The Lone Texan

by Lass Small

  Mina called Ellen’s doctor. When he was free, he returned the call. They discussed the whole situation.

  It was rather late that day when Tom came from a distant check on what was where. His mother updated Tom. He went to Ellen’s room and with only one tap, he silently opened her door. He looked inside. She slept. He went over to her bed and watched her sleep. She was flat out. She was exhausted.

  But—

  Tom found his body wanted to be in her bed with her. How stupid of it. The woman was strained to the core. How could he be that intrusive? Intrusion was what he had in mind.

  There was no excuse, at all, for Tom to do anything. He could cough, or clear his throat, or touch her or speak to her. While she was as zonked as she could be, he knew full well that he must not do any of those things. He had to leave her be. She was overextended. He needed to leave her alone and let her sleep until supper time.

  But he stood and watched her possessively. He couldn’t remember one of the women who’d come to the Keeper Place who had caught his glance as seriously as Ellen did. She made his dreams vivid and sexual. This morning he awoke to a bed that was about torn apart.

  How come one woman could do that to a man? He’d lusted for other women. But not with the gentle hunger he had for this one. She’d probably tell him to run along home to his mama and behave himself.

  This was his home. He was in charge.

  That meant that he had discarded the fact that his mother and father ran the Place and were obeyed by the crew without any question at all. How come he felt he was—in charge?

  It was this fragile, soul-shaking woman. She made him feel thataway. He’d wanted other women, but it had never been as serious as this want was.

  Maybe it was because he’d never seen one in bed before he’d been in there with them? Was it simply the damned old body hunger? Then if that was so, why was he so quiet and why was he just looking at her sleep-closed face?

  Why hadn’t he thought about her body being in those silks she probably wore like just about every other woman he’d known? He hadn’t even thought of it. He’d just known she was asleep. And not being awake, he could look his fill of her face.

  Then his vulgar libido wanted to lift the blankets back and look at her body. What was she wearing under those covers thataway? He wanted her nude and raw. He wanted to take off his boots and clothes and even his hat and just get in bed with her and—soothe her. Mmm-hmmmm. That’s what he wanted.

  When Tom exited Ellen’s room, by some miracle there was no one in the hallway. It was silent and empty.

  It was almost time for the evening dinner gong. Tom went thoughtfully to his room and stripped easily. His sex, which he referred to as Hunter, leaped free of Tom’s underwear, and Tom had several unkind things to say to something so strained.

  Ellen didn’t rouse from her dead sleep until Mina Keeper went in and told her kindly it was time for her to waken.

  Ellen’s eyes slitted open. She blinked slowly and moved her eyes around to figure out where in the world she was. She asked, “Mrs. Keeper?”

  Mina gently said, “You’re here with us.”

  Slowly, Ellen commented, “I haven’t slept like that in a hundred years.”

  Mina’s eyebrows lifted a tad, and she then had the audacity to comment, “I hadn’t known you were older than L”

  Ellen blinked slowly and her smile began. “I really slept.”

  “Yes.” How wise the older woman was to only comment and not flood the healing woman with chatter. Mina was simply there.

  Ellen lifted the bedcovers from her and was surprised. “I went to bed naked? I’ve never done that. I must have been very tired.”

  “You were.”

  “This bed is like a cloud. A stable one. It didn’t dip and wobble.”

  Mina smiled.

  The young woman lay silent. She looked around casually. She said again, “I really slept.”

  “Ummmm. Your robe is right here. Do you need any help?”

  Ellen smiled. “I think I can do it okay.”

  “Then I’ll go on along. The supper gong will be soon. Don’t go back to sleep.”

  “I won’t.”

  Mina Keeper leaned over and kissed Ellen’s forthead. She did that for compassion, but she also did it to be sure the child-woman had no fever. She told Ellen, “I’m glad you could rest. We’ll see you at the table.” And the lady went on off.

