Linda Warren - Texas Bluff

If Hap didn’t smile, Clover was the reason. In a bad mood, she was known to be as mean as a rattlesnake, and her sharp tongue could be just as deadly.

Luke never understood their relationship. Both came from an orphanage in San Antonio and had started working on the Circle C as teenagers. Hap and Clover always had breakfast together. Trading insults was part of the menu. On Saturday nights they went dancing. Sunday mornings they attended mass together. Whatever their relationship was, it worked for them.

“You get the drops?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Took you long enough.”

Luke kissed her rounded cheek. “Thank you.”

“You should’ve been back thirty minutes ago, and don’t think you can sweeten me up with a kiss, young man.”

He shook his head. “Clo, I don’t think there’s enough sugar in the world.”

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Stop foolin’ around. Your parents are waitin’ for you.”

As Luke walked into the den, he heard voices.

“Henry, please eat. You won’t get stronger if you don’t.” That was his mother’s concerned voice.

“Stop mothering me, Lu. My eyes burn and I don’t feel like eating.” His words were only slightly slurred. His speech had improved so much.

“Mom, just let Pa rest for now.” Big brother Hank always sided with their father, and it was probably the reason Henry was so stubborn at times. He knew Hank would back him if he didn’t want to do something.

Luke took in the scene. His father was sitting in his chair still in his pajamas, a shell of his former self. He’d lost so much weight Luke had hardly recognized him when he’d first returned home. Wan and frail, he was so unlike the strong, hardnosed patriarch of the Chisum family. It tore at Luke’s heart.

Breakfast sat on a TV tray and his mother wrung her hands in distress. Hank stood over them, trying to look authoritative.

Hank noticed Luke first. “It’s about damn time you showed up.”

Luke ignored him. “Lean back your head and I’ll put the drops in,” he said to his father.

Henry complied and Luke administered the required drops. After a moment, Henry sighed. “That’s better.”

Luke sat on the footstool at Henry’s feet. “Good. Now you’re going to eat breakfast.”

“Son, I’m just not…”

Luke wasn’t listening to any objections. He pushed the button on the power chair to raise his father to a sitting position, then placed the tray over his knees.

“Whole-grain cereal with a banana, muffin and fresh fruit. How does that sound?”

“Like sissy food.”

Henry favored bacon and eggs with biscuits and gravy. That kind of food wasn’t going to be on his menu anytime soon. If ever again.

“You’re not going to act like one, though, right?”

“A pissant couldn’t eat this crud.”

“Pa.”

“Ah, okay.”

Luke watched as he fumbled with the spoon, wanting to help him so badly. But Henry had to do things for himself.

“When you finish eating, you’re getting dressed.”

“What for? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to show you the Black Angus bulls you saved. They’ve matured and are some mighty fine animals.”

“And they’ll sire some mighty fine calves.” His dad’s voice grew excited.

“You bet.”

Henry ate a portion of the food then motioned for Luke to move the tray. “Lucy, where’s my walker?”

Luke moved the tray out of harm’s way as Lucy brought the walker. Henry shuffled toward the hall with Lucy behind him. His mother was becoming so thin. Waiting on Henry was wearing her down. He tried to relieve her of some of her chores, but she always resisted his efforts. He had to try harder.

“The miracle worker, the favorite son has returned,” Hank derided.

“Shut up, Hank.”

“What are your plans? Are you just gonna sponge off Mom and Pa?”

“Like you?” he fired back without a thought.

Hank bristled just as Luke knew he would. “I work my damn ass off to keep this ranch running. Since Pa’s stroke I’ve had to do everything. You’ve been no help whatsoever.”

He kept his cool. “I’m here to help Mom, and this is my home.”

“So that means you have no plans.”

Luke stood eye-to-eye with his brother. They were the same height with the same dark hair and eyes. Luke may not have Chisum blood but he was matched perfectly with similar features. He had age on his side, broad shoulders and tight muscles. At fifty, Hank was getting soft around the middle, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer arrogance.

“I told you I’m here to help Mom. Can’t you see how tired she is?”

“She has help. Clover’s here and Paco’s wife helps out when Mom needs her. In the morning you get your ass in the saddle ready to ride. You’ll inherit this ranch and it’s time you earned it. Everything’s been given to you on a silver platter.”

Luke didn’t rise to the bait. “You want me to be one of the hired hands?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“Damn right. You’re not giving me orders twenty-four hours a day.”

Hank scowled. “You’re a spoiled rich kid, Luke. You can’t handle the work. You can’t handle being a cowboy.”

Luke got in his face. “If I can handle a war, big brother, I can handle anything you can dish out.”

“What’s all the shoutin’ about?” Clover stood in the doorway. “I got a cast-iron skillet that can stop this arguing, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Hank turned toward the door then swung back. “We’re putting a new fence between us and the Parker place. It’s been down for some time. Do you think you could dredge up enough energy to ride over and tell the Parkers?”

Several objections popped into his head like red flags, but he didn’t voice them. The mere thought of old Sheriff Parker made him feel eighteen and afraid. It wasn’t a fear of the man himself. It was that he’d proved the man right. Luke wasn’t worthy of his daughter.

“I’m sure the Parkers can figure out what’s going on without me telling them.”

“Since the fence has been down, Becky’s kid rides his all-terrain vehicle on our property. If he doesn’t know the fence is up, he’ll fly through there and the barbed wire will rip him to shreds. Is that what you want?”

Luke clenched his jaw until his head hurt, but Hank took his silence as an affirmative answer. He’d rather do anything than go over to the Parkers’. Becky lived with her father, so she’d be there. A polite phone call would work just as well. Besides, seeing Becky twice in one day was more than his blood pressure could take.

LUKE KEPT HIS DAD OUT on the ranch, determined he wasn’t going to sit in the house all day. They looked at the young bulls and his dad was excited, taking an interest. After lunch, Luke took him to see the paint horses, his dad’s pet project.

The horses were kept separate from the cattle operation in their own pasture, corral and barn. Luke stopped the truck, helped his dad out and they walked to the pipe fence.

A brown-and-white stallion threw up his head and stood on his hind legs. “Cochise needs to be ridden,” Henry said. “It’ll take some of that fire out of him.”

Cochise pranced along the fence line. The tobiano paint had a white star on his forehead, and showed a marked degree of refinement and beauty in his strong-boned and well-balanced body. Paints were known for their distinctive coat pattern. Cochise’s face, neck, chest, belly and one flank were brown. The rest of his coat was white, including four stocking feet.

Luke hoped he was seeing the beautiful colors correctly, but he still had a problem distinguishing the hues of reds and greens. It was a minor disability compared to what other soldiers had to deal with.