The Hard-To-Tame Texan

Two

Late that evening, Mrs. Keeper was sitting on the wide stool before her vanity mirror. She rolled her hair onto small wire rounds and pinned them with odd, bendable, plastic hairpins. She looked as if she’d just landed from some faraway planet.

Her husband came over and sat on his side of the stool, which had been custom-made for that very reason. His legs were on either side of her and his arms were around her body, nicely, but his hands were not in control. He asked, “What are we going to do about Andrew?”

She sighed with his “we” comment because what he actually meant was: What was she going to do about Andrew.

She fiddled with the lengths of hair tightly wound up in all those plastic doodads. She mentioned, “I’ve called Mark’s daughter JoAnn?” That’s the TEXAS questioning do-you-understand statement. “She’s coming to see us and she’s going to smooth Andrew... out.”

With his eyes closed, Mr. Keeper’s hands were exploring his wife’s front chest He mentioned, “Women terrify me.”

She turned her head slightly and looked at him loftily over her shoulder from under hooded eyes. She said, “—you are terrified—with reason. You brought me out to this raw place and, even now, you expect me to adjust.”

“You’ve done that very well.”

“Hah!”

Indignant, he reminded her, “I let you go in to San Antone twice a year to shop.”

“You go along and shake your head over anything I put on!”

“That’s how well you make a rag look when it’s on your body. I’ll not have you wearing rags.”

She was patient. “If they look good on me, then they’re not rags.”

And he said, “Oh,” as if he’d learned something.

“Why are you clutching my breasts? Do you think you’re going to fall off the stool? You had it made so that you wouldn’t.”

“I’m being helpful.” He breathed on the back of her neck and his hands cupped her breasts closely. “It’s nice you have two. One for each hand. No quarreling of hands. Each is content.”

She sighed with some drama. “You’re groping me again.”

That shocked him for her lack of understanding. “No, no, no! I’m keeping them from jiggling!”

“How kind.” Then she told her husband, “I can’t think of anything else to do with him.” She didn’t even have to say the name of Andrew Parsons.

So her husband solved everything. “Let’s take him back out on the tableland and just dump him. We could shoot a horse to put on top of him.”

“Not any of our horses.”

He accused, “You’re picky.”

She moved her mouth around as if she was searching out food caught in her teeth, then she sighed impatiently, “He’s human.”

“No! Really?”

And they were then silent. He relished her body and neck. She went on winding up every damned little curl.

She mentioned, “Your parents will be here in about three more days.”

Her husband chuckled in his throat.

“Why do you laugh?”

“How young they are. My daddy’s just barely twenty years older. My momma is only twenty-one years older than you. They really hurried. I was born exactly nine months after they were married!”

“—and your daddy was in Europe, fighting in that awful war.”

“Yeah. He didn’t think he’d get back.”

“I’m glad he did.”

“Me, too.” Then he looked at her in the mirror, and they smiled at each other. But he told her, “I have only one eye.”

She was patient He did that all the time. She told him, “Move your head over to your right. You will see that you have two eyes.”

He did that and exclaimed in lousy surprise, “Glory be!”

He continued sitting astraddle her hips, and he gently moved his evening beard on her shoulder giving her erotic goose bumps. But he was very diligently holding her breasts to keep them from wiggling.

When she finally finished winding her hair and had captured all of the curls on her head, he asked, “Ready?”

“For what?”

“Me.”

“Don’t joggle my hair.”

He chided, “I never have! The hair on your head isn’t one of your sexual lures.”

“I’ll take out the pins.”

“Naw. I’d never notice.”

“You just like my body.”

“I like you, your body, your essence, the way you laugh, and that sneaky little smile when you want me.”

She was indignant. “I have never wanted you. I’m just a used sex slave.”

“Wow.” He laughed. “How come you clutch me and writhe and move around and gasp.”

“Endurance.” But she licked her smile with a naughty tongue and her eyes were wicked.

So two days later JoAnn Murray drove up to the Keepers’ door with two suitcases, which she judiciously left in her car. She was redheaded. That meant that she was independent. Redheads always are.

Redheaded people had to endure a lot of discussion about the color of body hair, and teasing. That sort of thing solidifies their character. They’re unique and they live as they damn well choose.

After greeting Mrs. Keeper, JoAnn said, “Mother ruthlessly sent me here to cope with your obvious problem and get rid of him. I am skilled in getting rid of males. Mother loves you. This will clear her books with your kindness in helping her. She underlined that. You are to agree with her clean record now, before I do anything about this leech you’ve acquired.”