  Ellen watched after Mrs. Keeper as she left and closed the door to Ellen’s room. Ellen lay quiet and thoughtful. She understood she was healing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to heal.

  She considered her life and gradually she became aware that the first gong for dinner had vibrated along the hall. She threw back the covers and did a very casual job of rolling up and getting out of the bed.

  It didn’t even occur to her that she’d done that.

  She hadn’t time for a shower, so she had a “spit bath,” which meant just swishing the washcloth over herself. She donned clothing that was probably okay and brushed her hair back. She viewed herself in the mirror and thought how wimpy she looked. She made a distasteful face at herself and the mirror repeated it. She smiled with humor...and the mirror gently smiled back.

  She watched her reflection. She was skinny. How strange that she’d lived all this while and never noticed that she had lost so much weight.

  That made Ellen thoughtful as she slowly went out of her door and down the hallway to the dining room. She wondered if she could live after all. Not just be—alive, but to live fully. Until then it hadn’t occurred to her that it might be possible. She would see.

  One step at a time.

  As they were served, Ellen considered the plate. She recalled the wonderful “tasting” plate Mrs. Keeper had begun to give her not long before. It had been samples of individual bits with all kinds of fruits.

  This plate was similar in that it was mostly kinds of main meal gatherings. There was a bit of sweet potato, a bit of ham, of roast beef, of green beans, of salad.

  Her partner to the left of her said, “How come you got all them there nibbles, and I just got all this?”

  She laughed softly but then she said prissily, “I’m special.”

  He looked at her.

  She grinned at him as she waited for his rebuttal. He was a man in his sixties or seventies.

  He replied, “I believe that.”

  She laughed out loud. She wasn’t even aware of it.

  But Mrs. Keeper heard and she took a quick, surprised breath. Then her eyes filmed. That annoyed her. So she turned to the person on her right and asked, “Will the rain come?”

  That always set off an area male into a long discourse. But she listened. She never just triggered someone’s vocal chords, she listened to what they had to say...and she remembered. She also corrected, demurred and agreed.

  Tom came in to dinner late. He was there quickly and took off his hat and gave it to somebody who was available. It happened to be a serving man who carried a large tray, but that person simply put the hat on his own head and went right on to what he’d been doing.

  Tom got a chair and put it between his father and Ellen. They both moved in order to give him room. His daddy’s greeting was, “How come you’re late?”

  Looking mostly at Ellen, Tom explained about the dammm-arned bull that wanted all the cows and was fighting the other bulls.

  While that explanation was being made, a plate, silverware and glasses were put before Tom, and he was given a made-up plate that just about overwhelmed the base plate.

  Tom allowed himself to be served, and he talked around the food to catch up on everything. He saw that Ellen was more alert! It almost stopped his breathing. It just about took away his hunger for food.

  Something clever was said and—she laughed.

  That darned near sundered him.

  He watched her and his eyes were a little moist. He said, “You’re getting sassy. What happened to the gentle, silent woman I met?”


  Ellen tilted her head and replied, “She’s healing.”

  Now just those words were very poignant to Tom. He said softly, “Thank God.”

  “So you like feisty, argumentative women?”

  He said, “It’s just like everything else. Nothing wants to do what a man wants it to do. Take a horse, for instance. You have to go through mud, and your horse is a nut who doesn’t like its hooves to get all dirty.”

  She laughed.

  The others listened and laughed and commented, but he only heard that Ellen laughed. He forgot they weren’t alone.

  His daddy asked, “I see your plate is clean. I suppose you want some more?”

  Tom turned his head in surprise to find his father sitting beside him. He said, “Where’d you come from?”

  The whole table laughed.

  Tom said, “How come you all don’t run along and mind your own business?” He appeared quite logical.

  However—

  Ellen pushed her chair back and said, “I’ve finished anyway. If you’d like to be alo—”

  Tom told her, “Hush and sit still.”

  Then somebody down the way asked, “How come we all have to sit still and listen to you?”

