by Nancy Bell
“That’s right. I’ve been representing Rex Barnwell since my father retired. He was Uncle Rex’s lawyer before that.”
“Uncle Rex? Are you related then?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. It’s just, I’ve known him all my life. Dad and he were lifelong friends.”
“Oh?” Biggie tucked one foot under her knee and leaned forward. I could tell she was settling in for a long chat. “I’ve known Rex for a long time, too.”
“So I understand,” he said.
“Are you by any chance related to Hiram and Geneva Polk from Center Point?” Biggie asked.
“As a matter of fact, I am. Hiram was my great uncle.”
“What a small world it is,” Biggie said. “Geneva Polk was my mother’s third cousin on her father’s side. I guess that makes us kissing cousins.”
Jeremy’s face brightened. “Miss Biggie, lately I’ve become interested in genealogy. I’m very anxious to find out something about the Kemp County branch of my family. Do you think you could help me with that?”
Biggie grinned from ear to ear. “I expect so,” she said. “Genealogy happens to be one of my specialties. I’m the president of the James Royce Wooten chapter of the Daughters of the Republic of Texas and former recording secretary for our local DAR chapter. It just happens that I have a great deal of material on your family in my file at home.”
“Wonderful!” Jeremy took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Biggie. “I’d be grateful for any information you could send me. You’ll be reimbursed for postage, of course.” He glanced at his watch and picked up his briefcase. “Look at the time. Will you excuse me, Miss Biggie? I really need to go over these papers before I present them to Rex.” He stood up. “It’s been very nice chatting with you.”
Before Biggie could answer, Laura came back into the room. “Jeremy, Rex says he’ll see you after supper. Right now, Miss Biggie, he’d really like a short visit with you.”
8
Biggie got to her feet.
“You want me to come, Biggie?” I was surprised to find I was curious about my real granddaddy.
“Not just now,” she said. “I may send for you later.”
I picked up a magazine and thumbed through it. It was all about raising cattle, a subject I’m not much interested in. The sun had come out now, and except for the tree limbs all over the yard, you would never know we’d just had a bad storm. I got up and looked through the French door and went outside onto a stone patio with a fountain in the middle. I looked around and saw that the house was built in a “U” shape around this patio, with four sets of French doors opening into different rooms. Trumpet vines grew over the walls and snaked around the doors. I walked across the patio and looked at the grassy slope of the yard. To my right stood the barn and bunkhouse and beyond them, behind board fences, the cattle and goats grazed. Rosebud was standing beside one fence talking to a man wearing a cowboy hat. I headed in their direction but before I got there, Monica called my name.
“Hey, J.R. Over here,” she said. “I want you to meet my new friend.”
She was standing just inside the barn. Next to her stood the girl I’d seen earlier, the one who had come for Stacie. Monica didn’t seem to notice I’d turned red all over. “This is Misty, Misty Caldwell. Her dad’s a vet. He works here all the time taking care of the animals. Misty, this is J.R. He’s kind of dorky, but he’s my best friend anyway.” She waited for me to give her a shove like I always do when she says something smart like that.
All I could get out of my mouth was, “Pleased to meet you.”
Misty put out her hand. I’ve never shaken hands with a girl before, but I put mine out and awkwardly squeezed her hand. She laughed. “Don’t pay any attention to Monica. She’s been telling me real nice things about you. She says you’re the bravest boy she knows.”
“And we’ve been through some tight spots together. Right, J.R.?” Monica waited for me to start in bragging, but I couldn’t.
“I guess,” I said.
“Would you like to help us groom the horses?” Misty asked. “Dad says we need to give them lots of attention to gentle them down after the storm.”
“Sure!”
I followed them into the barn. It was cool and smelled like fresh hay and feed and damp dirt. Six horses stood in stalls lined up against one side. They whinnied and stamped their feet when they saw Misty. Misty handed me a brush and led me to a big roan standing in the first stall. “You can start with Star. He’s gentle and good with strangers. Just pat him and stroke him. After he gets to know you a little, just brush in the direction the hair grows. Like this.” She put her hand over mine to show me how. Her hand was tiny and soft.
Monica made a face at me over the horse’s back. “You don’t have to show me. I already know how.” She grabbed a brush off the shelf and started brushing the horse in the next stall.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “That’s because you spend so much time grooming that old mule your daddy’s got.”
While we worked, Misty went to a barrel in the corner of the barn, scooped out a bucket of feed, and brought it to feed the horses. “You can’t feed them too much, they’ll get colic.” She stroked the horse’s head and talked softly to him while he ate.
“Yeah,” Monica said. “A horse will keep on eating ‘til its stomach busts. My daddy told me that.”
Monica can be the world’s biggest know-it-all at times. But I didn’t say anything, just kept brushing and listening to her brag about how much she knows about horses.
After we finished the grooming and feeding, Misty led us into the tack room and opened a little refrigerator. “Y’all want a cold drink?”
We nodded. While Misty got the drinks, I looked around the little room. The only light came from a small window set high on one wall. Under it, next to a shelf piled with saddle blankets, a pegboard held bridles, ropes, and other tack. Along the solid wall to the right, six odd-looking black saddles hung in a row.
