Nothing but Blue Skies

26

Eileen was in the doorway of Frank’s office, brow furrowed and seemingly reluctant to disclose what was on her mind. She did a lot of this sort of telegraphing with her face and Frank got the sense she would love to go through life with these meaningful dumb shows, like an Indian in a cowboy movie, pointing at things, listening to the night wind, smoke signals from a nearby hill, message tapped out on the plumbing. It was very hard for Eileen to make a direct statement. This never annoyed Frank when Gracie was around, but now poor Eileen stood for business, and anything about business was slipping in Frank’s esteem.

“Yes, Eileen.”

“Someone to see you, Mr. Copenhaver.”

“I believe this has happened before, Eileen. Any reason you can’t show him in?”

“It’s Mr. Jarrell, Mr. Copenhaver.”

This was the ranch, the unimproved heritage. “Have him come in,” he bayed. He looked at his papers without seeing them. For once, Eileen’s mugging amounted to something. Frank rested his hand on the phone. Boyd came through the door and closed it behind him on a glimpse of Eileen craning inward. Frank noticed that he was empty-handed. Boyd nodded. Frank nodded. For some reason he found himself saying, “Haven’t seen you since the night of the suds.”

“Yeah.”

“Skip a couple of showers after that, ay?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, today is another day, and what is it I can do for you?”

“I went out to the ranch yesterday and had a look around. It don’t look very good at all.”

“We haven’t found a new man. You kind of left us in midstream.”

“Alfalfa all burning up, deer gone through the fence —”

“I believe Mike has taken out an ad in the Agri-News.”

“— place where the RV boys shot off the lock on the east pasture, just riding around in there and flattening the grass.”

“Like I say, I’d have to check with Mike and see if we’ve had any responses.”

“But when I got to the troughs and the salt was completely gone, I realized —”

“What did you realize?” Frank asked because Boyd had paused.

“I realized we’d got our deal backwards. It don’t matter about you and me. Cows have got to have their salt.”

“So, what are you telling me?”

“I’m starting back in today.”

“And what about — what about our conflict, Boyd? Be honest.”

“We’re going to have to set that aside, Mr. Copenhaver. Like I been trying to tell you, the cows are out of salt.”

“One thing you should know. Mike and I have decided to sell the place.”

“You ain’t gonna do no such of a thing.”

Frank thought for a minute. Boyd was a perfect cowboy. All he cared about was cows, but he did care about cows. He could see a sore-footed one from almost two miles off, as Frank had one day found out. He was as kind to cows as he was unreasonable to people. Frank might well have been more assiduous in staying out of his way. Boyd once clobbered Mike with a frying pan, but Mike thought everyone was crazy anyway and didn’t take it personally, though his nurse complained that he staggered around the office for two and a half days and may well have suffered a concussion. Frank thought about the cows being by themselves, without Boyd tending to them. Big, easygoing, helpless creatures dragged onto this prairie by white folks, always pregnant and always out of something they needed. There had to be someone who tried to close that gap between cows and an environment not always friendly to them. He had to admit to himself that there was real satisfaction in seeing Boyd ride through a herd of cattle, knowing that when he got out the other side he’d have learned as much about them as the graduating class of the average veterinary school. If I knew that much about anything, Frank thought, I wouldn’t be nice to anyone. But I’m so ignorant I have to go on treating people decently.

“We took you off the rolls. You’ll have to stop and let Eileen know. You deal with it.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m not kidding. Mike and I are thinking about selling the place.” Why? thought Frank. Boyd could hold it together as an heirloom.

“Check with me first,” said Boyd. “You don’t need to be selling good land like that. You’ll piss it away.”

“You think so?”

“Hell, I know so.”