Hell, Yeah (6 page)

He’d been in the trailer a week but everything was still strange, from the bed to the position of the light switch. By the time two months had passed he’d be able to maneuver in the dark and then it would be time to get used to a new place. He turned on a lamp beside his queen-sized bed and snuggled under a thick dark brown down-filled comforter. It went with him on every job and had covered up more beds than he could count in the six years since he’d started working in the oil fields. It had been from Alaska to the tip of Maine, made a swing through Nebraska and back to Oklahoma before settling down this time in Texas.

He’d been reading a thick mystery book by John Sandford, but he left it lying on the bedside table and laced his hands behind his head. He hoped like hell he’d made the right choice in coming to Mingus, Texas. Angel needed him in her first big step out into the real world, so when Amos gave him a choice of Mingus or in the north part of the Texas panhandle, he’d quickly chosen Mingus so he could share her first victory or failure. Had it been a mistake? When he fell asleep the lamp was still burning brightly and the trailer was toasty warm.

Two hours later he awoke in pitch black darkness, clutching the comforter to his chin. His nose was numb with cold and the hand that was outside the covers was freezing. He moved to the edge of the bed and shivered when he left the warm spot his body had created. The cold weather must have blown the breaker box because of the overload on the heater. His flashlight was in the truck, but surely he could make it from the bed to the hallway without a major catastrophe. He slung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried the lamp. Be damned if the bulb wasn’t shot.

“Bedroom shouldn’t be on the same circuit as the heater.” He headed across the cold floor. Before he’d gone two steps he stubbed his toe on the footboard of the bed.

“Well, shit. That hurts like hell. I hope it’s not bleeding all over the carpet.” He hopped on one foot toward the door to turn on the light and ran into the door frame, knocking himself backwards to land on his back with his feet dangling off the bottom of the bed.

“Damn it all to hell!” he yelled as he grabbed his forehead. “I’m not going to freeze. I’m going to commit suicide by clumsiness.”

The second time he shuffled across the floor and reached out like a blind man until his hands hit the wall.

“Finally.” He flipped the light switch.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing.

“What in the hell is the matter with this thing? It can’t be on the same circuit as the heater. That thing has a breaker all of its own.” Thirteen tries later he finally figured that the heater had overheated and blown the electricity in the whole trailer. He jerked the comforter around his shoulders, slipped his bare feet into the boots he’d left at the foot of the bed, and slowly made his way from the back of the trailer to the front. One peek out the window told the tale. Normally, lights flooded the parking lot at the Honky Tonk. It wasn’t just his trailer that was in the dark; the whole area had no electricity.

“How does she have lights inside her place if everything else is out?” he asked.

He opened the door and heard the steady hum of a generator. Who’d have ever thought to purchase one of those in the middle of Texas?

“Looks like I’ve got two choices. Freeze or beg,” he said.

He chose to beg.

* * *

Steel Magnolias
was the saddest and funniest movie Cathy had ever watched and she knew the dialogue by heart. But she still cried like a jilted teenager every time she watched it. Discarded tissues cluttered the floor and she had poked a hole in the top of the second box when someone pounded on her door.

Her heart stopped. It was raining ice and the Tonk had been closed for hours. Electricity was out and she was running on a generator. Neither man nor beast would be out in that kind of weather. She tiptoed across the floor and slowly pulled down one slat of the mini-blinds on the window beside the door. One look and she let go of it like it was a red-hot poker and jumped back two feet. Big Foot wrapped up in bear skin was standing on her porch. She peeked out again. It might not be Big Foot but something big and brown and scary looking out there in the dark. Maybe it was a serial killer who preyed on single women who were vulnerable after watching sad movies late at night. But then it might be a homeless woman whose car had broken down and she needed to call a wrecker. Dear God, what if there were children in that car?

She made sure the chain was secure before barely opening the door an inch and keeping her distance in case it was a killer and he reached through the opening to snatch her baldheaded.

“Who are you and what do you want?” she asked.

If Bart White was trying to scare her into selling the Tonk, he’d best get his affairs in order, because he was a dead man. Crazy idiot fool anyway. First trying to buy her beer joint and then trying to frighten her. If it was him, he could sit on her porch and turn into a Popsicle for all she cared.