Mrs. Keeper replied, “Well, hello, JoAnn. How is your dear mother?”

“Dramatically relieved you’ve asked me to do this and not asked her. She says she’s too old to deal with young men anymore. She only watches them in the Soaps.”

“Your mother is dear to me.”

JoAnn was tolerant. She advised in a mature manner, “We all have our moments. Tell me about this male burden who made you send out an S.O.S. for the first time since mama’s known you in college. She is so curious.”

As the two women of different ages talked, they entered the house and went into a side room downstairs. There, they were served tea as Mrs. Keeper had directed the kitchen crew before JoAnn’s arrival.

JoAnn sipped some, then more and closed her eyes as she tilted her head and smiled. “Ahhh. It’s perfect... as usual.”

Mrs. Keeper didn’t make tea. She slept with Mr. Keeper and that was about all she did. Of course, the crew was her choosing.

If someone had made lousy tea, Mrs. Keeper would have isolated them with their cook until the newcomer knew exactly how to make tea. No one was ever fired. They were turned over to the head cook, or the head butler or the head gardener, and on occasion to her and was instructed more widely.

Educating and adjusting newcomers was the same with everybody who was on the Keeper place. It included everyone who was around, involved in crooking, housecleaning, barns, animals, plowing, flying, whatever.

So the tea was perfect. The servers had hesitated on the other side of the door and watched. Mrs. Keeper sipped the tea and looked at it and she smiled. That was like a pat on the head for the watchers and they went back to the kitchen.

Mrs. Keeper inquired, “Are those in your family all well?”

“Fine. This tea is perfect.”

“We have a wonderful crew.”

See? Mrs. Keeper was kind. So she then said, “What are we to do about this Andrew Parsons?”

“Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll get rid of him for you.”

“Well,” hesitated Mrs. Keeper, “I really think he needs to be...uh...restructured. It would be unkind for us to just pitch him onto a sand dune. Isolated again. He needs to fit into some portion of society better.”

JoAnn was thoughtful. “I don’t believe I’ve ever done anything like that. I believe you’ve contacted the wrong person for this. I’m a rejecter.” JoAnn then smiled kindly to soften the blow for Mrs. Keeper. People tended to be thataway with Mrs. Keeper. She appeared to be quite fragile.

Mrs. Keeper tasted the word, “Re-ject-er. Push away. Discard.”

“Yep.”

“I shall have to find someone else.” She sighed in a fragile manner. “But in the time that will take, could you begin by teaching Mr. Parsons that he will very soon be in the twenty-first century? He needs to realize that he is at the very end of the twentieth?”

“Well...”

Mrs. Keeper elaborated to explain herself. “Andrew needs to look forward to stepping over into the next century. He hasn’t even been in this one. He’s of another time.”

She sighed gently before she went on: “He believes that his adventures are all a surprise for the rest of us. Either actually telling of where he’s been, or being on TV, that time, or writing of it in books. He does not realize that we have mostly already looked all around this planet, the moon, and now Mars. There is no new place for Andrew on this entire earth. On horseback, he is a throwback.”

Mrs. Keeper paused and considered JoAnn. “While I search for someone to upgrade him, do you think you could endure at least allowing him to talk to you? He is quite isolated here.”

JoAnn shrugged. “I haven’t anything at all on my calendar. It would give me something to do.”

“I really appreciate your help. I shall try to be quick in finding someone else to help him. Do what you can.”

JoAnn sighed. “Okay. I’ll get my luggage.”

“Let Tom. He has nothing to do, and it would please him to help you.”

Nothing to do? Tom’s own mother assumed Tom had nothing to do? He had no time, at all!

At that moment, Tom was at Rip’s plane getting ready to board when his cellular phone burped. He was surprised. People very rarely called him! He looked at Rip and said, “My phone!”

Rip observed Tom with curiosity and said, “Yeah.” A beep was a beep. So—

So Tom pulled the phone into reality and lifted it as he said, “Tom.”

And his mother said, “Darling, I need you here.”

“Yes.” Then Tom refolded his phone and put it back into his pocket as he said, “Mother needs me. Let me go with you later?”

“Yeah. Meanwhile, I’ll go on out...looking.”

“You need someone else with you. Ask Ben or Wilkie?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks. Be careful.”

“Yeah.”

So Tom’s Jeep pulled up to the door of the Keeper place. And there was his mother and... Why, it was JoAnn! His mother looked okay. She wasn’t stressed. JoAnn grinned.

