Powderkeg kept eating and shrugged. “Sorry, Fernando,” he said. “But I think Pappy is right. You want the guys from the Rolling Fork to feel right at home, right?”
“Yes,” Fernando said. “But I also want to redecorate the home. Give it a whole new vibe.”
“They don’t want the home redecorated,” Pappy said. “Great meat, spicy beans, tangy slaw, white bread . . . don’t make me tell you twice.”
Powderkeg waggled a thick slice of Fernando’s homemade bread and said, “You can use this for bread pudding.”
Fernando gasped.
“He’s kidding,” Pappy said. “Although it would make great bread pudding, now that you mention it.”
“You two are cretins.” Fernando picked up the plates and headed toward the kitchen.
“How are the brandy experiments going?” Powderkeg called into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Pappy yelled. “We’d be happy to give you opinions on that too!”
“You can’t come in,” Old Bertha yelled out her back door. “I mean it, Elvis.”
She turned back to the kitchen, letting herself down into a chair at a small, scarred table. She looked over at Polly, who sat with her wet hair wrapped in a towel turban.
“That damn mule will be the death of me,” Old Bertha said.
“He doesn’t want to be outside by himself,” Polly said, contemplating a tower of apple cobbler teetering on a wobbly plate between them. “I don’t know why you won’t let him in. It’s not like he’s going to wreck the floor.”
“I’m just not much of an animal person.”
“You’re not much of a people person either,” Polly said. “But you’re doing all right.”
The back door rattled again.
“I swear, Elvis,” Old Bertha said. “I’m going to send you right back to where you came from if you don’t settle down.”
“Come on, Bertha.” Polly broke off a piece of cookie. “Let him in.”
“You let him in.”
“Do you mean it?” Polly looked up in surprise, the giddy anticipation barely hidden on her freshly scrubbed face.
“You better hurry before I change my mind.”
Polly sprang out of her seat and raced to the back door. Elvis stuck his head in and looked around. When he caught Old Bertha’s eye, he pulled his head back outside.
“You said you wanted to come in,” Old Bertha said to the miniature mule. “Well, come on in then.”
Elvis put a hoof on the kitchen floor. He stood for a moment, looking up at Polly.
“It’s OK, Elvis,” Polly said, as if talking to a baby. “Who is the good little boy?”
“Hey!” Old Bertha said. “He can come in, but no baby talk. Now sit down and have some of this cobbler.”
Polly gave Elvis a quick pat and sat back down at the table. Old Bertha dug a spoon into the cobbler and scooped up a heaping serving. Polly watched, mesmerized, as ribbons of vanilla sauce stuck to the serving spoon. “What kind of cobbler is that?”
“You’ll have to ask Fernando,” Old Bertha said. “He said he made it from apple fritters and cornmeal.”
“I love being Fernando’s guinea pigs.” Polly took a bite. She rolled her eyes in appreciation. “But I’m not going to fit in my jeans if he doesn’t settle on some recipes and open the restaurant.”
“Genius can’t be rushed,” Old Bertha said.
“I know.” Polly took another bite. “Fernando said the same thing.”
“Where do you think I heard it?” Old Bertha said, serving herself another helping.
Titan had taken to leaving the back door of the forge open so Rocket could look in whenever he felt alone or stressed out. Unlike Fancy, whose moods Titan could read, Rocket was a closed book. Titan figured if Rocket hung around, he must be happy and Titan left it at that. Fancy begrudgingly accepted the fact that Rocket was now part of the household, but she gave the bull a wide berth.
Titan was exhausted. Since making his deal with Dodge, he worked every day, often with the help of Powderkeg, Pappy, and Fernando, making sure his acreage was properly fenced. It wasn’t that he expected any fence to hold Rocket, but he felt he should at least make a show of being a proper caretaker.
Titan had built a bedroom for himself in the loft of the forge. He’d also built a platform that extended outside from the loft, so he could sleep outside when the forge refused to cool in the evening. From his perch, he could watch Rocket wander over to the back door and get screeched at by Fancy. If Titan wasn’t on the ground floor, Rocket would look up and spot Titan looking down on him.
