You Can Have My Heart, but Don't Touch My Dog

by Dixie Cash

  Giving her a look, he walked right up to the cow and slid the loop over her head. “Then you oughtta know that mamas can be ornery when it comes to strangers around their calves. I’ve seen many a man put on the fence because he got too close.”

  He tugged and sweet-talked the cow, coaxed her toward the edge of the pavement. The calf followed.

  “Well, at least I stopped,” Sandi called after him.

  “I was checking to see if I could spot where she got out,” Nick yelled back. “I didn’t notice a break in the fence before that curve, so I figured it must be ahead of me.” He flashed a grin in her general direction.

  Every female cell in her body swooned. She hated that her body reacted this way.

  “Did you find the break?” she finally asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  Silence as he walked the two animals past her and up the side of the road.

  “Are you going to fix the fence?”

  Good Lord, why don’t I just shut up and be on my way?

  “Yes, ma’am,” he called back over his shoulder. “That’s my plan.”

  She couldn’t help admiring the excellent view of his backside. Tight Wranglers hugging his tight bottom. He was the stereotypical cowboy. She was the first to point out, having lived in West Texas all of her life, that there were cowboys and then there were damn fine cowboys. The one leading a cow in front of her definitely fell into the latter category.

  “Always good to have a plan,” she yelled.

  Nick stopped suddenly and turned to face her. He thumbed his hat back, hitched his hip and cocked his knee. Oh, my God. John Wayne. Seconds turned into an eternity. “Speaking of plans,” he drawled, “is it your plan to stand in the road and get run over? Do I need to get another rope?”

  Sandi’s jaw dropped. Her cheeks flamed. The very nerve!

  She flung back her hair, turned sharply and stomped back to her SUV. “What an asshole.” She jerked the door open and slid behind the wheel. “Did you hear him, Jake?”

  “What the fuck?” Jake squawked.

  “You’re exactly right, Jake. He talked to me like I didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.”

  Jake fluffed his feathers. “Don’t let me get wet. Don’t let me get wet.”

  She started the engine, jerked the SUV into gear and roared past Mr. Nick Conway as Jake squawked loud enough to wake the dead, “What an asshole! What an asshole!”

  ***

  Nick watched the SUV growing smaller against the horizon. He could have sworn she had called him an asshole. Not the first time a woman had expressed that opinion. It usually resulted because he kept attractive women who were the type to be looking for a steady attachment at arm’s length. He could spot them a mile away.

  His heart had been broken twice—once in the fifth grade when Miss Taylor had come back from Christmas break showing off an engagement ring and again ten years ago when he’d come home from work early and caught his former wife in bed with a former friend. Both times, he had sworn he was finished with women.

  He had gone back on the first vow when he met his ex-wife, but when he had made the vow the second time, he meant it.

  He didn’t need a woman nagging and bugging him. He had everything a man could want. He had a truck that ran most of the time, a couple of good horses and a trailer to haul them in. In his work, he had other fellas around him for interactions with human beings. He had a woman sixty-five miles away in another town to slake his lust when need be. Sylvia’s only expectation was to be satisfied in bed and Nick had no trouble in that department.

  Most importantly, he had the ability and education to make a good living doing what he loved for a good boss. Harley Carruthers trusted him implicitly to do the right thing and gave him free rein to do his job. The Flying C was a solid ranching outfit that provided him with good pay, good medical insurance, a 401(k) and other small, but desirable benefits. It was a job that would serve his needs for as long as he wanted it to.

  Yep, the only thing missing from his life was a good dog and soon he would have that, too.

  Tugging on the rope, urging the cow to move along, he couldn’t hold back a grin. Women like that redhead were so damn cute, trying to be cool and aloof. Tiptoeing toward this ol’ cow and her calf, shooing at them with her hands. Damn cute, but she obviously didn’t understand cattle. She could have made hand signals all day long and this ol’ blister wouldn’t have moved an inch until some car or truck came along and plowed into her.

  The woman might be dumb about cows, but she was good-looking. Had hair the color of this baby calf and he liked that. Nothing was prettier than a Hereford calf.

