If Wishes Were Horses

by Matlock, Curtiss Ann

  With heavy footsteps, Johnny went into his room and sat on his bunk, raking his hands over and over through his hair, calling himself all kinds of a fool for not accepting what Etta had offered him.

  Disappointment sliced through him. She wanted him, and maybe she even loved him, but she would not give up this hunk of land and house for him.

  The way Johnny looked at it, he wanted no part of being second fiddle to a piece of land and collection of buildings.

  Feeling in something of a wild and distracted state, Johnny washed his hands and face, put back on his dusty, sweat-stained hat, got into his truck and drove over to Beetle’s roadhouse, where he proceeded to toss back drinks in the refreshing coolness of air-conditioning, and to convince himself that he did not need to get married.

  Just when he was about to get drunk, he looked up and saw an old man drunk at the bar.

  After a minute of gazing at the miserable sight, Johnny put down his drink, took up his hat, and left.

  He drove over to Obie’s cottage. Obie was picking tomatoes. Johnny helped himself to making them each cold glasses of tea from Obie’s refrigerator, took them out and sat with Obie beneath a big hackberry tree. It was a lot cooler there than in the house.

  “I’m thinkin’ I need to head on down the road,” he said to Obie.

  “And what are you runnin’ from, son?”

  Johnny shook his head at that and shrugged. “You know, I’ve never in my life really had to make a decision more weighty than whether to have a hamburger or steak for supper or stay in my truck or a rented room. My mother dyin’ started me off on the rodeo circuit, and Uncle Sam chose me for the army and sent me to have my knee ripped apart.”

  “You can’t decide whether or not to marry Miz Etta?”

  Johnny waved a fly from his glass, drank the remainder of the tea and threw the ice into the grass. “I gotta take a lot I may not be able to live up to, if I marry her.”

  “Well, most anybody does that when they join up with another person, Obie said wryly. “I had to take on my wife’s mother, and that wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you.”

  Johnny chuckled.

  “What about Little Gus?” Obie asked, his voice growing serious again. “What will Miz Etta do about him if you leave?”

  “I’ve pretty well finished all I can do with Gus,” Johnny answered. “Etta’s fully capable of doin’ anything she wants with him now.”

  “You do know, John, if you leave, you’re likely to cause Miz Etta to lose a lot of boarders. And there’s other things. She’s come to rely on you, boy.” Obie’s attitude was definitely critical.

  “I know that, Obie.” All of it was a weighty burden, something he did not take lightly, and it hurt that the older man would think he did.

  Then Obie nodded in a sympathetic way and said, “Life’s a puzzle, son. It’s meant to be a challenge, not a burden, but I guess sometimes the two come so close together it’s hard to tell the difference.”

  After a long minute of silence, Obie said, “What you need, son, is to go fishin’.”

  “I don’t like fishin’,” Johnny said.

  Still, he went along with Obie because it was something he could see to do, and afterward he went back and fed the horses in the same manner of doing something because it was there to do.

  The next morning Etta did not come out to ride Little Gus as she had been doing. Uncertain of what to expect, yet pushed by a certain perversity to see Etta, and a craving for Latrice’s coffee and biscuits, Johnny joined Obie in going up to the house for breakfast. He sat down at the table with the three people he had been having meals with for months and spoke of the weather and baseball and that Nathan Lee was riding good enough for his father to buy him his own horse.

  Etta did not say anything directly to him, and he didn’t say anything directly to her. He watched her cross the room and bring back the coffee pot and refill his cup. He felt her eyes on him. He looked at her, then quickly away, saying, "Thank you."

  He drank his coffee and watched Etta bring Lattie Kate into the room and sit with her at the table. He noticed Etta’s skin, although darker, was as smooth as the baby’s. Then he left to begin his day that stretched before him with dust and heat and vague inward questions he didn’t understand and couldn’t answer in any case.

  * * * *

  Friday afternoon, Johnny was mending a fence when Leon Thibodeaux drove up. He came to the back door these days. Johnny watched him go inside, and fifteen minutes later, he came out with Etta, and the two drove off together.

