Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  Waving his hand again, Beau said, “I get along fine with Luca. We chew the fat when we see each other. But about five years ago when Reba died, I sold off another 50 acres. It was getting harder to have workers, and I sure as hell ain’t getting any younger. My son… well, my son doesn’t work the farm.” Beau’s eyes brightened. “But I’ve got my Lizzie. And I’d do anything for her.”

  “Lizzie?”

  The crinkles next to Beau’s eyes deepened as he said with obvious affection, “My granddaughter. Elizabeth. Named after my mother. Works the farm with me, and I want to make sure I can secure her future.”

  “I’m assuming you want me to start working on the taxes for this year for the farm.”

  Nodding, Beau leaned forward and placed his forearms on Scott’s desk, holding his gaze. “Yes, but I’m hoping there’s more you can help me with. I don’t want to have to keep selling off land. Lizzie’s not just working the land because she’s got nothing else to do. She’s got farming in her blood. She’s got some newfangled ideas, and we’ve got a few more goats and damned if she isn’t talking about getting a couple of alpacas.” Leaning back, he sighed heavily, and it appeared his large body seemed to deflate. “I’m hoping you can help me find ways to save a little money and keep the farm going. She deserves that legacy and security.”

  “Is there any other family that’s involved in the farm that I should know about?”

  Beau’s expression resembled a hound dog, and it dawned on Scott that Beau was not a man to hide his emotions. Curiosity abounded, and he anxiously awaited Beau’s response. As seemed usual for Beau, he did not make him wait.

  Shaking his head slowly, Beau said, “Me and Reba hoped to have a bunch of children, but she had several miscarriages early on, and we just figured it was God’s way of telling us that was not His plan. So, we stopped trying, not wanting to have any harm come to her. By the time we were about forty, married for twenty years...” Chuckling, he said, “You can probably guess where this story is going.”

  Scott’s lips curved in response, and he breathed easier seeing Beau’s smile back on his face.

  “Reba didn’t even tell me for months that she was pregnant, assuming she would miscarry. When it finally looked like she was going to start showing, she told me. Won’t lie… we were both scared, but she delivered a sweet baby boy. Named him Robinson after her father and called him Robbie. We were older parents and probably doted on him too much, but he had chores and worked the farm before and after school.” His brow scrunched as he added, “You know how I said my granddaughter has farming in her blood? I can’t explain what that really means, except to say that some people take to farming and other people just don’t. My son? Robbie just never took to farming.”

  Scott watched as genuine confusion seemed to settle on Beau, as though the older man could not imagine someone not loving a life of working outdoors with animals and the soil.

  Beau continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think farming is for everyone. I wouldn’t have minded what Robbie wanted to do. He could farm, do mechanics, build houses, go to college. Anything he wanted to do would’ve been fine with me and Reba.” Sighing heavily, he said, “But that boy was just lazy. Bone lazy. By the time he was a teenager, he got caught stealing when he was trying to sell the items to a pawnshop. Did a few days in juvenile detention, then he was handed back over to us. We tried everything we knew… love and tough love. If he didn’t want to farm, I got him a job in town working with one of the mechanics. Half the time he wouldn’t even show up. Reba spent more time on her knees in prayer for Robbie than she did pulling up weeds in the garden. Thought he’d grow out of it, but at eighteen years old, he left, and we didn’t hear from him for several years. One day, he shows up on our doorstep with a pregnant wife. We thought he’d turned a corner, and for a few years, it seemed like he had. Reba was ecstatic, and we welcomed his wife, Jane, into our home, pleased as punch that she was a hard worker and dedicated mom.” Beau’s face brightened once again as he said, “Lizzie became the joy of our lives.”

  “I hate to ask, but is Robbie still around?”

