"What're you thinkin' about?" another trucker named Buddy asked.
"My future."
"Got old Billy Bob in it?"
She shook her head. "Probably not."
"He'll be disappointed. Since he's not in it, how about me?"
"You got six kids and a wife. Listen to the song, man. That's what you get to go home to. You ever mess that up I'll shoot you myself."
Buddy chuckled. "Honey, you wouldn't have to. Holly would blow my ass all over Georgia if she ever found out I was messin' around on her."
Daisy laughed with him.
The jukebox rattled out Ronnie Milsap singing "Only
One Love in My Life."
Buddy moved his shoulders to the music as he drank a longneck beer and sang along with Ronnie. When he finished the last of the drink and the song ended, he waved at her and headed for the door. "Good night, Daisy. See you next week on the run back through here. Have a good one, Tinker."
"Drive safe," Tinker told him.
"I'll do it."
A couple more songs played and Merle lost the first game. Mac wasn't nearly so sad. She flipped him several quarters and he plugged them into the machine. She gave Daisy a thumbs-up sign while she chalked up her custom made cue stick. "Next time your money is feeding the jukebox," she yelled at Mac.
"Merle, you're on a losing streak. It's a good thing Joe Bob's not here. You'd lose your place among the pool table angels," he shouted above the music.
Merle cackled. "Me an angel? That's a sight I can't even conjure up when I'm drunk."
Daisy wished to hell it wasn't Monday night. The old slow songs were killing her.
Elvis Presley's smooth voice came through the speakers with "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" and Daisy leaned on the bar. Was Jarod as lonesome as she was?
***
Tuesday morning she'd just finished cleaning up the Honky Tonk when someone pounded on the door. She threw her bar rag on the floor and ran to unlock it hoping to see Jarod. Maybe he'd had an emergency at the ranch and couldn't call the day before but surely he'd stop by
that day.
"Mornin', ma'am. I'm from the telephone company. I'm Holt Bellman." He pointed to the patch on his blue uniform. "Would you check your phone please? We got a call that the lines are down. Think a squirrel is in a transformer again. Pesky little critters cause us a lot of trouble."
She picked up the receiver on the phone at the end of the bar. Sure enough it was dead. "No service here."
"Thanks. Hopefully, we'll have it back on by evening." He disappeared out the door. She locked it and was barely back to the bar when her cell phone rang.
"Daisy, it's Rose out at the Flying Z. Fancy stumbled this morning while I was exercising her. Reckon you could come out here and check it? Damn, I hope I don't have to put her down. Don't think I could do it." Rose's voice broke.
"Don't do anything foolish. I'll be there in a few minutes," Daisy said.
Daisy stopped outside Rose's yard fence half an hour later. Fancy, a fine roan horse, was holding her front leg up. Tears were streaming down Rose's face as she petted the horse's nose.
Daisy ignored the gate, hopped the fence, opened her bag, and bent down to check the leg. She carefully ran a hand down the entire leg. "It's not broken. It's sprained. I'll tape her up and you let her rest for at least a week."
Rose wiped her eyes. "Thank God."
Daisy sweet-talked the horse just like she did the bull. She taped the horse's leg, checked all four feet to make sure there were no embedded stones causing a problem, and shut her bag.
"Come on in the house. Mandy made cookies. We'll have some with a cup of coffee. Tell me, have you met that Jarod McElroy? I heard he came in the Honky Tonk the other night."
Daisy sighed. "I've met him. He's helping out over at Emmett's place."
"I heard he was a hunk," Rose said.
"I didn't look that close," Daisy lied.
***
Jarod tried calling at a different time on Tuesday. He waited until Emmett was taking his afternoon nap and dialed the numbers from memory. It went straight to a busy signal. He hung up, waited ten of the longest minutes of his life, and tried again. Straight to a busy signal.
"Damn it all to hell and back," he mumbled.
"I'm takin' a nap. Stop your cussin'," Emmett said from the recliner.
