Texas IS Heaven 003

An hour after dinner, I was still suffering from that liquid fire that Stephanie called chili. But I needed to get on with this. Stephanie had been upstairs almost the entire time. I heard her come downstairs and looked up shocked. She looked like a walking corpse from the morgue. There were bruises and open cuts all over her body. She was wearing a bra and panties. That caught my attention for sure. There were whip marks all over her front. Her face was a disaster. One eye looked like it was swollen closed and deeply bruised. Her nose seemed to be out of kilter and blood ran down her chin and dripped on her ample chest.

The pièce de résistance was her throat. I have seen bodies of people executed by having their throat cut. The wound on her neck looked every bit like what I remembered. She was gruesome. And sexy as hell at the same time.

"Will this work?"

"Ugh.. Yeah."

She grinned.

"I think you should take me down to the basement in a while. You can tie me to a beam down there and hang me by my wrists. When I hear him come in, I will let my legs go limp."

She handed me a small plastic bottle.

"Fake blood. You should sprinkle it around downstairs.. dribble some at the door to the basement. Then pour the rest of me so it looks bloody awful."

I nodded. Speechless.

"Don't you think it's time to contact Dad?"

"Yeah. Ok"

She went to clean up the dinner dishes. I took the burner cell phone and sent a text.

Change in plans. Executed plan this afternoon. Opportunity presented and couldn't risk letting it go. More details later. Get your shit and be ready for me to pick you up. When I am done, I will pick you up and will head home. I am proceeding with completing the contract.

It was just seconds until Stephanie's phone rang. She looked at me and looked at the phone.

"It's him."

"Don't answer."

"Of course not."

It took an hour for the GPS to show that he was moving. He was coming straight to the house. My spidey sense started tingling. How the hell did he know where to come? I hadn't told him yet.

"Did you message your dad?"

"No. The phone has been right there since you called him."

"He is headed here right now. We better get ready."

We went downstairs to the basement and I took some nylon rope and trussed her up.

"You want me to make this loose enough that you can get out?"

"Hell no. It has to look good. Tie it tight enough, I can hang from it."

I nodded and did as she requested. When I was done, she hung by her wrists from the beam in the ceiling. She could stand comfortably flat-footed, but if he let her legs go limp, she would hang naturally. I splashed the fake blood over her and let it drip down her front. I poured the rest in a pool around her feet.

She looked at me and winked.

"You better get upstairs. There is a closet at the head of the stairs. You can crack it and see the front door, but you can't be seen."

"Ok. Good luck. Here we go."

I ran upstairs and got into the closet. I cracked the door just enough to see the front door. It took John almost 45 minutes to make the drive to her house, get through the gate and come in the front door. He was wary. He pushed the door open while standing to one side of the door frame. I watched as he looked in and then cautiously and quietly came into the house. He looked around slowly. I saw the 1911 in his hand. I had seen him operate that piece, and I didn't want to be anywhere on the wrong end of it, even though I knew it is disabled.

He looked around the house and then saw the door to the basement ajar. He went towards it and saw the blood on the first step. That was all it took. He kicked the door the rest of the way open and went down the stairs like a bull.

I crept out of the closet and eased down the stairs, stepping close to the wall to avoid squeaks. I cut the pie on the door until I could see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was just standing there. In front of him, Stephanie was hanging limp and apparently lifeless. I saw his shoulders heave once and then Stephanie's eyes opened, she smiled and she stood up.

"Happy Halloween Daddy."

I hadn't even remembered that it was Halloween. I crept closer to the door. It was then I heard John gasp.

"What the flyin' fuck?"

"Gotcha Daddy."

I decided that was the time for me to make an entrance. I stepped on the top of the stairs and they creaked. John turned around and looked at me. I had never seen that look on his face. I realized almost instantly that I may have made a mistake. He growled, raised the 1911 to point it directly at me. Now I was positive I had miscalculated.

"You son-of-a bitch."

The voice was a low growl, and it was punctuated at the end with the sound of the 1911 going off. I felt the impact center chest. It was like someone hit me with a 15 pound sledgehammer. It drove me back into the kitchen, where I toppled backward onto the floor. My head must have bounced pretty hard because I blacked out.

&&&&&

I don't know how long it was before I regained consciousness. When I did, I couldn't focus. I gagged a little but managed not to puke. I tried moving my head, but that hurt almost as much as the first bite of Stephanie's chili. Raising my hand was an almost impossible task. When I did manage to move it I had to drag it up on myself. I was sure it would find a gaping hole in my chest. Instead, it just sent grimaces through me as I touched my badly bruised ribs. I must have groaned because through the constant ringing of my ears I heard an angelic voice.

"He's waking up, Daddy."

