Letter to Reader Title Page LASS SMALL Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Copyright

You won’t want to miss any of the memorable

characters in this newest series by bestselling

author Lass Small. While each of

THE KEEPERS OF TEXAS books stands

on its own, the continuing saga of the

Keeper family and ranch will surely keep you

coming back for more!

You met Rip and Lu in Taken by a Texan (Desire #1137). And they are back again, and prepared to stir up some trouble for Lu’s brother...

ANDREW PARSONS: He was the houseguest from hell! The arrogant, rugged Texan just wouldn’t leave the Keeper ranch, nor would he learn any manners. As a last resort, Mrs. Keeper called in some favors and asked for the much-needed help of family friend...

JOANN MURRAY: It was said she could tame any man, though she hadn’t yet let one into her bed. Until she met a certain cantankerous cowboy. Was that love in the air...or just frustration, say for another Texan bachelor....

TOM KEEPER: The heir to the Keeper ranch just seemed to meet woman after woman that he couldn’t have. Well, he was bound and determined not to fall in love again. But it wouldn’t be that way for long, not if a certain set of parents have anything to say about it....

The Keeper family saga will continue in September with The Lone Texan, Lass Small’s fiftieth book for Silhouette! Don’t miss any of the fun and romance you’re sure to find with THE KEEPERS OF TEXAS.

Dear Reader,

This month, Silhouette Desire celebrates sensuality. All six steamy novels perfectly describe those unique pleasures that gratify our senses, like seeing the lean body of a cowboy at work, smelling his earthy scent, tasting his kiss...and hearing him say, “I love you.”

Feast your eyes on June’s MAN OF THE MONTH, the tall, dark and incredibly handsome single father of four in beloved author Barbara Roswell’s That Marriageable Man! In bestselling author Lass Small’s continuing series, THE KEEPERS OF TEXAS, a feisty lady does her best to tame a reckless cowboy and he winds up unleashing her wild side in The Hard-To-Tame Texan. And a dating service guarantees delivery of a husband-to-be in Non-Refundable Groom by ultrasexy writer Patty Salier.

Plus, Modean Moon unfolds the rags-to-riches story of an honorable lawman who fulfills a sudden socialite’s deepest secret desire in Overnight Heiress. In Catherine Lanigan’s Montana Bride, a bachelor hero introduces love and passion to a beautiful virgin. And a rugged cowboy saves a jilted lady in The Cowboy Who Came in From the Cold by Pamela Macaluso.

These six passionate stories are sure to leave you tingling... and anticipating next month’s sensuous selections. Enjoy!

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

The Hard-To-Tame Texan

Lass Small

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LASS SMALL

finds living on this planet at this time a fascinating experience. People are amazing. She thinks that to be a teller of tales of people, places and things is absolutely marvelous.

One

Prologue

Back, some time ago, Andrew Parsons had intruded onto the TEXAS tableland of the Keepers. He just clipped the herd-restraining fence and entered where he chose. He didn’t mend the rip he’d caused in the barbwire.

As Andrew had ridden along, his horse had been silently shot from some awesome, silent distance. At the time, Andrew didn’t even know the horse had been shot. He thought it had a heart attack or something similar.

After Andrew’s leg had been hopelessly trapped under his dead horse for just past two days, it was Andrew’s dog who searched for help. The lost dog had eventually been seen by Tom Keeper.

Tom had used his cell phone to contact the pilots to see where the earnest dog wanted to go and why. And the pilots did find the trapped Andrew.

Rescued, Andrew was in the hospital for some time. One of the ranch pilots, Rip, had taken care of Andrew’s dog. And Rip had taken the dog to see his master. That was how Rip had met Andrew’s logical, normal, alluring sister, Lu Parsons.

Now Andrew was to be released from the area hospital, out there on the TEXAS tableland. However, Andrew—the obsolete man—was perfectly comfortable, in hospital, living as he chose, being cared for by others.

He slept in the daytime and visited with the nurses and watched TV in the night. His time was askew; the hospital was tolerant. People are people. Some are strange.

The time came when Andrew was able to walk. He could eat by himself and he could shower alone. He was capable of sharing his time with other people. The doctors scolded the staff. Andrew was not to be pampered, the room in the hospital was needed for other patients.

That was said sternly. It was all vocally underlined. No one mentioned the night nurses had spoiled him.

Andrew did not want to leave the hospital. It was a haven. When told he should go, he’d said, “Not yet.”

The staff was adamant, “There are others who need the space in the hospital.” They told Andrew he could use his leg, which was healing. “It is time for you to leave us,” they told him.

Andrew was irritated and turned stubborn. He repeated, “Not yet.”

So what was to be done with him? He was alone. There was no place for him to go. His father refused him.

Having been unable to reach any agreement with Andrew’s family in Houston, the staff at the hospital contacted those who had brought the pilgrim to them. They talked to the Keepers who lived out and beyond. Their land seemed endless.

The Keepers recommended the hospital contact the Parsons family again and gave them another phone number. Unfortunately the hospital person contacted Mr. Parsons who was very odd. And, with hostility, he declined sharing stress with his son.

The hospital crew became terse.

Eventually, it was the Keepers who accepted the burden of the pilgrim.

Andrew paid none of his hospital bills.

His sister, Lu, who was by then living with the Keepers’ pilot Rip Morris, insisted that the Parsons were responsible and must take the bill. And before that was done, she did some telephone talking with her father in Houston. The father was a man very similar to his son.

His father did pay the bill. Mr. Parsons was not gracious. He simply sent the check to the hospital. Then his daughter let go of his throat. Holding a throat with dug-in fingernails, over a long-distance phone, is not easy.

