Texas Bluff. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ here a boy feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. That was a trick of his young, arrogant mind. He’d seen the world as no eighteen-year-old should—through blood and tears. He’d come back a man with his head squarely on his shoulders, knowing no one was invincible and a bullet showed no discretion.

      He glanced in the direction of the barns, corrals, bunkhouse and the rolling hills beyond. Everything lay in the dormant stages of winter. Cedars, spruces and craggy ledges stood out among the bare, weblike branches of the trees. Leaves in different shades of brown blanketed the ground.

      Soon spring would turn the landscape into lush hills, green valleys and sunny vistas that were stunning in their simplicity and beauty. To Luke, no place on earth could compete with the scenery in River Bluff. No place.

      Cowboys were saddling up for a day on the range. Luke waved to Pee Wee, Newt, Ramrod, Hardy and Paco as they loaded hay onto a flatbed trailer. This was cowboy country. An old-fashioned way of doing things was still alive in the county, even though dude ranches were a common sight around River Bluff. But not at the Circle C. Real tobacco-chewing, bowlegged cowboys worked here.

      “Hey, boy, when’s the next poker game?” Happenstance Jones, cowboy extraordinaire and ranch foreman, walked from the house, his worn boots making a shuffling noise on the pavement. At seventy-two, Hap wasn’t known for picking up his feet.

      “Wednesday night.”

      “Where?”

      “Jake’s place.”

      “Might join ya.” Hap bobbed his head up and down.

      “Be happy to take your money.”

      Hap snorted, laying a hand on the hood of Luke’s truck. “You just gettin’ home?”

      Luke pushed back his hat. “Hap, those days of staying out all night are gone.”

      “What are you talkin’ about?” Hap spit chewing tobacco on the ground. “You’re in your prime. You’d better ride that bull while you can, boy, because before you know it, you’ll be ridin’ toward eighty like me.”

      Hap looked every year of his age. He had brown leathery skin from too many hours in the sun. A bony body and bowed legs added to the effect. But Luke knew his mind was still as sharp as the razor the housekeeper, Clover, made him use on the odd occasion. Most of the time he had a gray stubble and a look that was known to frighten small children.

      Luke folded his arms across his chest. “Hap, I never thought you worried about age.”

      “I don’t. That’s up to the good Lord. I’ll die with my boots on and a smile on my face.”

      “Since I’ve never seen you smile that might be totally impossible.”

      “Really?” Hap rubbed his stubble. “I’m smiling now. Can’t ya tell?”

      Luke studied the strained, wrinkly face. “Nope. Looks more like you have gas.”

      Hap walked off, shaking his head. “Boy don’t know nuthin’.”

      Luke strolled into the house with a grin on his face. “Hey, Clover.”

      Clover Jankowski, the housekeeper, turned from the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. With an ample bosom and stout body, Clover had a direct way of speaking that irritated most people. But Luke knew she had a heart of gold once you chiseled through the stony exterior.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