Amarillo: Cardboard Coffins, #2

By Julianna Rowe

I wondered what Harper Rutherford II would think of this rodeo I been to. And then as I drove, I wondered what JBJ big daddy britches would think too! All he put me through trying to help his rotten Roger son! And then there was handsome Cowboy Billy who tried to hog tie me emotionally in front of his Daddy, the Governor of Texas as well as JB Justice, the father of the lousy boy I picked up thumbing in Illinois. I guess I showed them what a lady can do if a lady wants to.
And so here we are crusin' into the famous Big Texan City of Amarillo. This time the "thumber" next to me is at least an adult, but he comes with many hidden troubles that somehow land in my lap. Once again I have placed myself in one of my self-made cardboard coffins. Will this one lead to my death or will the Frenchman whisk me away in a romantic whirlwind like I have never known?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julianna Rowe
• Release date: May 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224446735

Book preview

Introduction

Iwondered what Harper Rutherford II would think of this rodeo I been to. And then as I drove, I wondered what JBJ big daddy britches would think too! All he put me through trying to help his rotten Roger son! And then there was handsome Cowboy Billy who tried to hog tie me emotionally in front of his Daddy, the Governor of Texas as well as JB Justice, the father of the lousy boy I picked up thumbing in Illinois. I guess I showed them what a lady can do if a lady wants to.

And so here we are crusin’ into the famous Big Texan City of Amarillo. This time the thumber next to me is at least an adult, but he comes with many hidden troubles that somehow land in my lap. Once again I have placed myself in one of my self-made cardboard coffins. Will this one lead to my death or will the Frenchman whisk me away in a romantic whirlwind like I have never known?

Chapter One

Good Bye

The limo stopped in front of 4202 Bradwood Road, the home of my Grandparents I had been visiting the past month. James, the driver, stepped out of his ultra-upscale daily living quarters where he ushered around some of the most well-known political and social people of Texas and Oklahoma. Me, I was out of my league and then again, I proved to myself I knew when to hold 'em, I knew when to fold 'em, and I certainly showed I knew when to walk away. I had held my own with the big boys, and walked away at precisely the right moment. Heck I should have been proud of myself when instead I was very sad.

Billy and I had a short-lived love story killed by mistrust. Something he had grown up with. I grew up with the same mistrust yet money triggered a false sense of confidence in him called pride. That reminded me of the Oklahoma town I drove through last month called Pride. I sure wondered why anyone would name a town Pride. I suppose it's like lemons and lemonade. Depends on how one thinks.

Sitting in the back of such an elegantly upholstered moving vehicle should have made even the finest of a lady happy. But I was feeling quite empty. I am sure it was the emotionally charged day I had just experienced. I felt like my internal battery had died. Or like a huge balloon someone poked a pin into and as I deflated so had my energies. Just then James opened my door and extended his hand as an aid to my exit. I reciprocated and stepped out of my once promised future now gone. James walked me to the front door where Nana and Duke greeted us. Duke was so excited he was crying and rolling around like the lost child who just found its mother. James got down on one knee and spoke to Duke with a gentle kind voice. Duke responded by sitting quietly at James feet. You can always tell a good man by how he treats an animal. We both walked Duke outside for his evening relief time. James turned to leave but before doing so looked into my eyes and said, Miss Elizabeth Anne, yousse juss give dat boy some time. Let’s him grow some, den see hows yousse feelin' on da insides of yo heart. You take care now.

James was from deep in the heart of Louisiana where they spoke half French and half something else. I think it is called Cajun. I loved to listen to him speak for I had never heard such a combination of languages before. Maybe James was right. Billy did need some time to grow. But how would I ever get the sight of him on one knee extending that gorgeous ring towards me ... out of my head. Unfortunately, his tone was a beggar’s tone, desperate to right the wrong he had done to the woman he said he loved. He was but a boy. A long-legged man. I had loved a boy. Sadness overwhelmed me. Pity overwhelmed me for Billy and for me. The Governor's Grandson and all that went with it was out of my reach because that was my decision. Marrying Billy now would never have worked out in the end.

