Chapter 12
And that’s no bull…
Midmorning, they delivered the seven prime bulls he’d bought on credit yesterday. The only difference was that yesterday he hadn’t been sure how he would pay for the necessary additions to his herd; today he knew he had a little leeway in his financial morass.
Jimmy was off working on his correspondence school exams. It took every bit of strength and a lot of cursing for him, Clarence, Linc, the delivery driver, and his helper to get the bulls out of the truck and into the pens set aside for them. Bulls were a stubborn breed, by nature. The only thing more stubborn in his opinion was Charmaine in a snit, which she was now as she strolled by on the way to the henhouse with Tante Lulu, both of them carrying egg baskets.
“Hubba hubba!” the driver said.
“Sonofagun!” the other guy said.
He wasn’t sure if they were exclaiming over Tante Lulu in her cat suit with her bright red curls, or Charmaine still wearing her so-tight-I-can’t-breathe stretch pants and the don’t tangle with me shirt. They were both equally outrageous and loving every bit of it. There was a time when Raoul would have been outraged over some guy drooling over Charmaine. Not anymore. He supposed he had mellowed over the years.
Or maybe I just don’t care.
Nah! I care.
He assumed he wasn’t getting a repeat of last night’s action anytime soon, though.
Well, so be it. If it took a dude ranch to get back in Charmaine’s good graces, he was S.O.L.
They finally got the seven bulls settled in their new surrounding, separated from the females of the species for now. No sense starting a stampede on the first day. Especially that one bull. With the size of his… uh, wee-wee, girl cows were going to take one gander, yell, “How’s it hanging, big boy?” and hot foot it off to Texas.
He was leaning against the fence rail smiling at his own joke when Charmaine and Tante Lulu passed by on their return trip, both baskets half-full of eggs. He decided to be a nice guy and ignore Charmaine’s snotty attitude. “Hey, Charmaine. Wanna name one of the bulls for me?”
She gave him a haughty once over without stopping and said, “Up yours.”
He laughed. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good bull’s name.”
“Bullshit!”
“Lots better.”
Linc and Clarence whooped it up with laughter on either side of him. Tante Lulu chirped in with, “Definitely lost his mojo! Name my bull! Is that the best you can do? Talk about!”
Once Charmaine and Tante Lulu were back in the house, he turned to Clarence and said, “She wants to turn the Triple L into a dude ranch.”
Clarence’s jaw dropped open, and he almost lost the wad in his cheek.
“She wants me to hire hunky cowboys to take the female guests out riding and roping cattle and stuff.”
“I’m kind of hunky,” Linc said. The amazing thing was, he wasn’t even smiling as he said it. When Raoul and Clarence just gawked at him, Linc added defensively, “Some women have called me a hunk.”
“How long ago was that?” Raoul asked with a laugh.
“Not that long ago,” Linc proclaimed.
“Well, I doan think I’ve ever been hunky,” Clarence said dolefully. “Doan get me wrong. I got plenty of action in the bedsheets in my day, unlike some folks I know.” He looked pointedly at Raoul. “But I doan recall any wimmen callin’ me a hunk. Does that mean I’m gonna get fired?”
“No one’s getting fired. I just thought you’d like to know why Charmaine’s having a hissy fit. We better get back to work now.”
As they walked away, Linc asked Clarence, “How does my butt look from back there? I did lots of squats when I was in prison. That helps a lot.”
“I doan give a squat how many squats you did,” Clarence said. “You are not a hunk.”
“I don’t know about that,” Linc persisted. “Having a good butt is the first requirement for a hunk. I think.”
“Hah! If thass the case, I might as well give up now. I lost my butt about 1982. Jist started saggin’ one day, and before I knew it, kaplooey! It was gone.”