by Anna Jeffrey
She began to sniffle again. “I know, Mom.”
“And if something comes of your getting acquainted with Betty’s son, so much the better. Betty is excited for you to get to know him. She believes the two of you would make a beautiful couple. I have to agree. He’s very handsome in his pictures.”
Xochimilka had seen his pictures, too, before she came here. And she had to admit they didn’t do justice to the real man. With sun-bleached hair, slightly curly and un-moussed, sky-blue eyes and classic features, he was more than handsome. And he was big and broad-shouldered, more than a head taller than she. He reminded her of an action hero out of the movies.
“I suppose he is. In a cave man kind of way,” she said to her mother.
“What do you mean? Is he not a gentleman?”
“He’s just so…so….He isn’t my type, Mom. He’s one of those macho kind of guys.”
“I don’t think I know what you mean, dear.”
“He’s nothing like Dad. Or Jeremy or Cory.”
Her dad was a sweet man, but he could hardly be called an action hero. And Jeremy and Cory were her two ex-fiancés. Besides being sissies without a muscle anywhere, both were thoughtless and self-centered. But they were successful. Both were UT graduates with good jobs. Being the only men formerly in her life that her parents knew, their names would paint a picture in her mother’s mind.
“Hm,” her mother said. “Well, from what we know of those two, his being unlike them is probably a good thing.”
At least her mother wasn’t blind to what her former fiancés really were. “I guess so. He has a girlfriend in town. I wish you had told me.”
“Betty said that doesn’t mean anything. She’s wanted to see them break up for a long time.”
“She must not know what she’s talking about, Mom. The maid told me they’re going to get married.”
“Not if Betty has anything to do with it. That’s exactly what she said to me. Now. Tell me your plans.”
Xochimilka sighed. “Tomorrow, he’s supposed to take me to some place called the mesa. He and his father say it’s a good place for pictures.”
“Ah. Wear something that makes you look especially pretty, hmm? Oh, and it’s awfully hot, darling. Be sure to wear sunscreen.”
“I will, Mom.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow evening and you can let me know how things went, okay? Your father and I are very eager for you to do well.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Tonight you should go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep so you’ll be spry and chipper tomorrow and look your best, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Your father needs me for something. I have to run. Don’t forget, I’ll call you tomorrow evening.”
Xochimilka disconnected, but continued to stare blankly at the TV screen. She should just go back to Austin. Just use her last cash to fill up her Beetle and go back. Her father might be upset by her giving up, but he would get over it. He always had.
But what would she go back to? She had no apartment and no job. She would have to move into her parents’ home for some unknown period, an unacceptable choice for both herself and her parents. And she would have to look for a job. The only place that might hire her was some retail store. Companies that needed something other than a sales clerk just weren’t interested in hiring someone who had changed jobs as many times as she had or who had little experience at anything other than being a sales clerk.
She heaved a huge sigh. She was better off right here in this guesthouse. For sure, it was a better place than she could afford in Austin.
Then she realized her mother had ignored her request for money. Damn. She would have to eat with the Lockharts and their maid.
She flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Smoked brisket? Ugh! She had already thrown up once today. And her stomach felt as if she might again any minute.
She had to go to town and buy food. She simply could not eat here. She had to save what cash she had to get back to Austin, but she did have one credit card she might still be able to use for a small purchase.
****
The evening’s guests were already on the patio having drinks and visiting when Pic arrived at the ranch house. He passed by the patio, said some quick hellos, then excused himself and hurried to his suite.
As he showered off the day’s grit and sweat, guilt nagged at him. He didn’t know how he could have fucked up Zoshi’s project any worse. He should have known better than to shoot a hog with her in the Jeep. All he had been able to think at the time was that he had to take the shot while he had the chance.
He and the ranch hands kept rifles with them every time they went out so they could dispatch a damn hog at every chance. In fact, they had already killed more than three hundred this year and hadn’t even made a dent in the population.
