Linda Warren - Texas Bluff

Without another word, Hap took his plate to the sink. When he turned around, he pinched Clover on her butt and she swatted him with the spatula.

“I’m serious, Hap. We promised Sister Mary Margaret we’d help with the fundraiser at the orphanage and you’re not losing your money playing poker.”

“Don’t worry, Clo,” Luke said. “He’s a pretty good player. He might win some money.”

Hap winked, grabbed his hat and moseyed out.

Clover placed her hands on her hips. “Now that’s just encouraging him.”

Luke took a sip of coffee. “Clo, we don’t try to break anyone. We just have fun.”

“Hap’s too old to have fun.”

Luke suppressed a smile as he sat at the table. Hank walked in with his usual scowl, followed by their parents. His dad was dressed. This was a surprise.

Henry plopped into a chair. “I want oatmeal, Lucy.”

“Yes, dear.” His mother sounded tired. Or maybe just fed up. Luke watched her. Her jeans and shirt hung on her and her blondish-gray hair was combed back. She never took time to fix it anymore.

“Is the heifer sale all set?” Henry asked.

“Yes, Pa,” Hank replied. “Everything is set for the first week in April as always.”

“You have invitations ready to send to all the buyers?”

“Of course, that’s the point of the sale.”

“Don’t get smart, boy.”

“I’ve been doing this for years and at fifty I think I can handle just about everything on this ranch.”

“Now you listen here—” Henry shifted to face Hank. “Lucy, bring me a cup of coffee.”

His mother didn’t move or say anything.

Henry turned to her. “Lucy, did you hear me?”

Lucy threw a dish towel onto the counter. “Get your own coffee, Henry.”

Complete silence followed those words. The only sound was the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner.

Henry recovered first. “What did you say?”

“I said get your own damn coffee. If you can bellow orders without any consideration for me, then you can wait on yourself. Being ill doesn’t give you the right to act like a complete ass.”

Lucy ran from the room, tears streaming down her face. Luke forced himself to stay in his seat. His father had to go after her, not Luke or Hank.

Henry frowned. “What did she say?”

Before anyone could reply, Clover answered, “She said you’re an ass. Rightfully so, too.”

Henry pointed a finger at her. “Watch your mouth. You can be gone in a heartbeat.”

“Just say the word, Mr. Henry. The nuns would welcome me back—” Clover paused “—in a heartbeat.”

Henry stood abruptly; his chair toppled backward to the hardwood floor making a loud banging noise. Luke jumped to his feet, but his dad didn’t need any help. He shuffled off to the den.

Hank and Luke stared at each other in bewilderment. Hank tipped his head toward the den. “Go talk to him.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a job for the oldest?”

“You’re the favorite, so get in there.”

Luke thought of his father’s set expression and decided to give him some time. He’d check on his mother first. He had a feeling she needed him more.

As he walked toward the hall, Hank snapped, “Luke.” But Luke didn’t pay him any attention.

He stopped short in the doorway to his parents’ bedroom. His mother was throwing clothes into a suitcase.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” She grabbed more clothes out of a drawer and dumped them into the case. “He can’t treat me like this.”

His parents argued, but he’d never seen his mother so upset. He caught her by her forearms. “Mom, look at me.”

Tear-filled blue eyes looked at him and he felt a catch in his throat. “Pa’s been a little hard to deal with since he’s had the stroke, but you’ve been married for over fifty years. You can’t just walk out and leave him.”

Lucy gripped him around the waist, sobbing into his chest. “I can’t take any more. I just can’t.”

He smoothed her hair, thinking he’d rather take a bullet on the battlefield than listen to his mother cry. “What do you want me to do?”

She hiccuped and pulled away. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “Call Becky.”

Becky . He swallowed. “Why?”

“I can talk to Becky.”

“You can talk to me.”

“Becky’s a woman and she understands. Please, Luke.”

His mother curled up on the bed in a fetal position. His chest tightened at the sight. Why couldn’t she talk to him? Clearly she needed help he couldn’t give her. That wasn’t easy to accept.

As he charged upstairs to his room to make the call, he kept thinking the bullet would hurt a lot less. Becky answered on the second ring.

“Becky, this is Luke. My mother would like to see you.”

There was a noticeable pause, then she asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” was all he could say.

“I’ll be right there.”

Luke didn’t allow himself to think about Becky. They were now strangers, probably what they’d been all along. He’d just been too pigheaded to admit it.

When he reached the den, his dad was sitting in his chair, staring into space. Hank came over to Luke.

“What happened?”

“Mom’s leaving.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed. “You mean going to town?”

“No. I mean she’s packing to leave for good.”

Hank turned a shade of gray Luke had never seen before. “But don’t panic. I talked to her and she’s lying down. She wants to talk to Becky.”

Hank nodded. “That’s good. She talks to Becky a lot.”

Luke glanced at their father. “I talked to Mom, now you talk to Pa.”

“I got my hands full with this sale.” Hank headed for the kitchen. “So make yourself useful.”

Luke wanted to shoot him the finger, but that was a younger Luke. The mature Luke walked over to Henry.

He sat on the footstool and remembered all the times he’d sat here as a kid asking a million questions. “Pa, how do birds fly?” “Why are there stars in the sky?” “What’s a Big Dipper?” “How do men walk on the moon?” Henry had answered everything and when he hadn’t known the answer, he’d made it up. Luke had believed every word, though. There was nothing his father didn’t know. There was nothing his father couldn’t beat.

Except being incapacitated.

“Pa, you doing okay?”

“I’m not a man anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Luke wasn’t sure what his father was talking about.

“I knew she’d leave me and it didn’t take long.”

The doorbell rang, preventing Luke from getting an explanation. Henry wasn’t making any sense. His parents had been married forever.

He shifted his train of thought and concentrated on the woman on the other side of the door. He took a moment, then opened it. Becky was in her work clothes—green nurse’s scrubs printed with tiny stethoscopes. Her hair bounced around her nape and her eyes were deep with concern.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said, “but my mother insisted.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Where’s Lucy?”

“In her bedroom.”

His parents occupied the master bedroom downstairs. Becky followed him into the den and went directly to Henry.

“How are you this morning, Henry?”

“Not good. Lucy’s mad at me.”

Luke stood in complete shock. His father was talking to Becky.

“What did you do to make her mad?”

Henry shrugged. “Just being me, you know. And that ain’t much these days.”

“Are you doing your exercises?”

“Sometimes.”

Becky rubbed his shoulder. “All the time, Henry. To get better you have to fight it, and I know you’re a fighter.”