Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up

by Peggy Dulle

  “It won’t even last one night here. Mom’s a sucker for Shelby’s crying. The dog knows which cabinet in the kitchen to whine at so that Mom will give her a treat.”

  I laughed. “I’ll call you when I get settled in Ridgedale to see if you’ve found out anything new on Blue Stripe.”

  “You got it, Teach.”

  I petted Shelby, gave her a couple of treats, and then locked my front door.

  When I tried to start my car, nothing happened. I was sick and tired of this stupid car! I called AAA and paced the twenty minutes it took for them to arrive.

  “I think you need a new battery,” the tow truck driver said after he jump started my engine.

  “Thanks.” I would not spend another single dime on this vehicle. I drove directly to the first car lot, a Jeep dealer.

  I walked into the showroom and was quickly greeted by a plump young man, dressed in tan slacks, white shirt, and blue tie. No doubt about it – he was a salesman.

  “How are you doing today, ma’am? Can I help you look at new car today?”

  I ignored his words and said, “If you can get me out of here in thirty minutes with a car I can afford, I’ll buy one. If it takes longer, I’m going to the next lot.”

  Twenty-nine minutes later I had unloaded my bags from the Honda into a gray Jeep Patriot. It didn’t have electric windows or doors, but it had new tires and a warranty. The payments were under two hundred dollars a month, well within my budget. Now I would have to figure out why everyone says, “It’s a Jeep thing.”

  I synced up my Bluetooth ear piece, turned on the radio to a country-western station, and left the lot. When I went through Sacramento, I was getting hungry but decided to wait until I got to Ridgedale before eating. That way I could ask some questions at the local diner.

  A few minutes later, Dad called.

  “Sorry I didn’t get back to you right away, Liza.”

  “That’s okay, Dad. I just wanted to let you know that I am on my way to Ridgedale.”

  “Tom’s going to be there today, too, right?”

  “Yes.” Well, probably, I thought. He didn’t say he would absolutely not make it today.

  “Good because I probably won’t be there until tomorrow. I’m having a few problems with some of our new members, so I need to stay local until they’re resolved.”

  “No problem, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll call you and tell you where to meet me. I don’t want to run into Tom.”

  “Oh, this should be a fun weekend. While I’m trying to spend time with both of you I have to make sure both of you don’t see each other.”

  “I have no problems seeing Tom,” my dad said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Everyone was having problems – Tom with David and his wife and Dad with some of his group members. Was there a full moon?

  An hour later, I pulled off Highway 70 at the exit for Ridgedale. A mile off the highway the road changed. Thank God I had a new car. There were more potholes than asphalt on the road. That old Honda wouldn’t have had an axle left after all these bumps. I passed the two trailer parks Justin had told me about. None of the trailers looked new. In fact, I bet they’re all at least fifteen to twenty years old. The property around them was surrounded with brown weeds and broken down old cars and appliances. I’ve seen junkyards with better appeal.

  The rest of the street was lined with small houses in need of major repairs, many had motorcycles parked in front. Each had a wire fence with a chained gate surrounding their property and in two I saw pit bulls roaming around. I know those dogs have gotten a bad rap. Some people swear they are the nicest animals but they scare the hell out of me.

  As I drove into the city, the road was newer and much smoother. The town was maybe six blocks long with businesses on each side. The buildings looked old but they weren’t falling down. I didn’t see any broken windows or completely boarded-up buildings. They weren’t all occupied but somebody had taken the time to make sure they looked presentable. Had this been done because of the rodeo this weekend or by the faction that wanted to save the town from being leveled by bulldozers?

  The sidewalks were filled with people, some obviously from the rodeo with their cowboy hats, wrangler jeans, and boots. But there were also couples, kids laughing and dogs on leashes walking with their owners. With all the information Jordan, Justin, Tom, and Dad had given me, I was expecting a police state. I had not focused on the fact that families lived in Ridgedale and that everything – cancer, lawsuits, gangs, and drugs – all affected them in a very personal way.

  I passed by the market where people were carrying out bags of groceries or walking with a grocery clerk pushing their filled cart. The Ridgedale Café had a large group of people waiting on the benches outside and the bar had a line wrapped around the corner of the building. I bet the Mexican burrito place was just as busy.

  The inn was located in the middle of the town. It looked like an old Motel 6 that some independent company had taken over and tried to make a go of it. It was one of the few two-story buildings in town, with six rooms on the top and four and an office on the bottom. The building had been recently painted tan with brown trim and someone had mowed the weeds that might have been considered a front lawn and made the effort to plant a few roses in front of the office.

  I parked my car in the spots designated for check-in and walked through the office door, leaving my bags in the car since I wasn’t sure which room I would be staying in. The office had two upholstered chairs and a small side table in a sitting area, although I wasn’t sure why you would ever need to sit in a hotel office. A tall, thin middle aged woman stood behind a tall oak counter. Her black, wavy long hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore no make-up except bright red lipstick.

  She smiled and said, “Can I help you?”