“I’m freezing,” Travis said.

“No shit.”

“Come on, Cathy. The electricity went out in my trailer and I don’t have a generator. Can I please come in? I’ll pay you to be warm.”

She cocked her head to one side and frowned. “Travis?”

“Yes, who else would it be? I’ll die by morning if I have to stay out there in that freezing tin can. I’ll sleep on the floor. I brought my comforter and I can do without a pillow.”

She shut the door.

He was about to turn around and head back to the trailer when he heard her moving the chain and the door opening.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’ll have to stay in the Honky Tonk,” she said. “You are lucky I’m letting you walk through my place to get there and not making you go around to the front door. No men are allowed in here.”

“But Amos was in here and I was too.” He clamped his mouth shut. Only a fool would argue with her when she had a generator.

She led the way through her living room and into the beer joint. “Claim as much floor space as you want. Or you can put two tables together and make a bed. If you wiggle around and fall off, though, don’t beat on the door. I won’t hear you.”

“Could I charge a shot of whiskey? I didn’t even think to pick up my wallet and bring money with me.”

“I don’t run tabs.”

She stopped inside the door and he plowed into her back sending her forward with enough force that she had to grab the bathroom door to keep from tumbling on her face. “Good Lord, Travis, be careful. I was turning on the men’s room light for you so you can find your way.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t pick up my glasses either, and I’m blind without them.”

Every single contact he’d had with Cathy brought on a rush of hot desire. He’d always liked tall blondes, and blue eyes were a bonus. Delicate features were a plus. Being extremely intelligent was a must. Cathy fit all of those requirements except maybe the intelligence factor. It didn’t take a doctorate in any subject to be able to mix up a piña colada.

But she was as prickly as a porcupine and very vocal about not being a bit interested in him, so why couldn’t he control his desires? Why did he feel like a red-hot poker struck his heart every time he touched the woman? Or worse yet, why did his body react like he was a freshman in high school and had just touched a breast for the first time?

She made her way behind the bar in the dark. She picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pint jar. She poured an inch in the bottom and set it on the bar.

“I do not run tabs. I will give you a shot of whiskey to keep you from dying. God knows, I don’t want to deal with a dead body tomorrow morning.”

Travis tossed it back like an old gold miner in a Western movie from the fifties and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. The warmth started at his throat and quickly spread all the way to his stomach. For the first time, he felt as if he might have a chance of surviving.

Cathy started back to her apartment. “Okay, you’re on your own now. I’m going to bed. Don’t even think about waking me. I do not do mornings so don’t talk to me if I wander out here. Good night, Travis.”

“Thank you, Cathy. I’ll buy a generator tomorrow. This is a one night—”

“Sleepover!” she finished for him.

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“You’ve got warmth and a bathroom. Just one question—why didn’t you drive to a motel?”

Travis slapped his forehead with his palm. “I was so stunned when I woke up freezing that a motel didn’t even dawn on me. All I thought about was finding a warm place and your light was still burning. I’m sorry, Cathy. Thanks for the shot. Which way is the nearest motel?”

“Longhorn Inn is about ten miles back to the east of here,” she said. “You are welcome to stay in the Tonk if you want. The roads are icy. It’ll take a while to get there.”

A wave of guilt washed over her. If the situation were reversed he would probably be a wonderful neighbor. He’d open the door, give her a blanket and pillow, and even share his home with her. She shouldn’t be such a bitch even if she had just used up every bit of her compassion on a Hollywood movie.

“You are welcome to stay here,” she said again.

He followed her back through the apartment. “Thanks, but I think I’d prefer a warm bed instead of a hard table.”

“Are you sure?” she tried one more time.

“Thanks but no thanks,” he said.

She’d tried three times and he’d refused. If he ran his truck off into a ditch and froze by morning it couldn’t be her fault. Or could it? She hadn’t been friendly and nice when she offered, and she’d been downright rude when she first opened the door. Why did she treat him like a leper anyway? The kiss wasn’t enough to carry a grudge about. It had been damn nice.

