Lone Star Refuge

by Mae Nunn

  When Lily passed away, Cha Cha was the only one other than Buster who’d grieved as Stella had grieved. She was the only one who’d recognized who Lily was, what they had truly lost. The friendship between the two women had been more than just a friendship. It had been a sisterhood. And with Lily gone, Cheryl stuck to Stella like glue.

  Because Cheryl and her husband, Steve, ran their own business, she’d been able to leave Gentry and come and stay with Stella after her mom died. She’d lived with them for a month, and Uncle Steve had driven down on weekends. One of the things Stella remembered most about that time was how Cheryl had cooked for her and Buster. She’d filled the kitchen with wonderful smells, and the house with life and laughter. Stella was hoping now that in some small measure she could return the favor.

  “Stella Luna!” Cha Cha called, using the childhood nickname that still made Stella smile.

  Cha Cha rose slowly from the swing on her front porch where she’d apparently been waiting. Stella left her luggage beside her car in the driveway and ran up the steps to meet her. They hugged for a long time.

  “How do you like my hairdo?” Cheryl took off the Razorback ball cap she was wearing to reveal the ravages of chemo. Where there had been a thick, lustrous mane of red hair, there was now nothing. “You can feel my head,” she offered. “It’s smooth as silk.”

  They sat together in the swing and Stella felt herself slipping into the easy peace that had always been her norm at Cha Cha’s. In so many ways Cha Cha was the opposite of Stella—at least the post-Lily Stella. Cha Cha’s motto was “If you can laugh at it, you can live with it.” So she did a lot of laughing at her cancer.

  She told Stella about the embarrassing bodily functions brought on by her condition. Tears rolled down Stella’s cheeks and her sides hurt from laughing. “Well, Cha Cha, I’m glad I came here to cheer you up!”

  “Me, too, baby. Me, too.” She patted Stella’s knee.

  “I do hope you feel like eating.”

  Cha Cha pursed her lips. “Do you know that I have actually gained weight since being diagnosed with cancer?”

  “Really?” Stella said. “That’s weird. You don’t look it, though.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you to say, but it’s true. You’d think I’d at least get the perk of losing these twenty extra pounds I’ve been carrying around, but so far, nope. Although I am nauseous a lot.”

  “Well, I brought lots of goodies to cook. And my plan is to fill your freezer with things that will be easy for you and Steve to take out and heat up when you are hungry.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “I just need to bring a few things into the house.”

  When she had finished unpacking her car, and transferred all of the ingredients she’d brought with her from the bags and ice chest to Cheryl’s kitchen, they sat together in the living room adjacent to the screened-in porch. Cheryl was bundled up in a fuzzy afghan even though it wasn’t cold, and she leaned back in a leather recliner. Stella sat on the couch beside her.

  “So what’s new with you? Is Buster behaving himself?”

  Stella shook her head. “Not really. Does he ever?”

  “No.”

  They both laughed.

  “In fact, while we speak, he is off to the rodeo with our new ranch hand, probably corrupting him.”

  “Is this the cute ranch hand you texted me a picture of?”

  Stella blushed. “That would be the one.”

  Cheryl picked up her phone, which was lying on the table beside her recliner.

  “He can’t be this handsome in person.”

  Stella took the phone from her and studied the picture. “He is. Maybe more.”

  “Those eyes! I’ve never seen that color before. You always read about it in novels. So-and-So had violet eyes. I never thought they were real. But his really are.”

  “I know,” Stella said dreamily.

  “Stella Jane Scout, I have never seen you act this way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you’re in love.” Cheryl smiled at her.

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But I do like him.”

  Cheryl’s blue eyes shone with curiosity. “Tell me about him.”

  “Well,” Stella started. “He’s smart, funny, kind and…adventurous.”

  “Adventurous. I like the sound of that.”

  “I know you do.”

  “It’s not a word I’d typically associate with you, though.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Cheryl grinned at her, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Just keeping it real, Stella. Just keeping it real.”

