The Lone Texan

by Lass Small

  A man who is bed bound with a broken leg and arm is not one that anybody wants to go on off on his own.

  The head medic said to Tom, “You aren’t yet mended enough to go leaping off along the way back home. You have to stay here a while longer.”

  Tom told the top medic, “Go to hell.”

  The man replied kindly, “See if you can get up—by yourself.”

  That was not at all kind, but the staff did get testy after a while.

  Tom heaved up and he did try.

  The medical head said, “See to it that you don’t louse up that leg. Be careful. No! Don’t do that! Only an imbecile would try something like that. Cut it out!”

  Sweating, determined, teeth clenched, struggling, Tom did try.

  The muscle builder murderer was at the door and when he could stand no further push on his fragile patient, he brushed past the top medic and said, “Here. This is how it’s done.” And he helped Tom.

  The senior medic watched without intruding or saying anything. He just watched.

  As Tom struggled to move from the room, he told the murderer, “I can’t walk clear over home.”

  The murderer replied, “I gotta car.”

  White faced, grim, the patient said, “Thank God.”

  The murderer took that slot and replied, “No problem.”

  Tom said through sweat and clenched teeth—he hurt—“You’re not God.”

  The murderer just said a nothing, “Oh.” He was being tolerant.

  They struggled out of the small, animal shared “hospital.” The murderer propped Tom against a door and went to bring his car to that door. It would save some distance for Tom.

  With the murderer gone and his fragile body leaned against the doorjamb, Tom closed his eyes and just did not move one bit. He was white faced. His blood was all in his feet. He was in a cold sweat.

  A nurse came along and stopped with great drama. She gasped, “How in this world did you get out here?”

  Tom told her, “Be quiet”

  She was appalled. She said, “This is not the thing to do, you foolish, foolish man!”

  “Hush.”

  The murderer interrupted the nurse’s gasp of indignation as he drove his car right up to the door. There were no steps for Tom to maneuver.

  Tom didn’t move. The murderer came and helped Tom to the car.

  The nurse went away yelling, “One of the humans is escaping!”

  Tom got into the car with the murderer’s help. Tom was carefully eased into the back seat of the car. Then the murderer drove up to the big house.

  Tom said nothing the entire way.

  The murderer asked, “Who’re you looking for?”

  “Ellen”

  “That little thing? She ain’t—”

  “Hush!”

  The murderer figured it out. “You like her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.” And the murderer was silent. Who can figure out people? So the murderer’s interest was triggered and he maneuvered the car very carefully to a side door. He knew the layout of the house...that was the easiest way.

  Apparently everyone in the big house knew of Tom’s escape from the hospital and his duly arrival at the house.

  Ellen was the most appalled. She came out to the car and leaned over to see if Tom had actually done something that stupid. He had. She said, “What on earth made you do this stupid thing?”

  “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

  “Good heavens! One woman isn’t worth all this effort!”

  “You are.”

  “No. I’ve decided I’m healed and it’s time for me to move on.” She was aloof and quite cool about the words.

  The murderer was between the couple by then, and he was turning his head from one to the other as if he was at a tennis match. He was silent.

  Tom told Ellen, “I was so anxious to get to you that I forgot my body isn’t well enough to be doing this. I’m about—”

  He fainted.

  The murderer thought Tom was especially smart to handle the woman in that manner. But then he looked at the milk white face of the man and thought maybe he really had fainted! He took over.

  That’s when the murderer knew Ellen really loved Tom. She became appalled, hysterical and frantic. She thought Tom was dead—and it was her fault!

  The murderer said offhand in his regular voice, “He’s okay.”

  Ellen was just about hysterical. She pulled Tom’s head against her breast and wailed.

  Beyond them, John Keeper had grabbed his wife, Mina, back to him and kept her in his arms. The tears rolled down her face but she was silent and still.

