The Texan's Christmas

“I did, but I’m going out again and I was leaving you a note.”

“A note?” Aunt Etta paused in reaching for a pot.

“So you wouldn’t worry.”

“Ah.” She grabbed the pot and poured milk into it. “It comes with the territory. And if an old aunt might be so bold, where are you going this time of night? It’s almost twelve.”

“I need to talk to Lucky.”

Aunt Etta turned from the stove. “Now, Kid, I think the time for talking to Lucky has long passed.”

“I screwed up.” He finally had to admit the truth.

She nodded. “Yeah. You’ve done that a time or two. You’ve always had this urge for freedom and you and Lucky got too serious too quick. I think you’re a lot like your father.”

No, no! Don’t say that!

“I’m not like him, am I?” Suddenly that was very, very important.

Aunt Etta bristled. “Why wouldn’t you want to be like him? He was your flesh and blood.”

He collected himself quickly. Aunt Etta didn’t know about her brother’s infidelity and Kid couldn’t tell her. At this late date, he couldn’t break her heart.

Giving her a peck on the cheek, he swung toward the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He’d dodged a bullet, but he thought about it all the way to The Beer Joint. He liked women. It was a fact he couldn’t deny, but he never cheated on anyone. Well, that wasn’t quite true. At Tech, he’d dated two girls at the same time. There was no commitment, though. Just fun. He never crossed that line of committing to forever, except with Lucky. He’d promised her as soon as he had a good job, they’d get married. They’d be together. No…oh, God!

He was just like his father.

WHEN HE REACHED THE BEER JOINT, he parked on the left side, away from the glare of the big spotlight Bud had installed. Three trucks were on the right so someone had to still be here. He slipped out of his vehicle. Before he could take a step, Bubba Joe came out, head down, and quickly drove away in the little Nissan. Did he leave Lucky by herself?

Suddenly, three cowboys half staggered to the Dodge pickup, the ones he’d seen earlier talking to Lucky, but they didn’t get in. They stood there talking, but Kid couldn’t make out what they were saying. His eyes centered on the door as Lucky came out, a purse over her shoulder, keys in her hand. She locked the door and made her way to the Chevy truck.

Unlocking it, she opened the door as one cowboy came around the front and the other two around the back to confront her. How he wished he had something besides his fists because this wasn’t good.

“Hey, Lucky,” one of them shouted, “why don’t we continue this party somewhere else?”

“You’re drunk, Clyde. Go home.” She looked at the other two. “That includes you, too, Earl and Melvin.”

“You’ve been teasing us all evening,” the one called Earl said.

“Yeah. Now it’s time to ante up,” Melvin, the heavy-set guy added.

Clyde grabbed her arm and she knocked it away. “Don’t touch me or you’ll regret it.”

“Hot damn, she’s got a temper.” Clyde and the other two closed in.

Kid stepped into the light. “Get away from the lady.”

All three cowboys swung around.

“Who the hell are you, mister?” Clyde asked.

“Someone who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t get out of here.”

Earl snickered. “You think you can take us?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Melvin pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket, the silver catching the light with a startling eeriness. “Can you take this?”

Before Kid could reply, the other two jumped him. They went down into the gravel, fists flying. Kid slammed a right into Clyde’s stomach and he rolled away, moaning. He didn’t have time to think as a blow connected with his chin. Kicking out with his boot, he knocked Earl over the rail and he landed against the building. His body slithered down like a snake. Kid immediately jumped to his feet to face Melvin who was coming toward him with the knife.

“I’m gonna cut you six ways from Sunday, mister.”

Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the September night. Lucky had a gun. Where in the hell did she get a gun?

“Party’s over, boys,” she said in a voice he’d never heard before. “Now get out of here.”

“What…?”

She pointed the gun at him. “Shut up.”

With grunts and moans, the cowboys lumbered to their feet. Melvin looked at him one more time before they got in the Dodge and left.

Lucky reached with her left hand into her purse for her cell and poked in a number. The gun was still pointed at him and he found that a little disturbing.

“Walker, this is Lucky. Three drunken cowboys just left my place. They’re headed east in a black Dodge Ram. You might want to alert the highway patrol. Yeah. I’m okay.” Deftly she slipped the phone back into her purse, her eyes and the gun focused on him. “I want you out of my life for good. Don’t come back here or to my house. You got it?”

“That’s cold for someone who saved you from a fate worse than death.”

“You didn’t save me from anything!” she shouted. “I had the situation under control. I knew they were waiting for me and…”

“What!” He had no idea what she was talking about.

“Get in your truck and leave. Now!”

He could feel anger emanating from her in waves of white heat, much like the simmering night. “Put the gun down, Lucky, and let’s talk.”

“I’m not talking to you.”

He stepped closer, going on a hunch that she wouldn’t shoot him. “Why are you so angry?”

At the question, she took several deep breaths as if to calm herself.

“I’m worried about you,” he said when she remained silent, hoping to find a chink in that solid wall of steel she’d built around herself.

She laughed, a sound that curdled his insides. “Worried about me? That’s rich.”