Titan had no game plan when it came to Rocket’s future. If he had to move to the Rolling Fork Ranch, would he still “own” Rocket, or would he have to return the bull? Rocket would probably always find a way to get away from Dodge Durham. Titan put that thought out of his head. That was just being egotistical. Although he had to admit, the bull really did seem to like him. And if he did have to move, what would happen to Fancy? Would Mr. Honeycutt want a lame buzzard moving onto the ranch? Would Fancy be safe there? The more he thought about the future, the less clearly he could see it. He took one more look at Rocket, who snorted his good-night. The sun was still on the horizon and Titan told himself he was only going to rest his eyes. He closed them and was asleep in minutes.
CHAPTER 17
Dymphna replayed her less than satisfactory phone conversation with Professor Johnson over and over again in her mind. It was bad enough that she had to live out her romance in the middle of Main Street, with Old Bertha pretending not to listen, but this afternoon’s reception was particularly bad. She mostly had to guess at what he was saying. Finally, in frustration, Professor Johnson said they should just give up. Dymphna tried not to worry. Surely he just meant give up on the phone call?
Thud suddenly let out a long, yowling bark. When Thud started barking, it never really narrowed down what was happening on the farm. It could be the chickens were chasing each other around the yard or the goats were close enough to the farmhouse to cause Thud umbrage. When Dymphna first arrived in Fat Chance, the bloodhound suddenly staggering to his feet and howling used to terrify her, but now his theatrical alerts were just one more noise she associated with the farm.
Dymphna was putting the final touches on a jerry-rigged repair job to her spinning wheel when Thud let out another long caterwaul. She paid no attention to him. He ran to the door and continued barking furiously. She knew that he could let himself out the back, so she continued to concentrate on why her yarn was not winding onto the bobbin. Yesterday, in desperation, she’d had Powderkeg take a look; with his carpentry skills, he was the closest thing she had to an expert, but he was as stumped as she. Thud leapt up on the door and started whining. This was a new sound, and it got her attention. She could hear footsteps on her porch. She went to the door and stood there, grateful to have the big dog by her side.
Dymphna leapt back as a low knocking sound came from the door. Was someone trying to kick the door in? Thud barked happily again, lunging at the door, wiggling his entire back end. Dymphna tightened her grip on Thud’s collar, to steady her nerves.
The low knock came again, more forcefully this time.
“I have a dog!” Dymphna blurted.
“There’s a rumor going ’round to that effect.” Tino’s voice came through the door. “Open up, my hands are full.”
Dymphna let out her breath, which she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Keep hold of Thud,” Tino said through the door. “I can’t have him jumping on me.”
Dymphna could feel her heart race. Was he hurt? With one hand on Thud’s collar, she turned the handle and jerked the door open. Tino stood there, a lopsided grin on his face. In his arms was cradled a little yellow duckling, bobbing its head out of an old plastic Tupperware container with what looked like a shredded cotton T-shirt in it.
“Can we come in?” Tino asked.
“Of course.” Dymphna tried to keep Thud from jumping up and slobbe
ring all over her new fluffy guest. She reached for the baby duck. “May I hold it?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Tino carefully transferred the duckling to Dymphna’s waiting arms and shrugged out of a large backpack. “This baby needs a new mama.”
“What happened?”
Tino shrugged. “I don’t know. I just found him down by the creek all by himself.”
“Himself?” Dymphna asked. “Is he a boy?”
“Beats me. I’m a good vet, but I’m not that good. You can’t tell when a duck is this little. It just looks like a he to me.”
“How little is he?”
“I think he’s about eight weeks old,” Tino said. “He’s already got his feathers, which is lucky for him. It means he’s waterproof. They aren’t when they’re really young.”
Thud came over to investigate. Dymphna lowered the container so the bloodhound could take a sniff.
“You have to be very gentle, Thud,” Dymphna said.
