This time was different, and Wes wanted to be sure that he left no room for doubt in his wife’s mind that her behavior was unacceptable. Wes stood from the chair, looking at Carrie in the mirror, but not crossing the room to her. “I’ll bring your dinner. Don’t move a muscle, or that paddle will be back down from the wall faster than you can blink those brown eyes, wife.”
Wes turned and left the room, not wanting to be deterred by the pitiful reaction on Carrie’s face.
Leaving their house, Wes headed down the hill to the big ranch house. He wanted to apologize to Mama, and he needed a little breathing room from Carrie. Living a full-time domestic discipline marriage was not an easy job, especially when you coupled it with being the daddy of a feisty little girl, but Wes wouldn’t have it any other way. Smiling at the thought of his naughty little minx standing, bared, in the corner, Wes opened the back door entering the kitchen.
After a heartfelt apology, and Mama’s reply of, “Don’t be too hard on her, Weston,” Wes returned to the love-nest with a heavy basket that Mama had lovingly packed with cold brisket, sliced bread, and leftover pie.
Wes made a little plate for Carrie, skipping the dessert. The pie was for good girls and would have to wait for another day. Wes carried the plate to the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, Wes was pleased to see that Carrie hadn’t moved an inch. He was beginning to feel sorry for the little thing. It was time for some tender loving care.
Placing the plate on top of her dressing table, Wes said, “You can pull your panties up.” He sat down in the chair, watching her struggle with the elastic waist, gingerly pulling them up over her bottom and into place. The material of the rosy skirt swished as it fell into place.
“Come here, Carrie,” Wes softly said, holding his arms open wide towards her.
Carrie turned and quickly crossed the room, throwing herself into Wes’ lap.
“Ouchie,” Carrie cried out as her bottom contacted Wes’ thigh. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Carrie mumbled into his shirt collar. “I’m sorry, Wes. I don’t know what came over me.” Wiping her nose with the tissue Wes handed her, Carrie said, “Is Mama much upset?”
“No, baby. She’s quick to forgive. She sent you dinner.” Wes nodded to the food on the table. Carrie peered over Wes’ shoulder at the plate. Her brow furrowed, and she looked at Wes, curiously. Mama always sent dessert, with every meal.
“Little girls being punished do not get dessert with their dinner.” Carrie’s bottom lip stuck out just a bit. Wes saw the shine in her eyes that came when he referred to her as ‘little girl’. Snuggling in against him, Carrie whispered, “Sorry, Daddy.”
Rubbing Carrie’s back with his hand, Wes propped his chin on top of her head. “Carrie, you can't do that again,” he said sadly. “I was so disappointed to hear that you had spoken that way to Mama.”
Bursting into tears, Carrie promised Wes that it would not happen again, and he believed her. Wes murmured sweet nothings to his little girl while drying her tears.
Carrie didn’t want dinner, but Wes insisted she ate half the food, knowing that the plate would have been cleared, had he put the pie on it instead. Cleaning up the crumbs and taking the dishes to the kitchen, Wes returned saying, “Straight to bed, Carrie girl.”
“But, the sun is still out,” Carrie protested.
“The sun does not set early for bad girls. I want you in bed.” Sleeping on your tummy, with a bottom too sore to lay on, Wes added to himself. “Arms up.” Standing behind Carrie, Wes unzipped the dress, pulling it up and over her head. He hung it back on the hanger, placing it in the closet. Wes went to the dresser and got Carrie’s white cotton nightgown, the one with the pink bow, from the drawer. Once he had Carrie dressed, Wes pulled the covers back on the bed. Carrie climbed up on the stool crawling into the bed, snuggling deep into the feather mattress topper. “Ouchie,” she said, quickly flipping onto her tummy. Pulling the covers over her, Wes kissed her head. “Sleep tight, my little Carrie girl.”
The sky turned a dusty rose as the orange ball of fire rose over the Texas plain. Leaning on a fence post, Wes stared as the daily morning miracle unfolded. After Kevin’s death, Wes had taken to riding Mabel early hours when the stars were still out, returning to watch the sunrise. The routine had continued. Wes felt peace watching the morning sun, knowing it was a constant in this unpredictable world.
