by Sylvia Fox
My eyes adjusted to being indoors and I met Rosie. She was a black woman with a Cajun accent and a bright yellow headscarf over a friendly face. Her business appeared to be half saloon and half restaurant, and she had a handful of customers scattered about. They’d all stopped what they were doing to size me up.
As I approached the counter, she extended a hand. “Rosie. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Darcy,” I replied. “I met Monroe out on the highway. He sent me.”
“If you’re hungry, thirsty, feel like talking or listening, you’ve come to the right place, Miss Darcy.”
I returned her smile and sat down at the counter, looking for a menu. Rosie walked around the counter and looked me over, tapping her chin with her left index finger.
“Mmhm.”
She disappeared through swinging double doors behind the counter.
I looked around the room at the clientele, all male, all wearing the identical West Texas uniform – boots, jeans, button down shirt, and cowboy hat. The only variation was the color of the shirt. The hats were all brown or black, save a man in a back-corner booth I couldn’t quite see. His hat was white.
A clinking of silverware in front of me drew my attention, and I turned back around to find Rosie setting a place for me.
“Dirty rice. Cornbread. Sweet tea. Let me know when you’re ready for your pecan pie.”
She announced the dishes as she placed them in front of me. I hadn’t ordered, but who was I to argue? Everything looked delicious, so I thanked her and dug in.
The rice was filled with chunks of beef, and expertly seasoned. Just enough kick. The fluffy, buttery cornbread seemed an odd pairing, but it was perfect. Rosie had checked on her customers and returned to me with a hopeful expression.
“So good,” I enthused, between bites. She refilled my tea from a pitcher.
Rosie smiled and wiped down the counter next to me. “What brings you to Lonely Pine, child?”
“I got a little lost. I was on my way to Austin and I got off the interstate and the next thing I knew I’d gotten turned around and realized I hadn’t seen a car or a building for a while. I couldn’t get a signal on my phone, so I was really starting to panic. That’s when I ran into Monroe and Darrell out riding.”
“Has J.P. looked at your car yet?”
I hadn’t mentioned my car being broken down or having been by the garage. I was starting to get a little Twilight Zone vibe about the whole town.
“No, I just…how did you know?”
“Lester was with you when you got here. That means you must have stopped at J.P.’s Garage. I know for a fact that he doesn’t have a sister, and you’re too pretty to be that girl he’s been spouting off about. The one he claims he met in Abilene. Nobody believes him, anyway.”
Two old men appeared at the counter to pay their bill, and she went to ring them up as I dug back into my rice.
The man in the white cowboy hat got up and walked across behind me to use the restroom. My eyes followed him in the mirror behind the counter. He was tall and lean, with a slow, sexy walk. The way his jeans fit his butt made me think dirty thoughts.
“Every girl loves a man in uniform,” Rosie’s voice snapped me out of my trance.
“Uniform?” I asked.
“You must have missed his star. That’s Lincoln Sinclair. He’s a Ranger.”
A Ranger? A real live Texas Ranger? My heart skipped a beat.
He exited the bathroom and made for the door. I snuck a glimpse from the front and I was rewarded with pecs straining against his shirt, which was indeed, decorated with a star, a heroic jawline, and a heavy, sinful bulge in the front of his dark blue jeans. I almost had to fan myself.
“Delicious, as always, Rosie. Until next time.” He touched the brim of his cap as he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the street.
His voice was deep and sent tremors through a too-long neglected part of my anatomy.
Under my breath, I muttered to myself. “Delicious is right.”
Rosie chuckled at my reaction to the Ranger and went to clean up his booth. I watched him outside, chatting with another man. He had his back to the window, but the view from the back was almost as nice as from the front, so I didn’t mind too much. I wondered what they were discussing.
“Ready for that pie, Miss Darcy?”
Rosie had snuck up on me again.
