Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [46]
He shook off the memory and pushed his uneasiness aside. Ever since the day he’d left home to become a rodeo cowboy, the old man had never given Johnny anything but grief about the way he lived his life, had never once shown any pride in Johnny’s success and accomplishments. All he got from his father was criticism and some money when he needed it. Except for the games he had to play to get the old man to open his wallet, that suited Johnny just fine.
He stepped into the kitchen, and through the window he saw his mother in the backyard tending the flower beds that bordered a flagstone patio shaded by several large honey locust trees. He watched her for a minute as she carefully pruned a butterfly bush and put the cuttings in a neat pile at her feet. She’d slowed down considerably since Johnny had seen her last, and her face looked tired and drawn.
He rubbed his eyes, stifled a yawn, put on a big smile, opened the back door, and said, “How’s my girl? Need some help?”
Bessie shook her head and removed her gardening gloves. “You wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I’d probably just make a mess of things,” Johnny agreed jovially, surprised that his mother made no attempt to hug him. “Where is he?”
“He left before you arrived to meet up with Walt down at the old Shugart cabin,” Bessie said. “That’s where they’ll be pasturing the cattle for your movie.”
“Why doesn’t he just leave that stuff to Walt?” Johnny asked. “After all, he pays the man good money to manage the ranch.”
“Because he loves doing it,” Bessie said, “and would probably die if he didn’t get up and go to work every day, even if it’s only for a few hours. It’s bad enough that he can’t ride a horse anymore.”
“Is he still not talking to me?”
Slowly, Bessie lowered herself into a patio chair and looked at Johnny with sad eyes.
“What is it this time?” he asked.
“A woman named Brenda called for you here last night, and your father answered the phone. Why did you tell her your father had had a stroke?”
“I never said that. I said he wasn’t getting around all that well. Brenda must have misunderstood. She’s a flake. Half the time I don’t even know what she’s talking about. Don’t worry, I’ll set things right with him.”
“You leave your father alone for now,” Bessie said sharply. “He doesn’t want to see you.”
“All because of what some woman who doesn’t know what she’s talking about said? That’s ridiculous.”
“Do you really want your father dead?” Bessie asked.
Johnny knelt down and patted his mother’s knee. “Come on, you know better than that.”
Bessie pushed his hand away. “You never mean any of your little lies, and you always try to sweet-talk your way out of them. Until you show your father the respect he deserves, I’m not going to stand up to him on your behalf anymore.”
She rose, reclaimed her gloves, and began snipping angrily at the butterfly bush with the pruning shears.
Johnny stared at his mother’s back. She’d been his strongest ally in the family, the person he relied on to mend the broken fences between him and the old man. He wondered what he could do to fix things with her.
It had saddened Bessie that her children had produced no offspring, although she rarely spoke of it. Would it help to tell her that she had a granddaughter? A girl that Johnny had fathered ten years ago? He decided truth telling would only backfire and get him deeper in trouble. He had no pictures of the girl, hadn’t seen her in years, didn’t even know where she lived.
He watched as his mother pruned the shrub, the twigs of the butterfly bush falling haphazardly around her feet. Figuring out a way to placate her would have to wait. Right now, there was Brenda to deal with. He needed to sweet-talk his way back into Brenda’s good graces. He wasn’t about to head back to Denver when the weekend was over without a