Checking his watch, Wes saw that it was time to leave for the airport. Pleased with the mended fence, Wes said goodbye to the sun, heading for his truck. It was a long drive to the airport, but Wes never minded a few hours of solitude, driving his trusty companion over the Texas roads.
The sun was a glaring yellow ball, hanging high in the sky, by the time Wes reached the airport. Parking, he took a moment to stretch out his limbs, cramped from the drive, heading towards the sign marked, “Arrivals, Guests.”
A nervous-looking, thin, young lady with pink cheeks and a disheveled auburn ponytail lugged a tattered, green suitcase across the sidewalk. As the young lady was the only passenger remotely close to Buttercup’s age, Wes hesitantly approached her.
“Buttercup?” Wes asked.
Looking up, a wave of relief washed over the pale, drawn face. “Yes, sir,” Buttercup replied. Her voice was high and clear, and timid. “Weston, right?”
Only Mama called Wes, Weston. Carrie had tried it on a time or two, but Wes had quickly put a stop to that. It was never a good idea to let your girl get too big for her britches. Wes decided against correcting Buttercup, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she already looked.
“Yes, pleasure to meet you, Buttercup. Let me take your bag for you.” Wes reached out to grab the handle of the giant case.
Nervously, Buttercup answered, “I have it, but thank you,” drawing the suitcase behind her and giving Wes a tight-lipped smile.
The muscles of the young woman’s arms tightened as she pulled at the case. She was much too thin. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her lavender shirt was wrinkled, and her faded jeans hung from her gaunt frame. Wes could not allow her to drag the monster sized luggage all the way back to the truck.
Approaching Buttercup as he would a spooked horse, “I’ll take good care of it,” Wes said softly. Wes took the handle from Buttercup without touching her hand. Giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Wes gestured towards the truck. “We’re this way.”
Walking slowly through the parking lot, Wes tried to make polite small talk. “Did you have a nice flight, how about this weather,” things of that nature. Buttercup only answered in nods and murmurs. Wes suddenly felt a strong homesickness for his wife. Carrie would have known just what to say. Having a light and funny manner about her, Carrie would have had Buttercup laughing by now. Since Carrie needed to be on the ranch to support Jessica this morning, Wes would try to make Buttercup as comfortable as possible.
Wes lifted the suitcase into the truck bed. Walking over to where Buttercup stood, Wes opened the passenger door for his guest. Taking one, long look at him, Buttercup anxiously climbed into the cab.
Shutting the door, Wes walked over to the driver’s side. This was going to be a long, awkward drive. The poor thing was clearly nervous as a long-tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs. Once again, Wes wished Carrie were here with him, instead of setting up decorations on the ranch.
After a few minutes of idle chatter, Buttercup took to constantly checking her phone. A look of almost fear came to her face each time a message flashed on the screen. Wes could not make conversation with her, and eventually, he gave up. Carrie was the only person in the world who could get Wes chatting idly, and Wes didn’t mind the silence. As Mama always said, “A meaningful silence is better than meaningless words.”
Keeping his hands at ten and two, Wes navigated the dusty, Texas roads back to the ranch, feeling sorry for this scraggly little girl next to him. Maybe the tender loving care of family was what Buttercup needed, Wes thought, pleased that Buttercup would be staying with Ray,
Jessica, and Evan for a few weeks. Wes hoped they could help this girl through whatever it was that had made her carry an air of sadness around her. It was a special gift to be able to get to the center of another human’s pain, and Jessica and Ray had that gift. Buttercup would be in good hands.
Chapter 3
Ray could not remember ever feeling this nervous. Anxious, yes, scared sometimes, who didn’t? But nervous, that just wasn’t in his nature. He wanted this day to be over and to be lying in bed with Jessica, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Skip the reception, skip the hoopla, and just say the words to make Jessica his wife, then physically consummate the marriage.
Wiping a cold sweat from his brow, Ray paced back and forth in the barn. It was the only quiet place he could find. Carrie had barred anyone from entering before the ceremony, but Ray had snuck in, finding respite from the suddenly overcrowded ranch. He had no idea how he was going to make it through this day, but he knew one thing, he was going to cry like a baby when he laid eyes on his bride.
