Wounded

TWELVE

DAVID’S LIMP was still noticeable, but he claimed to feel little pain. He had stopped taking the pain medication prescribed by the doctor and after a few trips into town to have his toes examined, he was satisfied or at least convinced that he was fine, however repulsed he was by his toes’ appearance, the missing nails and the off color. He was well enough to have a few more lessons on horseback and in all seemed in good spirits. We hadn’t again talked about that night in the cave and nearly three weeks had gone by.

Gus had taken to sleeping late regularly. He’d appear at about eight-thirty, sit with Morgan, and have coffee and toast. I was glad Morgan was there for him.

I’d managed to get myself back on my training schedule. A couple of young colts and a filly had been dropped off. Felony was almost ready for pick up. After giving Duncan Camp’s daughter a couple of lessons on him, I was feeling confident about letting him go. And finally, I’d taken to riding Pest, the mule. He was a good ride, if a tad small for me, but he was stout and smart, good on the steep and liked the activity. When I rode him, he was likely to stay put in his stall or a paddock longer.

Morgan and I rode every day at midday, leaving David to muck the stalls and have lunch with Gus. One day we rode out past the cave and looked down at the desert. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, as Weather Wally liked to say, and we had taken off our jackets. Morgan, sitting on her horse Square, was slightly above me on Pest.

“I could get used to this,” Morgan said.

“Used to what?” We were crossing the high meadow on way back.

“Being above you like this.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“John, do you think David likes me?”

“Sure,” I said. “Why do you ask that?”

“He’s always been quiet around me, but lately, I don’t know. He’s even been different around you.”

I nodded. “That whole thing with his father must have been plenty embarrassing.”

“Yeah. And I suppose all his toes do is remind him.”

As we rode back, I thought about David. It was stupid that his kissing me while delirious should have made either of us feel strange, but of course it did. I tried to convince myself that I was not bothered by having been kissed by a man. Maybe I tried too hard, as my trying made me feel as weird as the kiss. I cared for David. I might have said like a son, but he wasn’t my son. Before the kiss, I might have admitted to someone who asked that I loved him. Now, that word, that sentiment, was muddied. The part about the kiss that bothered me was that it did not feel bad, it was an expression of affection and I could feel affection. But it also was not that, as it was offered in blindness, in the dark of the cave and in the confusion of David’s disorienting condition.

“What are you thinking about?” Morgan asked.

“Nothing,” I said. I was glad I was not sitting on Felony at that moment. I’d have been halfway to town.

“You were thinking something.”

“I was thinking that I’d be a little lost without you here,” I said, which was true, but it wasn’t what I was thinking. “I never thought I’d need anyone again, but I need you. Is that okay?”

“That’s wonderful, John Hunt,” she said.

At dinner that night we discussed the goings-on near the reservation. Morgan was rightly worried and I was trying to play it down without playing it down. Gus pushed his plate of nearly untouched salad to the center and leaned back.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “I don’t blame White Buffalo for not trusting the sheriff. What’s his name? Fucky?”

“Gus,” Morgan said. “Such language. Why the hell would you say some shit like that?”

Gus roared. David laughed as well and that was good to see.

“Why don’t you trust him?” I asked.

“He’s a cop for one thing.” He looked down at the floor, scratched the coyote’s ear. “And he wears that holster with no thumb-break snap.”

“What’s that?” David asked.

“It’s a piece of leather that wraps over the trigger and keeps the pistol in the holster,” I said.

“He thinks he’s a damn cowboy riding the range looking for desperadoes. He’s gonna mess around and shoot his own foot off.”

I nodded. I’d always considered Bucky to be all right, but I trusted Gus’s instincts and I couldn’t dismiss them out of hand.

“I’ve never shot a gun,” David said.

“That’s not a bad thing,” I said. “Nothing will get somebody shot faster than a gun.”

Gus drank some water and cleared his throat. “Guns ain’t evil,” he said. “They’re bad, but they’re not evil. The problem is that guns are easy. Any idiot can use one and any idiot can feel tough with one. I suppose guns are fine for hunting.”