So with the reluctantly courteous invitation of the Keepers, Andrew Parsons was taken from the hospital and moved into the big house at the Keepers’ place. That place was where Keepers had been for something like five centuries. It hadn’t been easy.

As the Keepers had gone along through time, they had coped with many problem people. That’s why their house was so large. The family had secret access to stairs and corridors. They could avoid just about anyone. With that security, they offered an interim shelter to Andrew Parsons.

Andrew kindly accepted that he was a guest of the Keepers’. He had no concern at all. He knew his acceptance was a gift to the Keepers.

So the Keepers again were reminded of their name, and it was they who finally, reluctantly volunteered to become the keepers of Andrew. And Andrew very easily accepted the care as due him.

He allowed the staff to clean his room and to bring him meals and care for him. He expected such conduct, all for him. He did not hesitate to ring the bell for attention.

As Andrew healed, more fully, the staff became restless. They had other things to do and other people for whom to care. The crew began to revolt.

It was Tom Keeper’s mother who went to see Andrew in his room. He was reading, sitting with his back to the window. With the knock, he said, “Come in.” And as Mrs. Keeper entered, he smiled and falsely pretended to move to stand.

Mrs. Keeper stood just inside the room and smiled. “You’re much better. Tonight you may come down for dinner.” She ignored his protest and continued, “Tom and his brother Sam will come by for you and guide you down.”

“I’m really not yet—”

But Mrs. Keeper was leaving the room as she said, “Dinner is at six.” And she was...gone.

That was blunt enough.

Andrew phoned the doctor. It was a house phone and he called long distance. He gave the phone number. The Keepers would pay.

The nurse said, “The doctor is with a patient. How can we help?”

Identifying himself, Andrew said, “They’re trying to get me to walk downstairs to dinner!”

The nurse flipped through Andrew’s medical records. Then she said, “You’re capable. Do it.” And she hung up.

Andrew was furious. He paced and gestured and breathed and was livid! He didn’t want to be sucked in by others’ rules. He had his own. It was to allow himself to do as he chose.

So Andrew didn’t go down to dinner with Tom and his brother Sam. Andrew had locked the door. When someone knocked at five ’til six, Andrew said through the door, “I’m not well enough to go down yet.”

Tom said, “Okay.”

Andrew said through the door, “Send my supper up to me.”

There was no reply.

No one came.

Andrew went without dinner. He was furious.

About ten that night there was another knock at his door. With the sound, Andrew was in a fury. He snarled, “The door is not locked.” He’d assumed he’d finally be getting his dinner. And he turned deadly eyes on the door.

His sister, Lu, came inside with a smile. “You’re still up?”

“I’ve not yet had dinner...not even supper.”

“Oh.”

“Go down to the kitchen and get me something to eat.” It was not a request. It was an order.

Lu watched her brother thoughtfully. She understood exactly why Mrs. Keeper was doing as she was. Lu said kindly, “The kitchen is closed.” She patted her pockets and said, “I do have a caramel.” She held it out to her brother.

He snatched it with steely fury and threw it against the wall as he retorted, “That isn’t enough.”

She considered him. “Well, then, drink a whole lot of water and fool your stomach.” She turned and opened the door. Over her shoulder she advised, “Practice walking and come down for breakfast in the morning.”

As he drew in an indignant breath, she went out and closed the door behind her.

Andrew was infuriated. No one was doing as he said. He was abandoned. He tore the bed apart and shoved furniture around. He was not quiet. With all the chaos finished, he sat in one chair and panted with anger and exhaustion.

Finally, he phoned down to the servants to ask for someone to come straighten his room and bring him some food. No one replied to the ring. He let it ring a hundred times. He could be dying. Who cared?

He considered that. Who would care? His father? He was too concerned with himself. His mother? She never took her amused eyes from his father. His siblings? All were self-centered. None cared two hoots in hell about him. They were just like his sister, Lu.

He looked at his silent dog who watched him thoughtfully.

His Buddy.

Would Buddy abandon him, too?

So Andrew made up his bed. It wasn’t because he regretted tearing it apart, it was because he had to sleep in it, and no one had come to tidy his room. He was bitter. He sat sourly.

The dog sighed rather obviously. Rather enduringly.

He said to the dog, “When I’m stronger, we’ll leave and go our own way by ourselves.”

The dog watched him and did not respond or wag his tail or anything. It was as if Buddy understood every word said and was opposed to such nonsense.

With that intrusive awareness, Andrew remembered how the dog had looked around and moved his head when they were out on the tableland. And belatedly, Andrew realized that Buddy had never been sure out there. He’d been watchful and careful and listening. Hmmm.

It was interesting that Andrew had known, all through that time, that the dog was uneasy, and he had ignored the animal’s alertness. He’d thought it’d been rabbits.

If it had been rabbits, the dog would have investigated it. Whatever had rattled the dog, out on the tableland, it hadn’t been anything close. The long, silent path of that great bullet that had killed the horse had been proof of the distance.

So Andrew went to bed that night without any supper. Neither had the dog been fed. Andrew forgot that part. He hadn’t taken the dog down to where the dogs were fed. Since he hadn’t eaten any supper, it didn’t occur to him to see to it that the dog did.

Buddy went into the bathroom and drank a lot of water. That was, of course, out of the toilet. Then the dog came back into the bedroom, curled down in a corner and slept. He was used to such times. Most of those times, he had been hungry because Andrew had forgotten to feed him.

When the man had remembered, the dog was eager and the man only chided the dog for being rude. Just the fact that Andrew had more dog food than was needed ought to have been some clue. Actually, Andrew only thought about himself.

So the man and dog slept that night with rumbling, complaining stomachs. It was especially strange that Andrew endured the hunger. He could have gone downstairs anytime in the night and found something in the kitchen. He was just mind-bogglingly stubborn.

