“Too bad we can’t fetch Bill. He’d love it here,” I said wistfully. “I think people would be kinder to him and old Clarence in Tinkle Town.”
“Was Bill your boyfriend? Should I be jealous?”
I laughed. “Sure. Bill was my boyfriend. He and his horse Clarence.”
“Real competition, I see,” Frank said, kidding me, but looking a touch worried. “Tell me about him. How old is Bill?”
“His thirties, I guess. I don’t know why they sometimes called him Old Bill. He should have been Young Bill.”
I’d walked over to the faucet and the bar of soap I kept next to it. I began to soap up my hands with a good, solid lather to remove any nastiness from my manure collecting. Frank followed me, his lips twisted into a sour expression that didn’t look like he was enjoying the conversation anymore.
“Did Bill ask you out? Were you dating?”
I laughed again. “No one dated where I was from. Not ever. When a boy liked a girl he just started showing up for meals in the young woman’s house. Then the two would sit on the porch swing or play a game with the younger kids while her parents kept watch. As for me, I never had anyone take an interest in me. I had no family, no last name. You know that.”
“What does having a family or a last name have to do with it?”
Frank had grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away. I looked down at his hand and cleared my throat to get him to remove his overly possessive hold.
If he understood my throat clearing, he ignored it. “What does not having a family or a last name have to do with not getting yourself a beau? Obviously, you and Old Bill had something going on.”
I jerked my arm away. “Bill was not my beau. He was a man with the mental age of a five year old. Probably, Carlos is smarter than he was. But Bill was kind, and he liked me. No one else did for a very long time.
“Wow. Explain that one, Shama, although you still haven’t answered my other question. I absolutely do not understand about the things that went on in that village of yours.”
“Which is good,” I snapped, hopefully ending the conversation, “because I don’t want to talk about it. That’s my past, and I left it behind. Hopefully, the future will be better.” I mock laughed, trying to show that the subject was thoroughly closed and that we needed to move on. I hoped the officer would finally get the message and stop his constant inquisitions.