One Hot Cowboy Wedding

by Carolyn Brown

  “Ain’t goin’ to happen. Ace and I don’t want a big farce of a wedding. We are plannin’ a summer barbecue,” she said.

  Walt sipped his iced tea. “Can’t talk you into the big wedding, then? Your mind is made up and we can’t change it?”

  “No way in hell,” she said. She should have known her mother wouldn’t give up so easily, that she’d gather all her forces and attack from a different angle when Jasmine least expected it.

  “Okay,” Walt said. “What’s the secret on this steak?”

  Kelly shot him her meanest look. “He’s been watchin’ the cookin’ channel on television and he fired Carlotta. And I’m not finished with the wedding idea, so don’t try to change the subject, Walt. Jasmine, you cannot just call me up and say it’s off when I already had invitations ready to order and the dress picked out. What in the hell went wrong?”

  Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Who is Carlotta?”

  Walt shrugged. “Her newest cook. Woman couldn’t boil red beans without burning them. I can cook better than she could and save that much money.”

  Kelly shook her head. “He’s gone crazy since he retired. Most men go out in the garage and build stupid little lawn things or birdhouses. This man has gotten into cooking.”

  Walt tasted the green beans and shut his eyes. “Bacon, a little onion, and is that lemon pepper?”

  Jasmine smiled. “A dash and fresh green beans, not canned or frozen ones. I can get them year-round from my supplier.”

  “You two are exasperating me. Stop talking about damn food and let’s plan the wedding again. So you had your moment of rebellion. All brides get cold feet a few days before the big day. You’ve had yours. I want pretty pictures.”

  “I have pictures, Momma. I’ll send you a disk of them and you can pick out whichever one you want, have it blown up to life-size, and hang it on the mantel. You really like the steak, Daddy?”

  “Very, very good. Tender. Good crisp outer layer; nice moist inside without being undercooked.”

  Kelly threw up her hands in defeat. “I’ll pay off this café if you’ll have the wedding.”

  “Can I see the kitchen later?” Walt asked.

  “Sure. There’s a table back there where you can sit and talk to me while I work.”

  “You can’t shut me out,” Kelly hissed.

  “Momma, you are beating a dead horse. I’m not having another wedding. Ace and I are legally married and we are not doing it again. So why keep going over it? My answer is no. Remember what Granny Dale used to say.”

  “I never did like that,” Kelly pouted.

  “What?” Walt asked.

  “She said that when she said no that it meant no and it was never changing to yes, so stop asking,” Jasmine said.

  Kelly exhaled loudly. “Okay, Walt, you win. Now we’ll go to plan B.”

  “And that is?” Jasmine asked.

  “I’d like to see your apartment,” Kelly said.

  Jasmine’s neck crawled as if ants were marching from her backbone to the top of her head. Something wasn’t right and she had a notion it had to do with plan B.

  Kelly smiled.

  That made the ants crawl faster. A stress headache hit her right between the eyes. She’d take aspirin later, but for the time being she pinched the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t as if she never went home and never saw them after she moved to Ringgold. She spent Sunday afternoon with them at least once a month just like she had when she lived right there in Sherman, barely five miles from them.

  “We are driving over to Pearl’s to see the babies and coming back to the ranch and see it. I’m going to take a look at the apartment while you and your dad play in the kitchen. Why anyone would want to get all hot and sweaty over a cook stove is beyond me. I was so glad when your dad finally made enough money to hire a cook that I could have kissed his feet,” Kelly said.

  “I’ll call Lucy and tell her to set two extra plates for supper. She was making roast tonight and her loaded mashed potatoes,” Jasmine said.

  “That would be great!” Walt said. “Does she give out recipes?”

  Kelly sighed heavily.

  Six big burly ranchers with the sleeves cut out of their shirts, jeans tucked down into the tops of work boots, and hay in their hair saved her from any more conversation or trying to figure out what her parents were really doing in Ringgold, Texas.

  “Got to go to work. I’ll send Bridget out with dessert and refills for your drinks,” she said.