  That was when the murderer looked around at all the frozen people who were witness to this drama. But it was only then that the murderer understood that it was a drama! He watched. Nobody moved.

  Ellen quite obviously thought Tom was dead. She held him against her and wept.

  The murderer again said to Ellen, “He’s okay. He’s just not used to getting around this much yet.”

  She looked at the murderer and begged, “Help me get him to bed.”

  The murderer said, “Okay.” Then without any seeming effort, he lifted the bulk of Tom into his arms. One arm was out stiff in its cast and one leg was straight in that cast. With that done, the murderer stood there. He asked, “Where’d you want him?”

  Ellen replied, “My room.”

  Nobody said nothing a-tall, but the murderer did inquire, “Where’s that?”

  Ellen replied instantly, “This way.”

  She led the way and all the people followed along after the murderer who carried the unconscious Tom quite easily.

  The murderer was the one who put Tom into Ellen’s room—and on her bed. He tidied the patient. He left the better blood colored man to the hovering woman. He said to her, “If you need me, just whistle.”

  Her big, serious eyes came to the murderer and she asked, “What sort of whistle?”

  He put the tip of his thumb and middle finger into his mouth and blew a very subtle whistle. “That’s if I’m in the hall. If I’m farther, you really blow, and I’ll come amnning.”

  “Thank you.”

  The murderer smiled. Then he went into the hall and observed the people there. He told the Keepers, “Tom’s okay.”

  John smiled but Mina couldn’t stop the tears. Her husband held her. The others spoke softly and reassuringly to each other. Some left, some went into the living room to sit and discuss what all had happened. And there were those who actually went back to work.

  Tom was better than he pretended. He loved being in her room. In her bed. She would crawl in after her bath, and she’d be stark naked. He’d gasp. She’d laugh down in her throat.

  Tom said, “I believe it will be some long time until I’ll say I’m well enough to get out of bed.”

  “Oh?” she inquired. “Just what did you have in mind to do—in bed?”

  He had to show her what all. He was very particular, careful, slow and scandalous!

  Her body loved it all. Her laugh was soft and personal and wonderful to his ears.

  He slept a lot.

  How strange to see a sleeping man who couldn’t quit smiling. Odd.

  One brief time when Ellen was out of the room, Tom told the murderer, “I have to salute you. You are the most clever man I’ve ever encountered. Thank you.”

  The murderer smiled.

  Tom then looked at the murderer and inquired, “What is your name?”

  “Ralph.”

  Tom said, “Ahhh,” and nodded. Then he asked, “May I call you by name?”

  The murderer whose name was Ralph smiled but he licked his lips as if he wasn’t amused. He said, “Sure.”

  Being in Ellen’s room was heaven. She slept carefully next to him as he recovered...one way or another. She was so kind. But Tom still had Ralph bathe him.

  Ellen said, “If I can do all those other things with you, how come I can’t give you a bath?”

&nb
sp; He explained gently, “We’d never get out of the room!”

  She grinned and lowered her eyelids.

  He said, “How come you wanted to leave me?”

  “I thought you were just...using me.”

  “Now you know how much I care about you? How much I love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I think maybe I’ll just do that.”

  “I love you, Ellen.”

  “Oh, Tom, how could I be so lucky as to have found you?”

  “I think it was a miracle.”

  A few days later, the still fragile Tom and the gentle Ellen were on the side porch in the shade. They were reading and sharing what they found interesting. The time was precious, lazy and very nice. Tom was on a lounger and there was an umbrella over him to keep the sun under control.

  The murderer, Ralph, came out and with some distaste said to Ellen, “There’s a guy who’s come to see you. I don’t like him. Why don’t I just tell him you’re not here.”

  She asked with some curiosity, “Who is it?”

  “He says his name is Phillip. He didn’t give me a last n—”

  “Phillip? Phillip! He’s here?”

  Tom looked over at Ellen. He understood this was an important moment for her. And there he was, still in casts. How was he to defend his right to this woman if that other man could upset her that much?