The barn was an older building on the back of the property that was no longer in use, once the larger red one had been built closer to the main road. The weathered, gray building had been transformed for the ceremony.
Wes had his crew clean the place from top to bottom. Borrowing pews from the local church, the ranch hands had lugged in the heavy wooden benches. The pews sat in rows, making two sides of seating with an aisle down the middle.
The day before when Ray had picked up the brisket, Wes had brought him to the barn to get a glimpse. Ray chuckled at the memory of a scrappy little curly headed blonde standing in the middle of the barn with one hand on her hip and one hand pointed up, bossing the big men while they worked. Carrie had them hanging over a hundred strands of globe lights from the rafters, all while making sure not to crush her handmade pink paper stars that they had hung earlier in the day. The hard work had paid off, and Carrie’s vision had transformed the abandoned space into something Ray could only describe as, ‘Ranch Romantic’.
Now, Ray sat quietly admiring the carefully hung lights. The doors to the barn opened, letting in a sliver of sunlight. Wes appeared, calling out, “There’s the man of the hour. I’ve brought the sister of the groom with me.” Stepping aside, Wes revealed a pretty girl standing timidly in the doorframe of the big barn.
Laying eyes on his sister for the first time, Ray felt the tears welling up already. He would never make it through this day without his handkerchief, that was for sure.
Ray walked over to the half-sister he had never met. Buttercup looked up at him from under her dark lashes, her hands clenched at her sides. Towering almost two feet above her, Ray gently held out his hand and was careful to speak softly. “Pleasure to meet you, Buttercup. That’s a beautiful dress.”
Buttercup took his hand, shaking it, and quickly releasing it.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking down at the purple cotton shift dress. “Carrie gave it to me.”
Ray smiled, grateful that Carrie had known just what to buy when he asked her to pick up a dress for his sister.
“The color suits you,” Ray said, looking over the familiar features of Buttercup’s face. She had the same high cheekbones of his father and the same red tint in her dark hair. “You favor Dad. Sorry to stare, but I hadn’t seen him in a long time.”
“That’s okay,” Buttercup said. “You look like him too, you know,” she said, smiling shyly.
Wes cleared his throat, “I’ll leave you two for a bit. Carrie just gave me a list as long as my arm when we got back from the airport. She had a few, last minute things that she wants to be checked on.”
“Thank you for the ride, Weston,” Buttercup said politely.
“Anytime, Buttercup.” Wes tipped his cowboy hat, hurrying along his way.
Buttercup brushed past Ray, walking down the aisle. Her eyes trailed over the lights and stars as she made her way through the barn. Ray followed behind her, taking a seat next to her on one of the pews.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I was happy to,” Buttercup said. “I wouldn’t want to miss my brother’s wedding.”
Ray laughed. “Little did you know you had a brother, right? Much less that he was getting married.”
“I don’t know why Dad never told me that we were his second family. Well, I guess I do. No one wants to brag about running out on a mother and a son.” There was an edge to her voice as she spoke. “But let’s not talk about that stuff. We’ve already covered the crappy stuff over the phone.” Buttercup picked at the hem of her dress.
“You’re right. Let’s get to know the good stuff.” Leaning back in the pew, Ray turned to Buttercup, asking, “What’s your favorite color?”
Buttercup laughed. It was a pretty sound, and one that Ray got the sense wasn’t often heard. This young woman had a very serious, somewhat sad, air about her, must have been a product of life circumstance. “Purple,” she said, gesturing at her dress.
Ray found Buttercup’s presence to be calming. Feeling his nerves begin to leave his body, Ray laughed and joked with his sister. As it had been with their talk over the phone, Ray felt that he already knew Buttercup and the conversation flowed naturally. Beginning to enjoy his wedding day for the first time that day, Ray relaxed. There was just one last worry nagging at the back of Ray’s mind, he hoped he hadn’t overstepped his bounds with the wedding gift he had taken the liberty of surprising his bride with.
Halfway through his checklist, Wes stopped at the barn to catch his breath. Saying a gentle hello to each horse, Wes stopped at Mabel’s stall. Petting her tawny coat, Wes thought of the day he finally broke her. The memory of riding the mustang for the first time, galloping over the hills of the ranch, made Wes wish he could take her down to the creek bed now, and be done with this wedding nonsense.