I walked over and touched one. “What kind of saddles are these?” I asked.
Misty handed me a Big Red. “They’re English saddles.”
“They’re just flat like that? Where’s the horn? And the seat?”
Misty laughed. “My daddy uses a western saddle, but the girls all use these.”
“I know all about English saddles,” Monica bragged. “I saw National Velvet on TV just the other night.” She turned to Misty. “J.R. doesn’t know much about this stuff.”
I chose to ignore that remark.
“Let’s sit down,” Misty said.
She led us to a spot in the corner, and we sat down on bags of oats. I sat next to Misty, while Monica plopped herself down across the room.
“How do you like living here?” I asked Misty.
“It’s okay,” she said, “since I don’t have to be part of the program.”
“Well.” I looked at her. “You sure don’t need to be on any diet.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ve never had to worry about my weight.”
“Your hair’s pretty, too.”
“So’s yours. I just love guys with brown hair and blue eyes. Just like Tom Cruise.”
I was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. No girl had ever given me a compliment before. “Well, uh…”
Then Monica spoke up. “Hey, J.R., how come your ears are so red? Bee sting you or something?” With that, she laughed way too loud and went out the door, slamming it behind her.
Misty just smiled and looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, and I would have been plenty happy to just sit there with her all afternoon. But I heard Rosebud’s footsteps crunching on the gravel path outside.
“J.R., you in there?”
“Here.”
He came and stood at the door. “Miss Biggie says for you to come to the house. Mr. Rex wants to see you.”
I said good-bye to Misty and followed Rosebud out of the b
arn and into the bright sunlight.
“You go on up to the house,” Rosebud said. “I’m gonna help these fellers clear up out here.”
I looked around me before starting up the path to the house. About fifty yards from the barn, I saw a large riding ring with jumping hazards set up on both sides. Around the outside edge of the ring, someone had built a cinder track. The girls were doing laps around it, with Stacie holding up the rear. Even from that distance, I could hear her whining and complaining. Grace Higgins stood on the sidelines looking at what I guessed must be a stopwatch.
Biggie was standing outside the door waiting for me when I got to the house.
“He wants to meet you,” she said.
“Did you tell him? Everything?”
“That you’re his grandson? Of course, J.R. He has a right to know.”
I followed her through the living and dining rooms, down a wide hallway paved with Spanish tiles. She tapped on a door, opened it, and went in. I followed.
The room was large and bright with wood paneling on all four walls. A king-sized bed angled out from the corner, and next to it French doors opened to the patio. A lot of medicine bottles stood on the mantel that hung over a big, empty fireplace. Rex Barnwell was in a leather armchair next to the fireplace. Even though his body looked small in that large chair, his shoulders were broad and he had big hands and feet. I figured he must have been a mighty big man in his day. He motioned to me to come toward him.
“Why, Fiona, he looks just like you— except maybe a little like me as a boy.” He kept staring at me until I squirmed. Then he laughed— a big, hearty laugh. “Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Have a seat on that stool over there so I can look at you. Your granny tells me this is all brand-new to you, getting a new grandpa you never knew you had. Well, it’s new to me, too.”
“I never heard anybody call her Fiona before.” I nodded toward Biggie, who had taken a seat in a chair opposite Rex.
“No fooling? What do they call her?”
I explained to him about how I couldn’t say Big Mama when I was little so I shortened it to Biggie. I told him how everybody in town calls her that now.
He laughed again. “Biggie, huh? Well, I say that doesn’t fit worth a damn. She’s no bigger than a gnat. Never was.” He looked fondly at Biggie.
I looked at a picture of a car over the mantel. A man stood beside it wearing racing gear. “Is that you?”
The smile left his face. “It was, son. It was. Would you like to have that picture?”
“I sure would!”
“Then take it home with you when you go. Now I want you to tell me all about yourself. Fill me in on all the time I’ve missed.”
I didn’t know where to start, so I just started at the first. “I was born in Dallas,” I said. “That’s where my mama and daddy lived a long time ago. Daddy was in business for himself.”
“Don’t say. And what was that?”
“He rented out Porta Potties.”
“Porta Potties, huh? Any money in that?”
“I guess. I was only six when he died. Then I came to live with Biggie.”
“What happened to your mama?”
“Oh, she didn’t much want me, I guess. She’s the nervous type. Anyway, I’d rather live with Biggie in Job’s Crossing than in Dallas.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that. Now, Biggie, about the will. I’m going to have Jeremy…”
Just then there was a knock on the door and Laura came in. She smiled at me and Biggie. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but Dr. Beall is here to see you.”
Biggie stood up. “We’ll go. I want to see the barns before dark.”
“Wait,” Rex said. “Don’t forget to take your picture,” he said to me. He turned to Laura. “Honey, I’ve given that picture to J.R. Can you take it down for him?”
“Of course.” Laura took the picture from the mantel and handed it to me. “He was a handsome man, wasn’t he?”
I looked closer. He was tanned and rugged looking, with curly black hair that hung down over his forehead. He had blue eyes the same color as mine. “Yes’m. He sure was.”