He was so tired he wished he could just crawl in bed, but he had to meet the new vet. Other than a cattle buyer, no outside individual was as important to a ranching operation as the veterinary doc.
As he stepped into clean jeans, a tap sounded on his door. “Son?”
“Come in,” Pic called.
His dad came into the room. “How’d it go?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” Pic reached into a drawer for a clean T-shirt. One of the maids Johnnie Sue hired always did his and Dad’s laundry, leaving the clothing in his dresser drawers smelling clean and pleasant. He pulled the T-shirt on and tucked it into his jeans. “I shot a hog. Could’ve gotten two if Zoshi hadn’t been with me. I gave the meat to the hands.”
“Did you caution her about going into the bunkhouse?”
He zipped up and buckled his belt. “I asked her not to do it. She said she didn’t have anything else to do. Just like you said.”
Dad nodded. “Did she get her pictures?”
“Nah. We had gotten only as far as the spring tank when I saw the hogs. Listen, Dad, we need to get somebody else to haul her around. I’ve just got too much to do and I don’t have the patience for it. That woman is high maintenance.”
“We can’t spare anybody for something like that. The hands are setting up the cow camps and starting to flush out the yearlings for the sale. Some of them are gone days at a time now, which leaves us shorthanded here at the place. Besides, your mother wants you to do it.”
Pic couldn’t argue about getting the cattle ready for the fall market. The Double-Barrel herd was wild, many of them seeing people only once or twice a year. Finding, sorting and preparing the year-old cattle, along with the culls to be taken to market was a long, relentless process usually done on horseback. The hands had to comb the farthest reaches of the range and 200,000 acres was a big area.
“I know what Mom’s up to,” Pic said, taking a seat in a wooden straight back chair at the end of the dresser. He kept it there for pulling on his boots. “She thinks that by sending some good-looking chick around, she can drive a wedge between me and Mandy. Can’t you see that’s her intent?”
He pulled on a boot and seated his heel, then reached for the other boot. “This picture-taking scheme is all phony.” He seated his heel in the second boot and stood. “That magazine Zoshi’s taking pictures for? I never heard of it.”
Dad patted the air with his palms. “Son. Believe me, I’m know all about your mother’s schemes. It’s just her way. She just wants the best for her kids.”
“Bullshit, Dad. Look what she tried to do to Mandy just a few weeks ago. That was just wrong. If the superintendent had listened to her, do you know what would’ve happened to Mandy’s life? Or for that matter, to mine? Mandy means a lot to me.”
Pic still felt guilty for the role he himself had played in Mom’s attempt to get Mandy fired. In a bullshit session with Kate months ago, he had told her that he and Mandy used the rhythm method for birth control. Then, back in May, in a phone call with Mom, Kate had let that fact slip. That was all it had taken for Mom to spring into action.
Unbeknownst to
Dad, she had made an appointment with the school superintendent and presented him with a venomous complaint about Amanda Breckenridge and her former husband, including a threat that if the school didn’t release her from her contract, the Lockhart family would withdraw their financial support of many of the school’s events.
“Betty was embarrassed by that,” Dad said. “She apologized and I squared it with the superintendent.”
Dad had squared it all right. He had personally gone to the superintendent and assured him that the Double-Barrel Ranch was not discontinuing its generosity to the school. “I don’t care,” Pic said. “She doesn’t seem to know the difference between right and wrong anymore.
“Just spend tomorrow with that photographer and see if you can wind it up. That should be enough. Then you can tell your mother you made a good try. But for now, put it out of your mind and come on out and eat. You need to meet the new vet.”
Dad left the room. Pic stared after him. Put Zoshi McLaren out of his mind? Easier said than done. Not only was she delicate and beautiful, sex exuded from her every pore. In that way, she was the most vulnerable adult female he had been around since his former wife.
