When she fanned past him, she got a whiff of his cologne—the same kind he’d worn all those years ago.
“I’ll take over feeding the cat and dog,” she said. “Thanks for what you’ve done until I could get here.”
He dug into his pocket and handed her an old key ring with two keys on it. “Welcome to Ringgold, Liz. I still live on the ranch that surrounds this land. Haskell sold me most of his ranch six months ago, all but the part the house sits on.”
“He told me,” she said as she opened the nearly empty refrigerator and took out half a pitcher of sweet tea.
Raylen headed for the door. “The O’Donnells are your closest neighbors. Come around to see us sometime. Be seein’ you.”
She wanted to say something, but not one word would come out of her mouth. Raylen in her living room, looking even sexier than he had when he was seventeen and exercising the horses. Raylen all grown up, a man instead of a lanky teenager, was such a shock and a surprise that she was speechless. And that was strange territory for Lizelle Hanson.
“Dammit!” She stomped her foot and popped the heel off one of her shoes.
The noise of the truck engine filled the house for a moment then faded. She’d been so stunned to see him that she couldn’t think straight. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it sure wasn’t what she got. She fished a cell phone from her jacket pocket and punched a speed dial number.
“I’m here,” she said when her mother answered.
“And?”
Liz giggled nervously. “It’s bigger than I remembered, and there’s a sexy cowboy who lives next door, but he’s probably married and has six kids because no guy that pretty isn’t taken. I’d forgotten how big the house is after living in the carnie trailer.”
“Have you unpacked? You can turn around and come back right now. You could be here in time to take your shift tomorrow night, and my brother can sell it to those horse ranchers next door to him,” Marva Jo said.
“Not yet. I was on my way in the house when Raylen opened the door and startled me so badly I was almost speechless. Hooter and Blister are still alive and well. I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet.”
“Raylen?” Marva Jo asked.
“The sexy cowboy. I met him both times I came to visit Uncle Haskell. Remember when I told you about the boy who tried to beat me at walkin’ the fence when I was ten? That was Raylen.” Liz sank down on the sofa and wasn’t surprised to find it just as soft as she remembered.
“You’re right. He’s probably married and has a couple of kids. I was hoping the house would be butt-ugly to you,” Marva Jo said with a giggle.
“No, ma’am. I squinted and even imagined it with Christmas lights. Looked great to me. Right now, wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” Liz said.
“We’ll be in Bowie in a few weeks. By then you’ll be sick to death of boredom. You were born for the carnie and travel,” Marva Jo said.
“I will have the Christmas lights on the house when you get here,” Liz said.
“A house not on wheels with Christmas lights and a cowboy.” Marva Jo laughed. “Be careful that the cowboy doesn’t cut off your beautiful wings.”
“Good night, Mama. I love you,” Liz said.
“Love you too, kid. Go prove me right about getting bored. It’s only half an hour until time to tell fortunes and I still have to get my makeup on. Does that make you miss me?” Marva Jo asked.
“Not yet. I only saw you this morning. Hug Aunt Tressa for me and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
***
Raylen drove down the lane and stopped. The left blinker was on, but he couldn’t make himself pull out onto the highway. The whole incident at Haskell’s place had been surreal. Haskell said his niece, Liz, was going to take over the property. He remembered Liz very well. She was the ten-year-old who’d walked the rail fence better than him even though he was older at thirteen. She was the fourteen-year-old who rested her elbows on the same rail fence and watched him exercise the horses. Now she was so pretty that just looking at her sucked every sane thought out of his brain.
He finally pulled out on Highway 81 and headed north a mile, then turned left into the O’Donnell horse ranch. She’d find out that a person couldn’t make a living by petting the cat and feeding the dog, and when she did he intended to be the first in line to buy her twenty acres. It was the only property for a three-mile stretch down the highway that didn’t belong to the O’Donnells.
He parked in the backyard, crawled out of the truck, and sat down on the porch step to his folks’ house. His older brother Dewar drove up, parked next to him, hopped out of his truck, and swaggered to the porch. Just a year older than Raylen, Dewar was taller by several inches. His hair was so black that it had a faint blue cast as the sunrays bounced off it. His eyes were a strange mossy shade of green and his face square. His Wranglers were tight and dusty, and his boots were worn down at the heels and covered with mud.
“Y’all get those cattle worked at Rye’s?” Raylen looked down at his own boots. They were just as worn down at the heels as his brother’s were and covered with horse manure. His jeans had a hole in one knee and frayed hems on both pant legs. His shirt looked like it had been thrown out in the round horse corral for a solid week and then used for a dog bed after that. He let out a long, loud sigh. He’d planned on at least meeting Liz the first time in clean duds, not looking like a bum off the streets.
“Yes, we did, and we would’ve got them done sooner if our younger brother would’ve helped,” Dewar said. “You look like you just saw a ghost and lost your best friend. What’s going on?”
“If you worked harder and played with our niece Rachel less, you’d get more done, and nothing is wrong with me.”
“You’re just tryin’ to find excuses,” Dewar said with a grin.
Rachel was the first O’Donnell grandchild and only a few months old. Her father, Rye, was Raylen and Dewar’s oldest brother. Her mother, Austin, had been a Tulsa socialite until she inherited a watermelon farm across the river in Terral, Oklahoma, and fell in love with Rye. Rachel was getting to know her two uncles, and there was an ongoing battle about which one would be the favorite.
“Want a beer?” Dewar asked. “I swear I’m spittin’ dust, and hot summer is long since past.”
“I’d drink a beer with you,” Raylen said. “And I believe what we’ve got going on now is just about the last warm weather we’re going to see for a while, so don’t get used to it.”
Dewar disappeared into the house and in a few minutes he brought out two longneck bottles of Coors. He twisted the caps off both, and handed one to Raylen. “So, you got the chores done around here or am I going to have to do those too?”