  “I have a reservation.”

  “Great, what’s the name?”

  “Liza Wilcox.”

  The women searched through her computer, frowned and looked up, “I can’t find your name.”

  “Try Tom Owens.” Maybe Justin had put the room under Tom’s name.

  The clerk shook her head. “Did you make the reservation on line?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t work.”

  “What doesn’t work?” I asked.

  “If you make the reservation on the computer, I never get it. It’s a glitch in the system.”

  “Do you have a room?”

  “No, I’m booked up solid through the entire weekend because of the rodeo.”

  Now what was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to have to drive here everyday.

  “I think Sheryl Ann may still have a room,” the woman offered.

  “Sheryl Ann?”

  “She has a big house a few blocks from here and she’s the only one who lives there, so during rodeo season she opens it up as a boarding house. I’ll give her a call and see if she has a room available. I’m really sorry about the computer mistake.”

  “Computers are like that. They’re great … when they work.”

  She laughed and picked up the phone on the desk.

  “Hi, Sheryl Ann. I’ve got someone who needs a room for —,” she looked at me and mouthed ‘how long?’

  “My fiancée and I will be here until Sunday,” I told her.

  “She needs a room for the whole weekend, do you have any left?”

  Silence.

  “It’s the computer again. She booked a room but I never got the reservation. Okay, I’ll send her over.”

  The clerk smiled and said, “She’s got one left.”

  I wondered what the price differential would be but didn’t bother to ask. It didn’t matter, I was staying no matter what, and being in a boarding house would give me the opportunity to talk to more people.

  “How do I get there?” I asked.

  “Go another block, turn left and then go four blocks. It’s a big yellow h
ouse.”

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  “I’m sorry again for the computer problem.”

  “That’s okay. At least I have a place to stay.”

  “Don’t thank me until you’ve met Sheryl Ann,” the clerk muttered as I went out the door.

  What did she mean by that? I wondered.

  CHAPTER 9

  I followed the clerk’s directions and arrived at a two-story yellow house. I parked next to a black truck with massive wheels, maybe three feet tall, chrome running boards, and a rubber bag that looked like testicles hanging off its hitch. I always wondered what kind of man needs a vehicle with tires that huge. Was he showing off, part of the Monster Truck games I once saw on television, or compensating for some shortcoming?

  I pulled my bag from the car and walked toward the front door. A white wooden porch encircled the house and the six pots on the front porch had plastic flowers in them. An obvious attempt to spruce the place up had fallen short since I could still see the price tags wrapped around each flower’s stem. I had never stayed at a boarding house. Did you just walk in or knock?

  Before I could make a decision, a woman in a yellow flowered dress swung open the door and engulfed me in her arms. Okay, I have no problems with people hugging me, no issue with personal space, and children hug me all the time, but this woman was a total stranger.

  She squeezed me tight, then said, “Welcome to my house.”

  “Thanks,” I squeaked out.

  “Oh, sorry,” she released me and snickered, her face lit with a huge smile. “I am just so happy to have another woman in the house.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve got five rooms and three of them are filled with cowboys. It’s not that I don’t like to look at a fine cowboy’s ass, but after you’ve seen them for four days in a row, even I get tired of tight wranglers and dusty boots.”

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sheryl Ann.”

  I shook her hand and said, “Liza Wilcox.”

  I picked up my bag.

  “No, let Stan get it. It’s his only job.”

  I set the bag back down. “Okay. Who’s Stan?”

  “Stan is my brother’s boy. He’s not too bright, but he’ll do anything you tell him to do.” She turned toward the house and yelled, “Stan!”

  A huge young man came lumbering out the door. He had the distinct look and smiling face of a Down syndrome child. “Yes, Auntie Sheryl?”

  “Would you please take Liza’s bag up to the blue room?”

  His face broke out into a huge smile. “Hi, Liza.”

  “Hi, Stan. Thanks for taking my bag.”

  “That’s my job,” Stan said and nodded.

  He grabbed my bag and skipped back into the house. He had to be over six feet tall and at least two-hundred and fifty pounds. Seeing him skip was kind of eerie.

  “He’s a good kid,” Sheryl Ann said as she leaned against the door frame.

  “The clerk down at the motel didn’t say how much the rooms are here.”

  “That depends,” she said.

  “On what?” My heart stopped. Am I going to have to clean my room or have other chores? How exactly does a boarding house work? I wondered.

  “Do you want just room or room and board?”

  “You cook for us?” I asked. My eyes shot open in surprise and anticipation.

  “I make breakfast and dinner. You’re on your own for lunch.”

  My heart took off in elation! “I’ll take it.”

  “You haven’t heard the price,” she said, frowning.

  “If you’re cooking, I’m staying.”

  Sheryl Ann laughed, it was rich and full. She put her arm around my shoulder and said, “We’re going to get along just fine because I like to cook for people who appreciate my cooking.”

  I let her lead me into the house. Again, like the town, the foyer wasn’t new but it was clean and the bookcase was decorated with family photographs, old books, and a few trophies.