  Tom tried to get up off the lounge. He said, “I want to shatter his face.”

  She smiled at her love. “I wouldn’t have you touch him.”

  Those very words she said to Tom scared the—

  But she continued, “You’re mountains taller than he. I won’t have you dirty your hands on such.”

  Ralph said, “Let me. I know exactly how to do something like that. We learn to handle recalcitrant pilgrims.”

  Tom gasped, “You’re dangerous with others?”

  Ralph smiled in a wonderfully nasty way as he said, “Yeah.”

  Twice shaking one finger at him, Ellen told Ralph, “You don’t touch anyone unless I tell you. Understand?”

  Ralph smiled not at her but over at the fragile Tom—sharing the anticipation of a revenge and said, “Yes’um.”

  “I mean it!” she warned.

  Ralph nodded with total innocence as he promised, “I hear you.” That was no promise at all.

  It was—the murderer—Ralph who went out to escort the visitor Phillip out to the lounger and the beauty who was with him.

  Tom felt excessively possessive.

  The guest came walking toward them. Phillip was tall and his features were perfect. His body was perfect. He walked like a man. He acted like a perfect one.

  Tom tasted stomach bile. What an awful time for a man to be hampered by casts. How was he to defend his woman and give her the satisfaction of rearranging Phillip’s face?

  Tom looked over at the calm murderer. Ralph wasn’t involved enough to really wipe the dust with this approaching damned snot.

  Tom sat. He had no choice.

  Ellen also sat. She observed this person who approached. What had she seen in him? Why had she ever cared...about him? How interesting.

  But the murderer stood blocking his chair. It was not in a courteous manner. He was dangerous. He was like an uncoiling, very chancy spring.

  That did catch Phillip’s eye. But he discarded the stranger’s conduct and looked past the invalid to Ellen. “Hellol” he smiled and was confident of a courteous greeting in return.

  She said nothing. She sat and watched Phillip. It was as if she monitored him. Debit side.

  How strange, she thought, to meet an old lover and wonder what the dickens she’d ever seen in such a wimpy mess?

  Phillip found a chair and brought it over to the three. Two sitting and one standing. The standing one was not being courteous. He looked hostile.

  Phillip smiled somewhat at the hostile one, then dismissed him entirely and looked at Ellen. That meant he’d not only discarded Ralph, he ignored the invalid entirely as no problem.

  Phillip said, “You’re looking well.” He smiled.

  Ellen didn’t move a muscle. She considered Phillip. She wondered what about him had lured her? She blinked her eyes thoughtfully and considered him further.

  There was silence.

  Phillip looked around and smiled. He said, “How’d you find such a place? It’s perfect for a holiday.”

  No one replied.

  But the three all had their eyes riveted on Phillip. That was obvious.

  Phillip was confident He asked, “You gonna invite me to lunch?”

  Ellen gasped.

  The two watching men said in unison as if practiced, “No.”

  Phillip laughed! And he had the stupid audacity to exclaim, “I’m no threat.”

  While the two men growled, Ellen said, “No.”

  Now, did she say “no” that the intruder was no threat? Or was she saying “no” to the two hostile men?

  Neither of the hostile ones cared which she meant, they just watched the invader... unkindly.

  Ellen took a deep, slow, patient breath. Women simply do not need to deal with men who are hostile to one another. If Phillip had been hostile to her, she might have been glad the two protectors were there. But Phillip was never hostile. He had left her. Vanished.

  She inquired kindly, “What brought you out this way? How do you know the Keepers?”

  “Your mother wouldn’t tell me where you were, so I asked your friend, Jeannie. She told me.” He smiled confidently.

  Ellen considered their surprise guest. She asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I just thought I’d check up on our kid.”

  It was probably the “our” kid that sent Ellen—emotionally—right up to the top of the oak beside them. Her breath changed. Her eyes changed. She became a very basic woman.

