Loyd’s funeral took place the day Eileen’s class field trip was scheduled  to go to the original “fort” that Fort Stockton was named for, and then a picnic lunch in the park afterwards.  “All the arrangements have been made, it’s too late to cancel now,” her teacher explained to Judith.  “She’ll be able to go to the next one.”

The funeral procession passed by the park on its way out to Bluebonnet Hills Memorial Park after the service at Second Baptist.  Eileen was in the backseat of the long Cadillac limousine with her mother, following closely behind the hearse.  The long string of cars, all with their headlights on, passed by the park where all her classmates were playing.  She didn’t understand how they could be so happy.  A couple of the kids were flying a kite.  ‘Maybe they’re sending something up to heaven for my dad,’ she thought.  She noted how much more difficult being seven years old was than being six.

Folks were surprised when Judith got remarried right after Christmas.  “Has it even been six months?” ladies asked each other at the Piggly Wiggly.  

“The wedding took place at the courthouse, not in a church, so it isn’t even blessed by God.,” one said.

Dropping off Eileen at her sister’s house before a short honeymoon in Amarillo, Judith explained, “I won’t be gone long, honey.  I hope you understand.  You’ll like Mr. Walker.  I just can’t be alone.”  And with that, she turned on her heel and walked down the sidewalk to the new Lincoln Continental Cabriolet where Ratliff Walker was behind the wheel waiting, the V-12 under the hood anxious to hit the road.

Ratliff was a rakish sort of individual; the polar opposite of Eileen’s father.  Where Eileen’s father had been older than Judith, Ratliff was a few years younger.  No one understood exactly what ‘a few’ meant, but it was more than three and hopefully less than ten.  Where the late Loyd Parker had been a GM man who’d never even considered another automotive manufacturer, Ratliff’s Continental was the epitome of luxury, the top of the line offering from the Ford Motor Company.  Its bold chrome front end seemed over the top to most folks in town.  The lines of the long low convertible made younger girls blush as it drove by, particularly if Ratliff glanced over and gave them a wink as he drove by.

The mysteries surrounding Ratliff Walker were darker than the Diamond Coal Black paint he’d special ordered on the Continental.  He obviously had money.  His suits were tailored.  His cigarettes were French.  And his car was the most expensive new car offered in America.  Yet, no one knew what he did for a living, or the source of his seemingly unlimited funds.

How and when the relationship began with Judith Parker, now Judith Walker, was never defined.  It was obvious they’d known each other prior to Loyd Parker clinging on to the steering wheel longer than he clung on to life.  And with all due respect to the recently widowed Judith Parker, the list was long of younger, more attractive able bodied women willing to give into his subtle suggestions and less than dignified demands, whatever they might be.  Speculation on those abounded.

Perhaps more mysterious than anything was the fact that young Eileen seemed to look more like Ratliff Walker than she did Loyd Parker.  The similarities were noted when Walker first waltzed into Fort Stockton and soon wedded the new widow.  As Eileen grew into young womanhood, those similarities did not diminish in any way.  They shared the same dark piercing eyes.  They had in common the high, defined cheekbones.  The dark, chestnut brown hair was nearly identical on both.

Eileen could never bring herself to get in the Seine Blue Poly ’47 Buick sedan again, after finding her father in it.  One day it disappeared from the garage behind the house.  The next morning, a new 1948 Mercury Eight convertible showed up in its place.  Black, to match Ratliff Walker’s Continental.  A red and beige interior made the car as different from the Buick as any car could be.  “Must be the most expensive driveway in Fort Stockton,” many at the Piggly Wiggly commented.

“Two convertibles?” someone said at the Rusty Hammer Hardware.  “Guess the fear of someone ‘dropping in’ has subsided.”

Eileen remained a loaner at school, getting by in her classes, sticking to herself most of the time.  She grew into a beautiful young girl.  Ratliff Walker’s resources made sure she wore the most stylish clothes.  The library in her room attested to her love of losing herself in stories.  When Ratliff had a new home built outside town for their fifth wedding anniversary, he was sure Eileen’s upstairs room was large enough to contain the ever expanding collection of books, as well as a closet larger than most master bedrooms of the time.

