If Wishes Were Horses (35 page)

The sale barn was pretty much a male domain. There were a couple of women secretaries, and on occasion a woman might come to do business, but generally she would be a woman who had done so all her life. He was quite certain Etta had never set foot in a stockyard sale barn.

But she shook her head. “No,” and opened the door.

Johnny hurried around to help her out of the cab. She shook wrinkles out of the skirt of her flowered dress, and looked again at the white clapboard building.

She said, “I guess I would appreciate if you went with me, though.”

Her wanting him made him feel good. He nodded, falling in step beside her, leaning ahead to open the door and putting a hand to her back as they went down the hallway.

“Let’s take a look at the prices,” he said and led her over to the board and pointed to the price they were looking for. Etta peered at it, looked down and checked the amount on the contract, then looked at him with wide eyes.

Tickled almost to laughing, Johnny said, “You’re gonna make a profit, Miz Etta,” then put a hand to her back and directed her toward Bill Flowers’s office. It only just then occurred to him that the man might not be in, a concern he decided not to mention.

Bill Flowers was there, jawing and laughing with some fellows. Etta might not have known who he was, but by his expression Johnny could tell Flowers sure enough recognized her; as Johnny made the introductions, the man stared at Etta about like he’d seen a ghost. The two men with him nodded politely and made quick goodbyes.

Johnny looked at Flowers and took it upon himself to say, “I believe you owe Missus Rivers for cattle you had contracted to buy about six weeks ago.”

Etta stepped forward and handed Flowers the contract. “I found this in Roy’s papers.”

Bill Flowers cleared his throat and looked curious as he took the contract. “Well, what have you got here?”

He appeared not to understand as he read. Then he started rubbing the back of his neck, as if thinking very hard of how to get out of this hole because paying for the cattle was going to cost him terribly.

“I forgot all about this . . . I sure did, and I’m sorry, Miz Rivers. My secretary quit on me ‘bout then, and everythin’s been in a mess.”

“I’d like a check,” Etta said very simply and making Johnny have to choke back a laugh. “And you can come get the cattle anytime you want. There’s two new ones, too,” she added.

The man started to hem and haw about prices, trying his best to come up with a way out of it, but then his gaze met Johnny’s. With a resigned sigh, he sat down and opened his big checkbook. “You’re gettin’ a good profit. I guess Roy knew what he was doin’ after all,” he said as he handed Etta the check, acting as if he wanted to jerk it back.

“Yes,” Etta said. “Sometimes Roy knew exactly what he was doing, and no one expected it. Thank you.”

She turned for the door, and Bill Flowers called after her that he’d send a couple of trucks for the cattle.

Walking so swiftly that Johnny had to hurry to catch up to her, she burst out of the office doors.

Whirling around to face him, she cried, “Oh, Johnny!” in a way that made his heart fly up. The next instant she was hugging him, and he felt her warm feminine body beneath his hands, smelled her fragrant hair, for an instant before she was racing away to his truck.

“We have to go to the bank right now,” she cried. “I have only a little over an hour before I have to get back to feed Lattie Kate.”

Etta was kept a good many minutes waiting to see Edward Boatwright. This gave her more time to compose exactly what she wished to say to him, but it was also time that her breasts kept filling with milk, and she began to get very nervous. When at last she was shown into his office, she sat on the edge of the chair, gazing at Edward, who looked back at her and not at all inviting.

“Leon tells me you don’t want to sell the house, Etta. He said you have decided to keep it and a section of land, but what he didn’t say was how you plan to pay the bank.”

Etta passed him the check she’d received from Bill Flowers, and then everything she’d planned to say came rushing out like a river, how she hoped to sell the land to pay off the biggest part of the mortgage, and then how she planned to raise horses—not fancy stock like Roy had done, but solid ranch and rodeo stock, and to operate the place as a stable and sell hay. She did not plan to be rich, but to live simply and quietly and provide for Lattie Kate.

“I can go back to waitressing, too, and if you’ll let me make small payments, I know I can repay the loan.”