The pathetic fact was that in many ways, she reminded him of Lucianne. Though his ex-wife had been a fearless horsewoman and a fierce competitor, in the parts of her life outside the rodeo arena, she had been a mess. She had needed somebody to protect her from herself , a trait that had driven to the most primal part of Pic. He had stupidly filled the role as her protector.
That old familiar feeling was creeping into his psyche about Zoshi. Well, in reality, that primal part of him wanted to do more than protect. Lucianne had been hot as a pistol in bed. He couldn’t keep from wondering if that was something else Zoshi and she had in common.
When he joined the guests on the patio, Dad was helping Johnnie Sue take the brisket out of the smoker. A few years ago, Dad had hired a contractor to turn the big rock patio into an outdoor kitchen and eating area. It had colorful Mexican tile counters, a porcelain sink, a gas-fired grill and stovetop and a state-of-the-art smoker. Giant fans at two of the patio corners fended off the heat and mosquitoes. Here, the family and their guests enjoyed many a delicious summer meal.
The big round picnic table’s tile top was loaded with food—potato salad, Cole slaw and the pot of beans that had been cooking all day. As Dad transferred the glistening richly browned brisket to the counter to slice, the guest heaped kudos and compliments on him and Johnnie Sue. He soon brought a long platter of brisket slices to the table. Johnnie Sue came out of the house with a bowl of sliced watermelon, fresh corn on the cob and a basket of jalapeńo cornbread. They sat down to a feast fit for a king as far as Pic was concerned.
“I’ve asked Johnnie Sue to sit down and eat with us,” Dad told the group as the housekeeper took a seat beside him. “No sense in her eating by herself in the kitchen when we’ve got plenty of room out here.”
As they all tucked into the food, headlights appeared in the darkness, coming from the direction of the guesthouse. When they reached the driveway, Pic could tell it was Zoshi’s Beetle headed toward the front gate. Where the hell was she going?
A part of him wished she were going home. But another part of him knew there would be hell-to- pay from his mother if she was.
“Is that Zoshi’s car?” Dad asked.
“Looks like it,” Pic said, gluing his eyes to the warm tortilla on which he was stacking brisket slices.
****
As Zochimilka crept up the town’s one main street, she thought she was in a ghost town. In the distance, bright lights beckoned her. Among a string of dark storefronts, she found a grocery store still open. Inside, it was old, with a pockmarked tile floor.
She had only a few dollars left on her credit card, but hopefully she would find something she could afford that would sustain her for a few days. She chose a jar of peanut butter, a jar of grape jelly and a loaf of bread. She had gotten along on peanut butter before when she had been broke. When she had skipped a semester at college to go to Oregon for the Green Earth demonstrations, peanut butter was all she’d had to eat for days at a time—without jelly.
At the cash register, she found a short, burly old guy waiting for her. He punched the prices of her purchases into an aged cash register’s keyboard.
“Visiting somebody local?” he asked.
That was a nosy question. Any other time, she would tell him so, but being in such a strange environment, she controlled herself. He was just another country redneck. “Uh, no.”
But her sharp reply didn’t cause him to give up. “Just wondered,” he said, smiling. “We’re too far off the beaten path for somebody to be just passing through. Usually, when we meet strangers, they’ve come here for some special reason.” He carefully placed her purchases into a plastic sack.
His affable manner sparked a twinge of guilt for being so mean. “Uh, actually, I’m staying at the Double-Barrel Ranch for a few days. I’m in the guesthouse and I need some snacks. Do you know where that ranch is?”
“Sure do. My boy’s been all over it hunting. Him and Pic Lockhart are good friends. Pic’s a fine young man. He does that family proud. The gal that ends up with him is gonna be one lucky lady.”
Xochimilka gave him a look. Did he think she had come to visit because she and Pic were an item?
“Uh, I’m a friend of the family. He’s uh…showing me around. I’m a photographer.”
Every time she said that, she felt as if she had bitten down on something vile. She was no more a photographer than she was anything else.