His mother said to Tom, “We need your muscles to get JoAnn’s luggage into the house. She’s going to have the room just down the hall from us. There on the left. That guest room.”

Tom blinked. He’d been called back...to move...luggage? There was a whole, entire house crew for such. His mother was going into the winky-dink time?

Tom said, “Okay.” And he went the ten steps to JoAnn’s car and effortlessly lifted out her two bags. He carried them to the door and found his mother waiting for him to open the door for them.

Okay.

He put down the suitcases and escorted the ladies back inside. Then he retrieved JoAnn’s luggage.

As he reentered the house, he asked JoAnn, “You been visiting?”

“I got here just a while ago. We’ve been talking and drinking—tea.”

His eyes twinkled and he moved his lips so his grin was interrupted.

JoAnn said, “So you’re out here and working on the place?”

“Just another ranch hand.” He exchanged an amused glance. He hadn’t seen JoAnn for some time. She looked pretty good to his eyes. How about her showing up with luggage! How come?

“You on the circuit?” Then he bit his lip. She was about thirty. She might be embarrassed by her visiting... with him there. Was his momma waving her under his nose? He looked at her again and thought, okay.

But his mother was saying rather sternly, “I asked JoAnn to come in order to bring Andrew up to time. He believes he’s the only one who has even been on the tableland.”

Tom scoffed, “He’s a pilgrim.”

“Yes.” His mother sighed and walked farther down the cool hallway.

JoAnn followed. She had stiffened a bit with Tom’s impulsive inquire if she was back on the circuit. She had never been on the circuit! She was a current, independent woman and she didn’t need the circuit to find a willing man! With her daddy’s money, she didn’t need to go looking for any man!

She became somewhat aloof.

Redheads can get hostile real quick like. Tom sighed inside his body and began to verbally tape over his stupidity. He said, “That’s some automobile you got out there.”

“It’s a dream.”

He asked, “Take me for a ride this evening?”

JoAnn replied vaguely, “I’ll see.”

She gave him a very independent look. Or was it... a...rejecting one? Well, if it was, it shouldn’t surprise Tom any. He’d missed so many perfect women who’d gotten married off to somebody else, that he wouldn’t be at all surprised to be dumped by this one just about immediately.

Andrew Parsons came carefully down the hall with a cane helping his left leg walk. He was lonely and bored. He’d heard female talk. So he snooped. He smiled courteously and lowered his head in a minimal bow as he apparently meant to go on by them.

Mrs. Keeper said, “Good morning, Andrew. Allow me to introduce you to my new guest.”

That red hair—Andrew’s eyes sparkled. He stopped with courteous interest, his eyes on the redheaded one. He hadn’t even noticed Tom. Andrew had no real interest in Tom anyway and found him unsuitable because Tom had never been at all interested in Andrew’s adventures.

The reason Tom wasn’t interested was because he’d been out on that tableland how many thousands of times? To search, to herd, to just be alone out there. That had been when he first had his own horse. He’d gone out to help watch a herd stay in the area allotted to them in the wet times when the grasses were lush.

Tom went out on the tableland to find steers that had avoided being rounded up. To find calves that cows had dropped and discarded. And just recently, to look for whoever it was out there who’d shot that great bullet and knocked Andrew’s horse over...dead.

Tom had observed the changings of the land in the gentle, subtle seasons. The tableland was fragile and beautiful. He took pleasure in the looking around and loved the land.

Tom had little endurance with the pilgrim who saw the tableland as bleak and useless, craggy and waterless. Andrew hadn’t looked well enough. There were springs out yonder, if a man knew where to look.

And nobody who lived around there was ever going to give away the secrets of the hidden places.

So now a cranky Tom inquired of the pilgrim, “When you clipped our fences, did you see any of our No Trespassing signs?” Now that was about the most blatant comment Tom could make to the pilgrim.

His mother was appalled and stood straighter.

Andrew replied kindly, “I didn’t see any signs. Perhaps you should have larger ones?”

Tom looked levelly at the pilgrim and said, “But you did see that the area was fenced. That should have been some sort of clue it is private land?”

His mother put her hand around a portion of Tom’s arm and subtly shook it, indicating that he was being rude enough and to cut it out.

Tom turned his head slowly and just looked stonily at his mother.

She inquired, “Will you be here for lunch?”

Tom replied, “No.” He just walked on off, but he tilted his hat barely enough to JoAnn, as he went out the door, got into his Jeep and left.

It was probably Tom’s doing exactly that which caught JoAnn’s attention, causing her to blink. So Tom wasn’t as wimpy as she’d thought. How interesting.