“I’m so full I don’t know if I have room,” I replied. The hunk of cornbread she’d given me looked like enough to feed a family of four; I’d eaten every crumb.
“It’s included in the price of your meal, which, as a first-time customer is on the house, so I guess you can take it or leave it, but it’s the best thing on the menu, in my humble opinion,” Rose said, sliding a plate of pecan pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it in front of me. It looked like something out of a culinary magazine.
Impossibly, it tasted better than it looked.
“Oh my God,” I said, abandoning my manners and talking with my mouth half full.
Rosie beamed with pride.
I ate slowly, small bites, savoring the rich mixture with my eyes closed. The chocolate chip waffles from the other night had considerable healing properties, but this pie gave me a whole new outlook on life. I imagined a life in Lonely Pine, Texas with that Ranger, a life that involved frequent trips to Rosie’s.
“There you are, girl.”
I opened my eyes and saw him standing behind me in the mirror.
I stopped chewing and felt my stomach fall right through the soles of my feet to the floor. He’d followed me all this way and finally caught up to me.
Turtle was here, in Lonely Pine.
Fuck.
5
I tried to speak, but no words would come.
“Welcome to Rosie’s,” came the owner’s friendly voice. Turtle grunted a reply and sat down on the stool next to me, uncomfortably close.
When I set my fork down, it rattled on the plate. I was shaking.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Darcy, but you’ve dragged me all the way to the middle of nowhere West-bumfuck-Texas, and for what?”
I stared straight ahead. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
Rosie started to say something, but Turtle cut her off.
“We’re fine. Go on, give us a minute.”
Turtle took hold of my right arm, squeezing it so hard it felt like a blood pressure cuff. He hissed into my ear. “You ain’t gonna ignore me, not after I drove all this way.”
“You’re hurting me,” I answered, trying and failing to extricate myself from his grip.
“You ain’t gonna walk in here and get belligerent with my customers, or be rude to me, stranger,” Rosie authoritatively quipped, standing right in front of us.
Turtle stared her down before pulling out his wallet and tossing a twenty-dollar bill dismissively down on the counter. “I’m sure this will cover everything. Now, how about some privacy?”
He turned his attention back to me, reaching across and grabbing my chin, yanking my face toward his.
“You’re gonna talk to me, whether you like it or not,” he growled.
“The lady ain’t interested, bubba. Go ahead and mosey on down the road. You ain’t welcome here.”
One of the men who’d been sitting over on the bar side had come to my rescue. He was a serious-looking man with that same windswept, leathery skin I noticed on Monroe. He was on the small side, but had the countenance of a tough customer.
Turtle stood up and towered over him, fists balled.
“You gonna kick me out?”
“Entirely up to you,” the cowboy responded. “You can walk out of here right now or I can throw you out. Makes no difference to me.”
Turtle looked back at me, then again at the cowboy, weighing his options.
“Fuck it. If you think she’s worth losing a few teeth over, they’re your teeth. Let’s do this.”
The two men began scuffling, throwing
wild punches before colliding and rolling across a nearby table and crashing to the floor. Turtle’s bulk won the day, as he wound up astride the small man, hammering him with punches.
Patrons scrambled to their feet and rushed to their friends’ aid, but before they reached him, the deafening report of a shotgun silenced the room.
Rosie stood behind the bar defiantly, holding the weapon she’d just discharged into the ceiling. She racked it again and levelled it at Turtle.
“Step away from that man. Now!”
Turtle stood up and stared her down, chest heaving.
“Come on, Darcy,” he barked at me.
I made eye contact with Rosie, and she shook her head at me. I stayed put on my stool.
“Are you the one that hit her?” she asked my erstwhile boyfriend. Now ex-boyfriend as far as I was concerned.
“We had an argument. She came at me. Shit happens,” he explained.
“She’s staying here, where she’s safe. You leave this town, and don’t come back. Ever.” Her shotgun remained pointed at his chest.
He stood rooted to the spot.