  But it was Tom who said in a deadly voice, “Why are you curious...now?”

  Phillip smiled kindly and explained. “I’ve had a vasectomy.” He smiled just a tad as if they would protest such an action. No one commented, so Phillip exclaimed, “I remembered you and wondered what you did with our kid.”

  He’d again said... our kid.

  That was probably the bit that sent Ellen right over the edge. She breathed quite obviously. She was trembling. She was furious!

  So was Tom.

  He made a foolish effort and rose to his feet! He stood there—riveted!

  Ralph said to Tom, “Allow me.” Then he moved toward Phillip.

  Ellen said calmly, “No, Ralph. Sit down, Tom.”

  They both looked at the woman. She was calm. She looked at them quite in control not only of herself, but of them!

  That irritated the hell out of them.

  She watched Ralph help Tom to sit down. Tom was not in that mood and was difficult. Ralph insisted. Tom had no choice. He was furious!

  Then Ralph sat beside Tom. He looked at Ellen.

  But Ellen had risen and walked over to Phillip. She said, “The baby died inside me.”

  She quit. She didn’t leak a tear. She was calm.

  It was interesting to see that Phillip was upset. He said, “Damn!” He said, “I hadn’t known.” He said, “I’m very sorry about this. I’ll never have any kids I guess.” He sighed and frowned at nothing. Then he pushed up from the chair and said, “I’ll go along. Goodbye.”

  And he left!

  Not one of Phillip’s words was about the baby or Ellen. That selfish man thought only of himself. Ellen watched him leave. How remarkable that she had ever been involved with such a selfish man.

  Ellen tilted her head. She smiled. She looked at her love and said, “I’m free!” She lifted her arms and tilted back her head.

  “You—loved—him?”

  Ellen looked at Tom. She didn’t even know that Ralph had followed their visitor to be sure he left.

  Ellen told Tom. “No. I love you. I—hush—I hadn’t known what love really was. Sex. Bu
t what I feel from you and in myself is more than just sex. You love me.”

  “I’ve mentioned that on occasion.” He was careful and deadly serious. Women are another race altogether. Men never really understand them. Even men know that.

  She looked at Tom and her eyes filled with tears as she smiled at him.

  He groaned and said, “Ellen—”

  “I love you.” She said that. She sat there, looking at him. And she didn’t move at all.

  He shook his head, suffering, and he asked, “How can I get to you? Can you come closer so I can hold you?”

  She smiled. “I could sit by you and walk with you and talk with you and never touch you or lie in bed with you—and I would still love you.”

  In a rough, emotional voice, he said, “That’s what I feel about you. I love you, Ellen.”

  “It’s what love means.” She sat and smiled at Tom. “I might not have realized what we have—if Phillip hadn’t come and made you clear to me.”

  Puzzled, Tom frowned as he asked, “Made me clear to you?”

  “You’re not only a lover, you’re a man. You’re by me. It isn’t just sex. You love me.”

  He watched her, frowning, and said, “You didn’t understand before this?”

  “I thought I was just a good toy for you.”

  Tom sighed with great endurance and looked off at the sky quite disgruntled.

  She laughed in her throat.

  People can do that. Laugh that way. Soft and deep in their throats. Both men and women. It raises the hair roots on the other person and shivers their insides quite noticeably. It causes a whole lot of intimate encounters.

  But what the two had encountered wasn’t just sex. It was love. The mating of two lovers. It is the ultimate. The sharing of such emotion. Such pleasure. It is superb.

  It also causes children because the entwined adults just don’t consider the risk.

  However, it is not the selfishness of Phillip who didn’t even notice he had a partner. He’d used her. That’s a whole, entire other thing. It isn’t love. It’s using.

  With Tom, Ellen found out about love. About caring. About sharing. About laughter. About concern. It took them a while to understand there were other people on this planet.