“I don’t think I would be able to kill an animal,” David said.

“Somebody’s got to do it,” Gus said. “Killing isn’t hard. It only takes a second. It’s what comes after that’s hard.” He paused. “Sometimes.”

We sat around in a silent stew for a bit. Then I said, “Well, I say we go into the other room and play Scrabble and exercise some of those killer instincts.”

“You bet,” Morgan said.

“Right after David and I go move a couple hundred pounds of horseshit.”

In the barn, David and I set to work in different areas. The clear night had become chilly and we wanted to get back inside. I stopped as I wheeled a cart of manure past the stall David was cleaning. I silently watched.

David knew I was there, but said nothing as he forked the last of the droppings into the bucket. Then he stood straight and said, “Gus really doesn’t like the sheriff.”

“No, he really doesn’t,” I said.

“Does this stuff make you nervous? The dead cows and everything.”

“Of course it does.”

“You don’t seem nervous,” he said.

I shrugged. “Seeming nervous and being nervous are different things.”

“To tell the truth, I’m scared.”

“So is Morgan,” I said. “So am I. I don’t know about Gus. He’s seen a lot. I still don’t know what scares him.”

“Is that it?” David asked. He was talking about what there was to do with the horses.

“I suppose it is.”

The next morning, after chores and breakfast, David and I were in the flatbed truck on our way into town for hay and people food. We made the big curve and I noted that the sky was beginning to threaten again. I glanced over at David. He was looking out the window.

“You know, we haven’t talked about it,” I said.

“About what?”

“That night in the cave. You think we ought to try?” I down shifted as we headed down the grade.

“I don’t know what there is to say.”

“I feel like it’s put some distance between us,” I said. “You were in pretty bad shape that night.”

“I know I was. Like I said, I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not asking for an apology,” I said.

“But I am sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you.” Saying it was hard for him. And, to tell the truth, it was hard for me to hear. “Did it make you feel weird?” It was not so much a question as a lashing out.

“I suppose it did,” I said. “I’d never kissed a man before.”

He just looked at me.

“What is it?”

“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you feel anything?” he asked again.

“You were in bad shape,” I said and realized I was repeating myself. “No, I didn’t feel anything. I felt your lips and I felt you shivering and I felt like you might die. Besides, you were out of it and didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Does that make you feel better about it?” he asked.

“It doesn’t make me feel one way or another,” I told him. “Listen, I’m not trying to fight you about this. I just thought we should talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Now, I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t know why.” I was just sick that I’d said anything. “David, you’ve become my friend. I want you to stay my friend.”

“You want me to promise I won’t kiss you again?”

“Maybe we should just drop this.”

“Maybe we should,” he said.

“To hell with that.” He’d put me on the prod. “Listen, kid, I don’t care that you kissed me. You’re alive, that’s what I was thinking about. I simply don’t like the silence you’ve been dishing out. It makes me feel bad. But more importantly, it makes Morgan feel bad. If you can’t get it together, perhaps you should consider going back to Chicago.”

Those words hung there in the air for a few minutes. We rolled along the flat stretch that led into town.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Stop apologizing, goddamnit.”

“I’m attracted to you.”

I sighed. “Jesus, David, that’s not what I’m looking to hear right now. That’s not getting us back to where we were.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Son, that’s beautiful and all that, but really. I mean, I’m flattered, but really.”

“It’s not like I expect anything from you.” His voice was surprisingly steady.

“Well, that’s good.”

“Like I said, I’m just being—”

“Honest, I know. Listen, I’m flattered as all hell, but you know what I have to say here, so I won’t even bother.”

“I know.”

I turned on the radio. We drove past the goddamn Wal-Mart.

“I want you to be my friend,” David said. “I trust you.”

“I appreciate that,” I told him.

“I don’t want to go back to Chicago yet.” He was staring at me.

“You don’t have to leave, son.”

