For Love of Jonas

I purely love my man. When I plant a luscious kiss on Jonas' firm mouth, a shiver of happiness shimmies from my neck to my toes. As usual, it's hard to stop once I start on him. Jonas still looks a bit peaked from his spell with the flu and all. Nothing a strong dose of my love won't cure. But we are gettin' low on supplies. I head for the door.

"Your Elly'll be back pronto, stud muffins. How 'bout I bake you a batch of sugar cookies when I get back?"

The rickety screen door slams behind me, drowning out any reply Jonas makes. I think I hear him call me baby cakes. That puts a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I pretty near launch myself off the porch into the blast furnace that signifies August in these parts.

Cicadas buzz in the afternoon. Their song shimmers over me just like those heat waves coming off the salt flats. Plumb airless it is. Five Appaloosas, two of them leggy colts, drowse under the lean-to in the corral. Only the sweep of their broomstick tails as they swat flies shows any life whatsoever. I suck in a searing breath. Aromas of horse and sage fill my nose, along with a hefty layer of alkaline grit. That sage smell, tangy under two months of summer dust, reminds me of Thanksgiving. Why, that's over three months away. I grin like a fool.

"Must be love." I drop sunglasses over my eyes.

As I reach Old Blue, a dark shadow ripples over me. Goose bumps pop up all along my arms and made my hackles stand on end. I whip off my hat and tilt my head back. Broad wings...small head. The bird hangs dark against the washed out sky.

I flap my hat and yell, "You irksome turkey buzzard! There's nothing for you here! Nothing! Now get!"

That damn vulture pays me no mind. Its presence knocks the peak right off my mood, though. I contemplate grabbing my varmint rifle and taking a few potshots at the bird. But it won't do to upset Jonas, not with his bout of sickness so recently behind him. That waxy look of his persists like fresh cow pies on the heels of your favorite boots. I whack my hat against my thighs before settling the Stetson back over my head, then hoist myself onto the cracked vinyl of the truck seat.

With no more than the usual grinding, Old Blue starts and shifts into gear. Once through the stock gate, I take the only road: a double grooved path that heads straight across the desert toward Lost Springs. Plumes of powdery dust trail me for the next five miles until I hit the interstate. Once the road smoothes out, I tweak the knob on the radio. Static fills the cab.

"Damned radio." I flip the knob to off. After a few experimental taps along the steering wheel, I break into song.

"Goodness gracious--great balls of fire!" My fine rendition carries me to the feed store in a record forty minutes.

Ma stands behind the counter at the cash register. I wave at her and call, "Catch you in a few, Mama. Let me grab what I need first."

It's busy enough that I know Ma won't be able to visit for a while. I nod to folks as I make my way through the old warehouse of a building, but don't take time to visit. Leaving Jonas alone rides me hard, especially after this morning's kissing and hugging. Still, it's good to snuff up the smells of leather and grains mixed in with a hint of wintergreen tonic. Even though Jonas and me've been hitched for near onto a year, this place means home. Anymore, I spend little time here. The things I do to preserve my love.

By the time I gather all my goods and loiter for a bit by the saddles, the crowd has thinned, except for the ornery group hanging around the front. I can see the sweat-stained crowns and drooping brims of their hats over the tops of show halters. The display hides me pretty well. Even so, the sight causes my feet to trip and my chest to tighten. Pure luck that I missed them the first time around. They keep drooling over the prize saddle, even though not one of them can hardly rub two nickels together. I fix my gaze dead center down the aisle, latching onto Lyle's long back. He's the hired man and safe enough. I follow him to the register.

At Harley's raucous laugh, my joy positively evaporates. From the corner of my eye, I see him leaning against a barrel of rawhide dog chews and cow hooves. A plug of tobacco bulges his cheek. I renew my efforts to ignore him and the rest of the deadwood. Soon enough I won't have that choice.

"Sorry, Mama. What'd you say?"

The tight curls on Ma's head hardly move when she jerks her chin in Harley's direction. "Those boys been giving you trouble, Elly?"

"They're all mouth. Words never hurt anybody."

"That's true enough. I just expected that Jonas would shut'em down before now, at least where you're concerned."

I shrug. "Jonas figures I can take care of myself."

"I reckon so. It's just that I hoped he'd show more...oh, I don't know...maybe more gumption. He ran with those boys for more years than I care to think about." Ma's regard fixes on me, giving me a powerful urge to fidget.

