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This is Chapter 5 in a series of ten stories.

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Duke De Kalb spent the fall of 1957 and spring of 1958 getting ready to send his one and only child off to college.  It was going to be as painful for him as it was joyous for her.  He didn’t allow himself to think about exactly what life would look like at the ranch without her.  Rather, he just tried to treasure the moments they had together before her departure.  There weren’t many.

Eliminating Dusty, the ranch hand De Kalb assumed might be too much of a temptation, did nothing to stem the tide of young men making their way out to the ranch to get their names on Abigail’s dance card.  She seemed to toy with them like a female cat toys with a mouse.

He certainly understood their attraction to his daughter, though he didn’t appreciate it.  She’d grown into a beautiful young woman.  She had her mother’s skin which only grew to a deeper olive tone with the amount of time she spent out in the sun with her horses.  Her hair was jet black.  And while he did his best not to notice, her figure had become one that any female in Fort Stockton would envy.  She was a natural beauty and one that attracted attention anywhere she went.

The fact that her best friend was equally stunning drew the attention of the citizenry in town, particularly the male denizens, everywhere they went.  Of course, Duke De Kalb never looked at his own daughter that way.  But when he saw her and Eileen Parker together, he saw in Eileen what every other male did.  He was only human.  The fact that Eileen seemed to openly flirt with him every time she came over was off-putting.

Duke planned a huge graduation party at the ranch.  It was scheduled for late Saturday afternoon, the day after the actual graduation ceremony.  Everyone in the graduating class had been invited and no expense was spared in putting the thing together.  

There was a large oak and hickory parquet dance floor set up not too far from the pool, covered by a gleaming white tent to reflect the sun.  Tables of barbecue smoked right there on the ranch were set up in several different places.  Large galvanized tubs of ice held refreshments.  Despite the heat, hired help in crisp white jackets wandered through the crowds of young adults with trays of food most of them had never experienced and drinks they were disappointed to find out may have been exotic, but didn’t contain alcohol.  Some of the young men solved that situation by making their way out to the field where their cars had been parked and retrieving bottles and flasks from the glove compartments or under their front seats to spike the drinks.  There were men stationed around at different points to confiscate such indiscretions.  But of course young men recently liberated from the bounds of public education are a resourceful bunch and not all of the hootch was discovered before it could be enjoyed.

Sitting in the shade of the patio, watching the scene around him unfold, Duke was watching as Eileen exited the pool in what could barely be called a bathing suit.  She approached him as though she was on a mission, grabbing one of the white rolled up towels stacked on the edge of the patio.  He hoped she would cover herself up with it, but instead she used it to towel off her dark hair and tossed it onto a pile as she came over and sat down across from him.  He tried to find other things to focus on.

“I’d like to interview you some time this summer before we leave for college,” she said.  Though sunny and hot outside, having just exited the pool had given Eileen goosebumps and caused two small hard knobs to form in what was the tiny top part of her bathing suit that were impossible not to notice.  “About your experiences during the war.  Losing your wife while you were overseas.  It had to be tough.”

Of course Duke never spoke of such things, though to be fair most people were not bold enough to ask.  “That was a long time ago.”  He left it at that.  “I  understand you are quite the writer, though.”

“A good writer is always looking for a story.  I suspect you have many.  I need to get you to open up.”  Eileen scooted her chair back so it was in the sun and laid back, stretching her legs out to make the most of its warmth.

Duke, not wanting to create a picture for anyone to notice of a middle aged man sitting next to a nearly naked 18-year-old-girl fending off what seemed to be her advances, saw it as the perfect time to present his daughter with her graduation gift.  He stood and signaled Charlie to bring the gift around for the presentation.

He was proud of himself for keeping the gift a secret, something that was harder and harder to do as his daughter got older and wiser.  He’d snuck off from the office at lunch one day and had Rodger from Frontier Ford-Lincoln-Mercury , “Home of the Straight Shooting’ Deal,” meet him at the dairy twin with the appropriate catalogs and forms.  He didn’t want to be seen at the showroom, lest anyone notice and mention it to his daughter.

There in a booth in the back, Duke flipped through the literature and said, “This one.  Right here.  These colors.”  He turned the brochure around so Rodger could see.  He started jotting things down as Duke rattled them off.  “You want it finished in Gulfstream Blue with a white roof over a matching two-tone interior and powered by a 352 cubic inch V8 paired with a three-speed automatic transmission. Equipment includes air conditioning, a replacement stereo, a power driver’s seat, a dual exhaust system, power steering and brakes, and quad headlights and taillights.”  Rodger glanced up for clarification.  Duke nodded in the affirmative.

“Be sure I get the Ford-branded wheel covers mounted to BFGoodrich Silvertown tires. The car should be equipped with Master Guide power steering and Swift Sure power-assisted drum brakes.  I want the interior trimmed in Gulfstream Blue and White vinyl (XM) and with front bucket seats split by a full-length console along with matching dash and door panels. Give me the matching Thunderbird logo rubber floor mats to protect blue carpeting.  Make sure to include air conditioning, a stereo, a power driver’s seat, wind wings, and power windows.”  

Duke was obviously pulling out all the stops.  It would be the most expensive car Rodger sold that quarter, as Lincolns weren’t really selling and most of the Mercuries were lower end models.  “The 352 cubic inch V8 is equipped with a single four-barrel carburetor and was factory rated at 300 horsepower,” Rodger noted as Duke ate a few fries.  Rodger was mentally calculating what his commission would be as he noted down the information on the forms in front of him.

As the crowd around the pool and dance floor slowly parted and Charlie made his way towards the patio in the new Thunderbird, there were plenty of ooohs and aaaahs from the kids as it passed by.  Eventually a round of applause broke out that belied the jealousy many of them felt at such a gift.

Abigail, finally aware of the gift heading her way, jumped out of the pool and ran over to the car dripping wet.  Her father met her at the driver’s door with the new shining keys.  He got soaked by her hug as he glanced back at Eileen, still on the patio, who seemed to be looking at him rather than her friend or the brand new Gulfstream Blue and White Thunderbird.

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