So that hungry morning, Buddy considered the man more closely. He didn’t sneak looks, he observed.

Finally, the man said to the dog, “You can go out by yourself. I’ll open the door. You can leave.”

To Andrew’s surprise, the dog got up and went to the door and stood there waiting for it to be opened. The knob was high, he could not reach it. He looked at the man.

Andrew’s temper flared. He went to the door and snatched it open...and the dog was gone! Just like that.

Such an “escape” made Andrew blink. He found he was still holding the door open. He closed it gently, firmly. The dog would not get back inside unless he scratched on the panel.

Andrew smiled. If the dog scratched to get inside, the door would be marked. Okay. He’d just wait to go down to the second breakfast. He’d just see who had control of the door.

Buddy was not back by the time Andrew heard the subtle, ringing sound for the second breakfast. And it was obvious to Andrew that if he wanted anything to eat, he would have to go downstairs, right then.

As he opened the door, he looked down both sides of the hall and saw only a few people who paid no attention to him at all.

For a man who had once been paid to be on TV to tell tales of his adventures, it was very strange not to be noticed by those people there.

They treated him as if he was—average.

The use of the word average caused Andrew to be pensive. He would despise being labeled as average. He was an adventurer. An explorer.

Andrew arrived in the dining room as the tables were being cleared. Those doing that, nodded cheerfully to the lagging person who was almost too late for the meal. They offered serving plates that had been almost cleared off, but there were tidbits still available.

The laggard guest was so hungry that he didn’t mind taking the last of things. That made him seem ordinary to those clearing the tables. To them, he was an ordinary man who’d overslept. He was just from the hospital, wasn’t he? And his timetable might be a bit odd for a while, but he was healing quite well. There was no reason to indulge him.

The crew was tolerant. Someone brought fresh orange juice; another brought in fresh coffee. They all spoke to him. He nodded rather formally. They assumed he was starving and therefore hadn’t the time to chat. They didn’t mind.

One said, “Your dog came down and ate, then he asked to go out. Since you allowed him from your room, that way, we figured you didn’t mind if he went out by himself.”

Coldly, Andrew replied, “He is a stranger here.”

Another said in passing, “We’re keeping an eye on him.”

Andrew’s eyes lowered in irritation. How could they keep an eye on a dog that was outside? Buddy would be lost. Well, maybe not. He did pretty well by himself.

Sullenly, Andrew rubbed his stomach and felt isolated clear out there, alone, with no entourage. Being alone and traveling was very different from being in a large house where he wasn’t known. They were treating him as if he was like everyone else. How rude.

He ate enough to live on without gorging himself with food. He felt like gorging, but he knew better than to be that stupid. He did not speak or smile as any reply to those around. No one had asked if they could speak. He had not asked it of them. They were just help. He did not need to tolerate any familiarity from anyone.

He lay his napkin next to his plate and pushed his chair back to rise.

One of the crew asked, “Enough? We have some lovely fruit cobbler.”

Andrew looked coldly at the man and replied rudely, “No.”

“Good. Then I get it!” He laughed easily. Then he explained, “We flipped a penny. If you didn’t want it, I won!”

But Andrew didn’t even wait to hear what was said by who all. He’d walked out.

One of the crew said, “I’d guess...and it’s just a guess, you know, but I’ll bet some really elegant, feisty female just ditched him.”

Another considered and then nodded. “That could well be. He’s in a snit.”

But somebody else said, “He could just be a selfish bastard.”

Since they all laughed, and did know him slightly, the fact that Andrew Parsons was one, was soon known through all the Keeper help.

The house crew had already been told that Andrew Parsons was capable of walking, of eating downstairs. He could shower alone and shave himself.

While he’d slept days at the hospital, and been awake all night watching TV and visiting with the nurses, he could now walk well enough to get around on his own.

The more he did that—walking—the better his leg would be.

He selected a cane from a collection the Keepers had in a cylinder at the bottom of the stairs, and he gently, perfectly used it.

Then the staff was further cautioned that Andrew, Parsons was just about completely healed. He was capable of dressing alone and of walking by himself. The selected cane was all drama. Ignore it.

The staff was told that Andrew could share his time with other people. He was not to be pampered. That was underlined. At the hospital, the nurses were so kind they had just about ruined him. At the Keepers’ place, he was to take care of himself with minimal attention or assistance.

The crew could assist him only if he fell and could not manage to get up by himself—they paused and then aided him—only after he’d tried three times.

Andrew was not ignored. Everyone talked to him. But no one...helped him. No one arranged his plate or cut his meat or...fetched things for him.

With such obvious lack of attention, Andrew was as sulky as a spoiled child.

Of course, when any of the crew went from the Keeper Place into town, they did manage to report progress to the hospital crews. And at first, they chided the people at the hospital for corrupting Andrew Parsons so carelessly.

But those at the hospital retorted, “He was that way when we got him!”

The Keeper crew chided, “He is rock-bottom spoiled.”

The hospital staff admitted, “Well, we did let him sleep when he wanted, and he just got his days and nights mixed up a little.” They figured that admission would be enough.

The Keeper bunch said, “We’d never in the world allow something that dumb out there at our place.”

Since that hospital was where any harmed person was taken, the medical crew then said, “He was spoiled before you all ever got ahold of him. His parents didn’t even come to see him. We figured they’d abandoned him, he was so difficult. Then we found out the grandparents had been in a terrible wreck and lingered for a long old time. His daddy is now weird about hospitals.”

One of the ranch crew said softly, “Ahhhh. I don’t think I knew that. Parsons wasn’t that harmed.”

