The Hard-To-Tame Texan. Lass Small

Unfortunately the hospital person contacted Mr. Parsons who was very odd. And, with hostility, he declined sharing stress with his son.

      The hospital crew became terse.

      Eventually, it was the Keepers who accepted the burden of the pilgrim.

      Andrew paid none of his hospital bills.

      His sister, Lu, who was by then living with the Keepers’ pilot Rip Morris, insisted that the Parsons were responsible and must take the bill. And before that was done, she did some telephone talking with her father in Houston. The father was a man very similar to his son.

      His father did pay the bill. Mr. Parsons was not gracious. He simply sent the check to the hospital. Then his daughter let go of his throat. Holding a throat with dug-in fingernails, over a long-distance phone, is not easy.

      So with the reluctantly courteous invitation of the Keepers, Andrew Parsons was taken from the hospital and moved into the big house at the Keepers’ place. That place was where Keepers had been for something like five centuries. It hadn’t been easy.

      As the Keepers had gone along through time, they had coped with many problem people. That’s why their house was so large. The family had secret access to stairs and corridors. They could avoid just about anyone. With that security, they offered an interim shelter to Andrew Parsons.

      Andrew kindly accepted that he was a guest of the Keepers’. He had no concern at all. He knew his acceptance was a gift to the Keepers.

      

      So the Keepers again were reminded of their name, and it was they who finally, reluctantly volunteered to become the keepers of Andrew. And Andrew very easily accepted the care as due him.

      He allowed the staff to clean his room and to bring him meals and care for him. He expected such conduct, all for him. He did not hesitate to ring the bell for attention.

      As Andrew healed, more fully, the staff became restless. They had other things to do and other people for whom to care. The crew began to revolt.

      It was Tom Keeper’s mother who went to see Andrew in his room. He was reading, sitting with his back to the window. With the knock, he said, “Come in.” And as Mrs. Keeper entered, he smiled and falsely pretended to move to stand.

      Mrs. Keeper stood just inside the room and smiled. “You’re much better. Tonight you may come down for dinner.” She ignored his protest and continued, “Tom and his brother Sam will come by for you and guide you down.”

      “I’m really not yet—”

      But Mrs. Keeper was leaving the room as she said, “Dinner is at six.” And she was...gone.

      That was blunt enough.

      Andrew phoned the doctor. It was a house phone and he called long distance. He gave the phone number. The Keepers would pay.

      The nurse said, “The doctor is with a patient. How can we help?”

      Identifying himself, Andrew said, “They’re trying to get me to walk downstairs to dinner!”

      The nurse flipped through Andrew’s medical records. Then she said, “You’re capable. Do it.” And she hung up.

      Andrew was furious. He paced and gestured and breathed and was livid! He didn’t want to be sucked in by others’ rules. He had his own. It was to allow himself to do as he chose.

      So Andrew didn’t go down to dinner with Tom and his brother Sam. Andrew had locked the door. When someone knocked at five ’til six, Andrew said through the door, “I’m not well enough to go down yet.”

      Tom said, “Okay.”

      Andrew said through the door, “Send my supper up to me.”

      There was no reply.

      No one came.

      Andrew went without dinner. He was furious.

      About ten that night there was another knock at his door. With the sound, Andrew was in a fury. He snarled, “The door is not locked.” He’d assumed he’d finally be getting his dinner. And he turned deadly eyes on the door.

      His sister, Lu, came inside with a smile. “You’re still up?”

      “I’ve not yet had dinner...not even supper.”

      “Oh.”

      “Go down to the kitchen and get me something to eat.” It was not a request. It was an order.

      Lu watched her brother thoughtfully. She understood exactly why Mrs. Keeper was doing as she was. Lu said kindly, “The kitchen is closed.” She patted her pockets and said, “I do have a caramel.” She held it out to her brother.

      He snatched it with steely fury and threw it against the wall as he retorted, “That isn’t enough.”

      She considered him. “Well, then, drink a whole lot of water and fool your stomach.” She turned and opened the door. Over her shoulder she advised, “Practice walking and come down for breakfast in the morning.”

      As he drew in an indignant breath, she went out and closed the door behind her.

      Andrew was infuriated. No one was doing as he said. He was abandoned. He tore the bed apart and shoved furniture around. He was not quiet. With all the chaos finished, he sat in one chair and panted with anger and exhaustion.

      Finally, he phoned down to the servants to ask for someone to come straighten his room and bring him some food. No one replied to the ring. He let it ring a hundred times. He could be dying. Who cared?

      He considered that. Who would care? His father? He was too concerned with himself. His mother? She never took her amused eyes from his father. His siblings? All were self-centered. None cared two hoots in hell about him. They were just like his sister, Lu.

      He looked at his silent dog who watched him thoughtfully.

      His Buddy.

      Would Buddy abandon him, too?

      

      So Andrew made up his bed. It wasn’t because he regretted tearing it apart, it was because he had to sleep in it, and no one had come to tidy his room. He was bitter. He sat sourly.

      The dog sighed rather obviously. Rather enduringly.

      He said to the dog, “When I’m stronger, we’ll leave and go our own way by ourselves.”

      The dog watched him and did not respond or wag his tail or anything. It was as if Buddy understood every word said and was opposed to such nonsense.

      With that intrusive awareness, Andrew remembered how the dog had looked around and moved his head when they were out on the tableland. And belatedly, Andrew realized that Buddy had never been sure out there. He’d been watchful and careful and listening. Hmmm.

      It was interesting that Andrew had known, all through that time, that the dog was uneasy, and he had ignored the animal’s alertness. He’d thought it’d been rabbits.

      If it had been rabbits, the dog would have investigated it. Whatever had rattled the dog, out on the tableland, it hadn’t been anything close. The long, silent path of that great bullet that had killed the horse had been proof of the distance.

      So Andrew went to bed that night without any supper. Neither had the dog been fed. Andrew forgot that part. He hadn’t taken the dog down to where the dogs were fed. Since he hadn’t eaten any supper, it didn’t occur to him to see to it that the dog did.

      Buddy went into the bathroom and drank a lot of water. That was, of course, out of the toilet. Then the dog came back into the bedroom, curled down in a corner and slept. He was used to such times. Most of those times, he had been hungry because Andrew had forgotten to feed him.

      When the man had remembered, the dog was eager and the man only chided the dog for being rude. Just the fact that Andrew had more dog food than was needed ought to have been some clue.