Jarod flipped the phone book open and looked up "florist" under the yellow pages. He'd send flowers. Women liked flowers. He had the first three numbers dialed before he hung up. Daisy would shoot him if he sent flowers to the Honky Tonk that evening. She'd have to explain who they were from and why. Billy Bob would have a hay day with it and she'd be teased so terribly that she would hate him forever.
He tried calling off and on all afternoon when he was in the house checking on Emmett, but it always came up with a busy signal.
Had she put the phone off the hook so she didn't have to talk to him? Was she regretting what they'd done?
***
Tuesday night was a little busier at the Honky Tonk. Amos and the riders hit the bar at nine o'clock. They were thirsty and itching to dance to the old tunes so Daisy unplugged the newer jukebox and turned them loose on the old one to play the songs they loved. Don Gibson started off a two-stepping song with "I Can't Stop Lovin' You."
Amos danced with a new woman in the bunch, a bottle-blonde wearing tight jeans and enough wrinkles to prove she was near Amos' age. He didn't let go of her when Hank Locklin sang "Send Me the Pillow You Dream On."
"I'm not sure I can stand this all night," Daisy said under her breath.
"What?" Merle asked. "You are all dressed up again. Whoever it was didn't come in last night, did they? I betcha my best cue stick against a bottle of your cheapest beer that it's Jarod McElroy, isn't it? One night it's Mac and now you. Is all this damn melancholy shit contagious? If it is, I'm going home." She wore a red, white, and blue plaid Western shirt that night. The red yoke was decorated with a flag waving in the wind.
"The words to the songs are getting to me. Lyrics seem like they're talkin' right at me," Daisy said.
"Honey, that's because country music talks to the heart. Ruby loved it and so do I. It's life told in song. It ain't none of that newfangled stuff with an orchestra behind it that don't say much."
Daisy nodded. "You got a point, but Gretchen Wilson's 'Redneck Woman' makes a statement too."
"Yep, that girl is going far. She's got enough pure old country to get her there. She's a modern day me and Ruby. We were redneck women a hell of a long time before that cute little thing made a record. We could have written that song for her," Merle said.
"That's the gospel truth?" Daisy asked.
"Well, it looks like Amos is about to get winded dancin' with that hot little chick. Thank God. He's promised me some competition. That man knows his way around a pool table, I'm here to tell you. We're playin' for big bucks."
"Who is she?" Daisy asked.
"That's Walter's new girlfriend, Stella. Last one got to thinkin' he would sell his bike and buy a travel trailer. He said it was like Brad Paisley singing that fishin' song. Told me that she said it was him or the bike and he was goin' to miss her. It didn't last long though. He had Wanda ridin' with him the next week," Merle said.
"You goin' to jaw all night or shoot pool?" Amos asked at her elbow.
"Show me the money. I'm not playin' for jukebox music tonight," Merle said.
Amos flipped a fifty dollar bill on the bar. "Daisy, you can be our bank."
Merle pulled a fifty from her bra and laid it on top of his money. "Two out of three? And if you get pissy when you lose and want a grudge match it'll cost you another twenty."
"Deal," Amos said. "Same goes for you. If I win two out of three and you get all het up about it, you got to pay the same for a grudge match. Now chalk up that fancy cue stick of yours and I'll rack the balls."
"I love it when you talk dirty," Merle said with a big grin. "Put that money in a safe place, Daisy. I'll be collecting it before the night's over."
"In your dreams, darlin'. That will more than pay for my gas and beer and it's mine," Amos told her.
Daisy put the money into the cash register and tried to keep her eyes away from the door. At midnight, she handed Merle both fifties and Amos danced one more time with the blonde. Did Jarod like to dance?
***
On Wednesday Daisy slept all the way to noon and was halfway through breakfast when the cell phone rang. It was Miss Edith from up north of Mingus. She was eighty-nine years old and her dog, George, was sick. He was throwing up all over her good rug and she didn't know what to do.
