Lonnie was startled at the suggestion. He didn’t like having anything at all to do with the old man, most especially anything that had to do with touching him. He didn’t like the idea at all. Stuff like that was what Will did, and sitting here entertaining and admiring a woman was what Lonnie did.
But Ruby Dee fixed him with a look. “You have to. He needs help, and he won’t let me touch him.”
Lonnie was confused by her manner. He had not expected her to press him in any way. He didn’t like being ordered but he didn’t want any arguing, either. He’d had all the arguing he could stand. He stood, stretching. “I think I ought to go check on Will first.” Maybe he could get Will to come in to see to the old man.
Lonnie stepped out the back door. The breeze had died, leaving the air still and warm and filled with heavy scents. The sun was setting in a ball of fire, late, the way it did on a summer night, and cast a golden glow over the house, barns and horses behind the weathered fence... and over Will, atop the ornery blue roan in the training pen.
He’d been there since he had stalked out of the house that afternoon. Now he was trotting the horse in circles. As Lonnie neared the pen, he saw the horse was lathered and Will’s shirt and hat were soaked with sweat. But if either of them was tiring, it wasn’t apparent. The stud’s tail was still high and swishing, his ears were still back, and Will’s muscles were still taut.
Lonnie climbed up on the rails, straddling the top one. He saw the cut on his brother’s cheek was real swollen. Will didn’t look at him, just kept the horse moving.
“Ruby Dee made a great supper—fried chicken and corn bread and beans. Apple pie, too.”
Will stopped the stud, tugged on the hackamore reins and backed him up a step. “I smelled it. Where’d she get the chicken?”
“From her own refrigerator, in her camper. She’s using a lot of her own groceries. Said she has to use ‘em, or they’d spoil, you know.”
Will pulled a cigarette from his pocket. It was bent, but he stuck it between his lips anyway. Will smoked those cigarettes bent half the time. “Did the old man eat?” he asked.
“She told him she was going to stuff it down his throat if he didn’t. I don’t know if it was that, or if it was just such dang good food, but the old man ate.” Lonnie debated with himself, and then said, “She says he’s drinkin’ from a bottle hidden under his pillow.”
Will looked at him a minute, then lit his smoke. Lonnie waited for him to comment about the old man’s bottle, but he didn’t.
Lonnie said, “She saved you a plate.”
Will lifted the reins. “I’ll be in later.”
That irritated Lonnie. “What about the old man?”
Will bumped the horse’s side and moved him at a slow walk. “I hired the gal to take care of him. And you’re in there to give her a hand if she needs it, aren’t you?”
“Yeah...I can give her a hand.” The way Lonnie saw it, he’d been doing his part, and now Will ought to quit sulking and get in there and do his. “You gonna stay out here all night?”
“Might,” Will said.
He bumped the roan faster. The horse humped his back and fought the hold Will had on his head. Then he managed to rear up. While he was up, Will stepped neatly out of the saddle to the ground, holding the reins and pulling that roan right over backward. It wasn’t so good on a saddle, but such a maneuver did put a horse in his place. The trick for the man was to be able to step out of the saddle before he got the horse on top of him. Will did it better than most.
The horse scrambled to his feet and shied in a circle, but Will jumped back into the saddle, and they went at it again.
Men got themselves killed on stubborn horses like this one. Lonnie didn’t know why Will was even messing with him. There were six other horses up at the horse barn that could use training, true quarter horses bred right there on the ranch and worth real money.
Lonnie said, “If you’re gonna work all night, you’d better turn on the light out here. You’re liable to have that horse fall back on you and squash you right to hell.”
“I don’t imagine light will keep that from happenin’,” Will said in that distant manner that made Lonnie want to fly over and grab him by the throat.
He wanted to yell at Will that he didn’t need him, but he knew that would betray how he really felt, and he wasn’t about to do that. He clamped his jaw shut tight as Will’s, climbed down off the fence and strode back to the house.