  Beau’s smile dropped from his face. “By then, it was clear that Robbie was an alcoholic. Most of the time he wasn’t working, and we supported Jane and Lizzie. That wasn’t hard because Jane worked the farm right along with us. By the time Lizzie was about ten years old, Robbie up and left. I’m afraid we had a big fight. Robbie said he was tired of living on our charity and I told him he could start working anytime he wanted. He wanted to take Jane and Lizzie, but Jane put her foot down. Said she was tired of having a bum for a husband, and she wasn’t going to go off with him. He left, and we’ve never heard from him since. He signed the divorce papers that Jane had served to him, and even though he was my son, I was so proud of Jane for standing up for herself.”

  “I’m real sorry to hear that, Mr. Weston.” Scott often heard people’s histories and stories when they came in to talk about taxes. How much money people make and spend is so personal, and when he worked on their taxes or financial plans, clients would often fill him in on everything going on in their lives. He was not surprised by Beau’s confessions but was intrigued. “Is Jane still part of the farm?”

  “No, and I can’t say that I’m sorry. By the time Lizzie graduated from high school, Jane had met a real nice man who was a minister in Richmond. They got married and she moved there with him, but Lizzie wanted to stay with us, which thrilled us. A couple of years later, Reba took ill and died soon after. Devastated me. Devastated Lizzie.”

  The two men sat in introspective silence for a few minutes before Beau seemed to snap out of his thoughts and suck in a deep breath, holding Scott’s gaze once again.

  “I’m an old man, and Reba’s death was a stark reminder that none of us know how long we have on this earth. So yes, I need help with the taxes, and I’ll take any assistance you can offer for making sure Lizzie can hang on to her legacy.”

  Scott’s interest was piqued. Tax preparation was necessary, and he knew he was good at his job, but the idea of helping Beau and his granddaughter gave him a renewed sense of purpose. “Well, sir, I’ll start reviewing all the financials for the farm and see what we can come up with.”

  With his smile firmly back on his face, Beau placed his hands on the arm of the chair and hefted himself upward. “That’s all I can ask. And while I appreciate the respect, please, just call me Beau.”

  Shaking hands, he watched the older man leave his office, his mind already running through ideas of how to help the Weston Farm.

  3

  Six Months Later

  The hot sun was beaming down, causing heat waves to rise from the asphalt road as Scott drove home from work. He had moved from the rental condo in The Dunes into a small rental house north of town. He had finally told his real estate agent that he was going to rent until he could find the perfect house. His rental house was much better than the condo but still did not feel like home.

  As he came to an intersection, his way was blocked as the electric company was cutting overhanging limbs from a tree. Tossing a wave toward the workers, he turned down another lane to travel a different way home. With the air conditioner blasting, keeping the interior of his SUV cool, he felt sorry for the men and women who were working outside. He had planned on taking an afternoon run but decided he could wait until tomorrow morning.

  Turning a corner, he saw a wooden sign proclaiming Weston Farms. He and Beau had stayed in contact as he found numerous tax benefits that would help the overall financial status of the farm. Beau did not make each monthly meeting of the American Legion, but Scott had seen him several times, the older man always greeting him warmly.

  As he continued the drive, he saw Beau standing near the fence by the edge of the road. He pulled to the gravel shoulder, waving as Beau squinted in the sunlight to see who had arrived. Recognizing him, Beau waved as well, pulling off his hat to wipe his brow with a handkerchief.

  Climbing from the driver�
��s seat, Scott walked over to the edge of the fence, shaking Beau’s hand, observing him sweating profusely. “Beau, I know you’re used to working outside, but it’s ungodly hot right now. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “You sound like my Lizzie,” Beau chuckled. He took a big breath and said, “You’re right, though. It’s mighty hot for this time of year. I surely can’t work the way I did when I was a younger man.”

  His gaze drifted behind Beau to where a large animal was ambling toward them. Eyes wide, he asked, “Is that a llama?”

  “Alpaca,” Beau answered. “We’ve got three of them now.”

  Uncertain what to say, he was also uncertain how Beau felt about the odd-looking animal. The alpaca wandered over and nudged Beau’s hat off his head. Beau huffed, re-settled his hat, and said, “Stop that, Caesar!”