His eyes widened and his brow arched knowingly. “Oooh, I see. Taking pictures of the ranch, eh? Oh, that ranch is a pretty place. The best land in the whole county.” He smiled. “Oil wells, too.”
Zochimilka’s mother had already covered the beauty and wealth of the Double-Barrel. Johnnie Sue’s words about her escort and his girlfriend rushed into her memory. “I thought Pic had a girlfriend.”
“Amanda? Ah, she’s a sweetheart. Don’t know what the school would do without her. My granddaughter’s on her swimming team.”
“Swimming team?”
“She coaches the high school girls’ swimming team. They’ve won the state championship the last two years.” His chest almost visibly swelled.
Coach? Xochimilka tried to recall female coaches she had known in the various schools she had attended. “Really?”
“Uh-huh. My granddaughter got nice medals and ribbons to hang on her wall in her room. Amanda teaches something in the high school, too, but I forget what it is. She sings in the choir in the Baptist church, too. The whole county loves Amanda and Pic both. But it’s anybody’s guess if they’ll ever get married. That’ll be eight fifty-two, ma’am.”
A goody-two-shoes. That’s just great. A good little redneck woman. Gag! Xochimilka gave him a wan smile and held her breath as she swiped her credit card. To her relief, her charge wasn’t declined.
All the way back to the ranch, she thought about what the grocery clerk had said about Mr. Tall and Gorgeous. He did seem to be a nice guy. And she couldn’t keep from visualizing the way his shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, the way he filled out a pair of Wranglers. Every guy wore jeans, but not all wore Wranglers that fit him as well as Pic’s did. Even in Texas.
Perhaps she should be more open-minded in her attitude about him. Perhaps today had been an aberration.
Chapter 14
Early Monday morning, Amanda gathered her swim gear and drove to Drinkwell High School to swim. The minute she pulled out of her driveway and started up the street, the black SUV picked up her trail. Didn’t these guys ever sleep?
She arrived at the pool house, a separate building from the rest of the school. As she walked to the pool house’s door, her security guard appeared. His name was Chris. Pic had asked him to be invisible and told her that she should behave as if he weren’t there. “I’m going into the ladies’ locker room,” she told him.
> He opened the door for her and dutifully took a seat on the bench at the deep end. Today, after getting a call from her ex-husband, Amanda was glad for his presence.
Near the end of her workout, she spotted her best friend and fellow teacher, Gail Robertson, at the edge of the pool. Amanda and Gail had become friends when they were both students at Texas Tech in Lubbock. Gail had graduated a year ahead of Amanda and in one of those eerie coincidences, had gotten a job teaching fifth grade in Amanda’s hometown. That had to be one of those quirky six degrees of separation things.
Amanda glided to the side and levered herself out and onto the edge, water sluicing off her body. Gail handed her a towel. “I was just watching you swim, Amanda. You are so smooth and graceful. And in that swim suit, you look like a dolphin.”
Amanda usually wore a blue-gray one-piece suit. She had several because the team’s colors were blue and gray. Moving through the water, perhaps she did look like a dolphin. Peeling off her blue swim cap and shaking water from her new shorter hair-do, she laughed. “I hope that’s a compliment.”
“Oh, my gosh. You got your hair cut.”
“It’s part of the new me. Now that I’m thirty-one, my advanced age says it’s time I got rid of my flowing tresses.”
Gail snickered. “Yeah, right. What did Pic say about it?”
Amanda got to her feet and hooked her towel around her neck. “Not much. He wouldn’t try to tell me how to wear my hair.” What she didn’t say was, He’s never around to look at it anyway.
She ran her hand through her hair again. “Having long hair was getting to be such a daily fight. It was starting to look awful. And this year, I’m going to be spending more time in the water, trying some new things. I’m already swimming several days a week.”
“Sounds like you’re all ready for school to start, huh?”
“I’m pumped this year. That’s why I’m trying to get myself in shape early. My dedicated swimmers will start showing up by the end of July. I’ve got two returning that I’m expecting great things from.”