Thud sniffed carefully at the duckling, who looked up at Dymphna with sad eyes. The little creature didn’t seem to be particularly afraid of the dog—perhaps its duckling brain was on fright overload already.
Tino started unpacking the backpack. “I brought you some chick food to get you started. Although this guy will probably be ready to fend for himself pretty soon.”
“You mean he’ll fly away?” Dymphna asked, already missing the duckling.
“Not yet. He’s too small.”
“But eventually?”
“Maybe. But maybe not. If he bonds with you, he’ll stay. I mean, you’ve got the creek and the little pond.”
Dymphna nodded, trying not to get her hopes up. “What should I do with him right now?”
“Best thing is to put him in the bathtub,” Tino said. “In the morning, you can start introducing him to the other animals . . . see how he does. But don’t force it. The chickens might be territorial at first.”
Dymphna nodded again, taking it all in. The duckling started to struggle in the Tupperware container. Dymphna wrapped the duckling in the T-shirt and cradled him in her arms. The duckling was stronger than she anticipated. She really had to keep a grip on him.
“Can he walk . . . waddle?” she asked, trying to hold on to him.
The duckling suddenly wrenched himself free, landing on the ground, startling Thud, who barked, then climbed onto the sofa. Dymphna and Tino watched as the duckling raced through the living room, quacking. He ran into the empty fireplace, where he crashed into the bricks. The impact showered the duckling with soot. Dymphna managed to retrieve him, wiping away black grime with the T-shirt.
“I’ll wash this shirt for you,” Dymphna said apologetically.
“That’s okay,” Tino said. “I sort of figured I’d seen the last of it when I offered it to this guy as a security blanket.”
“I’m going to name him Crash,” Dymphna said, continuing to clean the duckling and watching Thud gently investigate the newcomer. “He sort of named himself. And I like the way Thud and Crash sound together.”
Tino smiled at her and she felt her cheeks flush. She hadn’t seen Tino in the two weeks that had passed since they worked on Rosie together at Meriwether’s farm. She was touched that he’d thought of her when he saw another animal in distress. She hoped the glow that she was feeling inside wasn’t showing.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought him here,” Tino said. “You know, for a small town, it’s pretty unusual to find two people as good with animals as you and Titan. But Titan has Fancy and now that longhorn. So I figured . . .”
Dymphna’s glow started to dim.
I’m just a safer haven than a forge with a buzzard and a bull.
Tino saw Dymphna’s cheeks fall.
“But if you don’t want him, I’m sure Titan . . .”
“No no,” Dymphna said. “I do want him. And I think if he decides he likes it here, the pond will be a great place for him.”
“That’s good!” Tino said. “I guess I can cross this little guy off my list.”
Dymphna had no idea how to take that.
As if reading her mind, he explained. “Now I don’t have to worry about him.”
Dymphna smiled. “Can you stay for a little apple-peach brandy? Fernando has been experimenting with fermenting fruit in peach brandy—this is his first jar.”
“A jar?”
“This is what’s left after he strains the fruit and cans it. Better to call it a jar rather than runoff, he says.”
“Sounds horrible.”
“It is! Fernando says when he makes his own brandy from scratch, things will be better, but he did save a bunch of fruit from going bad, so I can’t complain.”
“Why not?” Tino said. “I’m off duty. I’ll get Crush . . .”
“Crash.”
“I’ll get Crash set up in the tub and I’ll be right out.”
Tino came out of the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. “I think he’ll be quiet tonight. He’s had a big day. Just make sure Thud keeps his distance for a while.”
“I will. Should I look in on him during the night?”
“Could I stop you?” Tino asked, grimacing as he took a sip of brandy. “I hope Fernando’s barbecue is better than his brandy.”
“He’s still experimenting with both,” Dymphna said. “He brought a smoker into town yesterday.”
“Smoked brandy.” Tino held up his glass. “Couldn’t be worse than this.”
Dymphna laughed. “How is Rosie?”
“The horse? I guess she’s fine. I haven’t heard.”