David laughed. “You know what’s funny. When you call me son, I almost believe it. At least, it sounds like it makes sense. My own father only called me son when he was angry and even then it sounded strange in his mouth.”

“Life’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Are we friends?” he asked.

“Yes, we are.”

I introduced David to Myra at the feed store and they seemed to hit it off right away. At least David appeared to enjoy the way Myra referred to me as “Ugly Over There.” We ran into Duncan Camp and I told him he could come pick up Felony whenever he wanted.

“You’ve done a good job with him.” Camp was nursing a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “This man knows horses,” he said to David.

“He should,” Myra said. “He looks like one.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.

“So, how do you like working for Mr. Hunt?” Camp asked David.

“I like it.”

“Because if you get tired of him, you’re welcome over at my place. I’ve got a ton of work that needs doing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” David said.

Duncan Camp walked out to the truck with us and followed me around to the driver’s side. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Bucky told me about what happened out at White Buffalo’s place.”

“Morgan’s nervous.”

“I’ll bet,” he said.

“We’re just keeping our eyes open,” I said. “What else can we do?”

At the market, I paused to talk to Kent Hollis, the librarian, and his wife while David pushed the cart with the groceries across the parking lot to the truck. They both looked tired and I got the impression that Mrs. Hollis’s health was not so good.

“We heard about the hate crimes,” Hollis said.

“Well, you know, people are worse than anybody,” I said.

Mrs. Hollis laughed, then coughed. Hollis leaned over her chair to see to her. She waved him off.

“Seems like all anybody can talk about today,” I said. I watched as David opened the passenger side and pulled forward the seat.

“I haven’t seen you in the library lately,” Hollis said. “I miss your once-a-week visit.”

“I’ve been busy. My friend’s son is staying with me for a while.” I indicated David with a nod.

“It’s going to snow, Kent,” Mrs. Hollis said.

“I think you’re right, Mrs. Hollis,” I said.

“Well, we’d better get on.” Hollis shook my hand. “We don’t like being out in bad weather with the chair and all.”

“I don’t like being out in it either,” I told them. “You two stay warm and healthy.”

David had just deposited the cart in the rack in the middle of the lot and was walking back to the truck, when the BMW skidded to a stop near him. I started to trot, then slowed to a fast walk. David walked around the car, but the two men inside stepped out. One of the men was the one whose nose I’d broken. I’d never seen the other. I slowed to a normal walk when I saw that David was pointing up the street. Before I got there the car was pulling away.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“They wanted to know where the diner is.”

“Really.” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, so I told them.”

“Do you remember that skinny guy?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s the one who picked the fight with Robert and me.” David climbed into the truck.

I walked around and got behind the wheel. “Pretty weird, eh?” I said.

David nodded.

“I’ve got a headache. You think you can drive this beast?”

“I can drive it.”

I got out and walked around while David slid across the seat.

“I’m just going to close my eyes. It’s not fancy, but we’ve got a load, so be sure to downshift and save the brakes. Don’t go over fifty-five and don’t wake me with any sudden collisions.”

“Okay,” he laughed.

I closed my eyes.

I did manage to drift off to sleep and I came to with the knowledge that I was not driving and so I awoke with a start. I looked over at David and he was looking at me.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I said.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

“I guess.” I sat up and realized we were just a couple of miles from the road to my place. I’d slept for quite a while. “Good job,” I told him.

“Piece of cake.” He turned onto the dirt road and bounced with the ruts. “Sorry.”

“It’s hard to miss them,” I said. “The county snowplows to the fork. They take a decent dirt lane and make sure it complies with the state washboard code.”

“They do a good job.”

“It’s a kidney buster, but at least it’s a little better with a full load.”

It started to rain.

“That should make it better,” I said.

David laughed.

“Just go slow down the hill.”

There were two pickups parked in front of the house. Their presence caused me to sit straight.

“Company?” David asked.

“Apparently.”

Before I could get worried, Daniel White Buffalo stepped out onto the porch with Gus and two other men. I got out and told David to drive the truck into the barn to get the hay out of the rain. I walked to the porch.