  Blinking, Scott was unable to hold back his laughter. “Caesar? His name is Caesar?”

  Shaking his head, Beau chuckled as well. “This here is Caesar.” Pointing toward the distance where two other alpacas were standing under the shade of a tree, he added, “The one on the right is Cleopatra, and the other one is Mark Antony.” He lost the battle of holding in his own laughter, and said, “My Lizzie… she’s got an imagination.”

  Looking to the left, Scott saw a separate grazing area where goats roamed freely, younger goats frolicking around the pasture. Off to the right, nestled in between several large trees, sat a white, two-story farmhouse, complete with a wide front porch and two brick chimneys on either side. Several trimmed box hedges were in front of the porch, flowers blooming between each one. The house gave off a vibe of comfort and days gone by. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the simple structure, resplendent in its simplicity.

  “Would you like to come in for some lemonade?” Beau asked. “Lizzie has gone into town to the grocery, but I’m sure she’s got either lemonade or sweet tea in the refrigerator.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to take Beau up on his offer but realized that by doing so he would pull Beau away from the work on the fence that he had been involved in before Scott drove along. To a farmer, time was money, and he certainly did not want to interfere with Beau’s business.

  “That’s a nice offer, Beau, but I really need to get home. I’ll let you finish your work.”

  Shaking his hand goodbye, Beau added, “I wanted to thank you for all your help with our taxes this past year. With the changes coming along that Lizzie and I would like to make, we’re still solvent, and I can keep from having to sell Luca more of my land.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.” Observing Beau wiping the sweat from his red face again, he added, “Don’t work too hard and take care of yourself.” With a wave goodbye and a final longing look at the farm, Scott climbed back into his car, blasted the air conditioner once more, and drove home. Pulling into the gravel drive of his small rental, he thought back to the Weston farmhouse, wondering if his real estate agent could find a house like that for him.

  Six Months Later

  Scott welcomed Beau into his office, shaking the older man’s hand, concerned to find his grip not as sure as it had been. At quick glance, Beau’s appearance was very much the same as the first time he met him. Clean overalls. Worn but clean white buttoned shirt. The corner of a handkerchief was sticking out from his back pocket. But upon closer observation, he could discern that the older man’s face was more gaunt than full. His overalls hung on a frame that was less robust than before. But when he stared into Beau’s face, the blue eyes twinkled as bright as ever.

  Ushering him to a seat, he waited until Beau was settled, making sure he had the water Mrs. Markham offered. “I was fascinated to get the papers you sent over a few weeks ago. I see that Weston Farm is now selling goat milk products. It’s still operating at a loss, but I have every confidence that could eventually turn a profit.”

  Beau nodded his head slowly as a smile spread over his face. “My Lizzie is a thinker. It’s funny because she has very little confidence, and yet, her ideas are sound. There was no way we were going to be able to continue farming the way my father and grandfather and those before them had done. Raising crops, I was not going to be able to market them at a profit with the competition from the huge farms all around. So, when she decided to get goats and those crazy alpacas, she started making goat milk products, and after shearing the Alpacas sell their fleece. I know she’s disappointed that it’s not bringing in a lot of money so far, but if anyone can do it, it’s my Lizzie. Never seen a harder working young woman, with the exception of my Reba.”

  “She sounds like an amazing person,” Scott replied, seeing the obvious pride in Beau’s exuberant praise of his granddaughter. “Perhaps sometime we can look at her business plan and see how we can make it more profitable.”

  Beau’s eyes opened wide, and he bobbed his head up and down in affirmation. “I’d welcome that, and I know my Lizzie would, too.” After he spoke, his brow slowly furrowed as he rubbed his chin. “Well, maybe she wouldn’t at first. She tends to get prickly with a lot of suggestions, taking it to heart that maybe she’s not doing very well. But I know if you met her, she’d cotton on that you know what you’re talking about. Like I said, she can be a bit stubborn, but she’s a smart woman.”