Thoughtfully the ranch crew shifted as they looked at the vast space around as if to be sure that it was still there. Then they mentioned, “He is strange. Most outdoor people really hate being trapped inside.”

So the hospital crew shared, “Readjusting him will be a challenge to you all. Good luck.” They were leaving the crew, but they all hesitated and one cautioned earnestly, “Don’t send him back to us.”

“You gotta know how much the Keepers’ve put into that pile of bricks you all call a ‘hospital’?”

“Careful. You might need us. We can attach legs backwards.”

“Uh-oh. Uhhhhh... We was just warning you all about that strange Parsons person. You could get him back without wanting him again.”

And the intern shook his head. “Don’t fret about us. Our Admittance Office is cold and sly. We only get people who actually need us. We wouldn’t have taken him, but he had a bad leg. That got him inside. Then the nurses didn’t care which shift got him. It don’t make no nevermind to them.”

One of the ranch crew asked, “Where you from again?”

The intern started out: “Uhhhh. How come you want to know?”

“You’re getting the swing of talking TEXAN pretty good now.”

And another of the hospital crew mentioned, “It’s the sunshine and the food. Any man and most women are susceptible to being TEXAN. It’s in the climate. And other people around and about talk thataway. It’s catching...like a cold.”

One of the ranch crew was fascinated. “I hadn’t ever been told that. Do you suppose it’s the climate that makes us thisaway?”

“Wouldn’t be a-tall surprised.”

So being gossi—communicators, the critical words about Andrew Parsons’s conduct did slide along all around the area. It was just a surprise that it didn’t go on to other states and foreign countries.

They finally figured the reason the word hadn’t spread on beyond was because the TEXANS are not gossips and only mention odd conduct to good, closed-mouthed friends. They smiled at one another. It was good to be able to trust other people. They were all TEXAN, born and bred.

So Andrew Parsons had been discarded and ignored. At the Keeper Place, he was where he could recover. He had a room. His sister, Lu, visited him. He assumed she was still at the hospice, in town, near the hospital. He hadn’t been interested enough in her to find out what she was now doing, or why she hadn’t gone on back to Houston?

And the thought came to Andrew that she was still around! He was out of hospital. There was no need for her to be there! Why was she still hanging around? Hmmmm.

But when he went to the dining area, he didn’t see his sister anywhere. Had she left? How strange. No farewell? Well, it didn’t bother him at all. She was useless anyway. She’d insisted the family pay his hospital bills.

The Parsons had done that. It was only right that they did. It had been their son and his horse that had been shot. No one had mentioned replacing his horse. That would come...the time when he could mention his dead horse.

What had become of his faithful dog?

Using the cane, Andrew ventured carefully onto the porch and whistled the call for the dog. It did not appear. Where was he? Not that Andrew cared much one way or the other. To whistle for the dog was an excuse to get out on the terrace. He didn’t want to appear physically ready for prodding around the area.

After his horse had been shot, Andrew hadn’t felt any urge to again go out onto the land...at all. So it was no surprise that right away he went back inside the Keepers’ house. No one was anywhere around. There was no one to entertain him.

That didn’t mean someone for him to watch. It meant someone who would ask him questions and then listen to what he had to say.

Of course.

All of the world was anxious to know what reply Andrew Parsons would give. He’d wondered why he hadn’t been asked back to the Oklahoma town’s television station. He asked. They said there had been no response...at all.

When Andrew demurred, they searched for and found and gave him one postcard that had said, “Good gravy, man, can’t you find anything else for us bed-bound guys?”

Andrew had said the obvious: That was only one person’s opinion. But he hadn’t gotten through to even one of the blank heads confronting him.

One had said, “Do you know how many people have been on the places where you’ve ridden?”

Andrew had replied, “Think of the people who have walked in the path of others?”

“Most of those paths have been made by celebrated, intelligent travelers. Most of that time is past. There is nothing in your presentation that is either new or different.”

“Then...why did you accept my interview?”

“Desperation. We are cured of it. We are changing the concept.”

“How will I fit in?”

“No way. Not here. Good luck.”

And they’d escorted him out of the place...and closed their door on his heels.

What was it about adventure that had faltered? And his mind gave him the view of loaded cars on interstate highways. People traveling. A whole lot didn’t even look at the countryside. They read. Played games. Slept. The driver watched the road and noted the speed and maneuvering.

Times had changed when Andrew hadn’t noticed. He was a throwback to another time. Out of it? How strange.

If he was obsolete, then why did people go to museums? And he remembered being a child when an old cousin came to visit with them. He didn’t really visit. He read the paper and watched TV. Andrew’s own mother invited the elderly cousin to go to the museum, which was one of the eleven best in the country.

The old cousin said, “I’ve seen a museum.”

He indicated that if you’ve seen anything once, it was enough. It wouldn’t change. Museums did.

Think of the people who go to see the paintings and stand and just stare at them, absorbing the lights and shadows, the colors, the genius of it.

There are people who have such paintings or photos or drawings in their homes. They smile at them or stand and allow their eyes to draw the drawings into their brains and feel fulfilled.

Andrew really wasn’t such a person. He was not a viewer. He felt he, himself, was enough for any audience. He was unique and precious and worthwhile. He was there for them to regard and admire.

Yeah. Sure.

Two

Late that evening, Mrs. Keeper was sitting on the wide stool before her vanity mirror. She rolled her hair onto small wire rounds and pinned them with odd, bendable, plastic hairpins. She looked as if she’d just landed from some faraway planet.

Her husband came over and sat on his side of the stool, which had been custom-made for that very reason. His legs were on either side of her and his arms were around her body, nicely, but his hands were not in control. He asked, “What are we going to do about Andrew?”