When she was finished, she realized how tense she had become and made herself sit straight but relaxed. She thought she ought to have learned something from Roy about maintaining composure while going after what she wanted.

Edward stared at her for a long moment, probably the longest he had ever looked at her. There was actually no expression on his face. She had the disconcerting thought that his expression might be the same if he were dead. Yet she felt suddenly his power, and she forced herself to look him straight in the eye. She was not helped at that particular moment by the realization that her breasts had begun to ache.

He leaned forward, folding his hands together on top of the desk. “I have no problem with you sellin’ off the land in parcels. Likely you will get more for it that way than if it is auctioned as a whole. But the mortgage is overdue now, and I really don’t foresee that it is in your interest to be payin’ on the mortgage for the rest of your life, which could happen with the interest accruing like it is. The debt is gettin’ larger with every day. Do you understand this, Etta?”

She nodded. She did understand, although she hadn’t really thought of it. “When I sell all the land and pay that on the loan, can we then refigure for the house? And if anything happens to me, it would be the same—the bank could take the house.”

Edward gazed
at
her again. “How much time do you want?”

“Oh.” She swallowed, thinking, “Six months . . . six months to get on my feet.”

“To get on your feet.” He smiled wryly, “No wonder you married Roy. You believe in miracles.”

She did not care for his sarcasm, but she didn’t think she was in a position to make a lot of it. “No,” she said. “I’m just not one for givin’ up.”

Again, his cool blue eyes rested thoughtfully on her, and she figured he was going to say that there was no way. She was already so far behind; it was not likely she could ever catch up.

“The only smart thing Roy ever did was marry you,” he said, to Etta’s great amazement. “You’re right about not givin’ up—you showed that when you stayed with him. And that’s what makes me inclined to go with you now.” He nodded. “Okay. Let’s see how much land you can sell in three months. That’s the best I can do.”

Stunned, she gazed at him, thinking she may have misunderstood him. And she had questions.

But Edward said brusquely, “Go on and get busy. You got land to sell and money to raise, and three months go fast,” and turned his attention to folders in front of him, pushing the buzzer for his secretary, as if he was ready to forget all about Etta.

She turned and hurried out, halfway expecting him to call her back even as she softly shut the door. She walked through the lobby and out the door, stood blinking in the bright light, peering down the sidewalk in search of Johnny. She saw him waiting, leaning against his truck parked at the curb. She walked toward him, and he opened the truck door for her. She started to get inside, then paused and looked over the top of the door at him.

“Edward’s given me three months more to sell land and catch up some of the mortgage,” she said.

“Well, that’s what you were wantin’.”

“I asked for six,” she told him absently as she slipped into the truck seat.

Johnny shut the door, came around and started them for home. Etta decided that she didn’t want to pick up the conversation again because what was on her mind was to ask if he was going to stay and help her. Her pride held her quiet on that score.

But she was so wound up over her meeting with Edward that she ended up telling Johnny about it, in short sentences which made what had transpired sound all choppy. At last she fell silent and looked away out the window, watching the passing scenery and wondering about her mood, which had begun declining.

Only a few minutes ago, she had been so excited. Now, thinking of it, she began to feel overwhelmed. What had she done? If she could not pay back the bank, they could take the farm from her. She’d have nothing then. She and Lattie Kate and Latrice would be destitute and all alone.

She suddenly felt so sad and tired, and what was more, her breasts had grown very hard and painful. She sat as still as possible, hoping to prevent them from leaking all over her dress front and embarrassing her to pieces—and Johnny, too.

The very next morning Fred Grandy called to say that Walter Fudge had made an offer on the section of land to the east that bordered his own property. The price he offered to pay was a hundred dollars an acre less than what the land was worth. Etta decided to discuss the matter with Johnny before she answered.

“It’s your place, Miz Etta. You have to decide.”

“I know that,” she said, annoyed at his reticence.

She followed after him as he strode down the barn alleyway to a stall. “I’m askin’ your opinion.”