"How's your man doing? Haven't seen him since his spell with the flu. Heard you had some trouble with your pump, too." Mama's gaze turns worried as it touches on my bruised arms, then settles on the darker yellow and green one on my cheekbone. At least Jonas won't be laying angry hands on me anymore, not since I fixed him up so good.

"I mended that old pump myself. That's where I got these bruises." To avoid the sorrowful look in Ma's eyes, I fiddle with a snaffle bit on the counter. The shrink-wrap around it snaps and crinkles.

"You're looking a little wan, Elly." Ma's face brightens. "Now, could you be-"

"Don't go jumping to happy conclusions, Mama. No matter how much I might wish otherwise, I'm not pregnant. You promised not to be like my pesky in-laws."

"Now, honey..."

"And Jonas's just fine. Better than fine, actually. You know, I do believe that my nursing him through this sickness brought us closer together. It's like a second honeymoon, he's so sweet and attentive."

"No more talk about moving to Vegas?"

"Not a word. Guess he feels he has everything a man could want right here."

"Well, enjoy it while you can, baby. It'll be all too soon that he recalls his drinking buddies. God knows I never have been able to wean your daddy away from his." She gives a throaty laugh. "Not sure I'd want to either. Some of the sweetest loving I get is when he's making up to me for howling at the moon and shooting cans in the desert."

"Jonas isn't like that anymore. Says he finds my company pure bliss." I twist the brittle plastic cover on the bit until it gives a pop! "Sorry..." and push the broken package toward Ma. She's got a nifty shrink wrap machine in the back. Too bad all broken things can't be fixed that easily.

I decide to try for a little lightness. "Why just the other day, Jonas sat and visited with me while I put up this year's asparagus."

"The whole time?" Ma's eyebrows nearly reach her hairline. "Sounds like you've tamed the wind. You're sure he's recovered? You know, it might not hurt to have Doc MacBain look at him. That was a pretty nasty flu. Lost old man Chisholm to it."

"You worry too much, Mama. I'd be the first to know if anything's wrong with Jonas. I'm telling you, he's pouring all those high spirits of his into our marriage, just like it's supposed to be. If he's not getting around as fast as he used to, well, that's all right, too. Can't you just be glad for me?"

Ma's forehead puckers. "Of course I'm happy for you, baby. Just don't bind him too close. That man needs his freedom, just like you do."

I pat her hand, then lean forward to kiss her. "I know that. I love that man, Mama, so deep that I'd go crazy if he didn't feel the same. Now, I'd best be off. I need to pick-up some things at the grocer's. Where's Daddy anyway? I didn't see him out back. I'm running low on provisions for my work. He ordered for both of us last time."

"He's hauling hay today and tomorrow. Lyle's taking care of things around here."

"Well, give him my love and tell him I need my stuff, pronto."

As other customers congregate around the check stand, I edge away, but not before Ma says, "Come to dinner on Sunday. Bring a cobbler and I'll do the rest."

"I'll check with Jonas and let you know." I head toward the door. Steps snappy and chin up, I nod to the boys around the entrance and hope I look cantankerous enough to keep them quiet.

Of course, it can't be that easy.

"You're looking mighty fine, Elly," Harley says as he steps into my path.

The look in his eyes makes me want to scrub myself. "What do you expect, Harley? Got myself a real man at home."

The boys all chuckle. Harley's thick neck grows brick red. As I step around him and through the double doors, it promises to get worse. I feel his hot breath on my neck.

"Seems to me Jonas must be feeling pretty hen-pecked by now. Practically gnawing off his paw to escape. Ain't been in for a game for onto a month." His four cronies gather around him, effectively blocking both my escape route and Ma's view of the loading dock.

I give him a slow smile, the kind I saw Mary Jane Pitman give Jonas at the July dance. "Actually, he's feeling right satisfied." I let my words hang in the air for a moment until Harley's gaze oozes away. Sometimes it's pure fun to play with a rattler, even knowing there could be fatal consequences. "Your old poker game's as far from his thoughts as you are from mine."

The big man slants a glance at his cohorts. "That may be for now, little girl. But once he gets to hankering for some real company, he'll be in for another round." His voice drops and he hisses, "And next time I win a night with you, don't expect me to be a gentleman and bow out just because you're fragile in the head."

Heat floods my chest and flashes to my face. I blaze a hopeless glance through the windows toward Mama, still absorbed in other customers. Low and furious, I whisper, "I don't ever expect you to be a gentleman. That knack is completely foreign to your kind. But you'd best know that there's no way in hell Jonas would've stood by for you to collect on your bet. Or me either!"