"Miss Edith, do you want me to drive over and see about George?" Daisy asked.
"Speak up, darlin'. You know I'm deaf in one ear and can't hear out of the other. You got to yell a little. George is at it again. I got to get me some paper towels. You stay right there while I clean this up."
Daisy waited.
"I'm back now. He's waggin' his tail but oh, no, he's gaggin' agin!" Edith shouted.
Daisy wanted to tell her that
she wasn't deaf but i
t wouldn't do a bit of good.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," she yelled into the phone.
"No, don't come just yet, I think he might be better. I don't want to bother you none if he can puke it up on his own. I bet that rascal has eat a dead mouse. I put out poison last week. Got one that's been eatin' George's dry food and it just plumb upsets George," Edith said.
The phone in the Honky Tonk rang loudly. Evidently the transformer had been repaired but the pretzel and peanut man who always called on Wednesday would just have to wait. Daisy couldn't talk to him and Edith both at the same damn time.
"Well, now I believe he's all better. Was it chocolate I wasn't supposed to let him have, Daisy? I forget. Chocolate or lemon. I made two pies yesterday and he begged for a little piece of each one."
Daisy sighed. "He doesn't need either one," she yelled.
"Well, darlin', he's goin' to get it if he wants it. I don't cotton to starvin' an animal. I did stop givin' him that half a bottle of beer at night but I ain't goin' to make him give up his pies," Edith said.
"Is he better?" Daisy asked.
"I believe he's going to live. Thanks for talkin' me through it again, Daisy. I'll make him eat light today. I'll make him some potato soup with whippin' cream in it. That'll be right nourishin'," Edith said. "Bye, dear."
Daisy flipped the phone shut and got the giggles. Edith with her dog named George after George Jones, and Merle with her cat, Rack.
Life was never dull.
***
Jarod dialed the phone at straight up noon. He didn't even care if he interrupted her meal. He intended to talk to her that day, come hell or high water.
Emmett tapped him on the shoulder when the phone was on its twentieth ring. "I don't feel so hot. Reckon you could run me into the doc's office this afternoon? That woman of yours is a stubborn filly, ain't she? You got to put your foot down, boy. Sweet-talk her or burn that damn place down. Her place is here, not out there with all them men lookin' down her shirt."
Jarod's heart sunk down to his boots. Daisy was avoiding him. She hadn't felt the same after that fantastic night in his truck bed.
***
On Wednesday, Tinker had to turn a whole carload of kids away at the door when they tried to get inside with fake IDs. He told them to go on up the road and they told him they'd already been there and neither bar was open on Wednesday night.
Tinker took care of the problem but it made Daisy think about the first time she'd used a fake ID to go to a bar. She'd gotten past the doorman and actually had a beer in her hand when the police raided the joint. Her mother and the current boyfriend living in their trailer both went on a rampage, cussing at Daisy for disgracing them.
"Yeah, right. That boyfriend didn't have a damn thing to disgrace."
The night was so slow that she caught Tinker yawning several times. But that's the way it was pretty often on Wednesday when everyone went to church. Come the weekend and the joint would be hopping and her cash register full. Talking to God only lasted so long and then folks got an itch to find out about hellfire and damnation for themselves instead of listening to the preacher tell all about it. Did Jarod go to church on Wednesday nights with Emmett? Was that why he hadn't been in the Honky Tonk?
***
Thursday started off in a rush at nine that morning. The cell phone rang a dozen times before she located it under the sofa cushion where it had fallen out of her purse the day before.
"Hello," she said breathlessly, hoping that it was Jarod.
"Miz Daisy, please come quick. It's Herman. He's sick."
"I'm on my way," Daisy said. She grabbed her bag and took off out the door. If that damned goat died, Tommy would cry his eyes out. It was his show goat for the county fair that fall and he'd groomed him for months.
Tommy's mother, Lylah, met her at the car and took her straight to the goat pen. Herman had his head down and was staggering around like a Honky Tonk drunk on Saturday night.