  Curious and trying not to be, Johnny went up to the house to ask for a glass of tea and to find out exactly why Etta was going off with Thibodeaux. He didn’t have to ask.

  Latrice handed him the cold glass of tea and told him as fast as she could talk, “Mr. Leon took her over to Fred Grandy’s office to meet with a man from Oklahoma City. Some big-shot builder. It’s the same man who inquired about some land back right when the place first went on the market. He wants twenty acres up by the highway. He’s gonna chop it up and build houses on two-acre sections. I tell you, if he buys that land, Walter Fudge is gonna come runnin’ and pay whatever Etta wants him to."

  Johnny agreed with Latrice on this. “How much is this builder goin’ to pay for the land?” he asked.

  “Maybe twice the goin’ rate per acre, since he just wants a chunk. Mr. Leon said the man was not set on exactly how many acres he wanted. Maybe twenty acres, but maybe more like forty.”

  A couple of hours later, Johnny was out back of the barn, trimming hooves, when Etta came looking for him. She stepped out of the barn, and he saw by the excitement on her face that she had sold land and sold at a good price.

  For several seconds she just looked at him, as if so happy she couldn’t bring all her words out.

  Then she said, “Oh, Johnny, I sold forty acres. Forty acres for as much as sixty, and right while we were signing the papers a man called about the east section, and he wants to buy it. Can you imagine? He called while I was right there signin’ papers to sell the forty acres.”

  “I guess you got an angel workin’ for you,” Johnny said, giving her the smile required. “I’m real happy for you."

  She gazed at him and bit her bottom lip. He thought for an instant that she might be going to press him to stay and say that she wanted to marry him. He had a little panic, hoping for this and afraid of it, too.

  She said, “Should we count on you for supper?”

  “No,” he said with a shake of his head as he gathered his farrier tools. “Not tonight. I gotta run over to town and see a fella.”

  “You just go on, Johnny.”

  Startled, he looked up to see her eyes shooting fire.

  “Don’t let us keep you here. We’ll be fine, so you don’t need to put yourself out by stayin’ around at all.”

  She whirled and walked off through the barn, and Johnny stood there, watching her silhouette.

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  Within days Etta sold forty acres to the builder from Oklahoma City as well as a half section to a fanner to the east. When word of this reached Walter Fudge, he got into a panic and bought all the rest of the land that Etta intended to sell, paying the going rate per acre with no quibbling.

  Edward’s final solution to the remaining amount owed on the mortgage was to pay the bank himself, drawing up a personal loan that Etta would repay at a low monthly rate for the next twenty years.

  “I don’t want to have to deal with this any longer,” Edward told her. “The way you go at things, we would likely be tied up for a decade tryin’ to get you off that place.”

  “I’ll pay you, Edward. I promise I will.”

  “I know you will,” he said quietly. Then he gave one of his cool grins. “It’s a very good deal for me, you know.”

  Several days later, Etta was quite thrilled to drive herself into town for signing of the official paperwork for the sale of the land and closure of the mortgage. Obie had at last gott
en her car going.

  It had been over six months since she had been behind the wheel of a vehicle, and she headed away down the drive with fits and starts, with Obie and Latrice watching wide-eyed, and Johnny limping alongside, calling to her through the window instructions about the use of the clutch. Johnny was something of a fanatic about the proper use of a clutch.

  By the time she returned from the meeting at the bank, she sped smoothly up the drive and came to a quick stop in front of the house.

  “Latrice! Latrice, it’s ours!” she called as she raced up the steps and through the house.

  Latrice was in the kitchen starting supper. Etta could smell the aroma of meat and onions—the roast Latrice was cooking in celebration of their good fortune. Bursting through the swinging door, she saw Obie sitting at the table, holding Lattie Kate, and Latrice, in her lovely blue dress, standing beside him.

  Etta thrust the papers at Latrice, took Lattie Kate from Obie and danced her around, singing, “Lattie Kate, sweet Lattie Kate, Mama’s gonna love you twice your weight.”