  “Then I look forward to meeting her sometime, hopefully soon,” Scott said, finding he sincerely meant his words.

  “That’d be real nice,” Beau agreed, sighing heavily. “Lizzie’s kind of a loner. She works hard and hasn’t got a lot of time for making friends. With her mom gone now, she’s even more alone.”

  “Her mother’s gone?”

  “Oh, I probably said that wrong. I don’t mean she died. She and her husband took a missionary position and moved overseas for a few years.”

  Scott breathed easier, not sure why he felt so relieved that Lizzie had not suffered more loss.

  The two men reviewed the financial reports that Beau had sent over, giving Scott a chance to clarify any points of question. After an hour, as he was ushering Beau from his office, he said, “Make sure you take care of yourself.”

  Clapping him on the back, Beau replied, “Working hard is the only life I know, and when the good Lord decides to take me, I hope He takes me quick and easy, doing what I love best.”

  Goodbyes said, Scott stood at the outer door of their business, watching Beau walk down the sidewalk toward his old pickup truck. A strange melancholy moved over him, and he shook his head, anxious to dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts that had settled in his mind.

  Mrs. Markham interrupted his musings, saying, “If you have a few minutes Scott, Lia said she needed to meet with you about the Parson estate.”

  With a polite nod toward their efficient receptionist, he walked down the hall, forcing thoughts of Weston Farm to the side, ready to tackle another client’s needs.

  Four Months Later

  Ginny McFarlane, the newly elected Commander of the local American Legion, called the meeting to order. Scott had only been a member since moving to Baytown but was heartened to observe the meeting room was almost filled to capacity. The members’ ages ranged from twenty to some in their nineties. There were men and women who had served in World War II, both in Europe and the Pacific, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, the Gulf wars, and the many deployments in between all of those.

  When deciding to move to Baytown to work with Lia’s accounting business, he was thrilled to discover the very active American Legion. There had been a group of boys raised in Baytown, all leaving high school for the military. Most found their way back, discovering that the small, coastal town had everything that they wanted as adults. With the American Legion active, they also invited former military friends who did not have a place to call home to come live in Baytown. He quickly developed close friendships with many of the members and participated in most of their activities.

  The AL sports teams for youth had been one of their most beloved endeavors. Offering all youth the opportunity to play i
n the AL baseball league had given many of the disadvantaged youth in the area a chance to participate regardless of their family’s financial ability to assist. And for many of the members, they coached, enjoying the camaraderie the teams offered. An added bonus was the way the community came together to support the young people, filling the bleachers and providing snacks for the kids.

  Scott had been athletic when he was younger… baseball, football, running, and swimming. The PT in the Army kept him fit, but it was the idea of playing on a team that brought about excitement. The highs of winning together combined with the shared encouragement when they lost. Now, with his special prosthetic, he had the ability to run again and often found that running alone allowed his mind to wander over the many changes in his life.

  Startling when he heard his name called, he realized that he had been daydreaming during much of the meeting. He was the Post Service Officer, and it was time for him to report on the newest activity plans. Standing, he made his way to the podium.

  “We are very close to our first annual American Legion 5K, 10K, and fun run. Our goal is to encourage anyone who wants to participate by having the three different distances. The kids and those who would like to walk or run for a very short distance can participate in the fun run. Those who are more used to a longer distance can participate in either the 5K or 10K. I’ve got all three mapped out and have already spoken to Mitch and Colt to get their approval and assistance.”

  Both Mitch and Colt nodded at his acknowledgment and Scott grinned, knowing that his job was much easier with both the Baytown Police Chief and the North Heron Sheriff part of the American Legion.

  “The courses will start and end at the North Heron Fairgrounds. We originally thought of including an area of Baytown, particularly the ballfield, but the runs would be limited due to keeping everyone off of Highway 13 which is heavily traveled. If we start and end at the fairgrounds, we’re able to utilize back roads that are easier to police with less traffic and provide a scenic background for the runners.”