  “One waitress is all you have?” Kelly asked.

  “It’s all I need,” Jasmine answered.

  “If you’d spruce it up and advertise, maybe get a website like that place you told me about in Thurber, you’d need more and maybe even a real chef,” Kelly said.

  And if pigs flew we’d all be covered in crap, Jasmine thought. But she kept her mouth shut and hurried off to the kitchen.

  Bridget looked up from the counter, where she was folding flatware inside napkins. “They ready for dessert?”

  “Anytime you want to take it to them and the bill is on the house, Bridget. They are my parents,” Jasmine said flatly.

  “Holy shit! Did you know they were coming?” Bridget asked.

  Jasmine shook her head. “No! And I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t even know they were there until I got to the table. And they are coming to the kitchen when they get finished. I’ll introduce you then. I don’t think Momma is nearly finished bitchin’ yet.”

  Jasmine was in the middle of six chicken fried steaks when Walt and Kelly came through the swinging doors. Walt went straight to the coffee machine and poured two cups while Kelly settled into a chair.

  “It’s hot in here,” she said.

  “It’s a kitchen, Momma,” Jasmine said.

  “Don’t get sassy with me. You could put an extra air conditioner in the window or maybe update the one for the whole place. It wasn’t as cool out in the dining room as it could be. Those poor working men need to at least eat in a comfortable environment,” Kelly said.

  Jasmine busied herself with the steaks. “This is a little country café, Momma. Not the Ritz.”

  “Can I help?” Walt asked.

  Jasmine looked around to see him with an apron tied around his waist. Not once in her thirty years had she seen her father wearing an apron. Very seldom had she seen him in anything other than a suit. In the summertime he did take the jacket off for supper, but never the tie. To see him in khaki pants and a three-button knit shirt was strange enough, but wearing an apron?

  And Kelly? Was she really wearing jeans out in public? Jasmine squinted, but the jeans didn’t turn into pleated dress slacks and the knit shirt didn’t become silk.

  Surely calling off a wedding wouldn’t cause them to go crazy, would it?

  “I suppose those are the stairs that go up to your apartment? Well, while your dad plays chef, I’m going up to look at it.” Kelly picked up her cup and was gone before Jasmine could speak.

  “What can I do?” Walt asked.

  “Remember what your plate looked like?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “I’ll put the steaks on the plates. You add potatoes, green beans, and a slice of tomato.”

  “I can do that,” he said. “Your cake was wonderful. I suppose you have a cookbook full of the recipes you use here?”

  “Okay, Dad, what’s going on? You and Momma are scaring the shit out of me,” she said.

  Walt laughed. “Your mother and I’ve been doing some talking. Lots of it since you called her and canceled all her plans. She was pretty pissed and said that if she came over here you wouldn’t be able to tell her no to her face, that you’d break down and let her go ahead with the wedding. I was proud of you,” he whispered.

  She did a quick bow. “Thank you.”

  “I knew there would come a time when you just flat said, ‘No more.’ I was hoping it would be before she decided what to name your children and I never did like all this wedding stuff going on again a
fter you was already married.”

  There wasn’t anything spectacular about Walt King. He was average height at five feet ten inches, not too fat but not lanky, brown receding hair, and a square face. All but his eyes. They were the same shade of green as Jasmine’s, the color of spring grass with just a touch of mossy green around the rims. When he laughed they sparkled, and ever since Jasmine had sat down at their table Walt’s eyes had been twinkling.

  “So?” Jasmine asked.

  “I’m retired. Kelly has her friends and her church so she wouldn’t want to leave Sherman permanently, but she’s ready for a lark. I’m tired of being retired with nothing to do. After a year I’m bored to tears. But I’ve found a passion I didn’t know I had and that’s cooking. Guess you got that gene from me and it’s been lyin’ dormant for years. So there’s going to come a time when you don’t want to run a café and be a rancher’s wife both. When the babies come, it’ll be too much. So your momma and I want to buy your café. We’ll live upstairs like you did and we’ll go home to Sherman on Saturday afternoon so your momma can go to church on Sunday and see her friends. After a year or so, I expect she’ll have a whole new group of friends over here and we’ll sell the property over there and build something right here,” he said.