“This ain’t over. I didn’t come all this way for nothing. Have fun with your new friends, Darcy. We can head home in the morning, or whenever your car gets fixed. Doesn’t matter to me.”
With that, he wheeled and exited Rosie’s, banging hard into the door on the way out. I watched him climb back inside his truck and slowly drive back around the corner, from whence I’d arrived.
I lay my head down on the counter and burst into tears. The last two days were just too overwhelming. Everything was catching up to me.
Rosie placed her hand on my shoulder in a reassuring fashion, and leaned in close.
“Child, you’re in a safe place. I don’t know where you’ve come from, or what your plans are, but I know that the man I just chased out of here is trouble. Am I right?”
I nodded, still face down on the countertop.
“I have the closest thing to a hotel in Lonely Pine. It’s more a bed and breakfast, but I don’t advertise it, or much care if the beds ever get slept in. You’re welcome to stay here, with me, until J.P. finishes with your car, or however long you need to.”
My options were limited. If my car wasn’t ready, I could only find Turtle and go to a town with a motel to wait, which sounded awful. I wanted nothing to do with him, nor to ever see him again. That said, without a car, I could either do some impromptu camping or take Rosie up on her offer. Easy choice.
I lifted my head and wiped my eyes. The man who’d stood up to Turtle was holding a rag to his bloodied mouth and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
“Thank you all for helping me. I’m so sorry to bring this mess and dump it on your doorstep. Yes, I think I will need a place to stay. Thank you so much.” I was so mortified about what had happened here.
I walked over and embraced the battered man, thanking him personally and telling him how sorry I was that he’d gotten hurt.
“Oh, darlin’, it was nothin’. I had him right where I wanted him!” The man and his friends laughed heartily.
My appetite was gone, so I sat and sipped my sweet tea while chatting with Rosie.
I explained how I’d come to arrive in Lonely Pine and what the past few months with Turtle had been like. During our conversation, J.P. came in with news about my car.
He told me that I was lucky not to have blown my head gasket, but that I needed a new radiator and some hoses. He could drive to Odessa in the morning to get whatever parts he’d need, but that I should expect to stay in town for a day or two.
Rosie confided that a day or two with J.P, probably meant four or five days, but that she’d stay on him to make sure he was doing more working than napping.
Monroe and Darrell came in at one point to check on me before Monroe rode out to his property for dinner with his wife. Darrell stuck around for a chicken fried steak and slice of pecan pie.
He asked me about the “man in the blue truck,” which had to mean Turtle, and why the man was looking for me.
Rosie told him she’d already had to chase one ornery fella out of her establishment earlier in the day, and that she’d do it again if he insisted on that line of questioning.
I liked Rosie.
She showed me the small apartment above the restaurant, a simple, but comfortable space.
I could charge my various devices and do some reading on my Kindle while night fell, the sounds and smells of Rosie’s wafting up to my room.
The day had exhausted me, and I fell asleep atop my blankets, in my clothes, clutching my Kindle, without dinner.
My dreams included a tall, handsome man with a star pinned to his chest.
And the one question on my mind: How had Turtle found me?
6
I woke up starving, and wandered downstairs to begin my day with one of Rosie’s delicious omelets.
“Did you sleep well, Miss Darcy?” Rosie asked, as she replaced my empty orange juice glass with a fresh one.
“Like a baby,” I said. “I started reading, and had every intention of having dinner, but the next thing I knew, it was morning.”
“I took the liberty of informing our sheriff about your friend from yesterday. The one I had to chase out of here. They’ll be watching for him.”
Ugh. Turtle.
“Any plans for today?” Rosie asked.
“I guess I’m stuck until my car gets fixed, so I’ll probably just walk around town, explore a bit,” I offered. “Anything you’d suggest an out of town visitor should see or do?”
