My Give a Damn's Busted

by Carolyn Brown

  Stallone went to the door and meowed pitifully. He reared up on his hind legs toward the doorknob and looked back over his shoulder frantically.

  “Okay, okay. I can see you are trying to cross your legs,” she griped. She opened the door and he made a beeline to the edge of the porch, dug a hole, and squatted.

  “Guess he was in a hurry,” the deep voice said with a laugh.

  “When you gotta go, you gotta go. Come on out here, Larissa. We won’t have many more mornings this nice. Sun is out and the birds are chirpin’,” Sharlene called out.

  She carried her cup of coffee to the porch. Sharlene occupied one rocker and Henry the other.

  He got up and motioned for her to sit. “I’ll take the porch step.”

  “Keep your seat. I’ll take the step,” she said.

  “I ain’t arguing with you. I don’t have much trouble gettin’ down but the gettin’ up is a different matter.”

  Sharlene’s kinky red hair was pulled up into a frenzied ponytail. Her paint splotched jeans were faded at the knees and her shirt had been red at one time but was almost pink. She wore her work boots with scuffed toes and worn-down heels.

  “I used the key you told me about last night and went on and made coffee since you was still asleep. Stallone was hungry so I fed him,” she said.

  Larissa looked at Henry.

  “I was here before her. Had to run down to Stephenville for another tractor part. Ought to sell the damn things to the man for the tractor cemetery and let him make a few bucks on what parts are good. But I’ve got a sentimental vein in my heart for old things. Can’t bear to get rid of them long as there’s parts to fix them. Ever hear that quote about a broke give-a-shit?”

  Larissa shook her head.

  “If your give-a-shit has a crack, you can fix it; if it’s plumb broke you might as well throw it out.”

  “Kind of like the song by Jo Dee Messina,” Larissa said.

  “Yep, she probably got the idea from that old saying,” Henry said.

  Sharlene fidgeted with the chair arms. “Guess I better come right on out with it. It’s all bottled up inside of me and makin’ me nervous as hell. My paycheck came in the mail this morning. I got my pink slip and a letter. It said they’d give me a very good recommendation for another job but they were cutting back staff again. Last come, first to go type thing. So I’m out of a job at the newspaper. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Not for me. You making enough at the Tonk to live on?” Larissa asked.

  “Without rent or utilities and since my car is paid for, I am.”

  “How much are you savin’?” Henry asked.

  “That’s a different matter, but I don’t have to have a big savings account. If I’ve got a roof, a place to work, and something to eat, I can be happy,” Sharlene said.

  “You got a dollar an hour raise starting tonight since you are definitely full time now. What are you going to do during daylight hours?”

  Sharlene flashed them a big smile. “Write a book. Please don’t think I’m crazy. It’s been keeping me awake at night just thinkin’ about it. I’ve already got it named and I think it’ll be a best seller.”

  ”I think that’s a great idea,” Larissa said.

  Sharlene wiped her forehead dramatically. “You don’t think it’s a waste of time?”

  Henry reached across the distance separating the chairs and patted her arm. “You write that book. Whatever is laid on your heart, you do it and you won’t have a bunch of regrets later down the road.”

  “Will you talk to me about Palo Pinto County and Ruby Lee?”

  A shiver crawled down Larissa’s spine. “Why would you ask that?”

  “My book is going to be fiction but Ruby Lee is the inspiration for it.”

  “I would love to talk to you about Ruby anytime. You just come on up to the ranch and we’ll sit on the porch and I’ll tell you lots of stories on that pretty lady,” Henry said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that, Henry. Larissa, before you let the cat out we were talkin’ about this house. Henry says that he hasn’t ever seen anything like it,” Sharlene said.

  “Hank told me all about it but I deliberately come down here today myself so I could take a look at it. It ain’t as gawd awful as he said it was but it don’t miss it by much.”