  It was more words than Jasmine had heard her father speak at one time in her entire life. And she wasn’t totally sure she hadn’t just imagined everything he’d said. Did he really say he wanted to buy Chicken Fried?

  “Order up,” she called to Bridget who was refilling tea glasses.

  “So?” Walt asked.

  “I’m not selling the café,” she said.

  “Your mother has her heart set on it now. That is plan B. She says we’ll keep it country. She liked that little sign you talked about last Christmas. The one that said something about countrified and satisfied. She’s already planning all kinds of ways to improve it. She’ll be the hostess. Seat people and take money. We’ll have two waitresses and I’ll cook,” Walt said.

  “I’m not selling,” Jasmine said.

  “Of course you are,” Kelly said from the bottom of the stairs. “Maybe not today, but you will sell it, Jasmine Marie. And when you do, your father and I want it. That way we’ll be close enough to enjoy our grandchildren. Which I need to talk to you about. Tess is already ahead of me. She got twins and I don’t have anything. But I’ve got one over on her. By the time you have the first baby, we’ll be living here and I can spend all the time I want with them, where Tess has to drive more than a hundred miles. Walt, I like the apartment. It reminds me of the one we had when we were first married. I’ve already got ideas about how to give it some major cosmetic help. And we won’t need a cook since we’ll be taking all our meals right here. I’m liking this more and more.”

  “I can run a café and a ranch at the same time. Besides, I just hired Lucy and she’s helping me at the ranch,” Jasmine argued.

  Kelly patted her on the arm. “Walt, take that apron off and let’s go see Pearl’s twins so I can hold babies. Next year I’m getting mine and Tess won’t be all superior. And Jasmine, we aren’t in a hurry. Just whenever you decide to sell, we are ready to buy it. I’m going home and Marcella and I are going to get out the home decorating books. I’m so excited about it all. We aren’t getting any younger and I want to enjoy my grandkids while I’m young enough to play with them, not watch them play from my wheelchair.”

  Bridget caught a moment between orders and went straight to the kitchen to introduce herself.

  “Hello, I understand you are Jasmine’s parents. Well, I’m Bridget. I been workin’ here about six months and it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Your daughter should be a counselor. She’s taught me a lot and it all don’t have to do with business. Nice to meet you. More customers. Got to get back to it.”

  “We need to get to it too.” Walt pulled off his apron, hugged Jasmine, and whispered, “Don’t sell it to anyone else.”

  “We’ll see you later.” Kelly bussed Jasmine on the cheek.

  Bridget poked her head in the kitchen when they’d left and found Jasmine slumped in a kitchen chair with her head on the table.

  “Bad?” Bridget asked.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Chapter 18

  Ace cussed the tractor.

  Blake kicked it.

  Tyson picked up a wrench and used all his muscles.

  But the damn rusty nut would not budge.

  “Lard,” Lucy said from the back door.

  “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Tyson asked.

  “Don’t talk to me in that tone. I brought a gallon of cold sweet tea and some throwaway cups so y’all could have a drink, so don’t take that attitude with me.” She set the tea down on the tailgate of the ranch work truck and shoved her finger close to his nose.

  Tyson smiled for the first time since Lucy had been there. “Then pour us some tea and leave us alone.”

  The smile or the slight twinkle in his eyes did not escape Lucy. “That’s a little bit better. Still needs some work but it’s progress, Tyson. Lard is what you need. Put some lard on it and I don’t mean none of that vegetable oil. Then sit back and drink your tea and when you get done drinkin’, it will let go.”

  Ace picked up the jug and poured. “You got any lard? We’d try anything right about now.”

  “I got bacon grease left from breakfast. I never throw out good bacon drippin’s. Accordin’ to my momma, that would be sinnin’. And I done already tested God’s meddle enough in my life so I ain’t goin’ to be takin’ chances,” she said.