I opened my eyes to see John and Stephanie seated in chairs around the breakfast table, drinking Shiner beer and looking at me. I managed a witty and cogent reply."

"What the fuck?"

Stephanie giggled. John leaned toward me.

"You want a beer?"

"Shit. Heaven looks a lot like Texas."

John chuckled.

"Texas is Heaven, son."

It took me almost 30 minutes to get to my knees and then to crawl to the chair and get myself upright and seated. Neither one of them offered a hand. John opened another beer and set it in front of me.

"Here. Have one of these. Shiner cures almost anything."

My chest felt like every rib had been broken, and my head still rang. I was almost sure I had a concussion. But I tipped the bottle and took a long drink.

I looked at both of them.

"What the fuck just happened. Pardon my language, Stephanie."

She looked at her Daddy.

"See. I told you. He has been a perfect gentleman all evening. He still is."

John looked at me.

"You did a pretty good job. I wasn't sure you were going to see through this ruse, but you put it together pretty fast. What I didn't count on was you going straight to Stephanie with your story."

"How did you know where we were?"

He held up my burner phone.

"Two can play that keylogger and GPS game."

I started to laugh and then winced. It hurt too bad to laugh.

"How did the two of you set this last little charade up, and I swear to god that I disabled that 1911."

Stephanie contacted me when you got back after dinner. We cooked up the last ruse then. As for the 1911. Remember what I told you once. One is none, Two is one. You forgot to check my other bag."

I groaned. We talked a while longer'

"What the hell did you shoot me with?"

"A Wax training round. I knew that high-tech body armor would stop it but leave you with one hell of a sore spot."

I rubbed my chest and groaned.

"I guess I should get back to the house. I will leave the Crown Vic there and head back to the ranch. I will clear out and be gone by the time you get home."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Since there was no real money and no real problem-solving game, I guess I'll be heading back to Chicago."

Stephanie looked at her dad.

"What the hell is he talking about?"

John looked at her.

"I don't know. I didn't think that wax round that hit him in the chest on that body armor would do much damage. Maybe that fall and crack on the back of his head did some brain damage."

I listened to all this with a confused and pained look on my face. John turned back to me.

"The part about the problem-solving job is true. It's there and waiting on you. You have a lot to learn, but I got plenty of time to teach. There was no cartel, but the money is for real. That 5 mill is in that account and has your name on it. All I have to do is send the right instructions and you will get the passwords"

I was dumbfounded. I looked between them. Stephanie began then.

"You were so in love with that rifle at the gun show that you didn't even notice I was sitting at the next table. I heard everything you said and something inside me twigged. I asked Daddy about you after you left, and he said he would do some more checking.

Several weeks later, he came to visit and gave me the whole scoop on you. I was hooked. I always knew I wanted the same kind of man my Daddy was. All these posers and losers around here weren't worth the time to kick them off the porch. When I saw you, heard your story, and then saw that news article about that lowlife piece of shit in Chicago, I knew that we had to get together."

"Why didn't your dad just invite me down and introduce us."

"He wasn't sure that you could deal with the real story here. He always wanted a son that could carry on. Mom got killed in a car wreck while I was in high school. He raised me on this ranch, and he wants to pass it on. I want to raise my family here, but I am running out of time.

He was afraid when you found out who he was and what he was, you would hightail it back to Chicago. He needed to be sure that you were the kind of man he wanted for me. And I wanted to make sure that you were the kind of man that I could admire as much as I admire my dad."

John broke in.

"Preston. You don't have to continue that problem-solving business. I don't care about that. I do care about that ranch, my daughter and some grandkids. The rest of the 50 million is in that Swiss bank scout. There is also a corresponding amount in an account with Steph's name on it. She gets it when the first grandchild hits the ground."

I sat back down in the chair, carefully. And then my mind went in a totally different direction.

"What about my Bronco?"

"It's in the garage beside that piece of shit Crown Vic."

"But I pulled the module out of it."

"Son. You shouldn't leave shit like that lying around in your underwear drawer under your tighty whities."

I looked at him incredulously. Then laughed despite the pain. I looked at Stephanie, who was drinking from her beer. She still hadn't changed out of that bra and panties and she still wore all the makeup. I thought she was still a vision. Looking back at John, I spoke.

"So, where does this go from here?"

"That's up to you two. I'm going back to the ranch. I fucking hate Houston. Maybe you could convince my hard-headed daughter to shut down that dance hall and come home for a couple of months. It's not a bad place to get to know each other."

I looked at Stephanie.

"Well?"

"I can't close the dance STUDIO, Daddy. There are too many people who depend on it. I can't simply walk away from my students. It will take me a couple of weeks to arrange for someone to take over while I am gone. But yes. I will come home for a couple of months. I need a vacation anyway."

He smiled and winked at me as he downed the beer.