  Sharlene shook her finger at him. “I love it. I wanted to paint the Honky Tonk this color but Larissa wouldn’t let me. You’d think I’d be disfiguring a damn shrine the way she looked at me. So since I couldn’t paint the beer joint I painted my kitchen table and chairs and every little side table in the apartment a different color. Y’all want to go home with me and see it right now?”

  Henry shook his head emphatically. “No, ma’am. This is enough for my tired old eyes for one day.”

  “Old, my ass. What are you, fifty-two?” Larissa said.

  “Sixty-two this past month. I’m helping Hank get his ranchin’ legs steady under him for the next year and then I’m retiring.”

  “What will you do when you retire? Ranchers and farmers don’t retire. I come from that kind of country up in Corn, Oklahoma. And I ain’t never known a rancher or a farmer to retire. They just keep on doin’ what they do until the day they drop dead,” Sharlene said.

  “That’s what I plan on doin’ too. Hank will have the ranch and I’m givin’ him the house in a year. I’m going to get a smaller one built out in the north forty and help him wherever I can. But I’ll be finished making big decisions and worrying about whether it’ll be a good year.”

  Sharlene stood up. “Well, I got to go. Thanks for the raise, Larissa.”

  “You earned it.”

  “You saying that means as much to me as the raise. Henry, I’ll be up to the ranch in a few days. Write down a few notes so you don’t forget anything,” Sharlene said.

  “Honey, where Ruby Lee is concerned, I remember everything in perfect detail. You just come on anytime. I can always take a break and talk to you about her.”

  She took time to pet Stallone on the way to her car and waved as she pulled out onto the road and headed back south toward the Honky Tonk.

  Henry took a sip of coffee and set his cup on the porch. “The beer joint still looks the same. I’m glad you ain’t changed anything about it. I hear it’s got to be a right popular place and Luther has to count heads to make sure y’all don’t get too many at one time in there.”

  Larissa moved from the porch step to the empty rocking chair.

  “I didn’t just come up here and sit in your chair so I could see the house,” he said.

  “I know,” Larissa whispered.

  “I’m in the same boat you are, lassy. I don’t know if he’s made this decision on a whim or if he’s thought it out. Ranchin’ is tough business. It’s hard on the body and the mind. That’s why I’m givin’ him a year before I turn it over to him lock, stock, and barrel. Will you give him the same amount of time?”

  She’d been thinking about Sharlene being at the ranch with Hank and trying to get past a little jolt of jealousy while she listened with one ear to what Henry said. When he asked the question, she came back to the moment with a jolt.

  “Why are you asking that?”

  “One year, Larissa. In that amount of time we’ll see if he’s Hayes or Hank. This is my dream. That my son would come home to the ranch that I love but I’m afraid to believe it. He’s here partly because of you. You got every right to tell him to go straight to hell, the way he done you. If he was a kid I’d take him out to the wood shed and use a switch on him for it, but he ain’t. I’m afraid if you tell him all his chances are gone he’ll go back to Dallas. If I have him a year then he’ll put down roots.”

  “Merle says I have to start all over again from scratch if I’m interested in him. That I have to go slow and give it time,” Larissa said.

  Henry pulled a red bandana from the bib pocket of his striped overalls and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Merle is a smart woman. Always has been. Tr
ied to talk sense to me when we were all younger. I wouldn’t listen.”

  Larissa stuck her hand out. “One year.”

  He shook it firmly. “If he ain’t took root by then, I’ll let him go.”

  ***

  Larissa was dang glad for Tessa and Sharlene on Saturday night. It had always been the busiest night of the week but that night had been a record breaker. The place filled up more than three times as people came and went and Luther let more in. Not once all night had the number dropped below full capacity. She’d sold enough beer and drinks to float the Titanic by two am when Luther unplugged the jukebox and called out that the place was closed.

  The cash register was overflowing. Tessa and Sharlene were both dancing jigs when they counted their tips. Larissa decided to get a bank deposit ready even though she was dog tired. Tessa and Sharlene pitched in, counting the bills and rolling the change. It was three o’clock when she finally locked the money into the trunk of her car and drove home.