  “Well, bring it on out here,” Ace said.

  Lucy went back into the bunkhouse and returned with a coffee cup of bacon grease. She dipped her fingers into it and rubbed it all over the nut.

  “Anything else you got that needs a greasin’ before I wash my hands?”

  Ace shook his head.

  Tyson hurried toward the back porch. “I’ll get the door for you, Miz Lucy.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Y’all enjoy your tea and cool down a little before you go back to fixin’ that tractor. The heat makes everything worse,” she said. She’d get Tyson trained and take that haunted look from his eyes if it was the last thing she did. But no man was ever going to talk to her like that again. She watched them from the window above the sink and giggled when Ace applied the wrench to the nut and it twisted right off.

  ***

  Jasmine tried to call Lucy several times from noon until two thirty when she locked the doors behind Bridget. She tried as many times to call Ace, but every time all she got was their voice telling her to leave a message. She didn’t want to talk to a machine; she needed desperately to talk to either or both of them.

  She pulled out of the café parking lot at two thirty-five and made a quick dash through the house before jogging out to the bunkhouse. She found Lucy singing a Loretta Lynn song. The smell of roast in one of the ovens and something that smelled like cinnamon in the other filled the whole bunkhouse, and Lucy was setting the table.

  “Hey, I didn’t hear you. You are really early today,” Lucy said.

  “Been trying to call you for an hour,” Jasmine said.

  “I didn’t even bring the phone with me out here. We need to put a second line out here. Hang one on the wall over there by the fridge. What do you think?”

  “I think I needed to talk to you.” Jasmine’s tone was short.

  “You sound cranky. It’s this blasted heat. It ain’t supposed to get this hot until August. Them men out there were tryin’ to cuss a nut off of the tractor. Heat gets to us all. Want a glass of tea?”

  Jasmine melted into the corner of the sofa at the other end of the room. “Yes, I’ve had a tough day. Yes, I’m cranky as hell. And yes, please, to the glass of tea.”

  Lucy filled two glasses with tea and carried them to the coffee table. She sat down on the other end of the sofa and said, “Talk to me.”

  Words explo
ded like a bomb out of Jasmine’s mouth. “Momma and Daddy want to buy the café, but I can’t sell it and I can’t tell them why, and Momma says she wants to live close to me because she wants to see her grandchildren whenever she can, and Daddy is into this cooking shit and thinks he wants to be a chef for heaven’s sake; he never cooked before he retired so why can’t he do what Momma says and go build a birdhouse?” She stopped to suck in some air and went on just as fast and furious, “And they are coming for supper and I tried to call you to tell you to put on two more plates because I knew there would be plenty of food because you always overcook, but I couldn’t get through to you and I’m falling for Ace and he’s a good-timin’ man like Waylon sings about and I’m not a good-hearted woman because if he ever cheated on me with a woman I wouldn’t welcome him back home again,” she gasped again but it barely slowed her down, “and he will cheat because he’s Ace and he likes women and I knew it when I married him, and who am I to think he’ll settle down and not flirt around other women, and I’ve got to talk to someone or I’m going to blow up like a stick of dynamite and I can’t tell anyone because I promised Ace I wouldn’t and now Momma wants babies and it’s all going to be over in… nothing… I can’t tell anyone.”

  “You done?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I hear the worst stories in the world, Jasmine. I counsel abused women. You can talk to me,” Lucy said softly.

  “I’ve got a tattoo on my butt,” Jasmine blurted out.

  “And your momma saw it and that’s got you this twisted up? Lord, I thought the world was coming to an end,” Lucy said.

  Jasmine pushed her hair back with both her hands and held her aching head. “Momma didn’t see it, but it’s a tat of the John Deere logo. I’m supposed to be strong enough to take on anything, but I told her no on the wedding and now she wants to buy my café and I couldn’t even sell if I wanted to because I’ll have to have it back in a year because…”