Dymphna studied Tino. What was his attitude about animals? One minute, he and she seemed to be of one mind, that animals were an almost sacred part of the earthly experience. And then the next, he seemed all business.
Of course, animals were his business.
“Shall we go sit on the porch?” Tino asked. “We’ve been getting beautiful sunsets lately.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Dymphna said. “But I won’t be able to hear Crash.”
“Crash will be fine. Trust me.”
Dymphna allowed herself the cosmic display of the picturesque sunset, but she left the front door open, in case a plaintive peep should come from the bathroom. She relaxed when Thud, rather than sit on the porch with the humans, stationed himself at the front of the bathroom door, lying on the floor like a rumpled sentry.
“Thud will let me know if there’s a problem,” Dymphna said.
Tino chuckled.
“What?”
“I think it’s cute how you anthropomorphize animals the way you do.”
“You don’t think animals have emotions?” Dymphna asked, startled.
“To a certain degree. I know Thud is a loyal—not to mention brave—dog, who feels protective of his owner. But are those emotions or instinct?”
“You could ask that question of humans as well.”
“True,” Tino said. “But do I think Thud is evolved enough to be watching over Crash so you won’t be worried about the duckling? No.”
“I think you’re not listening.”
“To you?” Tino asked, surprised.
“To Thud,” Dymphna said. “To the universe. You’d be surprised what is going on in the animal kingdom if you’d pay attention.”
“You might be right. But you need to cut me some slack. I’m a veterinarian. Just like an MD, I have to keep a professional distance from my patients.”
“Is that instinct or emotion?”
“It’s survival.” Tino tossed the rest of his brandy into the dust. “OK, Fernando has some work to do. I can’t drink any more of this.”
Dymphna giggled. “That’s one thing we can agree on.” She stood up and hurled the remains of her own glass off the porch as well.
She suddenly realized that the two of them were standing very close to each other. Dangerously close. She could feel her heart beating faster. She knew that if she didn’t back away, they would be in each other’s arms i
n another instant. But she couldn’t make her feet move. A movement from inside the house distracted her. She turned to see Thud shambling out of the house onto the porch. He wedged his massive bulk between Dymphna and Tino, looking out at the night sky, bookended by the two humans.
The spell was broken.
CHAPTER 18
Fernando poured Powderkeg and Pappy each another jelly jar of wild blackberry brandy.
“This tastes like peaches,” Powderkeg said.
“Just go with it,” Fernando said.
“These fruit brandies are awful sweet,” Pappy said, taking a sip. “But it makes me think I should start making wine with my grapes.”
“You have grapes?” Fernando perked up.
“Not a lot. I’ve got a small arbor out back. Just for fun. Makes shade for Jerry Lee. You can sit around watching the bees get drunk. You know, that sort of thing.”
“Now working with grapes—that’s something I know how to do,” Fernando said as he took a small sip of the brandy. “I was really hoping that the fermented fruit might add to the taste of the crappy brandy just as much as the crappy brandy would add to the taste of the fruit, but I guess I’ll have to chalk this up to a failed experiment.”
“Don’t say that,” Powderkeg said, taking another sip. “I don’t mind telling you, this grows on a person. If Professor Johnson ever gets back here, he can sell this in his saloon.”
“‘If’ being the operative word,” Pappy said. “Sometimes I think Fat Chance is jinxed when it comes to love.”
“Here’s to Pappy, our Hill Country philosopher.” Powderkeg saluted Pappy and Fernando before throwing back his brandy.
“I’m serious,” Pappy said. “Professor Johnson and Dymphna are trying to hold it together, but he’s in Los Angeles. Polly couldn’t hold on to any of the boys. And poor old Powderkeg got left in the dust by Cleo.”
“Not to mention Old Bertha won’t give you the time of day,” Powderkeg retaliated. “No offense.”
“No offense taken,” Pappy said glumly. “It’s a fact.”
“And even after giving her Elvis, a token of love if ever there was one,” Fernando said.
Slim Pickings in Fat Chance, Texas Page 13