  Stallone didn’t rush out from under the kitchen porch to rub against her legs like usual and there was a light on in her kitchen. Neither was unusual since she often forgot to turn off lights and the cat could be out chasing field mice or else sleeping high up in a tree on a limb.

  She tossed her purse on the sofa and went straight to the kitchen. She planned to eat a bowl of cereal, forfeit her shower, and go to bed smelling like she was the lone survivor of a forest fire.

  “Hello. Was it a tough night?” Hank said from the kitchen stove.

  She jumped like she’d been caught naked on Main Street at high noon. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep so I got up and drove down here. I was going to sit on the porch and wait for you but you still hide the key in the same place. You want your eggs fried or scrambled? Bacon is cooked. Biscuits will be out of the oven in five minutes,” he said.

  I said we’d go slow, remember? Slow my ass. How does one go slow with that much testosterone in a room the size of this kitchen? I’m too tired to chew but I bet I could wrangle up enough energy to jerk them jeans off his sexy butt.

  “Fried. Easy over. I’m going to take a quick shower and get the smoke off me.”

  “Better hurry. Cold fried eggs are horrible.”

  She threw all her clothes on the floor, stepped into the tub, and pulled the shower curtain, then adjusted the water and asked herself what in the hell was she doing? She should parade out into the kitchen and tell him to take his fried eggs and shove them up his lying ass. But she was hungry and it smelled so good. She’d eat before she sent him packing with orders to never cook her breakfast at three in the morning again.

  She shampooed and let the hot water rinse her hair and untie the knots in her back muscles at the same time. When she finished, she wrapped a towel around her head and pulled on a terry bath robe.

  “Perfect timing. Biscuits just came out of the oven. I buttered them already and the last three eggs are fried. Have a seat and I’ll pour coffee for us,” he said hoarsely. The woman was even sexy in a bathrobe and a towel turban. He didn’t care if her name was Ruth, Larissa, or Miss Piggy.

  She didn’t wait for coffee but slid three eggs, half a pound of bacon, and a pile of hash browned potatoes onto her plate. He could cook, paint, and haul hay, plus he could dance and was damn good in the bedroom department. That should be the first block of the foundation of a new and better relationship. But that could be her hormones talking and not her common sense.

  “So?”

  “Wonderful,” she said around a mouthful of flaky, buttered biscuit.

  “I don’t mean the food. Do I get a second chance?”

  She stopped and met his stare across the table. “I’m never quitting my job at the Honky Tonk, Hank. You sure you want a second chance?”

  “Did I ask you to leave the Tonk?”

  “You are Henry’s son,” she reminded him.

  “And I can learn by his mistakes, can’t I?”

  “I just wanted to make that clear from right now at the beginning, Hank. Anyone takes me, they take my beer joint.”

  “I don’t care about you being a barmaid,” he said.

  “Okay, then let’s take things very slow and see where they end up. I don’t want to rush anything.”

  “Deal,” he said. “I was wondering if after breakfast you would like to go do something very slow.”

  “I mean it, Hank. No sex.”

  He raised both dark eyebrows. “Ever?”

  “Six months, at least. I said slow. I didn’t say never. If we’re ever going to build anything from the ashes of a failed relationship, it cannot be rushed.”

  “I can live with that. But what I was talking about had nothing to do with sex. I am glad that you thought it did because now I know the rule. Got any more?”

  “I’ll think about it and get back to you. What were you talking about?”

  He handed her another biscuit. “I’ve got an old quilt behind the seat of my truck. I know a place up on a rise on the ranch that is a wonderful spot to watch the sun rise. You don’t get to see something like that in your line of work very often.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He reached across the table and wiped a bit of butter from the edge of her mouth with his napkin.

  Six months! I made the damn rule. Now I’ll have to live with it, she thought.

  ***

  Up in the northern part of Palo Pinto County the land has more rolling hills and curves than in the southern part. She could see little in the darkness but when he drove past the ranch house she realized they were on his land. The ride from there was bumpy at best and made her glad she’d taken time to empty her bladder before she left the house.

