Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves(60)
Evading her question, he said, “Better than that – it is a saengerfest! Singers and groups from as far away as Saint Louis and New Orleans will be providing music for the city’s various beer gardens. It is a way to get your name out there And best of all there is a grand prize – a performance at the Millet Opera House.”
She paused, then asked, “Gideon, why are ye doing this? Helping me out? All along ye’ve made it quite clear I was a pain in yuir arse.”
Now, a hesitation on his end. So unlike him, with his quick repartee. “Well, Romy,” came his attorney’s articulated voice, “you did bail me out of a few close shaves.”
She tested the waters. “What about Miriam? How is it between ye two?”
“Miriam is enchanting.” His treasury of words came more readily now. “Knowledgeable in a multitude of subjects. A powerhouse in Austin politics. We enjoy each other’s company. And, of course, we share the same faith, not to mention her oh-so-dusky beauty delights the eye.”
“The cards saw you two together – and the cards are always right,” Romy flipped back with her stock-in-trade response.
“Always?”
She could imagine him raising a golden-winged brow. “Well, if not, it is because I mayhap could read them wrong. But they, the cards, are never wrong.”
“So, can you make the engagement? It’s at Saengerrunde Hall on Tuesday, April 12th, 6 o’clock prompt.”
“I will have to see if Duke will let me off.”
Come Saturday nights, ranch hands all piled into whoever’s pickup was working in that scarcely populated Blanco county – or else hitchhiked via either vehicle or wagon. But Tuesday afternoons were another animal. Hitchhiking into Austin on a on a long and lonely stretch of county road during the week would be most certainly unreliable.
And on her long and lonely stretch of nights – well, sometimes good was not good enough. So much to be grateful for, aye. It was not her ashes that were drifting over Berlin rooftops. But, Jesus Jehoshaphat Christ, sometimes she just got so bloody tired of trying.
Still, she had to snap out of her funk. She had to summon what Jock called gumption. Everyone in the bunkhouse was long asleep. She rapped on Duke’s office door. It had been three tension-filled weeks since last they had spoken within that confining intimacy of their coupling.
He snapped wide the door. He was wearing only his denims, slung low over hips that were meant for banging home his lust. Inside her. She looked up, up into eyes whose half-mast lids were dampers on the angry heat she suspected flared behind them at the sight of her, clad only in his old shirt.
“Yeah?”
Ever on his guard, he was. “Uhhh, Gideon has arranged for another guitar performance for me. At Saengerrunde Hall.” Her mouth skewed to one side. “Uhh, ye think I might have off that afternoon? It’s on a Tuesday. April 12th.”
His blew air from the side of his mouth, and she knew he was still teetering on banishing her for good.
She rubbed her clasped palms against one another. “I’d, uhh,be willing to make up for the time lost– ye know, working on Sundays for ye, things like that.”
“Things like that?” He braced a forearm high on the door’s edge. “Well, tell me, just what would things like that be, Sunshine?”
She looked down past her bare knees and calves to her feet, wriggled her toes, then glanced back up at him. “Card readings again?”
His hand dropped to grip the knob – and she knew it was all he could do not to slam the door. “Hog wash? Bull shit? Claptrap? I’m not interested in your con games.”
“Unclog me hair balls from yuir bathroom sink?”
His mighty back arched. His head lolled back, as if in exasperation. “All right, you can take the afternoon off.”
She knew she shouldn’t push her luck. Still . . . . “And ye think ye could give me a ride in?”
He stood there, hands on hips, shaking his head. “If your gall don’t beat everything. “Yeah, I’ll take you. Just get the hell out bef – ”
“ – afore you give in to yuir wantin’ to be jumpin’ me bones, here and now, Duke?”
He shoved fingers through his unruly hair, and an exasperated grunt puffed from his lips. “Get it through your thick skull that I don’t want you.”
“Ye want to see me naked right now, do ye not?” Mother Mary, help me. She was on a collision course with becoming a wanton woman. But once you have been bedded by Duke McClellan, all else paled.
He groaned and this time made a move to slam the door, but she piped out, “Why have ye given up searching for a proper-like wife for yuirself? Take me to Austin, and we can still find ye one.”
“I can find a wife on my own, thank you.”
“Aye, most easily, ye can. But, after me, any wife will bloody well bore ye. Still, help ye I will to find the right wife while we’re in Austin.”
She stepped away and gifted him with a Cheshire Cat grin, the last thing visible before the person disappeared – at least, according to “Alice in Wonderland’s” magical talking picture.
He slammed the door.
§ § §
A triple triumphal arch crossed Congress Avenue and Pecan Street. That evening, a torchlight parade was scheduled to snake through it and along Austin’s downtown streets