WALKER WAVED AT LEE ANN’S back as she hustled back to work. Adios, sister. Damn, he was developing a rash, probably fleabites from Scruffie’s doggie bed next to Art’s lumpy sofa. He kicked a golf ball sized rock back to the courthouse, scratching his armpits, and entered the county clerk’s office with a sheepish look on his face.
Jo squealed.
“You skunk,” she said.
He scratched under his arm.
“I itch, but I don’t stink.”
“I should never talk to you again.”
“You will though.” He jumped over the swinging gate and picked her up and kissed her cheek. “Darlin’, I missed you. More than mourning doves, more than piñon nuts, more than…”
“Oh, shut up.”
He held her hips, nibbled her earlobe, refusing to let go. She hugged his neck and threw her head back and he laughed because any other woman’s hair would have fallen away in loose waves, but hers stayed put and he stuck his nose in it, at least as far in as he could get. He set her down and cupped her chin and took in her face, every freckle, every pore.
“I need a shower,” he said.
“The house is open.”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t just up and leave.”
“Sure you can.”
On second thought, he’d best deal with bug bites in private.
“Sweetheart, you’re right. I’ll get spruced up and meet you at Art’s at five. In the meantime, see if your dad wants to get rid of that ugly brown pickup, if it’s still running.”
“He’d rather crush it,” she said.
“Not if he thinks you’re going to use it.” He kissed her cheek and jumped back over the gate. “It’s just a loan until I figure a way to get my car back from Des Moines.” If it hadn’t been impounded. Hell, might as well let that Honda go, talk to Leo about locating a four-wheel drive.
Scrubbing down in the shower, he ran through a list of potential names for the new ranch: The W W. No, spell it out. The Double W. Or The Double Double U. Too much like a cattle brand. Elk Canyon Cabins, Rimrock Ranch, Bear’s Tooth Canyon, Eagle’s Nest. Those names were kinda’ catchy, but conjured up images of some big-time Alaskan lodge, not quite right. The valley north of what would be Lee Ann’s border was like no other country, rugged and untamed, yet intimate.
North of the Border.
That’s it! He could see it. Welded letters on a steel portal, willows on each side, the creek just beyond, pink clouds fading to purple over the west mesa.
He dried off and raised his arms in front of the mirror and inspected his armpits. Checked his crotch. In the medicine cabinet he found anti-itch cream and smeared a generous amount over his body. Strange item for Jo to keep. She’d itched somewhere. He took his shirt, socks, and pants outside and shook them, dressed, and tucked the tube in his jacket pocket.
“Well, well,” Danielle said. “Two Walkers in one day. I thought you were dead.”
“Great to see you, too.”
“We can talk about whatever you’re here to discuss after work.”
“I don’t think so, precious. Let’s see. In case you think I have $880,000.00, I don’t. Lee Ann has it and she’s giving it to Owen. She’s dividing the ranch and I get the northern half. I’ve promised not to get divorced until all that’s legal, which will be pretty quick.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“If you go after me while I’m still part owner of the entire ranch, Lee Ann stands to lose half of her part. After the property is divided, you can only get half of my half. But, the way I see it, after the divorce, you’ll leave me alone. I don’t have any money to buy you out and you can’t do anything with any part of that land.” Her fingernail made an annoying noise on the counter. He ought to squeeze her cheeks until those eyes aimed at the ceiling popped out of their sockets. “We don’t want to be neighbors.”
“I said I’d take my chances when we got married,” she said. “I should have known… you always screw up. God, I can hardly look at you.” She quit tapping and jabbed her finger in his chest. “You took off without paying me my share.”
He scratched the underside of his left arm and avoided her eyes, which squinted as if the lids were holding back poison darts aimed directly at his forehead. He knelt down pretending to pick something up off the floor and rubbed his crotch.
She said, “I’ve been living with Keith. We get along. I can’t wait to end any arrangement with you—marriage, divorce, whatever. Your death would have been the best of all possible outcomes, but you screwed that up, too.”
He stood up and scratched his chest. “I don’t see that you have much to complain about.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then turned her back.
“I got work to do,” she said.
Women!
He needed a drink. At Art’s, he called for a double shot of whiskey on his way to the bathroom, where he tore open his shirt, dropped his pants, slathered cream over his body, buttoned up, and winked at himself in the mirror.
He downed the whiskey and tipped the glass at Art.
“That dog of yours has some serious bugs,” he said.
When Jo showed just after five, he felt no itch. He ordered her a Manhattan and hung an arm over her shoulder.
“I charged a few shots to your tab. We’ll settle up later. I been thinkin’… aren’t you getting tired of the same old job in the same old town, year in and year out? What do you say you and me open a hunting lodge?” He leaned close and explained his inheritance of the northern half of the ranch. “When the Rossmans find out I’m their new neighbor, they’ll want to sell out. It might take a dozen hound dogs that bark day and night, and goats that pay no attention to fences and chew up everything in sight, and a little muzzleloader target practice right about dinnertime to influence them, but eventually they’ll get the message that country vacations ain’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
She hadn’t taken a sip of her drink, puffed on her cigarette, or moved a muscle.
“It’s a good idea,” she said. “But I’m not giving up job security, health benefits, and retirement income to play hostess in the woods.”
“You’ll love it. The clientele will change all the time. We’ll sympathize when most of ’em whine about the elk they almost shot and celebrate with the ones that got one. It’ll be like having friends that pay us. When we don’t have customers, we’ll sleep late. I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I know you, though. After two days you’ll forget.”
“That’s my appeal, baby. Always up to something new.”
“Too many surprises can wear a girl out.”
Not her, though. Not Jo. She had a certain something that took life seriously, and didn’t—a unique combination of abiding by the rules and delighting when they were broken. She’d mull over this latest scheme, debate whether they could live together, whether she could handle the operation alone in case he took off and blew all their earnings on a whim, whether he’d default on his share of the work, or tire of her.
Her freckles danced like little dots of light and he wanted to kiss each one, separately, just a peck, a hundred pecks, a thousand, until she pushed him away, laughing. He’d fill with pride, pleasing her so.
“Is su casa, mi casa?” he asked.
“For one week,” she said. “That’s all I can stand.”
They went to Vera’s for gristly burgers and greasy fries and back to the bar to finish the evening. Holding her hand, he tripped into her bedroom, aimed his body at the bed, and dove onto the mattress. Amazingly, alcohol and Jo had cured his rash.
“I’ve never shed theesh wordsh.” He threw his arm over her hip and spoke into her arm. “I love you.”
“Say, ‘I love you, Jo.’”
Uh-oh, what was he getting into? Women change once you commit. They nag at mud on the rug, clothes on the floor, how the toothpaste is squeezed, the way a towel is hung. She’d be his partner all right, throw a noose around his neck and lead him around like a horse about to be broke. Once broke, he’d behave. Maybe even like it. Maybe.
“I love you, Jo.” He kissed her shoulder. “Can I use your car?”