paint a barn one summer.”

  “And why did he have to paint a barn?” Larissa asked.

  “Decided to go to town in one of my vehicles without asking me if it was all right. Then he didn’t come home until almost daylight and he had beer on his breath,” Henry said.

  “How old was he?”

  “Fourteen and he didn’t even have a permit much less a driver’s license,” Henry answered.

  “Damn! Don’t go dragging out all those old stories,” Hank protested.

  “I had to haul hay all day and half the night for sassing,” Larissa said.

  “Tell me
more,” Hank said.

  “Tit for tat. You tell me something and I’ll return the favor, maybe,” Larissa said. “I’ll get you those pictures, Henry, and they won’t cost you a dime. I’ll even blow them up and frame them so you can put them on the mantle above the fireplace. You do have a fireplace, don’t you?”

  Henry continued to laugh. “I do back in the den but if I didn’t, I’d have one put in just to put a picture of my son painting a house in Mingus.”

  “Does your daddy want a picture of you haulin’ hay? Where do I send it? I bet he’d get a big kick out of seeing his little girl all sweaty in the hay field,” Hank asked Larissa.

  “Don’t think he would, but Mother might think it was a hoot. Take your camera with you and I’ll send her one over the net. I told her I was learning new things. She won’t believe a picture though. She’ll say I fixed it on the computer just to shock the hell out of her.”

  “Where does she live?” Hank pried.

  “Which day of the week? Last week she was in Rome, this week in Paris, and next week in London. I’d have to check her schedule to be sure,” Larissa said.

  “Sure she is,” Hank muttered.

  She flared up at him. “You doubt my word?”

  Maybe they couldn’t be friends after all. Friends believed friends even when they weren’t telling the whole truth or when they were beating around the bush.

  “You even got a temper like Ruby Lee. Must be the Honky Tonk that makes its women so sassy but I like you, Larissa Morley. You can sit up to my table any day you want to drop by the ranch,” Henry said.

  “Thank you, Henry. You can sit up to my bar and I’ll even give you the first beer of the evening free any night you want to come by the Tonk. Did anyone ever tell you that your son can be exasperating?” Larissa said.

  Oma pulled up a chair and joined them. “You don’t have to tell me and Henry that. We already know it.”

  Hank threw up his palms defensively. “I’m sitting right here and I didn’t doubt you. I suppose it’s possible that your mother has been to Rome and Paris since there is a Rome, Georgia, and a Paris, Texas. You were just kidding, right?”