  “That’s another word I’d associate with him, come to think of it. Real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he just is who he is. I mean, he’s kind of blunt in the way he says things. He doesn’t beat around the bush.”

  “Ooh. That’s a really good quality.”

  “It is. It drives me crazy sometimes, but in the end I appreciate it. You kind of know where you stand.”

  “Give me some examples. How has he let you know where you stand with him?”

  “Well, one time I freaked out about something.”

  “Imagine that! What was it?”

  “Oh, it’s a long story but it had to do with the safety of one of my clients.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway, I talked pretty rudely to him… Okay, really rudely.”

  “Uh-oh. How did that turn out?”

  “I apologized and he accepted, but he didn’t act as if it was no big deal. He made it clear that it was a big deal.”

  “But did he forgive you?”

  “Yes. Totally. That ended up being one of the most romantic nights of my life.”

  “Do tell!” Cha Cha leaned forward.

  “Well, he climbed up a calf rope and came through the window into my room.”

  “Do I want to hear what happened next? Or will it be too much for my tender ears?”

  Stella’s face flooded with red. “It was very sweet. And fairly chaste.”

  “Fairly chaste? How is something fairly chaste? Is that like being fairly married?”

  “Oh, geez. All we did was kiss. That’s what it means.”

  Cheryl shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Really!”

  “Okay, okay! I believe you!”

  “Another time was when he told me he and Buster were going to the rodeo this weekend.”

  “Rodeos are fun!” Cheryl interjected.

  “No, not fun! I hate rodeos, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Safety first.” Cheryl saluted like a soldier.

  “That’s right. I’d be happy if no one I care about ever stepped foot back in a rodeo arena. And now he and Buster are going while I’m away.”

  “So please tell me you did not act crazy.”

  “I didn’t. I kept myself reined in.” Stella looked down. “Well, I mean maybe I did fuss a little bit.”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

  “I did. But he pretty much told me to get over it.”

  “He did? Good for him! What exactly did he say?”

  “Cha Cha, you evil woman!”

  “What can I say? We’re all in a conspiracy to help you get over it.”

  “He basically said that if two grown men want to go to the rodeo, they’re going to go.”

  “I like this guy.”

  “I do, too, even though he exasperates the soup out of me.”

  “Well, he’s right that if they want to go to the rodeo it’s their own decision.”

  “I get that, it’s just, well, I just hope it doesn’t lead to other things for Buster, or for Joiner, for that matter.”

  “What do you mean?” Cha Cha asked.

  “Joiner reminds me a little bit of Pops as a younger man. He’s very tender and kind, but he has a reckless side. I hope Pops can help him temper that, but sometimes I’m afraid it could be the other way around.”

  “You mean t
hat he could corrupt Buster?” Cha Cha choked on a giggle.

  “I know that sounds ridiculous.”

  “Yes, it does. Besides, sweet girl, you have to learn to let go sometimes, to remember you’re not in control. They’ll be okay. And it seems to me that he’s trying to tell you that in a not-so-subtle way.”

  “I know, right? I mean, he’s sort of able to say that kind of stuff to me in a gentle way. He’s gentle, but firm.”

  “And what do you do for him?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve asked myself the same question.” Stella fingered her necklace. “I mean, I think I make him happy, because he laughs a lot when we’re together.”

  “Is he laughing at you, or with you?”

  “Probably some of both.”

  Cheryl sighed. “Well, it’s good to have fun with somebody. It’s an important part of any friendship or other relationship.” She looked at Stella with so much love in her eyes. “Your mother and I had the most fun of any two people I know.”

  Stella smiled. That was true; she remembered.