  Finally, when she thought he was going to drive all the way to the Rio Grande into Mexico through mesquite-covered back country he stopped. He opened his door and the lights came on inside the truck. She looked out across the land but all she could see were short black blobs that were mesquite trees in the process of shedding a few of their leaves.

  “We are here.” He opened the door for her.

  She crawled out and squinted through the darkness, not recognizing a single thing. No oil wells. No barns. No windmills. Just dark night, mesquite trees, and a few hills. “Where is here? It seems to me like you went to the end of the world and made a right.”

  “We are at the back side of the ranch. There’s a fence straight ahead of us that separates our land from the neighbor’s. He raises Longhorns. We raise Angus. Got to have good fences. We’re going up to the top of that rise.” He threw the quilt over his shoulder and picked up a sack.

  “This way?” She began to pick her way among the cow tongue cactus and tall weeds. “If I get chiggers, I’m going to pitch a fit.”

  “I’ll check you for ticks when we get home,” he laughed.

  “That’s not original. Brad Paisley put that song out a couple of years ago.”

  He grabbed her hand with his free one. “Who do you suppose gave him the idea?”

  “Are you lyin’ to me again?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am, but I will be glad to check you for ticks any time you need me to.”

  “I will remember that offer, Mr. Wells,” she said.

  “You do that, Miz Morley.”

  The rise didn’t look nearly so steep or so high back at the truck. But when they reached the top she was panting. “I hope there’s water in that sack.”

  “Not water. Beer,” he said.

  “Even better.”

  He let go of her hand and spread the quilt out. He pulled a six-pack from the sack along with a box of doughnuts and set them off to one side.

  She sat down cross-legged and screwed the top off a bottle. “Beer and doughnuts after that big breakfast at my house?”

  He stretched out on the quilt beside her. “Doughnuts are for breakfast after we watch the sun come up.”

  The beer wasn’t as cold as the ones in the Honky Tonk
but then it’d been sitting in his truck for a couple of hours. It was wet and it tasted good after the climb up the rise that was really only a foot shorter than Mt. Everest. “What would you have done if I’d said no?”

  “Drank all the beers and ate all the doughnuts and wished you were here with me. Stretch out and look that way.” He pointed toward the east. “It’ll be a couple of hours but you’ll be pointed in the right direction. I’ll wake you up if you fall asleep.”

  She held up the beer. She couldn’t very well drink it lying on her stomach facing the east.

  He took it from her and took a long swig. “We’ll share.”

  Putting her mouth where his had been brought up a very vivid visual of shared kisses. She handed it back to him and flopped down on her stomach. “Damn!”

  “Did you hit a rock?” he asked with concern in his tone.

  “No, I ate too much. My stomach is too full to lie on the hard ground.” She readjusted her weight to get more comfortable. “Got a pillow?”

  He patted his arm. “Right here.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Don’t trust yourself?” he taunted.

  She tucked her chin into her chest and looked up at him. “Stretch it out, cowboy.”

  “We still talking about my arm?” he teased.

  “Honey, that’s all we’re going to talk about for a long time.”

  He flipped over on his back and stretched his arm out. She lay on her side, facing him, curled up so close that he could feel the warmth yet not touching anything but his arm with her cheek. “You promise to wake me if I fall asleep? I’d be awful mad if I climbed this mountain and missed the sight.”

  “This barely qualifies as a hill. It’s not a real mountain.”

  “Depends on whether you are climbing it or lookin’ at it.” She shut her eyes and in three minutes was asleep. Her snores sounded like the deep purrs of a satisfied kitten.

  The moon didn’t offer much light but combined with his memory and his imagination, it was enough. He looked his fill of her while she slept. Dark hair tied back in a ponytail. Jet-black eyelashes fanned out on her high cheekbones. And lips that begged for him to lean forward and kiss them. But he didn’t dare. She said they had to go slow and that might mean no kisses for a month or two. He’d never been a patient man but he’d learn.