She sighed with his “we” comment because what he actually meant was: What was she going to do about Andrew.

She fiddled with the lengths of hair tightly wound up in all those plastic doodads. She mentioned, “I’ve called Mark’s daughter JoAnn?” That’s the TEXAS questioning do-you-understand statement. “She’s coming to see us and she’s going to smooth Andrew... out.”

With his eyes closed, Mr. Keeper’s hands were exploring his wife’s front chest He mentioned, “Women terrify me.”

She turned her head slightly and looked at him loftily over her shoulder from under hooded eyes. She said, “—you are terrified—with reason. You brought me out to this raw place and, even now, you expect me to adjust.”

“You’ve done that very well.”

“Hah!”

Indignant, he reminded her, “I let you go in to San Antone twice a year to shop.”

“You go along and shake your head over anything I put on!”

“That’s how well you make a rag look when it’s on your body. I’ll not have you wearing rags.”

She was patient. “If they look good on me, then they’re not rags.”

And he said, “Oh,” as if he’d learned something.

“Why are you clutching my breasts? Do you think you’re going to fall off the stool? You had it made so that you wouldn’t.”

“I’m being helpful.” He breathed on the back of her neck and his hands cupped her breasts closely. “It’s nice you have two. One for each hand. No quarreling of hands. Each is content.”

She sighed with some drama. “You’re groping me again.”

That shocked him for her lack of understanding. “No, no, no! I’m keeping them from jiggling!”

“How kind.” Then she told her husband, “I can’t think of anything else to do with him.” She didn’t even have to say the name of Andrew Parsons.

So her husband solved everything. “Let’s take him back out on the tableland and just dump him. We could shoot a horse to put on top of him.”

“Not any of our horses.”

He accused, “You’re picky.”

She moved her mouth around as if she was searching out food caught in her teeth, then she sighed impatiently, “He’s human.”

“No! Really?”

And they were then silent. He relished her body and neck. She went on winding up every damned little curl.

She mentioned, “Your parents will be here in about three more days.”

Her husband chuckled in his throat.

“Why do you laugh?”

“How young they are. My daddy’s just barely twenty years older. My momma is only twenty-one years older than you. They really hurried. I was born exactly nine months after they were married!”

“—and your daddy was in Europe, fighting in that awful war.”

“Yeah. He didn’t think he’d get back.”

“I’m glad he did.”

“Me, too.” Then he looked at her in the mirror, and they smiled at each other. But he told her, “I have only one eye.”

She was patient He did that all the time. She told him, “Move your head over to your right. You will see that you have two eyes.”

He did that and exclaimed in lousy surprise, “Glory be!”

He continued sitting astraddle her hips, and he gently moved his evening beard on her shoulder giving her erotic goose bumps. But he was very diligently holding her breasts to keep them from wiggling.

When she finally finished winding her hair and had captured all of the curls on her head, he asked, “Ready?”

“For what?”

“Me.”

“Don’t joggle my hair.”

He chided, “I never have! The hair on your head isn’t one of your sexual lures.”

“I’ll take out the pins.”

“Naw. I’d never notice.”

“You just like my body.”

“I like you, your body, your essence, the way you laugh, and that sneaky little smile when you want me.”

She was indignant. “I have never wanted you. I’m just a used sex slave.”

“Wow.” He laughed. “How come you clutch me and writhe and move around and gasp.”

“Endurance.” But she licked her smile with a naughty tongue and her eyes were wicked.

So two days later JoAnn Murray drove up to the Keepers’ door with two suitcases, which she judiciously left in her car. She was redheaded. That meant that she was independent. Redheads always are.

Redheaded people had to endure a lot of discussion about the color of body hair, and teasing. That sort of thing solidifies their character. They’re unique and they live as they damn well choose.

After greeting Mrs. Keeper, JoAnn said, “Mother ruthlessly sent me here to cope with your obvious problem and get rid of him. I am skilled in getting rid of males. Mother loves you. This will clear her books with your kindness in helping her. She underlined that. You are to agree with her clean record now, before I do anything about this leech you’ve acquired.”

Mrs. Keeper replied, “Well, hello, JoAnn. How is your dear mother?”

“Dramatically relieved you’ve asked me to do this and not asked her. She says she’s too old to deal with young men anymore. She only watches them in the Soaps.”

“Your mother is dear to me.”

JoAnn was tolerant. She advised in a mature manner, “We all have our moments. Tell me about this male burden who made you send out an S.O.S. for the first time since mama’s known you in college. She is so curious.”

As the two women of different ages talked, they entered the house and went into a side room downstairs. There, they were served tea as Mrs. Keeper had directed the kitchen crew before JoAnn’s arrival.

JoAnn sipped some, then more and closed her eyes as she tilted her head and smiled. “Ahhh. It’s perfect... as usual.”

Mrs. Keeper didn’t make tea. She slept with Mr. Keeper and that was about all she did. Of course, the crew was her choosing.

If someone had made lousy tea, Mrs. Keeper would have isolated them with their cook until the newcomer knew exactly how to make tea. No one was ever fired. They were turned over to the head cook, or the head butler or the head gardener, and on occasion to her and was instructed more widely.

Educating and adjusting newcomers was the same with everybody who was on the Keeper place. It included everyone who was around, involved in crooking, housecleaning, barns, animals, plowing, flying, whatever.

So the tea was perfect. The servers had hesitated on the other side of the door and watched. Mrs. Keeper sipped the tea and looked at it and she smiled. That was like a pat on the head for the watchers and they went back to the kitchen.

Mrs. Keeper inquired, “Are those in your family all well?”

“Fine. This tea is perfect.”

“We have a wonderful crew.”