He reached to open the top of the stall door, stopped, turned, and looked at her. “You can sell now, and have the money hard and fast, or you can wait the man out. Do you think he wants it more than you want to sell it?”

“Well, he wants it—he’s wanted it for years. But he doesn’t need it as badly as I need to sell it.”

“Probably nobody is gonna need or want it that bad,” Johnny said dryly, going on into the stall and putting the halter on one of Harry Flagg’s horses.

Etta knew that was so. “He’s the only one who’s been interested, too,” she said, hardly aware of speaking out loud.

Johnny went on with his attention on the horse, haltering him and stroking his neck. Experiencing a sinking feeling, Etta turned and walked away down the barn aisle.

Then Johnny’s voice came after her. “You know . . . if Fudge has wanted that land for years, he’s likely to still want it a couple of months from now.”

Etta paused, looked back at him, and then headed on to the house, her stride getting faster and firmer as she went. Immediately she telephoned Fred Grandy and told him to tell Walter that she could not take his offer, that he would have to come up to a fair price. She added, “Fred, if you can’t find a buyer for my land in the next two months, I’m goin’ to go with a different realtor.”

Fred said something about an agreement with Leon, and Etta told him righteously that he would have to see Leon about any agreement, but that she expected results.

After she hung up, she sat there once more feeling herself sink into a blue mood. Her tone of voice had been rude to Fred.

It was, she thought, the effect of desperation over money so overcoming her that her virtue was leaking out and turning her into a rude individual. Money troubles could make one go clean out of one’s mind. This low and disturbing thought mushroomed in her imagination, until she saw a picture of herself like her mother, spending afternoons in a ratty dress at the movie theater, eating popcorn and growing fat, and then going out and wrecking a car and killing herself, leaving Lattie Kate motherless.

Jumping to her feet, she went to ask Latrice if she would go shopping in town with her and help with Lattie Kate, who Etta would rather take along. For some reason, the image of herself in a ratty dress had lodged in her mind. If she could correct nothing else, she was determined to be dressed nicely.

Latrice was so taken with the idea of shopping that she telephoned her cousin Freddy right away to come as soon as possible in his taxi.

That evening, when Etta came down to help with supper, she found Latrice wearing a new blue dress. “You weren’t the only one shoppin’,” Latrice said.

Etta had known Latrice had been shopping, too, but she had not seen Latrice buy the dress, nor had she ever seen Latrice wear one so pale blue. She even had black onyx earrings dangling from her ears.

Etta herself was wearing a new dress and had her hair curled and upswept. She was very curious to see Johnny’s expression when he saw her, but when he came up, he held out a bouquet of yellow wildflowers, and her eyes so focused on them that she forgot to see his reaction at seeing her.

“They’re a little wilted,” he said, as indeed they were drooping sadly.

“Wildflowers do that—they’ll be fine when I get them in water.”

She took them so quickly that she practically dragged him into the house on the wake of the fast-moving air.

She put the vase of flowers on the table, where her eyes had to slide by them every time she looked at him.

Obie also came bearing a gift—banty hens and a chicken coop for them, too, which he brought in the back of his old truck. Latrice was thrilled, although she would not let herself act like it.

“I’m not messin’ around chickens and an old coop in my new dress, Obie Lee.”

He responded with something that Etta could not hear, but she saw Latrice blush, something she had rarely in her lifetime seen. It was truly an eventful evening, Etta thought, moved almost to tears.

After the meal, Johnny asked Etta if she would like to drive into town for some ice cream. She nursed Lattie Kate and left her with Latrice and Obie, again working with words from the newspaper crossword puzzle, then drove off with Johnny into town to a drive-in ice cream shop. She had a hot fudge sundae, and he had a banana split. They shared, each feeding the other spoonfuls, while talking about horses and books and music and all manner of things that were of no importance but gave them something to say while they each tried to read the other’s true thoughts.

They also took every opportunity to touch. Etta wiped a napkin where she missed Johnny’s mouth with the spoonful of fudge, and he dabbed one where he dropped cherry sauce on her dress. Once he brought his hand up and brushed the back of his knuckles on her ear.