  She coaxed a smile from Lattie Kate, and then she said to Latrice and Obie, who now held the papers Latrice had passed to him, “Isn’t it wonderful, Obie? We can all stay right here. We can raise Lattie Kate right here where she belongs. Where’s Johnny? I want to tell him. He has all the time in the world to take on new horses now.”

  She handed Lattie Kate down to Obie again, intending to go and find Johnny outside. All the way home she had thought that maybe now she and Johnny could settle things between them. She didn’t feel so frightened anymore. She felt things were falling into place and surely they would with Johnny, too.

  “Johnny Bellah’s gone, honey,” Latrice said.

  Etta, already halfway across the room, stopped and slowly turned. “He’s gone? Where’d he go?”

  Her gaze moved rapidly from Latrice to Obie. Seeing their drawn expressions, she tensed with dread.

  Latrice took a deep breath. “That I don’t know. He just came up here earlier this afternoon and said he was leavin’. He had his truck packed, and that golden horse of his in the back.”

  “You mean he’s gone for good?” Etta again looked from Latrice to Obie, who averted his eyes.

  Latrice’s expression was filled with pity. “That’s what it seems, honey.”

  “Do you know where he went, Obie?” Etta asked quickly.

  Obie shook his head. “He told me goodbye, but that’s all.”

  Latrice held out an envelope. “He left you a note.”

  Etta slowly took the envelope, saying faintly, “It looks like one from my stationery.”

  “It is, honey. He asked to borrow paper and an envelope,” Latrice said. She had not called Etta honey so many times in a row since the morning they’d been told Roy had died.

  Etta read her name written upon the envelope in a careful hand. She raised her eyes to Latrice. “He couldn’t wait to speak to me?”

  “I guess he thought it was better like this.”

  Holding the envelope tightly, Etta left the room, walked through to the stairway, where she sat without thinking three steps from the bottom. Slowly she opened the envelope and took out her own watermarked stationary. She noticed a thumbprint smudge on the fine ivory linen.

  It was the first time she could recall seeing Johnny’s handwriting. Before she took in what he said, she noticed how perfect his hand was, and that his wording was much more proper on paper than when he spoke. Still, she clearly heard his voice.

  Dear Etta,

  It is time for me to go along down the road. I have stayed longer than I had intended. You are doing fine with Little Gus now, and I am confident that you can do anything you should take a mind to do with him. You might want to remember to use your legs more. I have arranged for Bennie Nightingale to come take over my training and lessons. Bennie is that young man with the pinto that you raced. He is of fine caliber and a good horseman. It is likely he will bring you more business, too. I greatly appreciate my time spent at your farm and thank you and Miss Latrice for your hospitality.

  With warm regards always, Johnny

  A tear fell from Etta’ s cheek and blotted the Y of Johnny’s name.

  Through blurred vision, she read the note over twice, thinking she must have missed something. He had hardly said anything at all. He hadn’t said he loved her, that he was sorry to leave her, that it killed him to leave her, but that he just had to go because it was hard on both of them. How could he not say any of that?

  Dropping her head upon her knees, she cried profusely. Latrice, who had slipped through the swinging door, heard Etta’s sobs. She went back into the kitchen and demanded of Obie, “Are you sure that boy didn’t tell you where he was goin’?”

  “He just told me that he was goin’ along. And besides, if he had told me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, if he didn’t want me to.”

  Latrice didn’t know what to think. She did not know if she should be glad that Johnny Bellah had gone on, or if she should be disappointed. With a single whack, she put a butcher knife through a turnip.

  “I suppose it’s for the best,” she said bitterly, “if this is the type of man he was goin’ to turn out to be, it is better to happen now rather than later.”

  “Now, Miss Latrice, Johnny is a fine man. He and Miz Etta just didn’t see things quite eye to eye.”

  “He apparently is not strong enough for her,” Latrice said. “It takes a strong man to stick with a woman moody and stubborn as Etta.” Glancing over, she saw Obie casting her a speculative grin.