  Chapter 7

  Sandi reached Salt Lick mid-afternoon. With the crash of the oil market in the ’80s, the small town had almost turned into a ghost town, but the businesses that had been able to hang on were recovering and the little place again hummed with activity. A surge in new drilling had the entire Permian Basin enjoying a smaller scale version of a way of life that had been stalled for decades.

  Sandi came to a stop near the Styling Station’s front door and looked at her passenger through the rear-view mirror. “Jake, listen to me now. This is going to be your new home. You don’t want to make a bad impression. No cussing. I’m serious. No cussing. You’ll be around ladies.”

  The bird squawked and fluffed his feathers. “Hot damn.”

  “Jake! I am not kidding. Do not say anything ugly.”

  “Jake’s a good boy. Jake’s a good boy.”

  “What are the ugly words you can’t say, Jake?”

  “Tits, balls, fuck, shit. Tits, balls, fuck, shit. Tits—”

  Good grief. Where did he learn those words? “Enough already! Those are the words you cannot say, Jake.”

  “Jake’s a good boy.”

  Sandi dragged the big cage out of the backend, rested it on her hip, reached for his plastic tub of supplies and headed for the Styling Station’s front door.

  Though juggling her burdens, she still managed to open the front door. “Aunt Ed? Debbie Sue? We’re here.”

  Edwina rushed to her, gave her a quick hug, then looked into Jake’s cage. “Good Lord, Sandi. I thought parakeets were little birds.”

  Debbie Sue came over, grabbed the tub of supplies, then the cage and gingerly placed the cage on the nearest foot stool in front of a hairdryer.

  “I don’t know where you got the idea he’s a parakeet, Aunt Ed. I told you, he’s an African Grey parrot.”

  “My God, it’s bigger than a chicken. I guess if I get hungry, I could cut its head off and have it for supper.” She guffawed.

  Jake squawked and hopped around on his perch. “Helllp! Call nine-one-one. Helllp!

  Sandi’s heart leaped. She didn’t believe for a minute that her aunt would really eat Jake, but on the other hand, the woman did have a reputation in the family for being a little...well, eccentric. “Aunt Ed! Oh, my Lord —”

  “I’m kidding, babygirl. You know I pop off. I wouldn’t really eat that thing.”

  Relieved, Sandi drew a deep breath. If she thought for a minute that statement had a ring of truth to it, she couldn’t leave Jake here. “Don’t talk about eating him, Aunt Ed. You’ll scare him. He understands what you’re saying.”

  “Riiight,” Edwina said, backing away and eyeing Jake from every angle.

  Sandi almost wished her aunt would reject Jake, which would give her an excuse to take him back to her own home. “If he’s too big...if you want to change your mind—”

  “Aawrk. Jake’s not fat. Jake’s not fat.”

  “See? I told you he understands what we’re saying.”

  “That’s amazing,” Debbie Sue said, obviously fascinated.

  “It’s fine, Sandi, it’s fine,” Aunt Ed said. “Besides, it’s not for me, it’s for Vic. And I guess a larger bird makes sense for him. I mean, he’s a big guy and all.”

  “Well, first off, Jake is a he, Aunt Ed. And he’s very alpha. That’s wh
y his former owner named him Jake.”

  “Alpha?” Edwina said, her brow furrowed.

  Debbie Sue had been circling the foot stool, studying Jake. The parrot, as if he knew he was being scrutinized, showed his acrobatic skills by climbing upside down on the travel cage’s bars, then fluffed his feathers and strutted as much as he could in the cage’s limited space. Debbie Sue finally straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “I love it. I think it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really, y’all,” Sandi said. “He’s not an it. He’s a he. I’m not sure he’ll appreciate being called an it. He might be sensitive about it.”

  “Did you say it... er, he appreciates things?” Edwina asked.

  “He’s sensitive?” Debbie Sue followed up.

  Sandi gushed like a proud mother. “Oh, yes. Sometimes I honestly believe he has feelings, as well as cognitive abilities.”

  “What does that mean?” Edwina asked.

  “She just told you, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “It means he might feel human things. He understands human things.”

  “I truly believe he does,” Sandi said. “A couple of months ago, the last time we had rain, I had him tethered outside to get some fresh air. I got tied up on the phone in the kitchen and when the rain started, I heard this voice from outside. ‘Help. I’m getting wet. Help. Help.’”