  Tom considered the man with eyes that were full of hilarity. He told the guest, “I just want to get my own words into this discussion without being entirely left out!”

  That made them all laugh.

  Ellen asked, “What did you want us to know?”

  “You know that dam—arned bull that gets stuck all the time? He got stuck again.”

  She waited for the laughter to ease off and she asked, “You haven’t killed him, have you?”

  “One of our bulls? Honey—” and his eyelashes became noticeable as he watched Ellen “—that there bull is worth his weight in gold. But he’s got to stop getting his valuable parts stuck in mud...yet again. Do you suppose...hush you guys...do you suppose he’s overused and needs—”

  “Careful.” Two male voices cautioned.

  His mother said, “Go on.”

  Tom continued, “—to cool off?”

  The men then with eyes that twinkled and danced had to mention things around and about so that they avoided being actually vulgar. It was well-done.

  The women laughed but they hushed the men. It was then how clever they could be in abmost saying things. It was hilarious.

  Not only did they laugh, but the crew hovered around and listened and laughed along with them.

  John Keeper watched his son with crinkled eyes laughing, but there were tears. Tears could be accepted with such hard laughter, but Mina looked at her husband, and he turned his eyes to hers. They shared the miracle of multirejected Tom coming around and being himself again. He was sassy and...healing.

  Then Tom allowed the others to shine as they teased and laughed. It was a wonderful evening. Most of the evening dinners at the Keepers were fun, or soberly interesting, but this one went on beyond that in the parents’ hearts. Tom was back with them as he used to be.

  Of course, they then looked at Ellen. What if she spurned Tom? What if she wasn’t interested in this place and how it was run? What if she simply left there, healing as she finally was?

  Then the parents looked at Tom and listened. He was funny and droll and he listened to the others as they talked and teased. He wasn’t only being open to Ellen, he was healing and treating them all as if he knew them and liked them.

  It was an emotional time... at least for John and Mina. But they wondered if Tom would be sundered yet again—this time by Ellen.

  When the dinner was finally finished, everyone was worn-out from laughing so much. Those limp people were pleasantly exhausted.

  Tom said to Ellen, “Get a jacket and let’s go out and see if the sky has changed any.”

  She shook her head as she grinned at him. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t laughed that much in an age. I’m going to bed.”

  With his hands in his pockets, he took a casual step and watched his feet, but he lifted his eyes to her as he asked sassily, “By yourself?”

  She looked back over her shoulder and her eyes were wicked. She said, “Absolutely.”

  Then she wiggled the fingers of one hand in a goodbye manner and went on off.

  He watched her out of sight as she turned down the hall to go to her room.

  Oddly enough, it was the pilot Rip and his love, Lu, who came up in back of Tom. Rip said, “She’s almost as interesting as Lu.”

  Tom smiled at Lu and said, “You’ll have to coach her.”

  Lu blinked. “Coach?”

  “So’s she’ll realize I’m perfect.”

  Lu considered rather elaborately, frowning for memory, licking her lips, tilting her head. “Next to Rip, you’re not bad.”

  Rip loved it. Tom was disgusted. He said to the couple standing there, “Prejudice. Prejudice is distasteful.”

  Rip put out his hands in shock and said, “I’m the best around here, she said so! She’s told me she’s always right!”

  And smothering the quick laughter, Tom discarded that information quite easily, “Baloney.” But his eyes danced and he looked over at Lu.

  She tilted her head and lifted her chin. She knew she was tight

  Rip took her hand and said so that Tom could hear, “Come on, honey, he’s a Neanderthal.”

  Tom was shocked. “How’d you know that word. It’s more than one syllable!”

  Preciously, Lu explained, “He’s been around... me.”

  Tom laughed and so did Rip. He took Lu’s hand and waved the other to Tom as he tugged her away. She allowed it.

