Fool's Puzzle by Earlene Fowler (reading eggs books .TXT) 📕

“Take a whiff,” he said, winking. “I’m not sure.”

“What’s going on with you and Marla?”

He crossed his legs and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m always giving her a hard time over at Trigger’s.” He laughed and locked his fingers behind his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How can you still go there?” I asked.

“I’ve been going to Trigger’s for twenty years. Jack and I had some good times there.”

I stared at the floor.

“I did go after him,” Wade said bitterly. “I can’t help it if he left before I got there. He shoulda never got in that jeep after drinking that much.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “You and Jack argued a dozen times a week. He was a big boy. No one made him go to town.”

I said the words he expected, but part of me did blame him for causing Jack to go to Trigger’s as well as everyone who let Jack drive away. Maybe most of all, I blamed Jack himself, for not calling me at my dad’s ranch to pick him up.

He cleared his throat and looked around. “You got a cup?”

“That’s a disgusting habit.” I took a last gulp of coffee and poured the rest into my fern before handing him the empty cup. “Have you ever seen a picture of someone who has cancer of the mouth?”

He spit a brown stream of tobacco juice into the cup and pulled at his droopy mustache. “I love ya, Benni, but I believe I got myself a wife already.”

“All right.” I held up my hands. “It’s just that I worry about you. How’s everyone doing?”

“We’re all fine,” he said. “That’s why I came by. Brought you those baby quilts Ma made for this shindig you’re putting on. And she sent Grandma’s old quilt. Rings or something.”

“The Wedding Ring quilt,” I said. “Great! It’ll be a perfect addition to the exhibit. Tell her I’ll take good care of it. Is she coming to the festival?”

He picked up my brass letter opener and started flipping it up and catching it by the handle. “Who knows? Since Jack ... well, you know she’s been kinda down. Sandra and the kids are coming, though.”

“Tell Mom I’ll come out when the festival’s over and bring her the money for the baby quilts. They’ll sell like crazy the first day, I’m sure. Seems like everywhere I look there’s a pregnant woman waddling around.”

He threw the letter opener up again, missed, and it clattered down on the desk.

I reached over and grabbed it. “You’re worse than one of your kids.”

“That’s what Sandra’s always saying,” he said, grinning. He spit in the cup again, then tossed it into my trash can.

I wrinkled my nose, thankful I’d put a plastic liner in the can earlier.

“How’s she doing with the computer?” I asked.

“Fine,” he said, too quickly.

“Is she having problems with the calf weights again? I could give her a hand when I come out next week.”

He ignored my offer, pulled out a small pocket knife and started cleaning his nails.

I pointed the letter opener at him. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to learn to use it.”

“Far as I’m concerned, writing stuff down in Dad’s old record books is good enough. That computer business was purely Jack’s doing.” He wiped the blade of the knife on his jeans.

“Computers are here to stay whether you like it or not. Jack proved you saved money using the PC.”

“About enough to pay off his college loans,” he snapped. Deep lines of resentment bracketed his lips. He swung his legs down and worked damp jeans back over his boots.

I didn’t answer, not wanting to go into the subject that Jack and Wade had argued about since their father died twenty years ago. Anger and frustration over Wade’s refusal to acknowledge the changes in ranch management and his stubbornness against trying new methods was what drove Jack into town that night nine months ago.

He stood for a moment glaring at me; then his face softened. “Ma wanted me to check on you and tell her how you’re doing. What do you want me to tell her?” he asked in a subdued voice. Like all the Harper men, his temper erupted as unpredictably as a teenage boy’s, and dissipated just as quickly.

I stood up and slipped an arm around his slightly thickening waist. “Well, how do I look to you?”

He tugged on my braid and smiled. “You look just fine, blondie.” My throat constricted at Jack’s old nickname for me.

“You get some rest, Wade.”

“I’m okay,” he said. “Wish you’d come out and visit more often. Ma and Sandra really miss you.”

I studied the tiled floor. “It’s hard, Wade.”

“I know.” His hand rubbed a small circle on my back, the roughness catching on the nubby flannel of his brother’s shirt. “Sorry to bring it up, but I promised Ma I’d ask.”

“Tell her I’ll be out to visit next week.”

“Sure thing. Want me to throw that out for you?” He gestured at the trash can.

“A true Western gentleman,” I teased. “Don’t worry about it. You just watch your back.”

“Only way to live,” he said, pulling on his jacket.

After he left, I sat at my desk for a long time staring at the keyboard of my word processor. I had plenty of work to do—quilt histories to type and frame, grant applications to fill out, Elvia’s condor questions to study, but Wade’s visit left me unsettled and fidgety.

I picked up the index cards with the condor questions and shuffled them in irritation. Memorizing things had never been my strong suit, so I tossed them down and decided to live dangerously and fake it. What I needed was to do something physical, something that took no thought. Eric certainly needed the help and he seemed to get more done when I worked with him, so I went out to the main hall of the museum.

When I walked in, Eric and Marla were deep in conversation. He stared at the ground while