Nana and I sat in the summer house off the main house quarters for hours that night. She sat quietly while I told her what had happened at the Governors ranch that day. How Billy had set me up, not asking me where the million dollars had come from. Rather believing I was hiding something from him. I told Nana how Daddy Justice was there sitting all big and full of nasty southern pride. How he and Billy and Governor Connally cornered me like three rodeo boys on steeds cornering a small calf. How I came out fighting like Cassius Clay but also like a lady. It was the three of them that ended up in barrels like rodeo clowns hiding from the charge of the bull. Nana was sipping her usual Canadian Club laughing at my descriptiveness. Can’t say I didn't join in with her by having a couple Canadian Club shots myself. Duke seemed quite content laying very close to me picking up every tone of voice I expressed. When my voice rose with intensity so did Duke. We had to giggle yet appreciate his sincere loyalty to me.

The door to the summer house swung open and a voice said, What in the Sam hell are you two doing out here in the middle of the night. Why I searched the house over for you two.

Nana and I broke into deep laughter at Granddaddy standing there in his satin pajama's I know were made of the finest materials from Dillard's department store. The best in the area. Granddad asked if everything was okay. Then shook his head and went back to bed. And so, did we.

I decided to wait until the following day to make any decisions regarding when to head north to Amarillo to hit Route 66 back toward Los Angeles. I was going to find my way back to my original travel plan after all that had transpired. I was glad to be alive and glad to have experienced most of what went down. Especially meeting and falling in love with the Governor of Texas's Grandson, Billy Connally.

Chapter Two

These Boots are Made for Walkin'

The Cadi was packed up tight, she had been washed and waxed and ready for whatever came her way. Wait, I think I shall rephrase that considering the various situations I had encountered recently all of which were negative. They, being the philosophers of the world, say nothing comes easy. Well no shit Sherlock. In retrospect I would say I did alright. I came out of the various situations with one million smack-a-roos and the best dog ever, Duke. Not to mention a pair of the 'neatest, coolest," pink cowboy boots to match my Cadi (Hog) ever! And so, it was time to hit the road heading north to Amarillo and then West on Route 66 into New Mexico.

After the Grandparent goodbye hugs Duker and I crawled into the Hog, turned the radio on high and drove off into and toward a new part of the world. A new life. As I merged onto the highway would you believe the song coming across the radio waves was, These Boots Were Made for Walking, by Nancy Sinatra. My pink boots were tappin' to the best and as the song played on it seemed to exhilarate my brain which led to my foot to become much heavier than usual on the pedal. I was on my way.

I hit US Highway 71 out of Austin headed for Llano with a hard-fast destination of mind. Amarillo and Route 66. It wasn't long before my hard-fast attitude went south. I had checked the map again after we found our way due West to Mason on US Highway 29 then to Brady and San Angelo on US Highway 87. I was jig jaggin' all over the map. I had pulled off the highway for a pee stop with Duke at a roadside park outside San Angelo. It was then I realized what a serious trek we had ahead of us ... 637 miles total and I had only gone a grand total of 210 miles. My pink boots felt like they'd been walkin' instead of drivin'. I removed them and opted for my white tennies and bobbie socks. Yes, with Granddad's knife tucked gently inside the left sock. And yes, I carried another piece in the glove box. One of Grandad's collection pieces he sent with me after the fiasco's I had encountered on my journey from the upper Boundary Waters of Wisconsin where I got sidetracked by a thumber in Illinois. Although he instructed me not to shoot anyone, but to shoot everyone who attempted any harm my way. He had taught me to shoot at an early age so I wasn't afraid. There she laid, soft and gentle, the little killer. My brand new 1966 model Baby Browning 25 automatic pistol. I was instructed not to keep the chamber loaded because if jarred seriously it could go off on its own. What? So, I kept the clip laying directly next to her in case of any emergency. I did wonder if there were an emergency how I would get the clip into the gun while shaking violently. I think Granddaddy purchased it especially for me even though he said it was part of his collection.