"Don't count on it, Elly. All you'd have seen is the dust rising from the back of his pick-up truck. Even getting married don't drive all the sense from a man like Jonas. He was friends with us long before you strapped him into the saddle."

"That isn't sense you're talking, it's bluster. Jonas is smart enough to know a good thing when he's got it. Your ideas of love and marriage don't mean anything. They're fool notions based on a thing you've never had and never will have." Hoots of laughter from the boys crown my words.

"Be that as it may, little girl, I'll be stopping by later today. Jonas promised to help me break one of my colts before hunting season. He's late starting as is. And what about that cat of mine? You promised you'd have it for me over a month ago."

"That mangy old bobcat's done. I just forgot to bring it into town today. Jonas' good loving plumb put your old cat out of my mind." With that, I jerk my chin up and move toward the steps.

From behind me, their buzzing prattle splits into words. Harley says something like poor bastard and pussy-whipped. That gets my back up but good. I march over to Harley and stick my face close to his. The unholy gleam in his piggy eyes makes it hard not to flinch.

"I've had just about enough of your pissing and moaning, Harley. If you were ever Jonas' true friend, which I purely doubt, you'd be happy for him instead of acting as jealous as some old hog that can't get to the good scraps as fast as the shoats do. So maybe you'd best stay off our place until you can figure out whether you're coming or going."

Harley's eyes, redder than his face, squint up little and mean. “Well, Miz High 'n' Mighty, if you'd cut that boy some slack, you wouldn't have had to pull him off that Pitman girl last dance at the Grange."

I see red, so help me God. I step back and swing with all my might. My hand connects to Harley's face with a satisfying smack! Stings like a son-of-a-bitch, too. But Harley...well, it's purely worth it.

His hat flies clean off his head. Better yet, the chew that doesn't fly out of his mouth evidently makes its way down his throat. He doubles over, coughing and spitting. Fiery triumph blazes through me. When the hulking fool straightens and raises his fist, I don't even budge. It's not like I haven't taken worse from Jonas, and not so long ago either. Of course, I love Jonas. Sure as hell can't say the same for Harley.

One of his buddies, Mel I think it is, grabs his forearm. "Now come on, Harley. You don't want Jonas sore at you for hitting his wife."

I move in closer. "You just stay off our land, you hear me? And stay away from Jonas. He knows where to find you. If he wants to." With a final look of plain contempt, I storm off the loading dock and down the steps to my pick-up.

Blood sings in my ears during my trip to the grocer's. My muscles tremble and bunch, my teeth chatter. All the way home, I hardly miss that darn radio.

Finally I just can't keep it in any more. I holler, "Damn you, Harley, for a fool! And damn that prissy bitch, Mary Jane Pitman." I feel a little better after that.

When I pull into the yard, Old Blue skids and raises a rooster tail. With hardly a moment's thought for the goods baking in the hot cab, I burst from the truck and race into the house. "Jonas? I'm home, babe."

Light from the western windows glints off his hair where he sits at the kitchen table. I rush to his lap, snuggling in the way I used to do during our courtship. His hands brush against my back. I curl into the solid strength of his chest, rub my cheek against the thin cotton of his shirt.

What is it, baby? You're shaking like a leaf.

"It's that mealy-mouthed Harley. Going on about how I'm keeping you from the poker game. Why he even threw your stupid bet and that episode with Mary Jane in my face."

Old Harley never did know when to shut-up. You'd think by now he'd know you're the only one I need.

"You'd think so. But I finally had to put my foot down." I lean back against his relaxed hold and lift my face to search his eyes. "I told him to stay off our property and away from us."

I'm sure you did what had to be done.

"That I did." I slide an arm around his neck and place a lingering kiss on his lips before pulling away. My fingers nestle in the silky coolness of his hair. "I'd do anything to keep your love, Jonas, you know that."

No one knows better than me, baby cakes.

"Well, I'd best go rescue our groceries from the heat. I did promise to bake you some cookies, now didn't I?"

I spring to my feet as Jonas' hands slip from my waist with a reluctance I find purely reassuring. Partway to the door I pause as my gaze falls on Harley's bobcat, stuffed and ready for delivery.

"I'll have to do something about getting that damned cat to Harley, though."

I turn back to my man. The sun's rays caress his strong face and flash off his hair and eyes. His coloring isn't quite right. Still, the bobcat doesn't look nearly as lustrous. No doubt about it, Jonas far surpasses that cat. Nobody can say I didn't do right by my man.

Daddy's always telling me that taxidermy's an art. Jonas proves that.