And Yesterday Is Gone (32 page)

Tim interrupted with, “Well, if her own daughter hadn't been hiding behind the curtains…”

Ma opened the door, her face radiant. She came directly to me.

“Charles, I want you to meet my son, Steve. Steve, Charles Kearney.”

His big hands gave a firm handshake and his piercing blue eyes looked directly into mine with an easy smile. Above his ruddy complexion was a rumpled thatch of hair just starting to gray. I thought he probably spent a lot of time outdoors.

He wore a plaid shirt that looked like it knew what the inside of a washer looked like, and jeans that shared the secret.

Ma turned him to Rica and Sis, whose acknowledgment was frosty. But Rica smiled and returned his handshake.

Tim stepped forward, extending his hand. “Glad to meet you. You've been very kind to our mother. Would you like a beer? Steve and I have been working on a six-pack.”

“I'd love one, but later. I'm helping with this party and, since Margaret has offered to help, too, I've stopped by for her.”

“But the party is tomorrow,” Sis exclaimed.

“Well, it's a big house with lots of rooms. She can find a place to sleep, I'm sure. A car will pick you up tomorrow. You'll probably want to stay over, too. A Texas party can last a few days. Delighted to have met y'all. Are you ready, Margaret?”

Ma whispered something in Sis' ear and then they were gone.

“What did Ma say?” I asked.

“Said to get dressed in our very best. It will be a big celebration.”

Sis was beside herself. “How dare he call her by her first name. Why should we have to get dressed for some cowboy whoop-de-do.”

Tim said, “I noticed she changed into those handmade boots he gave her. Handmade boots usually start at about four hundred dollars.”

“He probably sold the cow.” Sis sniffed.

“The party starts at three. It will probably be a barbeque to celebrate the end of the roundup,” she added.

“It's nice he's providing transportation,” Rica said. “How far is it from here?”

“I really don't know. We'll crowd his truck, so we'll probably travel in a horse trailer.”

“Well,” Rica said, “I'm going to dress up. I'm tired of everyday clothes. If it's a party, I'm going to whoop-de-do in something pretty.”

“Me, too,” I added. “I brought a white shirt, a sports jacket and new slacks.”

“Sounds like fun,” Tim said. “Wish I could go in my dress blues and show those cowboys what a tough marine looks like. We haven't been out to a party for ages. I'm ready.”

“Okay, I'm outvoted,” Sis said. “I've still got that dress I got married in, so it's off with the gingham and homespun. I should borrow something from Ma's closet. She bought three new dresses last week and one real fancy one. Don't know what those church folks will think about that.” She laughed. “Don't know what's gotten into her, a woman of her age.”

“Sis,” I protested, “she's only fifty-one.”

“That's old. She should act her age.”

“I hope I look that good when I'm fifty-one,” Rica said.

“Outvoted again. Tim, pick up your cans and check your fire.”

The next morning Tim and I were put in charge of the two children. Sis' boy was five months older than Billy and quicker on his feet. Billy was still uncertain. He played rough—reminded me of Sis and me as kids. I was older, but she was bigger. By lunchtime, Tim and I were ready for their nap.

Rica had brought an overnight bag with a quick change for me in case we should stay over, and Billy's stuff. Sis thought that was a good idea, too.

After lunch we decided to think about getting ready for the grand party. The boys were dressed first and, once again, Tim and I babysat. They looked adorable and squirmed to get down, but Tim said, “Then we'd have to dress them, so hold tight.”

Rica walked out of the bedroom and I caught my breath. I hadn't seen her really dressed up for months. She was gorgeous in a gown that clung to every curve. She had been a beautiful girl, but now she was a voluptuous woman. Motherhood became her.

Sis appeared and I could tell she was pleased with herself, pleased that she could still get into her wedding dress. She, too, was a woman to be proud of. Sis had no need now for Noxzema or curlers, her blonde hair curled naturally around her face. She was striking. I thought Ma had probably looked like that when she was young.

“Your sister sure got all the looks in your family,” Tim said as he feasted his eyes. He nudged me and added, “S'pose we could skip that other shindig and do a little partying ourselves? I s'pose if you even suggested that to these beauties, they wouldn't leave us enough to party with.”