Since hitting rock bottom with the wedding planning and snapping at Mama, Wes had helped Carrie learn to manage her stress. As soon as Wes had gotten back from the airport, he had brought Carrie out to the barn and given her bottom one last thrashing, not too hard, but enough to leave a little sting on her backside to remind her to mind her manners today.
Reaching into his pocket for a sugar cube, Wes suddenly stopped, to Mabel’s annoyance, and turned towards the barn doors. A familiar voice was singing the tune to the wedding march.
“Dum, dum, da dum, Dum dum, da dum,” the sound got louder. May gave a small whinny, bumping her nose against Wes’ shoulder.
Chuckling, Wes pet her soft head. “Here you go, girl. You’re just about as impatient as my wife,” he said, as May took the sugar cube from Wes’ hand. Giving the white star on her head a final pat, Wes headed to the barn doors to investigate.
Just as Wes reached the doors, they burst open. The sun blinded Wes momentarily. When his eyes adjusted to the light, Wes stood speechless by the sight before him.
“Brother,” Garrett shouted, throwing his arms open wide, embracing Wes.
“Garrett, what are you doing here?” At the sight of his younger brother’s face, Wes was torn with emotions. Garrett would always be Wes’ little brother and a fierce sense of protection and love was currently battling with absolute fury. What type of man leaves his pregnant fiancée stranded, disappears for months, then shows up at the wedding? Regardless of his conflicting emotions, Wes tightly hugged Garrett back. It was good to feel Garrett’s flesh and bones and see his face, just to know he was still kicking. “We haven’t heard from you, brother. What’s been going on?”
“I heard Jessica’s getting hitched. Thought I should be here for the big day.” Garrett’s wide, white Hollywood grin spread across his handsome face. Hair gelled and perfectly spiked and wearing a suit that Wes guessed cost more than the horse he had just visited, Garrett looked like himself. Which wasn’t something Wes could say about the last time he had seen Garrett. Wes’ last vision of his younger brother was Garrett leaving the ranch, caked in dirt and bleeding from the nose. They had a knock down drag out that put
their childish fights to shame. And it was all over Garrett abandoning Jessica.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Garrett. It’s a gift to see your face. I just don’t know if this is the appropriate occasion for the prodigal son to make his return.”
“S’okay, I figured as much, I’ll make myself scarce. I can hide in the back of the barn for the ceremony.”
Detecting a hint of a slur in Garrett’s speech, Wes grabbed his brother’s shoulder, pulling Garrett towards him. “Garrett, have you been drinking?”
Garrett tried to push away Wes’ hand, stumbling, and catching himself as he did. “Nah man. Why do you always have to accuse me of the worst?”
Tightening his hold on Garrett, Wes began to pat down the pockets of his brother’s Italian suit jacket. Wes’ hand hit something small and hard. Wes quickly retrieved it from the jacket pocket.
Garrett tried to stop him, but Wes was still fast, having the advantage of being sober.
Holding the silver flask in front of him, Wes eyed Garrett, twisted the top off and took a sniff. Whiskey. And the flask was just about empty. “Damn it, Garrett,” Wes hissed through his teeth.
“I just had a sip to get me through the day. You know this is hard on me, too, brother. Look what I gave up.” Giving a slightly hysterical sounding laugh, Garrett held his arms out, gesturing at the ranch around him. “My fiancée, my baby, my family, my ranch.” The laugh quickly turned to tears, then tears to sobs. Garrett leaned into Wes.
Wrapping his arms around his baby brother, Wes held Garrett while he cried. What was Wes going to do with him? Always messing things up with his selfish ways, Wes still wanted to fix the problems for his younger sibling. It had torn Wes to pieces the last time he had watched Garrett drive off the ranch, and now, he would have to do it all over again.
Despite his love for Garrett, the only two people whose feelings mattered today were Jessica and Ray. Garrett’s arrival, especially in his current condition, could only bring the couple heartache. And so, Wes would have to get Garrett off the ranch, yet again.
The Bartender (Sweet Texas Love Book 3) Page 5