8/10/12

A Bouquet of Honeysuckle
By John Laneri


Sheriff Matt Carson lifted his nose to the air and inhaled deeply. After a long winter, the smell of honeysuckle announced that spring had finally arrived in Neverton, a small Texas community along the cattle trail to Fort Worth.

Across the street, he spotted Roscoe Sayers standing in front of his newspaper office.

“Beautiful day,” he said, as he headed that way.

“I haven’t noticed.”

“Then, you need to take a good look”, the Sheriff said as he indicated about. “Spring is in the air… just smell that honeysuckle.”

Roscoe was a skinny little man with inquisitive eyes and a quiet demeanor. Today, he was exceptionally quiet, almost as if the weight of the world resided on his shoulders.

Concerned, the Sheriff asked, “Why the gloom? You’re usually in a happy mood.”

“I’m havin’ an awful day.”

The Sheriff twisted the ends of his mustache and waited, wondering if Roscoe would elaborate further. Finally, his concern growing, he asked, “Care to talk about it.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” Roscoe replied distantly. “My troubles are personal.”

“Morning gents.”

Turning about, they recognized Vernon Carter headed their way. Vernon was the owner of the local hardware store as well as the Mayor of Neverton. He was an older man with bushy eyebrows and sleepy eyes.

“Springtime always makes me feel alive,” he said, as he stepped onto the boardwalk and shook hands like he was still running for office. After a moment, he turned to Roscoe. “You don’t look too happy.”

The Sheriff spoke up. “Roscoe’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

Vernon continued to study Roscoe, his eyebrows narrowed in concern. “You look like a man that just lost his best friend.”

“I might have,” Roscoe replied. “I had a big fight with Gertrude Louise.”

Vernon laughed aloud. “Don’t take it so hard. If you’re lucky, she’ll leave to visit her mother and stay for a few months… give you plenty of time to feel your oats again.”

Roscoe looked up. “I don't need to be steppin' around. Gertrude Louise keeps me plenty happy.”

“That might be so,” Vernon said smiling, “But once you take that first step, you’ll be a changed man. Take the girls at Aunt Jillie’, most of them can be mighty soothing when a fellow's feeling low.”

Vernon was, of course, referring to the ladies that worked at Aunt Jillie's Boarding House, the finest establishment west of Fort Worth.

“I like being married,” Roscoe continued, “And, I’m not interested in parting with Gertrude Louise, so mind your own business.”

“I’m not talkin’ about sending her away for good,” Vernon continued unperturbed. “You need to keep her close for your later years. As most fellows know, the conveniences of being married are mighty tempting for the first few years, but when the little lady starts gettin’ cantankerous, most fellows naturally begin to have wandering thoughts... Isn’t that true Sheriff?”

The Sheriff cleared his throat. “I’ve never been married so I can’t speak with authority. But, as I see it, some folks are the marrying kind. To them, being family just comes natural.”

“You’re probably right,” Vernon replied. “Take Roscoe for example, he has a good wife that cooks his meals and washes his clothes… even gives him a good sparkin’ every Saturday night. He has plenty of reasons to be happy.”

Blushing, Roscoe looked away.

Vernon scratched at his whiskers. “Your little lady does give you a good sparkin’ on Saturday nights… doesn’t she?”

“Well… not always,” Roscoe mumbled faintly, his shoulders sagging.

Shaking his head, Vernon continued, “I understand your gloom. Most fellows live from Saturday to Saturday.” He again studied Roscoe before quietly asking, “How longs it been, son?”

Roscoe hesitated then replied, “It been six or seven months, maybe longer. She’s always having headaches.” He turned away, choking on his words. “But, I’m not ready to visit establishments. I’m happy with Gertrude Louise. She keeps me plenty comfortable.”

“Comfortable, you say”, Vernon chuckled, his eyebrows jumping up and down. “Comfortable is for folks in their old age. Young fellows need a taste of livin' from time to time – keeps 'em bouncing on their toes.”

The Sheriff spoke up. “Hold on a minute, Vernon. Maybe, Roscoe needs to try appealing to her finer senses.”

Vernon looked his way. “That's a good thought. The honeysuckle is blooming. I can smell it in the air.”

“What do you think, Roscoe?” The Sheriff continued, “The stuff won't cost you a cent. It's blooming everywhere. And, flowers do provide women plenty of comfort.”

Roscoe began to brighten. “It does do that. Do you think Gertrude Louise would appreciate a big bunch?”

The Sheriff and Vernon looked at one another then nodded their heads in agreement.

Turning about, Roscoe hurried away, his thoughts directed to Gertrude Louise and winning her back with a bouquet of honeysuckle.

Vernon glanced at the Sheriff saying, “He looks mighty eager. I'm happy we solved his problem.”

“We brightened his mood. That's for sure,” the Sheriff replied, “But, I hope he remembers to shake the bees out of that honeysuckle before handing it to her.”

Vernon slapped his leg in laughter. “Then, he needs to be careful. As I recall, she's a mighty full-bodied woman. If she needs to run from a bee, she'll likely trample him like a thirsty mule headed for water.”


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John is a native born Texan living near Houston. His writing focuses on short stories and flash. Publications to his credit can be found on the internet and in several print edition periodicals.