  “You’re a beautiful woman inside and out. Any man would be lucky to be with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cha Cha was too tired and weak from chemo to go out and do their usual shopping, or even to get a pedicure, which they sometimes did, too. So for three days straight all they did was lie around and talk when Stella wasn’t cooking and stocking the freezer. Still, when their three days were up, it felt as though the weekend had flown by. That’s how it always was when she went to Cha Cha’s house. The thought made Stella ache. Like her time with her mother, it had just slipped through her fingers like sand. There was never enough time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  STELLA LEFT AT noon on Friday to go to her friend’s house in Arkansas. They usually closed things down at the school together, but this time she was depending on Joiner to do it all himself. So after the school closed at three thirty, Joiner made a special effort to put things up the way she liked them and tend to all of the horses’ needs.

  He and Buster were leaving for the rodeo at five thirty. The rodeo in Nacogdoches officially started at seven forty-five, but they wanted to eat at a joint Hunt recommended beforehand, and Nacogdoches was an hour away. At five o’clock, Buster was banging on the door of the RV. Joiner walked up behind him.

  “Shoot! You scared me!”

  “Man, don’t you look snazzy?” Joiner had never seen Buster dressed in anything but overalls, usually paired with a sleeveless T-shirt.

  But tonight Buster grinned from underneath a black Stetson trimmed in peacock feathers. A studded turquoise shirt stretched across his belly, which was contained somewhat by a belt buckle the size of a dinner platter. It glittered silver and gold, with a bronco rider cast in gold as the centerpiece. Bowed-out legs in tight Wranglers tapered into a shiny pair of black Justins. “Thanks. I look better than you, that’s for sure.”

  “Apparently just one of us had to work today.” Joiner clapped him on the shoulder and ushered him inside the RV. “Want to have a seat while I get cleaned up?”

  “I reckon I do.”

  Joiner grabbed a cold water bottle out of the fridge and offered it to Buster, who waved it away. “Never touch the stuff. You got any sweet tea in there?”

  “Are we in East Texas?” Joiner poured him a glass over ice.

  While Buster sipped his tea on the couch, Joiner showered as quickly as he could. Then he put on Wranglers and paired them with a dark purple poplin shirt by Ariat, with contrast stitching on the front and back yokes. His thirteen-year-old niece Carrie had helped him pick it out when they went to see The Fault in Our Stars. “Contemporary Cowboy Style,” she had called it.

  Leaving out the curved hem, per Carrie’s instructions, meant there was no need for a belt. So he slipped on his black Justins—which were matte leather, not shiny—and grabbed his plain black hat.

  “I’m glad Stella’s not here,” said Buster, sizing Joiner up when he reappeared in the living area.

  “Why in the world not?” Joiner rather disagreed.

  “’Cause you’d a had to primp a lot longer than that, and I’m hungry.”

  *

  JOINER DROVE. They pulled into the parking lot of Butcher Boy’s at six fifteen. It was packed.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you drive like a bat out of hell,” Buster said, “or we’d miss the rodeo.”

  “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

  “No, those chefs like your brother always say to ask the locals where the best food is. Judging from this parking lot, I’d say Hunt directed us right.”

  Joiner squeezed his truck into a spot that wasn’t really a parking place. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  When they entered Butcher Boy’s they found it was standing-room only. A frazzled-looking hostess with drawn-on eyebrows and too-black hair said, “It’ll be a few minutes.”

  The atmosphere was friendly, a nice small-town feel. Everybody seemed to know everybody. Judging from the way the clientele was dressed, they all seemed to be going to the rodeo, like Buster and Joiner. The food smelled wonderful. Hearty. Joiner thought he might starve, but they finally got a table at six forty-five.

  Buster ordered a chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and Joiner had a burger. Hunt told him to get onion rings so he followed the chef’s advice. When the server brought their food, Buster’s steak hardly fit on the plate. It was thin and crispy, and slathered in gravy. The burger, not too thick, was delicious, and the onion rings were the best Joiner had ever eaten.

  “How have I lived an hour away from this place all of my life and never known about it?” Buster wiped his mouth and pushed his seat back from the table.

  “It’s probably a good thing for your arteries that you didn’t.”

  “Maybe so, but now I do. So watch out.” Buster grinned. “You’ll have to extend my compliments to the Cowboy Chef.”