  Tom watched them leave. He wondered if Ellen would tease with him? He wondered if she would—see—just him. If the time would come when he could be with her, and she wouldn’t mind. She was still fragile, but she was getting stronger. Would she leave?

  If he lost her this time, he would probably never see her again. Some other guy would have the time and patience to soothe her and slowly reel her in.

  He went to find his dad. He knocked on his parents’ bedroom door and his dad answered. He wore only his robe.

  Tom grinned and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  John Keeper said, “Or now?”

  “Naw. I just wanted to talk.”

  John tied his robe and stepped barefooted outside their room’s door. “Let’s go to that vacant room down the hall. We can talk there instead of the living room, and I’ll not look so uncouth.”

  Tom grinned. “You’ve never looked uncouth. You’ve always been my hero.”

  His dad looked at his son silently. Then he said with stabled emotion, “I love a child who loves me.”

  As they walked down the hall to the room, patiently waiting, his dad asked Tom, “How can I help?”

  “Talk to me. I need to hear.”

  “What sort of thing do you need to hear?”

  “Just... talk. I can’t go upstairs and go to bed. I’m restless. I don’t want to walk. I want talk. Just talk. Nothing serious.”

  “The Cubs will be playing soon.”

  Tom was shocked, “How can a TEXAN be a Cubs’ fan?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “Then how come you’re one?”

  His daddy shook his head. “I haven’t a clue! It...just happened!”

  So they talked sports.

  How basic. They never mentioned anything else, the ranch, the mystery that still surrounded Andrew Parsons’ shot horse, the people who lived on their land. Nothing else was commented about, just sports.

  The time came when Mr. Keeper yawned and almost unhinged his jaw. He was that sleepy. He smiled and blinked like a lazy dog. He said to his son, “It’s time for an old man like me to go to bed.”

  “You’ve only just reached your apex in this life—”

  His father inquired with some interest, “—this life? I’ll have another?”

  That made his son consider, “I wonder if it’ll be with Mina.”

  Tom’s d
addy said, “I just hope it isn’t with some other shrew.”

  Tom laughed, but the door opened a bit and Mina asked, “Who’s a shrew?”

  Her husband grinned without his mouth revealing that, but his eyes danced. He told Mina, “A woman I avoided.”

  Mina said in disgust, “Ginger.”

  John Keeper sighed, “Her again. Your mother never realizes Ginger was a leech and only your subtle mama could save me.”

  Tom asked, “How’d she do that?”

  “She’d sic the dog on her.”

  “Our gentle mother did that?”

  John looked at his wife and smiled. “She’s possessive.”

  Mina lifted her nose. She actually tilted her entire head, but it appeared that it was just her nose that lifted that way. She said, “I dislike intrusive women.”

  Tom asked, “How about intrusive men?”

  “It depends.”

  Both men laughed. They exchanged quick glances and just laughed softly and with great humor.

  Mina tilted her head fifty-five different ways. Then she said, “It’s time for bed, husband—”

  Tom looked disgusted as he said, “She thinks you’re too old for an all-nighter?”

  But Mina only raised her eyebrows slightly as she finished her sentence, “—let the child go to bed.”

  Both men laughed. Tom, by then, was old enough not to be indignant. He rose from his chair and put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I appreciate the visit.”

  John put his hand on top of his son’s. “Anytime.”

  Tom told his mother, “You sure knew how to pick the daddy for your kids.”

  She lifted a hand to her forehead and responded, “It was a trial!”

  John shook his head. “Yeah. There were about a dozen of us floating around her waiting for her to decide.”

  “A dozen! Mama, were you a loose woman?”

  She lifted her eyebrows and tilted up her chin as the men laughed softly. She said the obvious. “A—careful chooser.”

  Tom asked, “How come daddy won out?”

  Mina looked over at her husband and smiled softly. “He is the best.”

  But John adjusted his body in the chair and corrected his wife, “I fought every single one. I was always bruised or limping or in an arm sling. My hand knuckles never had the time to heal. She’s really something.”