It all made Lonnie mad and more unsettled than ever. He wondered if Will was really going to leave, like he’d told the old man. Lonnie couldn’t imagine that. But Will had never before threatened to leave. Never. And he sure was acting different than he ever had.
Lonnie wondered what he would do if Will did leave the ranch.
He came back into the kitchen. “Will said he’d be in later.”
Ruby Dee nodded but didn’t look at him. She was wiping the coffee maker.
“I guess I’ll go check on the old man.” He hoped she would tell him not to bother, but she just asked him if he wanted her to heat him up a cup of coffee before she poured it out. She didn’t smile. She wasn’t one for smiling a lot, but her voice had a warm, gentle sound.
“No...thanks just the same.”
Lonnie went through the darkened house toward the old man’s room, thinking how he had always made it a point to stay away from the old man. Helping him into the house that day was the first time he had touched the old man since he’d been a boy.
Suddenly he recalled the day his mother left. He had been five. That day he had come into the kitchen and found the old man crying, with Will patting his shoulder. For a moment, Lonnie had thought maybe the old man was having some sort of attack, because he wasn’t making a sound, but his big chest was shaking. Oh, the old man had been big to Lonnie back then. Formidable. Why, Lonnie had once seen him take on a bull and knock the animal to the ground with one smack of a club. Now he sat, leaning heavily on the table, great, soundless sobs shaking his body.
Then the old man had wrapped an arm around Will and pulled Lonnie to him, too. Lonnie had started bawling. Will had started saying how they didn’t need their mama anyway, and he patted Lonnie. Lonnie hadn’t even been thinking of their mama; he’d been scared to death by the old man.
When he peeked into the bedroom, he thought at first that his dad was asleep. But then the old man raised his head and said, “I ain’t dead yet, so you can quit flyin’ over me like a lazy buzzard.”
“I came in here to see if you needed or wanted anything,” Lonnie said hotly. He might not have answered so smartly, but the old man was stove up in the bed, and Lonnie was a safe distance away.
“Aw...you ain’t never cared what I might need or want. What—you tryin’ to impress the hussy?”
“I sure didn’t come in here because I wanted to. She sent me to see if you might need to get up and go to the bathroom. And there’s no call to go insultin’ her. She’s not done anything but be good to you."
“Uhh! I’ll tell you a few things, boy....” He leaned forward. “I ain’t noticed you havin’ truck with no woman that ain’t a hussy, and I can say whatever I want in my own house...and when the time comes that I need you or anybody else to get me to the bathroom, I’ll blow my brains out.”
Lonnie swallowed and made a fist. The old man looked at him with pure hatred, eyes glittering like he’d gone mad. A chill swept through Lonnie, because he knew the old man meant exactly what he said.
Then the old man, who hadn’t wanted anything, said, “Before you go on back to your sparkin’, get me your crutches we keep handy in the closet underneath the stairs.”
“They’ll be too tall for you,” Lonnie said, bringing the crutches. He adjusted them the best he could.
Next the old man had him shift the roll underneath his hurt ankle and open the window.
“The air conditioning is on,” Lonnie said and immediately wished he hadn’t.
The old man barked that he didn’
t care one iota, he wanted the window open. “And go get me that pee bottle I got in the hospital the last time I was there.”
Lonnie found the plastic bottle in the bathroom closet, brought it back and thrust it at him. “Is that all?”
‘‘Get on back to that woman."
Back in the kitchen, Lonnie strode over to the back door. “He won’t take any help,” he said. He reached up and got the shotgun that hung above the door. It was the only gun left in the house. He grabbed the box of shells kept atop the refrigerator, took the shotgun and shells onto the back porch and stuck them in the cupboard behind an assortment of seldom-used household things. The old man would have to do some looking to find them.
Good God, Lonnie fervently hoped Will came back in soon.
Ruby Dee cast him a thoughtful look, but she didn’t question him. He sure was glad, because he didn’t want to think about any of it.
She had taken the turban off her head, and her hair tumbled against her pale skin. Lonnie liked pale-skinned women.