Sis looked out the window. “Oh my God,” she shrieked. “He's sent a hearse.”

I rushed to the window and recognized a black limo I guessed to be about fifty feet long. I gasped, “Come in,” when the chauffeur knocked.

“May I take your bag, ma'am?”

Wordless, Sis handed him her overnighter.

He held the door to the limo and we settled ourselves comfortably.

The babies slept all the way in our arms, Tim's and mine. The girls didn't want to get wrinkled.

We sat almost in shock as the limo sped across the Texas prairie. Then I mumbled to Sis, “Not bad for a horse trailer,” which earned me a wicked dig in the ribs.

The limo threaded its way in and out of the wide sweeping turns as we neared the low-lying hills. It seemed to me that we had been on the road for a long time—or else I was just impatient.

Leaning forward, I asked the driver, “How far is it to this shindig?”

“About seventy miles to the big house,” he answered.

“That seems like a long way to go to a party,” I said.

“Not if you're on a good horse,” he drawled.

“Not me,” I said. “Personally I'd prefer rubber beneath me.”

“Well, guess Mr. Kearney does, too. He's still partial to that old pickup he drives.”

“I've never seen so many hills,” Rica said to the driver. “I feel sorry for the cows—where are the cows?”

Catching her eye in the rearview mirror, he said, “They're all in the winter pastures now. Those hills are a cow's heaven. You should see them in the spring with all their calves. The hills are green; it's beautiful,” his voice softened.

Then he continued, “This is a part of Texas that's known as the hill country. Big cattle ranches, mesquite, oil wells. Oh, and rattlesnakes, too.” He laughed. “Mr. Kearney owns a big part of it. One of the biggest ranches in Texas.”

A shocked silence behind him as we digested this information. I didn't dare to look at Sis. Her gasp told me for once in her life she was speechless, but I wasn't going to let her off easy.

Speaking quietly, I said, “Well, Sis, what do you think?”

“I think I shouldn't have been so quick to turn that porch light on.” She sighed.

Finally, the outline of a house appeared like a cherry at the top of an ice cream sundae, nestled on the low rise of a hill. Even at a distance the long, flowing lines of the residence appeared impressive.

“Doesn't look like a cook house to me,” Tim whispered. I heard him grunt as Sis' elbow found its mark.

As we moved slowly up the driveway, I could tell that the party was already in progress. Through the open window, we could hear the band tuning up, shouts of laughter, and, oh, the mouthwatering aroma of roasting pork.

Ma had been watching for us as I knew she would. She ran down the broad steps of the veranda before the limo came to a full stop.

Charles followed with a broad smile on his face as he said, “Glad you're here. Now we'll have that beer.”

Billy was now wide awake in Rica's arms and squirming to get down.

Ma threw her arms around me. Looking down to see the love and the tears competing, I didn't care if the press ever rolled again.

Sis squeezed in. “See, I always knew she loved you best.”

“And the most,” I answered, repeating a ritual we had perfected since childhood.

“Come along, gentlemen,” Charles said. “Allow the ladies to do what they do best. Let's see if we can find a snack somewhere to go with that beer I promised you.

“I've got two wonderful Mexican ladies here to care for the babies so you needn't worry and we can all join the party.”

So we went our separate ways.

Tim and I followed Charles down the long shaded veranda, then stepped down to the tiled courtyard. A brightly colored canopy kept the hot afternoon sun from the big table groaning with Charles' “snacks.”

“This is just to keep our strength up until dinner.” He grinned. “Grab a plate.”

I could smell the porker roasting on a spit somewhere nearby, and I knew from whom Billy had inherited his drool.

Wide wooden gates opened from the courtyard to a newly constructed flat surface, obviously a dance floor—I saw band instruments and a fellow tuning his guitar.

The courtyard was large with tables and colored umbrellas scattered randomly about, some pushed against the low adobe wall that hung heavy with vines and flowers.

“Charles,” Tim said, almost running to keep up, “Your driver said something about not being far if you had a good horse?”