I had never been to San Angelo. My mind was so set on getting to Route 66 I had forgotten to enjoy my surroundings. So, Duke and I drove around the city for an hour searching for sites, history, anything. And we found almost nothing. When we stopped at a quickie hamburger joint, I asked one of the locals about the history of San Angelo and if there were any interesting sites to be seen. I heard about some local lawmen and outlaws long since dead. Their best offering was Ft. Concho where the soldiers battled the Indians many times. A University and a State Park. I looked at Duke, Duke looked at me and we hit the road on US Highway 87 North. Considering my fear of water, I had to travel next to the Concho River for way too long but not long enough or close enough to require my paper bag under the seat.

My mind was then diverted to a huge building on my right. We were about sixteen miles North West of San Angelo when I saw it, and the creeps it gave me were hard to find words for. The locals had mentioned it to me at the hamburger joint but nothing prepared me for this viewing. The sign read, Sanatorium Texas. It was the largest Tuberculosis Sanatorium in the State. People told me over four thousand children and adults died there. The number of TB beds had been reduced in the past few years to 550 and the length of treatment continued to decline due to new drugs and surgery techniques. The average stay for people in the beginning was three hundred and fifty-five days. I felt hot tears flowing down my face thinking of the little children who had to stay there alone without their Mother's or siblings. So alone, and then many died alone. It didn't help the radio was playing, You Can Never Go Home Again, by the Shangri La's. Duke was now licking my tears as if he knew my thoughts.

I pulled the Cadi over to regain my composure and thanked the Universe for the new drugs and other procedures stopping the spread of that hideous disease. And then we pulled back out onto US Highway 87 toward the city of Waters Alley and don't you know I couldn't wait to see why they named it that! I never saw Waters Alley. It was listed on my map and all I could figure out is it was part of the Sanatorium. And so, it appeared as though we were now headed to Sterling City, Texas and then Big Spring. All the while I had to try not to look at the North Concho River out my driver’s side window. The radio helped divert my thoughts of a wheel flying off and the car plunging into the river. Not being able to get the windows open to get out. Or an oncoming car coming into my lane crashing into me so hard the Cadi went airborne in the opposite direction of dirt. My mind heard a huge splash. That is when I came back to my senses only to notice Duke looking at me like I was nuts.

We were a little way outside of Big Spring when I screamed and scared the beans out of Duke. I said, Sorry Duke, but look over there. Its tittie mountain!! I recalled as a small child driving with my Granddad past this very spot and him telling me to look over yonder, there is Tittie Mountain! And then he broke out in his hearty deep laugh. And sure enough there it was. The perfect little Tittie made of dirt and rock.

My side kick Duke rarely understood my emotional outbursts but they kept him occupied and entertained. A bit later we came to Big Spring. What a beautiful sign that was. Even though very small.

I decided it was time to look for a rest area to spend the night. As I drove around the town, I realized we would have to head north toward Lamesa to find a rest area and I was not willing to drive one mile more. Wait a minute, I have a million dollars. We can stay at the finest hotel in the area Duke. Sometimes I would forget I was rich. At that moment we were at the edge of town heading out with nowhere to turn around that I could see. As well as it was getting dark. Suddenly there it was ... a REST AREA. Well why not I told Duke. Big Spring isn't a very big town. Probably not any nice hotels here anyway. And so, we parked the Cadi, I took Duke for a short run, put him back in the car so I could use the Rest Room myself. When I came out to my horror, there, standing outside my Pink Cadillac was a tall black man. He was calmly talking to Duke asking him where his owner was. Duke wasn't barking in response until he saw me. I was dying inside. My God, how many lives do I have to spare on this trip? I felt like a cat who had already lost two or three. I tried very hard to gather my emotions and think clearly. My gun was in the glove box. I did have my knife tucked in the bobbie sock... There were no other cars in sight. What had I been thinking? Why did I always think after the fact?

I gave a shout out to the black man.

Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? Best be careful, my dog isn't so friendly when I am nearer him. My distant thought was telling me how a million dollars will do me no good in this situation. A bad motel would have.

He responded, "Well youse see Ma'am I needs me a lift to da Amarillo city or closest as I kin