She had the old man’s stock of medicines in front of her on the table. She was reading the typed pages of instructions from the doctors and writing in a spiral notebook.
That wasn’t exactly what Lonnie had hoped would happen; he’d been hoping she would talk with him. Instead she asked him questions about the old man.
“How long has he been taking this blood pressure medicine?”
“For a few years now. Is D’Angelo your maiden name?”
Her eyes lit on his for a second. “Yes.” She looked at the vials. “The date on this arthritis prescription is only two months old. Has he been taking it as long as his blood pressure medicine?”
Lonnie couldn’t say. He couldn’t tell her much about the old man’s health, because he had never paid much attention to it. He did tell her the old man had had his stroke back in February.
“Me and Will came back from checking the cows—they were calvin’ then. Will found the old man passed out. He seemed okay after a few days, but the doctors said he’d had a stroke.”
“Has he seemed confused once in a while since then?”
Lonnie shrugged. “He’s old.”
“He’s eighty-five, but he’s not so old.” Her brown eyes rested on him, and Lonnie wondered what she meant, but he didn’t want to ask and look stupid. Old was old, wasn’t it? Eighty-five was old...the old man was old...what was she thinking?
“Your resume says you’re thirty,” he said. “You don’t hardly look it.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you did. I didn’t mean it like that. You just seem awfully young to be doin’ this kind of work—takin’ care of old people.”
She kind of smiled and shot him a glance, but she didn’t say anything to that.
He wanted to kiss her, but he imagined she would take offense. He sure didn’t want to run her off.
Abruptly she closed her notebook and rose to put away the medicine. “It’s time for me to take a bath and get to bed. I’m an early-to-bed person.” She picked up the notebook and headed out of the room, but then she turned. “If there isn’t anything else you need,” she added, a questioning look on her face.
Lonnie could have told her about a lot of things he needed—erotic pictures flashed across his mind. And he thought that she could read his mind.
He shook his head and said no, he was fine. And then he watched her leave, with the dog trailing after her.
With a confusing disappointment settling heavily on him, he got a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. On his way up to his room, he glanced in at the old man, who had fallen asleep—or else was pretending to be. In his room, in the dark, he tugged off his boots, stretched out on the bed, propped against his pillow and leisurely drank his beer. He could look right through his doorway and across the dark hall to the bathroom door. Light shone through the crack beneath it, and he could hear the splashing of water as Ruby Dee D’Angelo dribbled it over her body— a bath, not a shower.
He imagined her in the tub, her auburn hair curling around her pale face. Her skin milky white all over. His groin warmed pleasurably, and he elaborated on the mental images. He waited to see her when she came out of the bathroom, and fantasized about her appearing in nothing but a towel.
But he fell asleep before she came out.
* * * *
When Hardy opened his eyes, he saw Jooney standing in the doorway. “Jooney?” Good Lord, he was glad to see her! His leg was hurting near to killing him, and she would make it better. Then Jooney came forward, and with keen disappointment he saw it wasn’t Jooney, but that hussy gal.
“It’s me, Mr. Starr—Ruby Dee.”
“I can see that! You caught me half-asleep.” It could happen to anyone, coming out of a dream, but everybody thought he was losing his mind. Everybody was stupid.
He’d been dreaming about Jooney. And as he righted his glasses it startled him to realize how much like Jooney the hussy gal looked. He had noticed it before but passed it off. Now he looked more closely.
Jooney’s hair had been that same reddish color, though longer. It had fallen in waves all the way down her back. The gal’s eyes were very much the same, though, dark like coffee beans, and her skin was pale as buttermilk. And, by God, she was wearing a gown like Jooney would wear—a white gown that covered her from her neck to her toes, which were bare and peeking out beneath the bottom stretch of lace. He could see the dark shadows of her breasts through the fabric.
Jooney’s laugh came to him. She would laugh and tease him when he’d gone to feeling her breasts.