  “No shit?” Debbie Sue said, staring at Jake round-eyed. “And it was Jake talking?”

  “That’s some scary crap,” Edwina added. “I mean, birds live outside. A little rain shouldn’t bother him.”

  Jake piped up. “Aawrrk. Don’t let me get wet.”

  Sandi had to laugh. “Jake, you are so funny.”

  She turned her attention back to her aunt and Debbie Sue. “I catch myself having conversations with him all the time. Just to give you a boring factoid, people who research these birds believe that the African Greys can learn up to a thousand words. And Jake does have quite a vocabulary. Of course, some of it isn’t suitable for mixed company. I’ve been trying to teach him more appropriate words, but it’s been challenging, given his history.”

  “What’s his history?” Debbie Sue asked.

  Sandi gently passed her finger over Jake’s feathered gray head. “Poor sweet baby. He lived in a biker sports bar in Odessa until he was rescued by the SPCA and taken to We Love Animals. Everyone was amazed he survived in that environment. His owner let the customers buy him beer and pizza. On top of that, my friend at WLA told me the poor thing witnessed a murder. Apparently, that bar was a wild place.”

  “A real murder?” Debbie Sue said.

  “Can you believe it? The cops actually questioned him and Jake told them all about it, even who did it. But the judge wouldn’t let him testify in court. He ruled that testimony from a parrot wasn’t credible.”

  “Wow,” Debbie Sue said. “Why would he think that? I’d believe a parrot if he was an eyewitness and told me something.”

  “Well, yeah. Me, too.” Edwina added. “I mean, this is a beauty shop. I’d come as close to believing a parrot as I would some of the human shit that gets shoveled in here every day.”

  “Shoveled shit. Shoveled shit,” Jake squawked.

  “Oh, my Lord, Aunt Ed. You just taught him some more dirty words. He seems to learn the bad words fast.”

  “If he lived in a bar, I’ll bet he learned some great pick-up lines,” Debbie Sue said, giggling.

  “Uh-huh.” Sandi turned to the parrot. “Jake, say something nice to the nice lady.” She emphasized the word “nice,” hoping he remembered her admonishment back in the car.

  Jake whistled what sounded like a wolf whistle and cocked his head. “Hey, babe. Nice tits. Let’s blow this joint.”

  Sandi's hand shot out to cover Jake's beak. “Oh, Debbie Sue, I am so sorry. I just never know what he’s going to say. Tits is one of the bad words I told him not to use.”

  But evidently Jake hadn't offended Debbie Sue. She clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, I love him. I wish you weren’t taking him, Ed. I think I might have to.”

  “Fourth and ten, fourth and ten. Bring in the kicker,” Jake chanted.

  “Oh, my God,” Aunt Ed said. “Those are football words. You say he lived in a sports bar?”

  “Who’s your favorite team, Jake?” Sandi asked him. “Who do you root for?”

  “Go, Cowboys. Go, Rangers.”

  Jake was putting on a show. Sandi’s chest filled with pride. She and Debbie Sue laughed together, but Aunt Ed hung back.

  “Ed, what’s the matter with you?” Debbie Sue asked. “You haven’t said anything to him. This is such a good idea for Vic. He’ll love him. Ed, come say something to him. Ask him something.”

  Edwina stayed across the room, watching closely, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Is that all he says? Stuff about sports? Vic isn’t much of a sports guy. He watches the military channel.”

  As if he were auditioning, Jake squawked, “Mr. GQ Cowboy. What an asshole. What an asshole.”

  Debbie Sue straightened, a bemused expression on her face. “What does that mean?”

  One thing that Sandi had learned about African Greys was that they were unique mimics and Jake had proved it. Sandi had feared he might repeat the words he heard her say out on the highway. Warmth flashed in her cheeks. “It was just someone we met on the road.”

  Edwina came forward. “Oh, really, niece-of-mine. So who’s the GQ Cowboy? Anyone we know or better yet, anyone you know?”

  Sandi told the story of the trip down from Midland and the encounter with the cow and calf standing in the middle of the highway. With her Aunt Edwina well known for her meddling and matchmaking, she left out the fact that she had seen GQ Cowboy before and he had left her weak-kneed. And that she even knew his name.