See? Mrs. Keeper was kind. So she then said, “What are we to do about this Andrew Parsons?”

“Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll get rid of him for you.”

“Well,” hesitated Mrs. Keeper, “I really think he needs to be...uh...restructured. It would be unkind for us to just pitch him onto a sand dune. Isolated again. He needs to fit into some portion of society better.”

JoAnn was thoughtful. “I don’t believe I’ve ever done anything like that. I believe you’ve contacted the wrong person for this. I’m a rejecter.” JoAnn then smiled kindly to soften the blow for Mrs. Keeper. People tended to be thataway with Mrs. Keeper. She appeared to be quite fragile.

Mrs. Keeper tasted the word, “Re-ject-er. Push away. Discard.”

“Yep.”

“I shall have to find someone else.” She sighed in a fragile manner. “But in the time that will take, could you begin by teaching Mr. Parsons that he will very soon be in the twenty-first century? He needs to realize that he is at the very end of the twentieth?”

“Well...”

Mrs. Keeper elaborated to explain herself. “Andrew needs to look forward to stepping over into the next century. He hasn’t even been in this one. He’s of another time.”

She sighed gently before she went on: “He believes that his adventures are all a surprise for the rest of us. Either actually telling of where he’s been, or being on TV, that time, or writing of it in books. He does not realize that we have mostly already looked all around this planet, the moon, and now Mars. There is no new place for Andrew on this entire earth. On horseback, he is a throwback.”

Mrs. Keeper paused and considered JoAnn. “While I search for someone to upgrade him, do you think you could endure at least allowing him to talk to you? He is quite isolated here.”

JoAnn shrugged. “I haven’t anything at all on my calendar. It would give me something to do.”

“I really appreciate your help. I shall try to be quick in finding someone else to help him. Do what you can.”

JoAnn sighed. “Okay. I’ll get my luggage.”

“Let Tom. He has nothing to do, and it would please him to help you.”

Nothing to do? Tom’s own mother assumed Tom had nothing to do? He had no time, at all!

At that moment, Tom was at Rip’s plane getting ready to board when his cellular phone burped. He was surprised. People very rarely called him! He looked at Rip and said, “My phone!”

Rip observed Tom with curiosity and said, “Yeah.” A beep was a beep. So—

So Tom pulled the phone into reality and lifted it as he said, “Tom.”

And his mother said, “Darling, I need you here.”

“Yes.” Then Tom refolded his phone and put it back into his pocket as he said, “Mother needs me. Let me go with you later?”

“Yeah. Meanwhile, I’ll go on out...looking.”

“You need someone else with you. Ask Ben or Wilkie?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks. Be careful.”

“Yeah.”

So Tom’s Jeep pulled up to the door of the Keeper place. And there was his mother and... Why, it was JoAnn! His mother looked okay. She wasn’t stressed. JoAnn grinned.

His mother said to Tom, “We need your muscles to get JoAnn’s luggage into the house. She’s going to have the room just down the hall from us. There on the left. That guest room.”

Tom blinked. He’d been called back...to move...luggage? There was a whole, entire house crew for such. His mother was going into the winky-dink time?

Tom said, “Okay.” And he went the ten steps to JoAnn’s car and effortlessly lifted out her two bags. He carried them to the door and found his mother waiting for him to open the door for them.

Okay.

He put down the suitcases and escorted the ladies back inside. Then he retrieved JoAnn’s luggage.

As he reentered the house, he asked JoAnn, “You been visiting?”

“I got here just a while ago. We’ve been talking and drinking—tea.”

His eyes twinkled and he moved his lips so his grin was interrupted.

JoAnn said, “So you’re out here and working on the place?”

“Just another ranch hand.” He exchanged an amused glance. He hadn’t seen JoAnn for some time. She looked pretty good to his eyes. How about her showing up with luggage! How come?

“You on the circuit?” Then he bit his lip. She was about thirty. She might be embarrassed by her visiting... with him there. Was his momma waving her under his nose? He looked at her again and thought, okay.

But his mother was saying rather sternly, “I asked JoAnn to come in order to bring Andrew up to time. He believes he’s the only one who has even been on the tableland.”

Tom scoffed, “He’s a pilgrim.”

“Yes.” His mother sighed and walked farther down the cool hallway.

JoAnn followed. She had stiffened a bit with Tom’s impulsive inquire if she was back on the circuit. She had never been on the circuit! She was a current, independent woman and she didn’t need the circuit to find a willing man! With her daddy’s money, she didn’t need to go looking for any man!

She became somewhat aloof.

Redheads can get hostile real quick like. Tom sighed inside his body and began to verbally tape over his stupidity. He said, “That’s some automobile you got out there.”

“It’s a dream.”

He asked, “Take me for a ride this evening?”

JoAnn replied vaguely, “I’ll see.”

She gave him a very independent look. Or was it... a...rejecting one? Well, if it was, it shouldn’t surprise Tom any. He’d missed so many perfect women who’d gotten married off to somebody else, that he wouldn’t be at all surprised to be dumped by this one just about immediately.

Andrew Parsons came carefully down the hall with a cane helping his left leg walk. He was lonely and bored. He’d heard female talk. So he snooped. He smiled courteously and lowered his head in a minimal bow as he apparently meant to go on by them.

Mrs. Keeper said, “Good morning, Andrew. Allow me to introduce you to my new guest.”

That red hair—Andrew’s eyes sparkled. He stopped with courteous interest, his eyes on the redheaded one. He hadn’t even noticed Tom. Andrew had no real interest in Tom anyway and found him unsuitable because Tom had never been at all interested in Andrew’s adventures.