“Daniel, what are you doing way out here?” I said in the way of a greeting.

“Wanted to check your reservation for a change.” He pointed to the other men with a nod. “You know Wilbert Monday. And this here is Elvis Two Horses.”

“Wilbert. Nice to meet you, Elvis.”

“We been talking to your uncle,” Daniel said. “He says you’re crazy.”

“It’s not a secret,” I said. “What’s up?” I was on the porch with them now. “More dead cattle?”

“No dead cows,” Daniel said. “Just weird things. Tell him, Wilbert.”

Wilbert looked at Daniel, then at me. He was a lean man with his mother’s hard eyes. His voice was somewhat high and appeared to come from someone else. “I was over in the Owl Creeks looking for cows,” he said. Then after a long pause, “I saw two figures in the hills.”

“So?” I said.

“Nobody we know will go into the Owl Creeks,” Elvis Two Horses said.

“You were over there?” I said to Wilbert.

“Like I said, I was looking for cows.”

“Maybe they were looking for cows,” I said.

Wilbert lit a cigarette. “Who looks for cows on foot?”

I saw David walking from the barn toward me. I called to him. “David, check all the water while you’re out there.” He made an exaggerated pivot and walked away. “So, why are you here?” I asked again.

“We want you to talk to the sheriff,” Daniel said.

“And tell him that Wilbert saw two men walking through the hills?”

Gus cleared his throat. “I tried to tell them that Fucky Bucky was going to be of no help to them or us.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“If it comes from just us nobody listens,” Daniel said.

“What makes you think that anyone will listen to me?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel said.

“Things ain’t right,” Elvis Two Horses said.

“What do you want me to say to him, the sheriff?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Daniel said again.

I looked up at the gray sky. The rain had stalled. “I’ll give him a call.”

I shook their hands and watched as they left, Daniel in one truck, the other two in the other. “How did I get elected club president?” I asked.

“I have to apologize for something,” Gus said, changing the subject.

“What’s that?”

“I forgot to ask you to pick up my medicine at the pharmacy.”

“That’s okay, Gus. You need it today?”

“I’ll need it tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll drive in now and get it. Where’s Morgan?”

“She saddled her horse and rode out. About a half-hour ago.”

David walked toward us.

“I’ve got to make another run into town,” I said. “Want to ride along?”

“I forgot about my damn medicine,” Gus said.

“You’ve got work to do,” David said. “I’ll go. I know the way there and back. If I can drive that truck, I can drive the Jeep.”

I suddenly felt like an overprotective father. I didn’t want to say yes, but I didn’t know why. “That would be good, David,” I said. “I appreciate it. That’ll give me time to work the animals I didn’t work yesterday.”

“Thanks, youngblood,” Gus said. “I’ll grab the prescription.” Gus ducked into the house.

“At least the rain gave up,” I said.

David looked at the sky, but said nothing.

Gus poured hot water into our mugs.

I stood at the window and watched my mule walk back into the barn. “What do they expect me to do?” I asked.

“They’re just scared. They think you can talk to the sheriff.”

“Why do they think that?” I asked.

“Because you don’t hate him,” Gus said. He sat down at the table and rubbed his knee. “Grab the honey over there.”

I grabbed the honey pot and put it down in front of him, walked back to the window and looked out.

“They think you trust the sheriff.”

“Hmmm,” I said.

“Do you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I felt on the defensive. I felt that admitting trusting the sheriff was admitting to stupidity or naïveté. Worse, I had the sense that my trusting him suggested a kind of betrayal, but I didn’t know of whom.

To my question, Gus merely offered a shrug.

Morgan rode her horse at a walk through the gate, leaned over and closed it. She dismounted at the hitching post by the barn and looked up at the window. I waved to her. She tipped her helmet.

“Morgan’s back,” I told Gus.

“Good.” He picked up Emily and held her in his lap.

I left the old man in the kitchen and walked across the yard.

“Hey, there,” she said.

