His, Hers and...Theirs?. Judy Duarte
Three
Bright and early Sunday morning, Eva left her two-bedroom townhouse, climbed into her silver Toyota Celica and followed the directions Dan had given her last night. Then she drove about ten miles out of town.
As she continued along the county road, passing the landmarks he’d told her about—Sam Houston Elementary School, Roy’s Feed and Grain and the Flying K Auto Parts Store—she realized she was getting close.
Cattle grazed in pastures along both sides of the road now, so she slowed, looking for the driveway that was marked by the big green mailbox he’d told her about, a plastic replica of a John Deere tractor. When she saw it, she turned left and followed the tree-lined driveway, her vehicle kicking up dust and gravel until she reached the house and outbuildings.
She parked by the barn, next to the pickup Dan had been driving yesterday, and shut off the ignition. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing to visit the twins and their uncle, but she’d really enjoyed their time together last night, and getting to know the kids had been a special treat. Besides, spending time with them would be good practice.
Before she could open the driver’s door, two cattle dogs ran up to her vehicle, barking to announce her arrival. Rather than get out immediately, she scanned the old clapboard house, noticing that the yellow walls and white trim had been freshly painted, that the shingled roof appeared to be new.
The front door swung open, and Kaylee stepped onto the porch. “She’s here!” As the screen slammed behind her, she tore across the porch and down the steps with Kevin just a couple of strides behind her.
The dogs seemed to realize Eva was a welcome visitor, so she climbed from the car, shut the door and greeted the children. “Good morning.”
“You came,” Kaylee said. “You really came.”
“I said that I would.” Eva’s gaze traveled back to the porch where Dan stood. She’d thought he was handsome yesterday, but he’d somehow morphed into a real live cowboy overnight, and she couldn’t help but note the change.
He had an almost heroic aura now, as if he belonged on the set of a shoot-’em-up western.
Tall and lean, he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his worn denim jeans and moseyed toward her with a Texas swagger that made her breath catch.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asked.
“No, your directions were easy to follow.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, wondering if she should have braided it earlier. A pulled-back style would have been more practical for a day at the ranch, but as it was she’d fussed in front of the mirror long enough.
“Do you want to start with a tour?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Something told her she ought to try and include the kids in the conversation, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from the cowboy. That is, until the screen door squeaked, alerting her to the fact there was someone else at the ranch.
She turned to see an old man who appeared to be in his mid-seventies shuffle across the porch. He used a cane to support him, but his gait was a little unsteady. She’d assumed Dan and the kids lived here alone, although she didn’t know why. They hadn’t actually addressed the issue.
The old man carefully climbed down the steps. Upon his approach, Dan introduced him as Uncle Hank.
“Eva works at the Brighton Valley Medical Center,” Dan added. “The kids and I met her at the park yesterday.”
“You a nurse?” the old man asked.
“No, I’m a medical technologist.”
“Sounds important.”
Eva smiled. She liked to think her job and her contribution to the hospital were more than important; they were critical.
“Do you know Oliver Westfield?” Hank asked. “He’s a dermatologist at the clinic.”
“We’ve met,” Eva said. “But I believe Dr. Westfield is a specialist in internal medicine, not dermatology.”
“What the hell difference does it make?” the old man asked. “Far as I’m concerned, those doctors all skin ya.” Then he chuckled to himself, pleased with his own humor.
“Actually,” Dan said, “Hank likes Dr. Westfield, even if it sounds as though he’s complaining.”
“Liking him has nothing to do with griping about the bills he’s been giving me.” Hank leaned against his cane. “There was a time I could have given Doc Graham a couple of chickens and called it good. But now these young doctors want you to give ’em an arm and a leg, even when the ones you got ain’t all that good anymore.”
“Maybe you should see the princess doctor,” Kaylee said. “She fixed my owie and didn’t make us give her anything.”
“So there you go,” Dan said to his uncle. “You need a new doctor.”
Hank chuffed. “I need a whole new body. This one’s falling apart.” He looked at Dan, challenging the man whose body was young and strong to disagree.
“You heard what Dr. Westfield said, Hank. All that whooping it up when you were younger is taking its toll on you now.”
“I suppose that’s true. Too bad I didn’t listen to my Mama. She told me to quit smokin’ and drinkin’, but I didn’t listen to her.” He gave Kevin a little nudge. “Let that be a lesson to you, boy. Pay attention to what your elders tell you.”
Dan placed a hand on his uncle’s frail and stooped shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You want to take a tour of the ranch with us, Hank?”
“No. You go ahead. I’ll have lunch ready for you when you get back.” Then the old man gave a respectful nod to Eva. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Same here.”
Hank turned and shuffled back to the house.
“Come on,” Dan said to Eva, “we’ll start by showing you the barn.”
The kids ran ahead, followed by the cattle dogs, and Eva fell into step beside her host.
“Hank’s a good man,” Dan said. “He’s just a little old and crotchety. But he means well.”
“You don’t need to explain. I have a soft spot for the elderly. In fact, I’ve been volunteering my time at the Brighton Valley Senior Center.”
“You don’t say.” He sketched a gaze over her, sending her senses reeling and knocking her off balance.
She did her best to shake off the inappropriate reaction to the look he tossed her way, telling herself there hadn’t been anything to it, that her admission had merely surprised him.
But she hadn’t done anything special. On a whim, she’d gotten involved with the center, hoping to fill and brighten the days and evenings when she wasn’t working at the lab.
The game plan had worked, and as an unexpected bonus, she’d acquired a better understanding of those who were lonelier than she was.
“I wish I could tell you that Hank didn’t always used to be cranky and ornery, but it wouldn’t be true. He’s been short-tempered and snappy for as long as I can remember. But for what it’s worth—deep inside—he’s a good man. And loyal to a tee.”
“Buena jente,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a Spanish term for ‘good people.’ You know, one of the white hats.”
“Then that suits Hank just fine. You’ll never find a man whose word holds more truth and follow-through.”
Eva’s steps slowed. “It must be frustrating for him to not be able to