“We have a little used book store and some antique shops,” Rosie explained. “But not much else. There’s a theater, but I believe their projector is broken. We’re not exactly a tourist trap, if you hadn’t guessed. We’re a town full of ranchers and a little oil money; mostly friendly people, but not much excitement, I’m afraid.”
I’d grown up in a small town, but this was small. But a lack of “excitement” sounded right up my alley.
“Thanks, again, for your hospitality. I’ll probably go over and check on my car, and I’ll go by those stores you mentioned. Otherwise, I think I’m stuck here, if you’ll have me.”
“Child, I told you this was home, didn’t I? You’re welcome for as long as you’d like to stay.”
I went upstairs and looked through my bag at what passed for my wardrobe. I needed to upgrade it as soon as possible, but it didn’t seem likely to occur in Lonely Pine.
I visited the two antique shops, but I was underwhelmed by them. I’m not into antiques; I don’t begrudge anybody who is, but most of it seems like junk to me. The used book store, on the other hand, was a treasure.
It didn’t look like much from the outside, but inside was an eclectic collection of books, magazines, and posters, all stored with no discernible pattern, stuffed in every available nook and cranny.
A calico cat followed me around the shop, wrapping himself around my legs to get my attention whenever I’d linger too long in one spot.
“Don’t mind Hemingway, he just wants to be scratched under his chin. Like, all the time.” The girl behind the register, a baby-faced redhead who could have passed for a middle schooler, explained about the store’s cat.
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice. I love the store – is all this yours?” I asked.
“One day it will be. It’s my dad’s. He’s in Dallas for a few days, hunting for books,” she explained, rolling her eyes. The shop was already bursting at the seams.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do to create some space on the shelves for him,” I remarked. “Is it okay if I browse a while?”
“Browse away. If he bothers you too much, let me know,” she, Ruth according to her nametag, said, referring to the cat.
I nodded and went back to the stacks. I chuckled to myself when I noticed that she was reading from a Kindle as she sat behind the counter. I couldn’t imagine her father was a big fan of e-readers. Bad for business.
My fe
line escort and I spent hours combing through the maze of shelves, and I finally emerged with two bags; a total of eleven books and eight magazines. I trudged down the street to check on my car, but J.P.’s Garage was locked and he was nowhere to be found. I peeked in through the window and saw my car sitting safely inside, with the hood up.
With nothing else to do, I made my way back to Rosie’s, eager to dig into the finds from the book store.
Halfway there, crossing the street, I got the eeriest feeling of being watched. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I stopped and turned, scanning the street and storefronts. Nothing seemed amiss, so I finished my walk, but something was wrong. My gut knew somebody meant me harm. It could only be Turtle. Once I was in the relative safety of Rosie’s doorway, I spun around quickly and searched for any sign of him, but it was no use. Everything was calm and quiet. I hurried up to my room and locked the door behind me. I spent a long time peering out the window, watching regulars come and go.
If Turtle was in Lonely Pine, he was well-camouflaged.
I read until dinner, which Rosie decided for everyone that evening meant a Tex-Mex buffet of sorts. It was terrific, as I’d come to expect, and as I worked on a third plate, it occurred to me that if I were to stay in Lonely Pine much longer that I’d need a new wardrobe not only for reasons of fashion, but because nothing I’d brought was going to fit for very long.
During dinner, Rosie introduced me to Ralph Blinn, the county sheriff. He was an older man who’d been handsome once; the advancing years and too many meals at Rosie’s had left him paunchy. I figured he must have a pretty good gig in Lonely Pine, aside from the occasional cattle rustler coming through.
J.P. arrived just before I was set to retire to my books and bed. He’d gone to Odessa that afternoon and gotten the parts he needed to fix my car, and he promised to get started on it first thing in the morning. Rosie wagged her finger at him and warned him to keep his promise or no more pie.
“First thing in the morning,” he repeated, hand over his heart. “I promise.”
“Just remember, morning isn’t three in the afternoon!”