We turned to go.
“Wait,” Rex said. “Fiona, will I see you tomorrow? Please. I have a lot more to talk over with you.”
“You have your doctor’s appointment early tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” Laura kissed him on top of his bald head.
“And we have to be getting back to town as soon as the road is cleared,” Biggie said.
“Then come back Friday.” He begged Biggie with his eyes.
“Yes, please. Come for dinner,” Laura said. “This poor darling man has little enough to brighten his life. By all means, come.”
“I suppose we could do that,” Biggie started toward the door. “Do you know where Julia and Ruby are?”
“They went to their rooms for a little rest before supper.”
“Then I’ll do the same.”
9
After leaving the picture in my room, I followed my nose to the backyard. Somewhere, someone was cooking barbecue, and I aimed to find it. Sure enough, I found Rosebud and Abner Putnam standing beside a giant brick pit next to a grove of pines between the house and barn. Redwood picnic tables stood in a row under the trees. A fifty-gallon drum held ice and cans of soda and beer. Rosebud, with a beer in one hand, turned the sizzling chicken halves with the long fork he had in his other hand.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself. Where’s Miss Biggie?”
“Resting in her room. We having barbecue for supper?”
Rosebud cocked his head at me.
“Well, I was just asking. Golly.”
“What do it look like we havin’?”
Abner came and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t mind him, son. How ‘bout getting me a beer.” He tossed his empty can in a plastic trash bin.
“Can I have a Big Red?”
“You betcha,” Abner said. “Soon as you take this pan in and tell Josefina to fill her up with more mopping sauce.”
I got the beer for Abner and headed back toward the house with the empty pan. Then I realized I didn’t know where I was going. “Where’s the kitchen?”
Abner pointed to a door at the far end of the house half-hidden by a large magnolia tree. I knocked on the door. Someone was singing inside. Suddenly the door opened and a little bitty Mexican lady stood looking at me. She was dressed in a blue Mexican dress with bright embroidery around the neck. “And who are you?” she asked.
I told her who I was. “Abner sent me in for more sauce.”
“So, the lazy man can’t walk a few steps for more sauce and has to send our guest to do his job. Well, come in, muchachito. How would you like a piece of pie while he waits for the sauce?”
“I better get back. He might need it now.”
“Lemonade then?”
“I’ve got a Big Red waiting for me.” I handed her the pan.
“So, the macho man needs you back. Here, then.” She took the pan and filled it with good smelling sauce from a pot on the stove. “Careful now, it is very hot.”
“I’ll see you later,” I said from the door.
“You surely will,” she said.
I got my Big Red and stood around listening while Rosebud and Abner cooked barbecue and talked.
“Yeah, I’ve been with Rex since his racing days,” Abner said. “I lost me own leg in a wreck at Indy in ‘53.” He raised up his jeans a little and rapped twice on a shiny, pink, plastic shin. “‘Course, I couldn’t drive any more, so Rex took me on as his crew boss.”
“How do you get a cowboy boot on that thing?” I asked.
“It’s built right onto my wooden leg,” Abner said. He pulled on the boot and it didn’t budge. “See here, the thing won’t come off for nothin’.”
“What’ll you do when those boots wear out?” They looked pretty run down to me.
Abner scratched his head and looked up at the sky. “Wells
ir, reckon I’ll go back to the feller that made this leg and have a new one put on. If I live that long, that is. These here boots got plenty of miles left on ‘um.
“Now, like I was saying about old Rex, he designed the very first fiberglass racing helmet. I forget who was the first to test it out. One of them Unsers maybe? Naw, it was before them. Anyway, now all of them guys wear that same helmet. That Rex, he’s really something.”
“Uh-huh.” Rosebud took a long string of sausages out of a red cooler. “Ready to put these on?”
Abner nodded. “Yep, old Rex, he’s the best. Nerve like a cougar, don’t you know, and smart, too. You ever hear about the car he designed? The Baracuda? Best in its class in its day. Won I don’t know how many awards for design excellence.”
He went on like that until the sausages were done and the chickens were piled up in a big roaster pan. All Rosebud had to do was throw in an Un-HUH from time to time and sip on his beer.
I was getting hungry. “What time are we eating?”
“Right soon,” Abner said. “Here comes Josefina with the fixings now.”
As soon as we had the tables all set with tin plates and cups and red paper napkins and the food lined up on a long table made from two sawhorses and a hollow-core door, here came the girls, jogging down from the bunkhouse with Grace Higgins in the lead. Abner took an iron rod and rattled it against a triangle hanging from a tree branch to call the folks down from the big house. Soon we were all seated, Biggie on my right and Monica on my left.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked Monica.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said. “Shh, Grace is saying something.”
“Everybody, quiet down.” She turned to Biggie. “We say some words before meals, words of thanks to Nature and the Universe. Girls!”
The girls all rose to their feet and stretched their arms over their heads. Then they chanted something that I couldn’t understand one single word of. It sounded a little like: Ummm-gallawatchitt-hoooooo. They said that three times then sat down and drank something out of half coconut shells before plowing into the food on the table.