  “He put a rope around her neck and led her away, end of story,” she said in conclusion. “Not much to tell.”

  “I know that sharp curve,” Debbie Sue said. “That fence runs along the Carruthers ranch. Must have been one of Harley’s cows.”

  Edwina brightened. “Must’ve been one of Harley’s ranch hands. It was him, Debbie Sue. I’ll bet it was him.”

  “Who?” Sandi asked, looking from Debbie Sue to Edwina. “Who do you think it was?”

  “We don’t know.” Edwina winked. “But we’re working on finding out. Hey, speaking of men, how’s your boyfriend doing these days? I read in the paper that he’s defending the bad guy that murdered that elderly woman, Mrs. Bean.”

  “Allegedly, Aunt Ed. Innocent until proven guilty Richard keeps reminding me.”

  “But the bad guy confessed,” Edwina said.

  “He told Richard he only confessed because he was afraid the cops were going to beat him up.” She shrugged. “Now he says he’s not guilty.”

  “And I suppose him being seen leaving Mrs. Bean’s house at the time of the murder, her belongings found in his car and his blood a DNA match to some that was taken from the crime scene is all allegedly,” Edwina replied.

  Debbie Sue raised her head from studying Jake, “I heard Buddy talking to somebody on the phone. There’s some problem with how the DNA was obtained. They may have to throw it out.”

  Crap, Sandi thought. So that’s what Richard is working on.

  Aunt Ed’s hands rested on her skinny hips, her arms akimbo. “I sure as hell hope Richard doesn’t get him off.”

  Jake fluffed his entire body and screeched, “Dickhead. Dickhead.”

  “Did he say dickhead?” Debbie Sue asked, round-eyed.

  Sandi’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m afraid he did. That’s what he calls Richard. Don’t ask me why.”

  Aunt Ed broke into peals of laughter. She grabbed a Kleenex from her station and wiped away tears, then moved close to the cage and squatted to eye level with the bird. “Maybe he’s got a sixth sense. Maybe you’ll do after all, Jake. A plain-spoken bird could come in handy. What do you think, Jake-O? Want to go home with me?”

  Jake
turned his head sharply and stared at her for several seconds. “Not tonight, Q-Tip. I ain’t had that much to drink.”

  Sandi slapped her palm against her mouth. “Oh, my Lord, Aunt Ed. I’m so sorry. Like I told you, I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth.” She turned to Jake and pointed her finger at his beak. “Bad Bird. That was ugly.”

  Jake squawked. “Ugly. Tits, balls, fuck, shit...”

  ***

  Later, as her aunt snipped away at her hair, Sandi made eye contact with her in the mirror. “Where are you going to keep Jake, Aunt Ed?”

  “In his cage, I guess.”

  “I was going to talk to you about that. He needs more space than that. At my house, he has his own room. I turned my guest bedroom that I was using for an office into his room. I was hoping that since you and Vic don’t have kids living with you, maybe you’d have that much space to give him.”

  “Hells bells, it never dawned on me that he’d have to have his own room. I guess he could have my craft room. I’d have to move out all my stuff. I mean, I would want him crapping all over everything. He does crap like normal birds, right?”

  “Of course, he does. There’s nothing abnormal about him, Aunt Ed.”

  “You’ve got plenty of room, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “You’ve got one whole bedroom that has nothing in it but your clothes and shoes.”

  Edwina sighed. “Sandi, I don’t want you worrying yourself about this bird. I’m a grown woman. I can figure out how to take care of it ... er, him.”

  “And if she can’t, I can,” Debbie Sue added.

  They were trying to reassure her, Sandi knew. But she couldn’t keep from worrying.

  An hour later, her red hair perfectly trimmed and shining, she prepared to leave the Styling Station. Even before they left home in Midland, she had steeled herself to say good-bye to Jake, but as she stood at the salon’s front door ready to leave, a lump formed in her throat and tears burned her eyes. She might break into a wail any minute.

  This was what happened when she parted from all of her foster “children.” She formed a bond of love with each precious life she was appointed to watch over and each separation was a bittersweet event.