Whimsy
by Arafin © 2007
(Sequel to The Mark of Excellence)
Catalina had told Rowdy not to go to town unless he came back with some fresh strawberries for her. He knew two things regarding this matter. One, that they needed feed for the horses, and two, there would be about as many fresh strawberries in that little dirtwater town in January as there would be pink elephants. What to do? Finally deciding that Catalina’s horses were not worth the punishment of returning to the ranch without the prescribed fruit, he brushed the dusting of snow off the seat of the old jeep, cranked it till the dying battery almost rested in peace, and rumbled off down the icy road, slipping and sliding like a drunken cowboy on a bar crawl, (something he had no small experience with, by the way).
Arriving in front of the farm supply store and soon thereafter filling the order for oats and pellet feed, he thought it couldn’t hurt to ask the old shopkeeper if he knew where one might find some fresh strawberries on a day like this. Rowdy tried to make it sound like a joke just in case the shopkeeper decided to laugh, ….. which he did, …… a lot. Piling the sacks of feed into the back of the jeep, he headed for the little convenience store on the other side of town, it being the only place within 50 miles that sold fresh flowers. The strawberries had been an impossible task, he knew, but at least he could prove that his heart was in the right place and hope for the best. Catalina was not one to take failure lightly, and he knew his fate might well include a lack of her passionate embraces for a week or more, depending on her mood, but flowers might lessen the harshness of her judgement, or so he prayed.
The old Hopi woman who ran the convenience store wasted no time telling poor Rowdy that there would not be any flowers until her next delivery on Wednesday. This news, coupled with the sad but immutable fact that today was Thursday, sank his heart like a stone tossed callously into the deepest well. Asking why the long face, the old woman learned of the young man’s predicament, and offered the explanation of her lack of floral wares as compensation. A lady dressed all in black had purchased every last one of her flowers only this morning, driving out of town on the old back road to the abandoned gold mine. No one ever went that way, especially in winter. Rowdy in his amazement asked what sort of vehicle this mystery woman had driven that she would brave such a treacherous route.
“One of those new fangled things the army uses, only shiny, you know, like on TV in the news. Chains on all four wheels, too.”
“Oh, you mean a Hummer”, said Rowdy.
“Yeah”, croaked the leathery skinned woman. “A humdinger.”
Rowdy smiled kindly and headed for the door.
“Hey, wait a minute”, she cried. “You wanted flowers for you wife, right?”
“Girlfriend”, said Rowdy, pausing only for a split second to avoid using the term “Mistress” in public. What a mistake THAT would have been!
“Oh my”, she said. “Well you needn’t disappoint. I got something from my niece this morning, but I’m allergic to ‘em, so maybe you’d like ‘em to give to your lady friend.” She bent down to pull something out from underneath the counter where he believed she kept the bottle of Jack Daniels she was rumored to nurse throughout the day. Rising back up again she soon appeared to Rowdy like a heaven sent angel tasked to save him from certain doom, for in her gnarled old hands was a flat of perfect, bright red, fresh strawberries!
“Mammmmm , you saved my bacon like you’ll never know!” But somehow the naughty smile on the old woman’s face made him think she did indeed know. Forcing her to take twenty dollars for what she wanted to give for free, Rowdy placed the crimson fruit tenderly on the seat next to him and drove with as much alacrity as he dared back to the ranch, taking both care to not damage his precious cargo and at the same time make haste.
Catalina was waiting for him outside on the porch, a thick Indian blanket across her shoulders as a shield against the growing cold. There was not a cloud in the sky and the temperature would dip well below freezing tonight. It was a good thing he had gotten the feed, fuel to keep Catalina’s beloved horses warm for many days until the predicted thaw next week. Telling Rowdy to feed and water the animals and then come in and shower, she did not appear to notice the contents of the front seat, and quickly turned to disappear behind the thick wooden door, weathered by too much sun and a surfeit of wind.
As Rowdy finished his chores, he took the fouled straw out of the barn in a wheelbarrow to dump in the pile out back, but then thought to drop this load around the little new apple tree some two hundred yards beyond. Catalina had planted it there just that spring, a sort of offering to remember her Italian aunt by, and the mixture of hay and dung would protect the roots as well as nourish. Slipping along the narrow path to the young tree, his eyes fell towards the old road that snaked down from the mountain where the old gold mine had once made a mysterious man rich. This rough road, no more than a track really, was the other end of that which terminated in the town where he had just been. There at the edge of the far field, against a crumbling stone wall, Rowdy could barely make out the silhouette in the evening light of what looked like a Hummer.
Entering the house he was immediately told to strip and bath, don some jeans and nothing else, and meet his Mistress in front of the fireplace. Emerging from the bathroom Rowdy stared in amazement as he watched Catalina gently sucking on a ripe strawberry. In his haste to comply with her orders he had forgotten what was on the front seat of the rusting jeep. She had found them. Or had she somehow known all along?
“Lay down next to me, pet”, she purred, taking a fresh berry between her equally luscious red lips.
Those trigger words dropped the young man like a shot from a buffalo rifle, and he crumpled into a hypnotized heap beside her, staring dazedly at her startling beauty.
“Let me feed you some of these magic strawberries”, she cooed. “They’ll make you feel more aroused than you ever thought possible.”
With the last bit of his consciousness fading like the setting sun outside, Rowdy stared past Catalina for a brief second into the bedroom. The old four poster bed was covered from end to end with fresh flowers, and he had the slightest inkling of understanding as the first strawberry touched his lips, …. and then he sank, ….. sank into a bliss of erotic trance wider than all the oceans of the Earth, and so much deeper by far.