The reason Tom wasn’t interested was because he’d been out on that tableland how many thousands of times? To search, to herd, to just be alone out there. That had been when he first had his own horse. He’d gone out to help watch a herd stay in the area allotted to them in the wet times when the grasses were lush.

Tom went out on the tableland to find steers that had avoided being rounded up. To find calves that cows had dropped and discarded. And just recently, to look for whoever it was out there who’d shot that great bullet and knocked Andrew’s horse over...dead.

Tom had observed the changings of the land in the gentle, subtle seasons. The tableland was fragile and beautiful. He took pleasure in the looking around and loved the land.

Tom had little endurance with the pilgrim who saw the tableland as bleak and useless, craggy and waterless. Andrew hadn’t looked well enough. There were springs out yonder, if a man knew where to look.

And nobody who lived around there was ever going to give away the secrets of the hidden places.

So now a cranky Tom inquired of the pilgrim, “When you clipped our fences, did you see any of our No Trespassing signs?” Now that was about the most blatant comment Tom could make to the pilgrim.

His mother was appalled and stood straighter.

Andrew replied kindly, “I didn’t see any signs. Perhaps you should have larger ones?”

Tom looked levelly at the pilgrim and said, “But you did see that the area was fenced. That should have been some sort of clue it is private land?”

His mother put her hand around a portion of Tom’s arm and subtly shook it, indicating that he was being rude enough and to cut it out.

Tom turned his head slowly and just looked stonily at his mother.

She inquired, “Will you be here for lunch?”

Tom replied, “No.” He just walked on off, but he tilted his hat barely enough to JoAnn, as he went out the door, got into his Jeep and left.

It was probably Tom’s doing exactly that which caught JoAnn’s attention, causing her to blink. So Tom wasn’t as wimpy as she’d thought. How interesting.

She looked at Andrew. She considered him. Mrs. Keeper had indoctrinated JoAnn on exactly what all Andrew had done. JoAnn wondered how in the world Andrew had ever gotten along in this current time. He was obviously interested in her. She tended to attract male attention. It was boringly her red hair that lured men. They always wanted to know if her hair was red...everywhere?

The very idea of such interest exasperated JoAnn.

So she looked at Mrs. Keeper who was kind and gentle, and her mother’s best friend. JoAnn had to complete her effort to help Mrs. Keeper. She could not say, “Well, so long,” and just leave. She had to do as her mother had requested.

Since JoAnn didn’t give one hoot in hell about this obsolete creature, called Andrew, she just might catch his logical attention and straighten him out. Maybe. He was probably more mature—He was how old? Probably about forty. A little old to be adjusted by someone her age. He probably would not listen to her. She’d see.

She looked back at Andrew. He was sliding his eyes down her body. That was about what every male did. To her, it was irritating. So basic. She wondered if there was any man around anywhere who would consider her mind first. Most of them never noticed that she had a brain. The males almost all thought she was a wingy-ding.

They just wanted to see the silken hairs on her body and find if they were the color of the hair on her head. They were most earnest about that. She had never been snared by such a dummy. That’s why she was still single.

Men were single-minded and rather limited. Uh...not Tom. It had been a surprise that he’d exited as he had. She would give him another look over.

But in the meantime, she had to do something about that lost-in-time person, Andrew Parsons, who didn’t know which side was up.

While JoAnn was thinking that, Andrew was secure in the fact that she was taken with him. How that came about, God only knows, but Andrew smiled at her kindly.

Like the nurses at the hospital, women tended to be lured by Andrew. He understood that was so... and accepted it. He sighed gently, but he was very pleased.

Buddy, who had been Andrew’s dog, had escaped and gone over to Rip’s house. He knew the house because Rip had kept him there nights when Andrew had been hospitalized.

This time, Buddy had abandoned Andrew. It had taken some time for Buddy to realize Andrew used a dog or a person. The human male was extensively spoiled. Buddy had been loyal and endured. But not being fed last night had been the crowning blow. Once too often. He’d gone hungry too many times. Buddy was through caring for the selfish Andrew.

So the dog had gone to Rip’s house.

At Rip’s house, Buddy just went through the dog door and barked once to let them know he was back.

Andrew’s sister, Lu, came into the living room at Rip’s house. She smiled at the dog. “So you’ve come home.”

The dog understood the words which people never know dogs knew, and he smiled. He laughed. His tongue panted and his smile was wide.

Lu asked, “How’d you get away?”

The dog looked at the dog door and back at Lu. He’d given her a reply.

Lu asked, “Are you here to visit?”

The dog went under the table and lay down. That was to indicate he was hiding there, and she wasn’t to tell anyone she’d seen him.

She didn’t catch on at all. She squatted down and asked, “Why are you under there? Are you hiding?”

Buddy came out, sure she understood his plight and that she was on bis side. He smiled at her.

She laughed and said. “I’m glad to see you, too. Come into the kitchen while I finish the dishes. Look at my hands! Who would ever believe I’m a Parsons?”

The dog gave a discreet, low bark as he told her she was perfect.

She asked, “You’re hungry? You can’t be! You’re teasing me. We only feed our dogs in the morning and again in the evening. You’re not to get a lunch, too!”

The dog laughed. She wasn’t too sharp but she was kind.

She said, “Rip will be here for lunch. I just might give you a little taste...if you promise not to blab. Okay?”

The dog had to walk around a little with his head down. But he thought she was hilarious.

Rip came inside the house in a hurry. He ignored the dog and just took Lu against his body as he kissed her. She wiggled against him to get even closer and blushed and kissed him back.

Even though the dog pranced and barked to get in on the greeting, neither person was aware of it. They clutched each other, kissed and—not letting go of each other—they stumbled into the bedroom. And at the last minute, Rip closed the bedroom door.

