The Crush Part 13

"I've always been partial to blue eyes."

"The Elvis look-alike?"

"h.e.l.l, yes. Had 'em bright as headlights. Turns out that's about all he had goin' for him." She gave Wick an experienced appraisal. "But you're the whole package, honey. I reckon you have to beat the women off with a stick."

"Naw, I've got a nasty temper."

"I'd take the temper if the baby blues came with it."

He gave her the abashed aw-shucks-ma'am grin she probably expected. After another sip of beer, he said, "I

wonder what happened to her."

"Rennie?" Crystal used a damp cloth to swipe some spilled sugar off the counter. "I heard she became a doctor.

(Jan you beat that? Don't know whether to believe it or not. She never came back to Dalton after her folks packed her off to that fancy boarding school up in Dallas. I guess after what happened they wanted to wash their hands of her."

"Why? What happened?"

Crystal didn't catch his question. Instead she smiled at an old man who hobbled up to the counter and took one of the stools near Wick's. He was wearing a plaid cowboy s.h.i.+rt with pearl snap b.u.t.tons and blue jeans, both starched and ironed as stiff as boards. As he sat down, he removed his straw hat and set it on the counter, crown down--the proper way.

"Hey, Gus. How's life treatin' you?"

"Same as yesterday when you asked me."

"What'chu havin'?"

He looked over at Wick. "Been ordering the same G.o.dd.a.m.n meal for twenty years and she still asks."

"Okay, okay," Crystal said. "Chili cheeseburger and fries," she called out to the cook, who had been catching a break now that the after-church crowd had thinned.

"And one of those." Gus nodded toward Wick's beer.

"Gus is one of our local celebrities," Crystal told Wick as she uncapped a beer bottle.

"Not so you'd notice," the old man grumbled. He took the bottle from her and tilted it to his tobacco-stained lips.

"Rodeo bull rider," Crystal said proudly. "How many years were you a national champion, Gus?"

"A few, I guess."

She winked at Wick. "He's modest. He's got more of those champeen belt buckles than Carter has liver pills."

"That many broken bones, too." The old man took another long drink of his beer.

"We were talking about Rennie Newton," Crystal said.

"Remember her, Gus?"

"I may be all bent and broke near in two, but I ain't brain-dead." He looked over at Wick again. "Who've you?"

Wick extended his right hand across the vacant stools separating them. It was like shaking hands with a cactus.

"Wick Threadgill. On my way to Amarillo. Killing some time before hitting the road again. Seems I knew one of your local girls."

Crystal moved down the counter to slap menus in front of two young men who had come in and greeted her by name. When she was out of earshot, Gus turned on his

stool toward Wick. "You knew the Newton girl?"

"In college," he said, hoping that Gus wouldn't ask which inst.i.tute of higher learning they had attended.

"You gonna take offense at straightforward man talk?"

"No."

"Some do these days, you know. Everybody's gotta be politically correct."

"Not me."

The old man nodded, sipped his beer. "That little gal was one of the finest looking two-legged animals I ever-clapped eyes on. One of the most spirited, too. 'Course she wouldn't've looked twice at a mangled old fart like me, but when she was racing, everybody stopped to watch. She got the blood of all the young bucks pumping hot and thick."

"Racing?"

"Barrel racing."

Barrel racing! The Rennie Newton he knew used a ruler to stack up her magazines. He couldn't imagine her competing in a rodeo event. "I didn't know she partic.i.p.ated."

"h.e.l.l, yeah, son. Every Sat.u.r.day night April through July, Dalton holds a local rodeo. Ain't much of one on a national scale, but to folks around here it's a pretty big deal. Almost as big as football.

"Anyhow, cowboys would stack up three deep to watch Rennie race. Never showed an ounce of fear. No, sir. I saw her throwed off her horse twice. Both times she got right up, dusted off that saucy b.u.t.t, climbed right back on.

"The cowboys used to say it was the way she rode that made her thighs so strong." He winked his crinkled eyelid.

"Don't know myself, as I never had the pleasure of getting between them, but them that did said they ain't never had it that good."

Wick grinned, but his fingers had formed a death-grip around his beer bottle.

"But that was cowboy talk," Gus said with a shrug.

"We're all big liars, so it's anybody's guess as to who was talking from experience and who was talking out his a.s.s. I figure a lot more tried than actually got to enjoy. All I know is, that little filly kept T. Dan good and riled, and that was fine by me."

"T. Dan?"

The old cowboy fixed a rheumy, wary gaze on him.

"You didn't know her at all, did ya?"

"No. Not at all."

"T. Dan was her daddy. A son of a b.i.t.c.h of the worst sort."

"What sort is that?"

"Yall doing all right?" Crystal had returned after preparing cherry c.o.kes for the two young men at the end of the counter.

Wick said, "Gus was telling me about T. Dan Newton."

"He hasn't been dead near long enough to suit most people around here," she said with a dry laugh.

"What did he do to p.i.s.s everybody off?"

"Whatever he d.a.m.n well felt like," she replied. "Just for example, tell him about your beef with him, Gus."

The old cowboy finished his beer. "T. Dan hired me to break a horse for him. He was a good horse but a mean b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I broke him, trained him, but wound up with a busted anklebone. T. Dan wouldn't pay for my doctor bill.

Said it was my own fool fault that got me hurt. I'm talking about a lousy seventy-five dollars, which was chicken feed to somebody with T. Dan's bankroll."

"He was good at making money but bad at making and keeping friends," Crystal said.

"It sounds like the whole family was rotten to the core,"

Wick said.

"If you ask me, the town's well rid of 'em." Gus

scratched his cheek. "Wouldn't mind seeing that gal take another spin around those barrels, though. Just thinking about it has got me h.o.r.n.y. You got plans tonight, Crystal?"

"In your dreams, old man."

"What I figured." With what looked like a painful effort, Gus got off his stool and hobbled over to the jukebox.

Wick finished his beer. "Thanks for everything, Crystal.

It's been great talking to you. You take credit cards?" Before signing the tab, he added a hefty tip and enough for an extra beer. "Uncap another long-neck for Gus. My compliments."

"He'll appreciate it. Never knew him to turn down a free drink."

Trying to appear nonchalant, he said, "Earlier you said that Rennie's parents had sent her to boarding school.

What was the final straw for them? Why did they want to get rid of her?"

"Oh, that." Crystal pushed a slipping bobby pin back into her pile of hair. "She killed a man."

Chapter 11.

"Excuse me:"

"You heard right, Oren. She killed a man."

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

"When?"

"Don't know that either."

"Where are you?"

"Headed back."

"From?"

"Dalton."

"You went to Dalton? 1 thought you were going to bed and sleep the day away."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"How'd you find out that she killed a man?"

"Crystal told me."