She looked at Andrew. She considered him. Mrs. Keeper had indoctrinated JoAnn on exactly what all Andrew had done. JoAnn wondered how in the world Andrew had ever gotten along in this current time. He was obviously interested in her. She tended to attract male attention. It was boringly her red hair that lured men. They always wanted to know if her hair was red...everywhere?

The very idea of such interest exasperated JoAnn.

So she looked at Mrs. Keeper who was kind and gentle, and her mother’s best friend. JoAnn had to complete her effort to help Mrs. Keeper. She could not say, “Well, so long,” and just leave. She had to do as her mother had requested.

Since JoAnn didn’t give one hoot in hell about this obsolete creature, called Andrew, she just might catch his logical attention and straighten him out. Maybe. He was probably more mature—He was how old? Probably about forty. A little old to be adjusted by someone her age. He probably would not listen to her. She’d see.

She looked back at Andrew. He was sliding his eyes down her body. That was about what every male did. To her, it was irritating. So basic. She wondered if there was any man around anywhere who would consider her mind first. Most of them never noticed that she had a brain. The males almost all thought she was a wingy-ding.

They just wanted to see the silken hairs on her body and find if they were the color of the hair on her head. They were most earnest about that. She had never been snared by such a dummy. That’s why she was still single.

Men were single-minded and rather limited. Uh...not Tom. It had been a surprise that he’d exited as he had. She would give him another look over.

But in the meantime, she had to do something about that lost-in-time person, Andrew Parsons, who didn’t know which side was up.

While JoAnn was thinking that, Andrew was secure in the fact that she was taken with him. How that came about, God only knows, but Andrew smiled at her kindly.

Like the nurses at the hospital, women tended to be lured by Andrew. He understood that was so... and accepted it. He sighed gently, but he was very pleased.

Buddy, who had been Andrew’s dog, had escaped and gone over to Rip’s house. He knew the house because Rip had kept him there nights when Andrew had been hospitalized.

This time, Buddy had abandoned Andrew. It had taken some time for Buddy to realize Andrew used a dog or a person. The human male was extensively spoiled. Buddy had been loyal and endured. But not being fed last night had been the crowning blow. Once too often. He’d gone hungry too many times. Buddy was through caring for the selfish Andrew.

So the dog had gone to Rip’s house.

At Rip’s house, Buddy just went through the dog door and barked once to let them know he was back.

Andrew’s sister, Lu, came into the living room at Rip’s house. She smiled at the dog. “So you’ve come home.”

The dog understood the words which people never know dogs knew, and he smiled. He laughed. His tongue panted and his smile was wide.

Lu asked, “How’d you get away?”

The dog looked at the dog door and back at Lu. He’d given her a reply.

Lu asked, “Are you here to visit?”

The dog went under the table and lay down. That was to indicate he was hiding there, and she wasn’t to tell anyone she’d seen him.

She didn’t catch on at all. She squatted down and asked, “Why are you under there? Are you hiding?”

Buddy came out, sure she understood his plight and that she was on bis side. He smiled at her.

She laughed and said. “I’m glad to see you, too. Come into the kitchen while I finish the dishes. Look at my hands! Who would ever believe I’m a Parsons?”

The dog gave a discreet, low bark as he told her she was perfect.

She asked, “You’re hungry? You can’t be! You’re teasing me. We only feed our dogs in the morning and again in the evening. You’re not to get a lunch, too!”

The dog laughed. She wasn’t too sharp but she was kind.

She said, “Rip will be here for lunch. I just might give you a little taste...if you promise not to blab. Okay?”

The dog had to walk around a little with his head down. But he thought she was hilarious.

Rip came inside the house in a hurry. He ignored the dog and just took Lu against his body as he kissed her. She wiggled against him to get even closer and blushed and kissed him back.

Even though the dog pranced and barked to get in on the greeting, neither person was aware of it. They clutched each other, kissed and—not letting go of each other—they stumbled into the bedroom. And at the last minute, Rip closed the bedroom door.

So Buddy was in the hall. He was closed out He could hear the rustle of clothing, Lu’s soft laughter, and the creek of the bed. Buddy felt sorry for the people. Their mating was so complicated. With dogs, it was easier.

Three

For Andrew Parsons, the days were too long and the nights were even longer. He was bored out of his gourd, but he didn’t know of any other place where he wanted to be.

Actually, he’d had no response from any of those places that he’d contacted as a haven. He’d contacted a good many places while in hospital where he had been recovering from his injuries.