He blinked. It irritated him, that this girl could look so much like Jooney. Jooney had been special.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“I heard you moanin’ and talking. Is your ankle hurtin’, Mr. Starr?”
“Aw, everythin’ on me hurts. I’m eighty-five.”
His leg, that blamed bum knee and that blamed ankle, ached like the dickens. That was why he was dreaming so silly, about Jooney. Dreaming of the accident that had ruined his leg forever, back that time he and Jooney had been riding the river, and that crazy horse had gone down with him and broke his leg. Jooney had splinted the leg right there. He’d bitten the tip of his tongue off in order to keep from crying in front of her. In his dream, though, he’d been calling for Jooney to come help him, and he’d heard her calling back, but she hadn’t come.
The gal disappeared, and Hardy was just about to reach for the bottle of whiskey behind his pillow, when she returned with her arms full.
“You can’t have any more of your pain pills, but I brought you some aspirin." She took what she had in her arms and put it on the chair, then brought him three aspirin and a glass of water. “If you’ll let me, I can make your ankle and that bad knee feel better.”
He stared at his foot, refusing to invite her to do anything at all, wanting Jooney and to be young again.
The gal turned to leave.
“Wait a minute...I thought you was gonna do somethin’ to my leg.”
“Do you want me to?”
He wasn’t about to say he did.
He said, “Isn’t fixin’ me what you’re bein’ paid to do?” He figured he had her with that one.
She looked at him for a minute, then reached for her things and went around the bed to sit near his hurt ankle. She moved his leg over to her, and he told her to be careful. She rolled up his pants leg. His ankle was quite a sight, all swollen like a melon, but then, his feet and ankles sometimes swelled these days—Mother Nature’s tricks to make his life hell, as he saw it.
The gal poured something from the bottle into her palm, and then rubbed it gently on his ankle.
“What in the hell is that?” It was oily and thick as snot.
“Castor oil, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t swear."
Hardy started. That was what Jooney had said to him. She had made him watch his mouth and had read the Bible to him, too. He stared at the gal’s hands, smal
l, young hands. A chill came over him. He studied the gal, the curve of her cheek and the wisps of hair that curled to her shoulders. Thoughts of Jooney came so strong that he felt off-kilter, as if he were lost somewhere in time.
“It’s an old remedy,” she said, keeping her eyes on what she was doing. “Your mama might have used it. Lots of people discount it now, but in ancient times castor bean plant was called the Palm of Christ, because it was believed to have healing properties.”
“We used it to get rid of moles and warts,” Hardy said. Jooney had used it to take warts off his hand, and it had worked. “There ain’t no warts on my ankle.”
“It will soak in and help the sprain.” She glanced up at him. “Who was Jooney?”
“She was a gal I knew a long time back,” he answered, not knowing why he should. So he added, “And it ain’t none of yer bizness, is it?”
The gal looked at him, her eyes all warm and liquid. Her eyes were so much like Jooney’s. It unnerved him, and what was worse, he thought he might cry.
He said, “Now, are you ‘bout through?” She said she would do his knee, too, if he wanted. He told her to suit herself. She did his knee, rubbing that oily stuff on it and binding it up with an ace bandage. He jumped when her hand first touched him. He felt embarrassed about her touching his bare skin like that, but the ache began to ease with her massaging. He thought of telling her to stop but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. So he settled for pretending to fall asleep, hiding himself with his eyes closed. She said something to him, but he didn’t answer. A few minutes later, he felt the bed move as she got up, heard her gathering her things to leave. There wasn’t anything wrong with his hearing, not like with his eyesight. He heard her bare feet patter across the floor and head up the stairs.
He was left there thinking about Jooney. And he didn’t have enough whiskey to drown the thoughts. He wondered if he could think himself dead and set out to give it a try.
* * * *
Ruby Dee knew good and well that Hardy Starr was awake. His trick wasn’t anything new to anybody. Ruby Dee herself had employed it when she didn’t want to face up to something.
The Loves of Ruby Dee Page 6