decoratively cut with curly rings that looked as though they’d come from her hair, and dotted clumps of iceberg lettuce.
“He calls himself Coyote Fortuna. We worked together at Meditrina before he founded Fortuna Vineyards.”
“What makes you think he can help solve your problem?”
“He knows about diseases that affect grapevines. And because he started his vineyard with some old vines he brought over from France—or stole, if you believe industry gossip.” Eli pensively stirred his milkshake with a straw. “He’s very cool and clever. I wish I had his composure—I’ve never seen him lose his temper.”
Ruby smiled and nodded in the direction of her eighteen-wheeler. “Temper’s like that big rig out there. Lose control of it and you can do a hell of a lot of damage.”
Eli couldn’t remember ever seeing a more desolate place than West Texas.
Tumbleweeds rolled lazily across the highway. Cacti dotted the landscape. Oil well pumps that looked like huge prehistoric birds pecked the parched red clay. The towns they passed through were few and far between, composed of little more than a handful of rundown buildings, old trailers, and an occasional gas station or convenience store.
He slept for a while, and when he woke up the flat land had given way to rugged hills. The blazing sun was sinking behind them. ZZ Top wailed through the speakers and Ruby tapped the steering wheel in time to the music. He stretched his legs and rolled his head from side to side to ease the stiffness in his neck.
“Sweet dreams?” she asked.
“Frustrating, actually.”
“Do tell.”
“I was with Miranda, back in Santa Fe, and she was naked except for her cowgirl boots. I desperately wanted to make love to her, but I couldn’t because I was a little green Martian and I didn’t have a cock.”
Ruby laughed and her jewelry jiggled. “I wonder how those ETs do it.”
“Maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re reproduced in petri dishes or stamped out like widgets on an assembly line.”
“I’m glad I’m an Earthling.”
By the time they reached Fredericksburg, dusk had settled over the quaint town with its wide main street and century-old stone buildings.
“Where do you want me to let you off?” she asked.
“The Comfort Inn. Do you know where it is?”
She nodded. “It’s just up ahead.”
Eli grabbed his backpack as they pulled into the parking lot. “Thanks again for the ride. It was interesting, to say the least.”
“Good luck solving your mystery. Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
They shook hands and Ruby said, “I want to leave you with one last bit of Lone Star wisdom. What do you call a Texas woman who can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch?”
“I don’t know.”
“Darlin’.”
Card 8: Strength
Coyote Fortuna had built a replica of a French chateau near the entrance to his vineyard, and it was there he served his Texas wine to visitors. Most of the year, tourists and locals lounged on limestone terraces overlooking Fortuna Vineyard’s seventy-two acres of
A large man in his mid-forties, with a thick shock of silver-threaded hair, Coyote had a slender feral face that fit his name but seemed incongruous on someone his size. He raised his glass of Malbec and scrutinized its rich purple color. He and Eli had already sampled Fortuna’s Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel, and Merlot, and were leisurely working their way through the vineyard’s repertoire.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked Eli.
“Not bad, actually. A little thin, but better than I’d expected.”
Coyote snorted. “Napa snob.”
“You want me to kiss your ass or be honest?”
“Kiss my ass, of course.” Coyote laughed. “Okay, I know Texas winemakers still have some catching up to do. We’ll get there. As you say, though, this 2005 isn’t bad. Not bad at all.”
The afternoon sun scorched the fields and burned the back of Eli’s neck. He slid his chair over a couple of feet, into the shade. He understood why the cold-sensitive
Eli was about to bring up the subject of vine diseases when a petite young woman, whose erect posture and air of purpose made her seem bigger than she was, joined them on the terrace. She wore tight black slacks and a white blouse with enough buttons undone that he could see the swell of her breasts. A sprig of lavender was clipped in her dark hair.
“Do you remember Giselle Constant?” Coyote said.
Giselle had worked at Meditrina only briefly, until Coyote lured her away with promises of money and success. Although Eli had never really gotten to know her, she wasn’t the sort of woman men forgot. He stood and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
When her eyes met his, he felt an instant sense of connection that went all the way down to his balls. She reached for his hand, but instead of shaking it she turned it up and studied the tattoo on his palm.
“What’s this? A lucky charm?” she asked, a trace of Cajun music in her voice.
“I guess you could call it that. It represents my link to Mother Earth and her abundance.”
“Has it helped you make your mark in the world?”
“The wine business has been good to me,” he acknowledged, trying to keep his eyes from straying to her cleavage. “Not as good as it’s been to Coyote, though.”
“You think you’d like to have your own vineyard?”
“Well, sure. But that’s way out of my league.”
“Has Coyote given you a tour of the operation?”
“He showed me the fermentation room, the cellar, and the tasting room. We haven’t made it out into the vineyard yet.”
“You’ll have to let me show you the reception hall and function rooms.”
“Giselle handles all our events—weddings, banquets, parties.” Coyote gazed at her with obvious affection, but she didn’t seem to notice.
She tilted her head to one side and smiled coyly at Eli. “I want you to see my beautiful pussy, too.”
He almost dropped his wineglass.
Coyote grinned and explained. “She means her pet mountain lion.”
“You keep a mountain lion as a
Giselle laughed lightly. “She’s quite tame, really. You’ll see. Now I must get back to work.” She started walking across the stone terrace, then stopped short and turned around. “Coyote, I hope you invited Eli to spend the night.”
“We’ve got several guest cottages,” he said, picking up the ball. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