  Joiner laughed. “Will do. And he’ll be happy to know you watched his show.”

  “Well.” Buster cleared his throat. “Stella does. Not so much me. Wouldn’t want that to get around.”

  “Oh, it’s Stella who makes you watch it. I see.”

  “Yeah.” Buster insisted on paying the bill as they exited, and they were off to the rodeo.

  They missed the Mutton Busting, but got to their seats in plenty of time for the opening pageantry and introduction of officials. As Buster watched from the edge of his bleacher, Joiner mostly kept his eyes on Buster. The look on the older man’s face during the grand entry was priceless.

  Scores of men and women in costumes performed choreographed routines on horseback, with a stirring musical accompaniment and dramatic narration by the rodeo announcer. Like every rodeo Joiner had ever attended, it had a Western patriotic theme. To his world-traveling, polo player’s eyes, it all seemed pretty, uniquely American, traditional and also kind of funny. But Buster was a little kid on Christmas morning. This was his happy place. Seeing the older man so excited almost made the hell he’d have to pay with Stella worth it. Almost.

  The first event was bull riding, then came steer wrestling. Buster provided commentary through it all, recognizing names, both of contestants and animals. When it came time for bareback riding, however, Buster was all business.

  The announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the aptly named Colt Millsap! This young cowboy is a three-time college champion from the home of the Aggies, College Station, Texas! He’s hoping to advance to the finals with Blue Smoke. Let’s show him some support tonight!”

  The crowd erupted in screams as the chute burst open. Out came a stocky, grayish horse with a life-size cowboy rag doll on top of it. Joiner watched, mesmerized, as the horse twisted and danced, kicking its heels in the air and pounding the dirt. Blue Smoke seemed to hate his rider. More than that, he seemed possessed by some kind of horse-demon.

  Colt Millsap leaned back on the horse so that his head almost touched its rump. His hat fe
ll off in a puff of dust. He raised one hand in the air as if he was praying, and Joiner thought he’d better be. The cowboy’s bright red chaps bounced and banged up and down, fringes swaying, till it seemed every bone in his body would break. Joiner bit his lip. Would eight seconds never end?

  Joiner’s heart beat fast, he broke out in a sweat and his throat went dry as a bone. “Way to go, Millsap!” he yelled as the buzzer sounded.

  Buster slapped him on the leg. “Now, that was quite a ride.”

  On the way home Joiner quizzed Buster about everything pertaining to broncos. Buster was happy to oblige him. Before they knew it they were pulling up in the driveway at the ranch. “If you’re really this interested, I finally heard from my buddy. He wants me to come help him next week.”

  “I’m there,” said Joiner. “I’m so there. You just name the time and place.” Buster’s enthusiasm for bronc riding was contagious. It reminded Joiner of how much he loved and missed polo, but maybe busting broncs could be a good substitute…

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IT WAS ALMOST EASTER. Stella stood on the threshold of her house looking outward across the yard. In every direction, in every color and kind, there were lilies blooming. She snapped a picture with her phone and sent it to Cha Cha, who was in Little Rock for her chemo treatment. Stella hoped the picture would bring her a smile.

  The fall after Stella’s mother died, just before the first frost, Cha Cha had driven up in her hybrid. The rear was riding low. It was a Saturday and as was their tradition, Stella was sitting on the porch swing waiting for Cha Cha to arrive.

  When Stella bounded down the steps to greet her, Cha Cha handed her a gift bag. Inside were gardener’s gloves and a trowel, unusual to say the least. What’s this for? Stella remembered asking. And then Cha Cha opened her trunk.

  That weekend they planted over five thousand lily bulbs. Cheryl, Buster and Stella. Along the walkway, along the drive, in the flowerbeds, by the mailbox, in the fence rows. Cha Cha had ordered every type of lily available in the US: daylilies, calla lilies, stargazer lilies, tiger lilies. On and on went the list. But the one she brought the most of were Easter lilies. Stella’s mother’s favorite.