  “It takes a strong man to keep up with Latrice Wilson, too, and I’m up to the job,” he said, coming to put an arm around her.

  “Not tonight,” she said firmly. “Get any thoughts of my bed tonight out of your mind. Dealin’ with Etta will wear me out.”

  She felt badly at the disappointed look that came over Obie’s face, but not badly enough to change her mind. She was put out with men in general at that minute. She knew it was not fair, but she blamed Obie in part for not stopping Johnny Bellah from going. She also thought that he did not need to get too complacent about her affections.

  The next instant Obie, holding Lattie Kate, creamy white against his dark arm, put his free arm around Latrice from behind and pulled her against him. He bent low to her ear and said, “I’m strong enough for whatever you throw at me, Miss Latrice. I ain’t the one who left, and I’m never gonna stop comin’ in that door.”

  Latrice pressed her head back against his rock-solid chest. Then she told him to sit down and mind the baby before he dropped her and broke her neck.

  * * * *

  That very evening, just at the time Etta and Obie were preparing to feed the horses and the light was golden over all the corrals, Bennie Nightingale pulled up in a red truck, bringing two beautiful paint horses. He jumped out with the ease of a very young man and ran to take the wheelbarrow of hay out of Etta’s hands.

  “I’ll get it, Missus Rivers. Johnny told me feeding time was ‘bout now, and I’ll see to it. It’ll give me a good chance to see what stock you got here.”

  Etta stood there a minute, and then she followed after him to tell him a little about each horse and each horse’s owner. Bennie listened and eagerly threw in comments crafted to show that he knew horses. He was very proud Johnny had asked him to come take over.

  “They don’t come better horsemen than Johnny Bellah,” he said fervently. “I’m like Johnny. I’ve been with horses all my life, and my father before me, too.”

  Etta tried to act pleased that he was there; she didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm. But she had to drag herself around. Johnny’s abandonment had caused her to lose all interest in her horse operation. She felt as if she had little interest in breathing, and this so scared her that after showing Bennie Nightingale around, she rushed in and held Lattie Kate the rest of the evening. She held her most of the next couple of days, too, so much that Latrice fussed at her: “You are goin’ to make that baby sore.
”

  It seemed strange that Etta’s life could be so changed and yet everything could continue along not only as normal but progressing. Bennie Nightingale proved out a charmer, as most horsemen were, and all Etta’s boarders stayed. At the end of the second week after Bennie had taken over, Mrs. Winslow caught Etta at the barn and told Etta how pleased she was with him.

  “Bennie has gotten my Amy interested in ridin’ again,” she said in her very cultured Virginia accent. “He is so encouragin’, where Johnny had become a little discouragin’. Bennie really knows how to sweet-talk a woman,” she added with a womanly smile.

  Etta had indeed noticed how animated Mrs. Winslow had become around Bennie. The woman had taken to putting her hair in a ponytail, the same style as her daughter wore.

  “Yes, and Bennie’s equally good with horses,” she replied dryly.

  As Johnny had believed, Bennie did bring in a couple more customers he had already been working with. Very shortly, all the stalls in the barn were occupied, and several more of the small corrals employed.

  Bennie mentioned that more corrals would need to be built. He could not be expected to build them, however, or make any repairs. He drove over each morning from where he lived with his parents and returned there each evening, and in between he ate and breathed horses, with no eye for anything else. Obie’s private opinion was that Bennie did not know the name of any tool that was not connected with dealing with a horse.

  Nathan Lee, Obie’s nephew, could help with feeding horses and some less-strenuous chores, but he was too young to be expected to sling hay bales. He could manage to drive the tractor and pull the trailer, while Obie and Etta loaded the bales from the field, something Johnny had helped do during the previous two cuttings.

  Leon came out one afternoon while Etta was doing this. He drove his Cadillac across the clipped alfalfa.

  “Good God, Etta,” he said immediately, “you don’t need to be out in the field like this.” His eyes fell on her bare arms sticking out from her sleeveless shirt. Etta followed his gaze and saw how tanned, sinewy, and hard her arms were.