“Thanks again. Stay warm,” he said as he carefully picked his way back across the yard.

She sat down on the sofa and stared at the wall. It was a control issue. Her last boyfriend had been very nice and romantic right up to the time she crossed him and he started hitting her. If she lost her newfound control and let another man into her life, she might wind up with the same kind of situation. Two or three like that and she’d be one of those women who drew the wrong kind of men to her like flies on fresh cow patties. Even if she was attracted to Travis’s type of cowboy and even if there was a possibility that he wasn’t like Brad Alton, she wasn’t willing to take the chance.

She sighed and went to bed.

* * *

Travis reached up under the body of his truck and felt around until his cold hands landed on the hidden key. He opened the passenger side door and grabbed the flashlight he kept in the glove box. The circular light on the frozen grass did not keep him from slipping and sliding, but it would give him light in the trailer which had as many dangerous spots as the ice.

He dragged his comforter behind him like a frayed security blanket. The concrete steps were so slippery that he had to hold on to the handrail with both hands to navigate them. The brass door handle had a layer of ice around it and refused to turn until he chipped the ice away with his fingernails. When he was finally inside he made a wide sweep with the flashlight making sure there wasn’t anything to trip him up on the way to the bedroom.

“Some neighbor Cathy is, anyway. She could have waited to make sure I was safe. I could’ve broke my neck and she wouldn’t have known until morning. I was a fool to move to this godforsaken place. There’s no oil here and if there was, it would be frozen. Texas is supposed to be hot and dry. What in the hell happened?”

He fussed and fumed all the way to the bedroom. He threw a few things into a duffle bag and reached for his glasses and wallet from the nightstand. He crammed a stocking hat on his head and slipped his cold hands into gloves, put his cell phone in his coat pocket, and found his pickup keys on the bar in the kitchen on his way out the door.

When he was safely inside his truck he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. In half an hour he would be in a warm room with lights. Damn it all! He’d forgotten to pick up his book and he was wide awake, but he wasn’t about to brave the journey back in to get it.

He inched along at a snail’s pace past the Smokestack restaurant and out onto the interstate. The road had not been salted or plowed and one semi was already on its side in the median. Police cars and an ambulance lit up the dark night with their red, white, and blue flashing lights. Texans could survive hurricanes, tornadoes, grasshoppers, and blistering summers, but they weren’t too good at driving on ice. Not that Travis was an expert, but he had lived in parts of the country where ice and snow were an everyday thing, so he could navigate fairly well.

What few cars were out at that ungodly hour were creeping along slower than a snail in molasses. He kept both hands on the steering wheel and wished he’d just slept on the Honky Tonk floor. The shot of whiskey made him sleepy so he kept his eyes wide open so long between blinks that they ached. What seemed like an eternity later he looked up to see the sign pointing to the exit to the Longhorn Inn. His shoulder muscles felt like he’d just stayed on a bull eight seconds when he pulled up to the office and got out of the vehicle.

The place was dark, but he hadn’t expected it to be all lit up. He crossed his fingers like a little boy and hoped there was a room available when he hit the black call button beside the door.

A woman in a big thick robe with a stocking hat on her head opened the door. “We don’t have a vacancy and we have no electricity. People are freezing here just like they would be at home. We won’t be renting anything until the electricity comes back on.” She shut the door in his face and disappeared back into the darkness.

Grown men do not cry in the freezing drizzling rain. They don’t kick the motel door down. They really do not throw themselves on the frozen grass and scream like a spoiled two-year-old. Travis wanted to do all three. He’d even pay the fine for vandalism if they’d give him his own cell in the county jail—one that had a bed and a wool blanket where he could curl up and go to sleep.

He stormed back to the truck and started the return trip back to Mingus. He would go to Merle’s house. It wasn’t but a couple of miles from the Honky Tonk and she might cuss and rant about him waking them up in the wee hours of the morning but she’d understand when he told her the problem. He could sleep down in the bunker. It was stocked in case of nuclear attack with everything he’d need and even had a pool table in it so you could bet your sweet ass she’d have a powerful generator.