  When she saw me looking at the trophies, she said, “Those were my son’s. He was a crack shot, won all the contests around here.”

  “Does he still live with you?”

  “No, he passed away a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I told her and I meant every word. I know how I felt when I thought I had lost my mom and dad. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  The living room to the right of the foyer was filled with overstuffed furniture and four men, each dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and boots, were watching a small television set.

  “Barry!” Sheryl Ann yelled.

  A young man immediately pulled his feet off the coffee table without taking his eyes off the set.

  “Boys.” She shook her head and led me up the stairs. “Your room is the last on the right. There are two bathrooms that the boys share. You can use mine. My room is on the left across from yours.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t like sharing my bathroom with Tom, let alone a bunch of men I didn’t know.

  “When does your man get here?” Sheryl Ann asked.

  “Hopefully tonight.”

  “He’s got to share with the boys. I don’t want any man in my bathroom.”

  “That’s okay. He’ll be fine with it.” At least I hoped so.

  She took me down the hallway and opened the door. The room smelled fresh and was bright from the light streaming in from two open windows. The blue checkered curtains went beautifully with the hand-quilted blue bedspread on the queen sized bed. What had the clerk at the inn been talking about? Sheryl Ann was vivacious, although she might be overpowering to some, my room was spacious and beautifully decorated and it came with food. My bag sat next to a rocking chair nestled under the windows.

  “This is lovely,” I told her.

  “Thanks. I made the quilt myself and the curtains. I’m pretty handy around a sewing machine, but not so much in the garden. You noticed my flowers on the front porch.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a black thumb myself. No matter what I get – I kill it!”

  Sheryl Ann laughed. “Breakfast is over and dinner won’t be until six. You want me to see if I can find you something in the kitchen to eat?”

  “No, I think I’ll take a walk. I’ve been sitting in a car for a while,” I said, anxious to start my investigation.

  “The café has good burgers but stay away from the burrito shop unless you like things fiery hot.”

  “And the bar?”

  “The RD has great steaks. The owner has his own herd and the meat is tender and juicy.”

  “Thanks.” My stomach growled in anticipation.

  Sheryl Ann frowned. “I wouldn’t go in there without your man.”

  “Why?”

  “The drinks are strong and the men get a little out of hand. It’s the best place for a fight in the town, especially when the rodeo boys are here.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Sheryl Ann nodded.

  The weather was warmer in Ridgedale than San Ramon, so I changed out of my heavy sweater and put on a tank top and light sweater with my jeans. I grabbed my purse and went in search of food.

  I passed three men as they walked up the stairs. They all nodded their heads at me – very polite. I glanced back and knew exactly what Sheryl Ann was talking about. Rodeo cowboys were built very well.

  Since the whole town was only six blocks long, I decided to walk over to the café and get a burger. The crowd I saw earlier outside was gone, so hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long.

  When I walked into the café, a harried looking hostess wearing jeans, red and white checkered shirt and a red cowboy hat said, “How many?”

  “Just one,” I told her.

  She looked around and said, “I’ve got one at the counter if you want to eat now. If you want to wait for a table or booth, it will be ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “The counter is fine.”

  The hostess han
ded me a menu and pointed to the only seat open on a long counter that spanned the right side of the café. The rest of the room was filled with booths in dark brown leather and a few tables. Some of the tables had extra chairs pulled up. I would bet a month’s salary that this place was way over their maximum capacity level.

  I slid onto the stool between two burly cowboys. They turned to me, nodded and then went back to devouring the huge burger that sat on each of their plates along with a mountain-size helping of French fries. It was enough to feed a family of four.

  A waitress dressed like the hostess but in blue came over to me. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Diet Coke.” I nodded toward the two plates. “Do you have smaller burgers?’

  She laughed and patted both men’s arms. “Those are special burger lunches for rodeo boys.”

  The cowboy on the right said, “Oh, Tammy. You know we work hard and have to keep up our strength.”

  “Riley, you’re a pick-up man. You sit on a horse all day.”

  When she left, I turned to Riley and said, “What’s a pick-up man?”

  Riley turned his attention to me. He was in his early twenties, with broad shoulders, tanned arms, brown hair that looked like it spent all day under his cowboy hat that sat on the counter next to him, and a round face with deep brown eyes. “I help the bareback and saddle-bronc riders dismount from their stock.”

  “My name is Liza and this is my first rodeo, so can you explain what you just said?”

  Riley’s face broke into a huge smile. “I’d love to, little lady. Bareback and saddle bronc riding are two events at the rodeo. The boys ride either with or without a saddle on the horse.”

  “What kind of event is that? Isn’t it kind of boring?”

  Riley laughed. “These horses are not broken and they buck and try like hell to get the rider off.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “If they make it to their eight seconds, I help them off the horse.”

  “Eight seconds?”

  “That’s how long they have to stay on the horse to qualify as a good ride.”

  Tammy came back and asked, “You know what you want or is this guy talking your ear off?”