For Eileen’s seventeenth birthday, a new 1957 Ford Fairlane 500 Skyliner was delivered to the house. A large bow was tied on top of the hood of the Flame Red and Colonial White convertible.  Ratliff made sure the convertible had every option, save for the skirts and Continental kit on the back.  “Make sure you leave those off,” he told the salesman at Frontier Ford, “Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal”, when he ordered the car.  “A Continental kit should only be on a Continental.  And the car looks better without skirts, just like Eileen.”

The salesman may have misunderstood the last statement.  He hoped he had.  The car was sold at full price and he remained focused on the commission generated by the sale, rather than any commission of sins committed by the gentleman writing the check.

“It’s lovely.  Thank you.”  Eileen was not overcome when she saw the gift in front of the house.  She went back inside and up to her room, closing the door behind her.  Getting back to her book.   Other parents would have been put off by such a subdued response to such a unique gift.  Judith took it in stride.  Even Ratliff had come to accept Eileen’s stoicism in the extreme.  He even found it to be kind of attractive.

Having the most expensive automobile in the student parking lot at Jim Bowie High School was both a blessing and a curse.  Well, not really.  It was just a curse.  Already put off by the stunning young woman who kept to herself, the fact that she also came from wealth and lacked for nothing created a jealousy that further separated her from her peers.  Eileen graduated in about the middle of her class in 1958, yet went on to Texas Christian University as though she was a scholar.  

The Skyliner was as attractive in Fort Worth as it had been in Fort Stockton.  “That girl has lived in more forts than Davy Crocket,” they said at the Piggly Wiggly.  The academic mediocrity she’d maintained in high school was easily transferred to Fort Worth.  She passed everything, excelled at nothing.  Well, nothing except creative writing.

Given an assignment with a simple prompt, Eileen could spin a tale that could turn a phrase, generate a chuckle, and make the reader shed a tear all within the first three paragraphs.  She seemed to possess an innate sense of tragedy that baffled her professor and frightened fellow students.

She only went home to Fort Stockton twice her first year at TCU, only once as a sophomore.  Judith and Ratliff took the Lone Star Flyer up to Fort Worth for Parent’s Weekend when she was a freshman.  The highlight of the trip was seeing West Side Story at Casa Mañana Theater.  Judith loved seeing the costumes.  Ratliff couldn’t take his eyes off the young hispanic girl playing the part of Maria.  Only Eileen realized the play was an updated version of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliette and appreciated the tragedy of the whole thing. 

Judith and Ratliff boarded the train back to Fort Stockton and Eileen didn’t hear from her mother again till June.  “Pack your things and get back home,” Judith said in a voice that was different than Eileen had ever heard before.  “Take the train.  Leave the Sunliner in the parking lot at the station.  Don’t leave anything in it you ever want to see again.”

“What are you talking about, Mother?”

“They came for Ratliff.  Took him away.  The house, the cars, everything is in his name.  They’re seizing it all.  They’ve cleaned out the bank accounts.  They’ll be looking for your car.  If they find you in it, they’ll jerk you right out of it and leave you wherever they find you.”  Judith seemed to be very matter-of-fact in her description of events.  Yet, she couldn’t hide the edge in her voice.  “You won’t be going back to TCU in the fall.”

“Who came for Ratliff?”

“No idea.  Suits.  Black cars.  Sunglasses.  The whole thing was over in ten minutes.”  Judith was a cross between angry, confused, and scared.  “He didn’t fight them or resist.  It’s like he knew they’d show up some day.  Today was the day.  They found a gun in the dresser.  I never even knew he owned a gun.  I haven’t been able to find out anything else.  Get home as soon as you can.  We’ll figure it out when you get here.”

There was a storm brewing that afternoon as she gathered up what she could and threw it in the back of the long, low, Ford convertible.  She drove it to the train station and parked it near the back of the lot.  She put down all the windows, lowered the steel roof halfway down into the trunk one final time and then shut off the ignition with the cabin fully exposed and the trunk lid still in the upright position.  It started sprinkling as she grabbed her bags.  By the time she made it to the front door of the depot, a real turd-floater had begun.  The skies turned dark gray and the rain came down hard.

As Eileen turned and looked back, she said to herself, “I’ll miss that car.  I always liked it.”