&&&&&

That was almost a year ago. Stephanie came and stayed two months. In those two months, I bought my first pair of cowboy boots. I got comfortable enough to ride some of the gentle horses on the ranch. Stephanie, I learned, was an above-average horse back rider. She took delight in teaching me. She was also a fair shot on her own. I found her an enthusiastic shooter who took to my teaching easily.

We also explored that part of Texas. She knew every little town, every secret hidden spot and all the tourist attractions. We had a ball. John just watched and didn't get involved. It was me and Stephanie. It was the most wonderful spring I had ever known up to that point. Then she announced that she needed to go back to Houston.

Two days later, I stood on the porch with John and watched the red corvette raise a cloud of dust down the gravel road into the ranch. John turned to go back inside, but I hesitated. He touched my shoulder.

"Come on. I think it's whiskey time."

A month later, the weather had gotten warm enough to open the pool. I was just finishing up my laps when I saw the pair of cowboy boots at the edge of the pool. I looked up and saw John, holding a Manila envelope. His face was taut.

"Come to the office. We have to talk."

I toweled off, pulled on some sweats and headed inside. John was sitting at his desk, looking out the window. As I came in, he downed the glass of whiskey sitting on the desk.

"What's up?"

"It's fish or cut bait time."

I looked at him quizzically.

"Huh?"

He looked at me.

"Decision time. This is a contract. A real one. $10 million."

"What's the target?"

"A high visibility politician in a small Central American country that somebody wants out of the way, quietly."

"Ok. What's the rest of the story."

He tossed the envelope on the desk.

"I'm not taking it. I'm done. If you want it, it is yours."

I thought about it. I looked out the window at the cottonwood trees along the edge of the creek that ran past the house. Looking back at John, I was pretty sure I knew what I wanted.

"I am really only interested in one contract."

He looked at me sharply.

"What's that?"

"A marriage contract."

I saw the flicker of a smile and the twinkle in his eye.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If you'll have me, I want to marry Steph. I want to bring her back here, have a passel of kids, and run this ranch. Maybe look at some of those ideas you had. You know. The RV park, perhaps some bungalows."

"Hell son. You shouldn't be askin' me. That girl hasn't listened to a thing I have said to her since she was 16 years old. "

I grinned.

"I think you are wrong. I think she listens to you a lot more than you think, and I think she sets a store of worth in what you tell her. But I will take your advice. I'll be on my way to Houston this afternoon."

He nodded and poured us both a drink and raised his glass.

"Congratulations Son. You've made one old man happy."

&&&&&

We held the wedding at the ranch. That was Steph's choice. We invited everyone we could think of. About a dozen of my old SEAL buddies came. The whole damn county came for Stephanie. Not a single member of my family made the trip. That's ok. I had men who were more family to me than any of them had ever been. I was home. That was all that mattered.

Ten months to the day that we got married, John Preston Rossini was born in the little hospital in the nearby town by the same doc that had brought Steph into the world. Her Dad stood with me outside the window looking into the nursery.

"Good job son."

"Thanks Dad. Steph did all the work."

"Nonsense. You contributed at least half to the effort."

I grinned. He clapped me on the back.

"Let's get a drink."

&&&&&

That was ten years ago. It's just us on the ranch now. John finally succumbed to old age. He didn't struggle with it or suffer. His horse came back one afternoon by itself. We found him on a knoll overlooking the ranch house. He was sitting leaned against a huge mesquite tree. He had passed quietly and, I hope, at peace.

Stephanie took it better than I did, I think. In many ways, she is stronger in that aspect than I am. I still miss that old curmudgeon. I never did get him to talk about his exploits. He may have felt like it was better and safer for us if we didn't know any details.

There are now 5 little Rossini's running around the ranch. We added onto the old ranch house to accommodate the growth. It is marvelous. I love hearing them running through the house, roughhousing and laughing. There are 3 boys and 2 girls. Those girls give their brothers no quarter. They are hell on wheels.

Steph didn't blink an eye at moving back to the ranch. She sold the dance studio and immediately built a small studio just across from the house on the other side of the creek. She now has a few students from around the area, she teaches her own kids, and she dances to stay in shape. And she is still in great shape.

Me? I run the ranch with advice from Steph and the Ranch manager. We did build a small RV park. Just 12 spaces, but it stays full almost year-round. We give our guests the full treatment. They get to work at the ranch just like the cowboys. Or they can hang out at the pool and play in the creek if they like. We don't care. The ranch more than pays for itself. We rarely have to dip into the funds that John left. By the way, what he left to Steph and the grandkids was more than he had given to Steph and me. I am still not sure what John did to earn all that, but I am eternally grateful to him.

You know. John spoke a great truth to me one night. I told him if I was in heaven, it looked a lot like Texas. He told me that Texas is heaven. I agree.