“Well, sometimes it seems like a fur piece.” Charles laughed, lapsing into the twang and jargon of the locals.

We found an empty table and set our heaping plates down.

“Now for the beer. Tim, get on your horse.”

We struggled back through the growing crowd and found the real party at the bar. We pushed through and it was easily apparent that Charles was surely among friends—backslapping, hand-shaking greetings from every side.

A voice called, “Hey Charlie, when are you gonna get rid of that old junker you drive? It's an embarrassment. Gives Texas a bad image.”

Another voice added, “Now that you've got that new gusher, you can afford to buy a new one. Heck, you can buy one for all of us—how about it?”

Above the din came Charles' announcement. “Hey, you bronc busters, give me a minute. I want to introduce Steve…” He put his arm over my shoulder, “…and Tim, a Marine who keeps you boys safe from the bad guys. Treat 'em right.”

Then turning to me, he said, “I'm gonna leave you on your own with these hooligans. I've got to get this party started.”

I thought if it moved any faster, I'd be late.

Two large tubs of ice were packed with cans of beer brands I'd never heard of; two barkeeps were rushing to keep up at the heavily stocked bar.

Everyone wanted to stand us a drink, but I begged off. “We're waiting for our ladies and we promised to be sober.” We compromised with a beer in each hand as we slowly found our way to the table where our food waited.

Tim stopped chewing long enough to ask, “Did you hear that guy say something about a new gusher. Does that mean oil?”

“Yeah, but s'pose he was just BSing.”

I looked up from my food to see a fellow approaching our table. He seemed a bit unsteady, a can of beer in each hand. When he reached the table, he put a beer down and extended his hand.

“Bob Morris here, one of Charlie's neighbors about fifty miles east. Can I
set
with you guys a spell till my legs get used to walkin'?”

“Yeah, I lost my horse, too,” Tim joked.

Full of food and icy cold beer, we stretched our legs and leaned back. A loud blast from the mariachi trio that was circling around quieted us for a moment.

Talking above the strident music, Tim said, “That sure is a beautiful house.”

“Yeah,” Bob replied, “My great-grandfather helped Kearney's great- grandfather build it, in 1890, I think it was. The outside adobe walls are three feet thick. Six bedrooms—those old-timers had lots of kids.”

He pulled a cigarette from a crumpled pack, lit a match with a swipe of his hand across his pants, then took a long drag.

“The kitchen is twenty feet long and the pot rack is hung with many of the old handmade utensils. Guess it will last forever. Charles has modernized it, of course. The inside walls are all aromatic cedar—sure smells good,” he added as he took another long drag. “Took thirty Mexicans over a year to build it. Kearney built that little church in town, too.”

Tim and I listened in silence; Bob was a fountain of information.

“His wife died about twelve years ago. She was a great lady and he took it awful hard. Nobody saw him for a month and he sure looked like hell when they did. Heard he's courtin' a lady from his church now.”

Tim interrupted, “Well, she's another fine lady. I know because she's my mother-in-law and there's none finer.”

Bob looked dumfounded. “Didn't know you were kinfolk.” He ground out the remains of his cigarette with the worn-over heel of his boot.

“I s'pose you've heard they're gonna run Charlie for governor next year. A gusher that just come in will probably finance his campaign. That makes three wells he's got. Ol' Charlie ain't hurtin'.”

He drained his last beer, fumbled for his cigarettes and struck another match. Standing, he said, “Good to have met you boys. Guess I'll amble over and see if the bar's still open.”

We sat in stunned silence, looking at each other.

“I'll be damned,” Tim said. “Ma's struck oil.”

•  •  •

The band, composed of a drum, saxophone and two guitars, hit a few tentative notes, then opened up.

People scrambled to their feet and stampeded to the dance floor. The music pounded to rock ‘n' roll.

“Where are our women?” Tim demanded.

“Probably Ma is showing them through the house. Rica is wild for a big house so now I'm in trouble again.”

“Oh, here they come, the both of 'em. They look just as good coming as going.” Tim grinned.

I walked to meet Rica and fell in love all over again. Sis and Tim joined us.