So Buddy was in the hall. He was closed out He could hear the rustle of clothing, Lu’s soft laughter, and the creek of the bed. Buddy felt sorry for the people. Their mating was so complicated. With dogs, it was easier.

Three

For Andrew Parsons, the days were too long and the nights were even longer. He was bored out of his gourd, but he didn’t know of any other place where he wanted to be.

Actually, he’d had no response from any of those places that he’d contacted as a haven. He’d contacted a good many places while in hospital where he had been recovering from his injuries.

There were some places that had regretted with a brief but polite rejection, but there were those that had never replied. Either way, it had been demeaning.

Andrew wondered if Mrs. Keeper was going to oust him from the Keepers’ place. Would she?

He avoided confronting her.

He did not want to go home.

His father was simply ridiculous. He was such a burden on Andrew’s mother. His father needed his mother by him all the while. Such a leech.

Andrew did not think of himself as a leech. Not at all. Never. He was a jewel of a guest. He realized that. The fact that he was there heightened the caliber of any place.

He had been educated abroad in one of England’s exclusive, private schools. Those who’d been students were brain heads and rather strange. If one did not know of their particular interest, he had been rejected by the students.

Andrew had learned to speak as they did and discarded the TEXAS speech. They laughed at his accent and word choice. His speaking as they did, had made no impression at all.

It had been a long, hard time, but he had learned to be aloof. He knew his value.

So he had been the only student who was interested in the States, he had been terribly homesick, and one elderly, bumbling man taught Andrew in that pioneer field of TEXAS. Unfortunately, everything the old man knew had occurred long ago.

They didn’t know of anything current about the United States. They hadn’t even thought doing so could be important.

However, no one at the Keeper place paid Andrew much mind. Of course, everyone was civil. They greeted Andrew and nodded across a room, but no one ever sat down with him and asked him questions. Nor did they ask his opinion. No one ever asked his point of view on any subject.

Andrew had all this long-ago knowledge of the States stacked up inside himself, and no one was curious enough to ask him a question. How strange is such a careless, rejective world.

Of course, Andrew didn’t approach any other person. He didn’t offer anything at all to anyone. He waited to be approached. He was tolerant of the people who did not know of history or of the makings of the world. He had his own opinions, his own ideas. He could give people another view.

They didn’t ask.

He didn’t offer.

The reason he never started a subject was not that he wasn’t outgoing. He had been. But too often the listener got up, excused himself and...left.—or one just walked on off to start with. Escaped?

Andrew felt that people needed to know basics. They needed to know who and how and why things were as they’d been. Everybody seemed to think current knowledge was enough.

They put it on the internet.

How can people build on things unless they know basics? How did people live before there were ovens? How did they cope with weather before there were chimneys? How did they now handle cars when there’d been just horses?

It was basic knowledge.

Andrew didn’t know any better. It was probably his father’s fault. Mr. Andrew Parsons Sr. was such a fool. With Andrew knowing his father was how he was made, his eldest son would flinch at the very thought of being made by such a man.

It was only astonishing that Andrew’s grandfather allowed his son, Andrew’s father, a portion of his estate. Andrew would have nothing when his father had used that all up. His father was not stable.

Andrew’s father had seen a droll movie about plastics when he was vulnerable. He didn’t have the humor to understand the film. He believed in plastics. He owned stock in plastics. He was caught in something that could never last. And he would shrivel away along with his inherited money.

Andrew’s father needed to understand. He needed to listen to his son about the beginnings. Unfortunately, it appeared that every other person in this world was hell-bent on going on beyond plastics to breathing synthetics.

There are people who just never understand the world is moving along—without them. Oddly enough, Andrew was such a person.

He had all those past things stacked up in his mind, and no one gave a hoot in hell about any of it.

How strange that the busy, distracted and kind Mina Keeper knew all that about Andrew Parsons. And it was she who told JoAnn how to smooth Andrew into understanding this finishing twentieth century.

“He is a throwback to another time,” Mina Keeper mentioned needlessly. “We need to upgrade him somewhat. How about you working on that first, JoAnn. You do that while I’m trying to find someone else who can help him.”

JoAnn said, “Okay. I’ll try. Don’t expect anything. He’s in the clasp of his own regard and probably won’t listen.”

Very kindly, Mina Keeper mentioned, “You need to make him think he’s teaching you all that stuff.”

JoAnn licked her lips thoughtfully as she mentioned, “Stuff” in a manner that was an echo of Mrs. Keeper. It was an important communication about which she wasn’t entirely sure.

Rather drolly, Mina Keeper said, “He’s not in step with other people. We need to upgrade him enough so that he understands the current times.”

“Oh. Well. I think I can help with that. I shall try.” Then she asked, “Have you found someone to take my place as yet?”

“Not yet. I’m searching.”

“Well, get on it as soon as you can, or I might louse up this outdated person who is named a rather current Andrew.”

Mina mentioned, “We had a long-ago president named Andrew Jackson.”

“Compared to Andrew Parsons, Andrew Jackson is almost current.”

That made Mina Keeper laugh.

So Mina saved that to tell her husband that night as she was again winding up her hair in little swirls and trapping them just so.

Sprawled on the bed, John Keeper said, “Compared to Andrew Parsons, Andrew Jackson was modern.” And John added, “Has it ever occurred to you how fast this world has progressed in just the last one hundred years? My grandmother went from horse and buggy to watching the moon landing on TV, for crying out loud!”

Winding her hair, Mina replied, “I know.”

“Andrew has a long way to come up to normal. Let’s get rid of him.”

Mina turned and looked at her husband. He was watching her.

She told him, “Darling, we have to help this poor person advance until he can join in with other people of this time.”

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