“You want to get hitched?” I asked.

“You bet.” She gave me a kiss.

“Nice ride?”

“It’s beautiful out.”

“It’s perfect horse weather,” I said. I’m going to work those colts, then put Felony through his paces another time.”

“Where’s David?” Morgan asked.

“He drove into town for Gus’s medicine.”

“Oh, really,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Is there something I should know about?” she asked. She undid the cinch and let the girth swing under the horse. “Is there something between you two?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“John, I’ve known you for a long time. I know when you’re not telling me something and you’re not telling me something. Ever since that night he ran off and almost got himself killed you’ve been acting funny.”

“Maybe so,” I said. “I guess I’m worried about him. I feel bad that all that grizzly stuff that happened with his father here and now I wonder why he’s here.”

“He has a crush on you,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“I don’t know what to do about it. Should I say something?”

She unhooked the horse’s breastplate, then walked around to remove the saddle from the off side the way she always did. Her saddle was heavy and she’d always pull it off and swing it over the post in one motion. She came back to me, took the bridle from my hand and kissed my chin. “I don’t know what you should say, either,” she said. “I’ve got a crush on you; why shouldn’t he?”

I nodded.

“Besides, he’s not your type,” she said.

“Too tall?”

“No, he’s emotional.” She untied her horse. “So, you let him drive into town alone. Big step.”

“He’s twenty years old.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I followed her as she led Square to his stall. “He doesn’t have much use for me, I can tell you that. I don’t think he dislikes me, but I’m in the way, if you know what I mean.”

Once Morgan had closed the stall door, I put my arms around her. “I have to admit David’s pretty cute, but he’s too young for me, don’t you think? And then there’s the fact that he’s a man.”

“I’m being silly,” she said.

I kissed her. “You’re not being silly. For some reason, I’m overattentive to the kid. I like him a lot.”

“Did something happen that night?” she asked.

I looked at Morgan’s eyes and I couldn’t find it in myself to lie or maybe it’s that I didn’t believe I could lie believably. “There was one thing. He was soaking wet, so I had to undress him. I held him close, trying to keep him warm and he kissed me.”

“He kissed you,” she repeated.

I nodded. “On the mouth. Then he passed out again. He remembers doing it and he’s embarrassed by it.”

“What was it like?” Morgan asked. I could identify her tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Did it feel good?”

“It didn’t feel like anything,” I said. I thought that perhaps I was lying, that maybe the kiss had felt in some way good. “I was scared he was going to die.”

We stood there, awkwardly silent.

“I love you, Morgan.”

She kissed me. She turned away and started out of the barn and I could tell we still had a problem.

“Morgan,” I called to her.

She stopped, but did not turn to face me. “What?” It came out as an uncharacteristic bark.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“You’re not supposed to say anything.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“I know you didn’t, John.” She turned and looked at my eyes. “You’ve been perfect. You’re always perfect. You take care of all of us perfectly. Now, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Is that all right?”

The rain was falling steadily now. It was five-thirty and dark and still there was no sign of the Jeep coming down the hill toward the house. I’d been checking the window for a couple hours and before that I’d been stepping out of the barn to watch the lane. Morgan brought me some tea.

“I’m sure he’s all right,” she said.

“Come on, let’s go for a drive,” I said. “Gus, you stay here in case he comes back.”

“You got it.”

“I’ll drive, you look,” Morgan said.

We put on our jackets and walked out to Morgan’s car. Morgan was shaking and not because she was cold.

We drove all the way to town. The pharmacist told us that David had been there hours ago. I used his phone to call Gus. David had not shown up. We drove the streets of town. I was behind the wheel now. We checked the grocery parking lot and the lots of the Wal-Mart, the motels, and the restaurants. I parked in front of the sheriff’s office.

“John?” Morgan said.

“I don’t know, honey. Let’s see if we can get some other people on the road with us.”

Inside, Hanks listened to me and told me that no accidents had been reported. I used his phone to get another no-show report from Gus. He had a dispatcher call another deputy and ask him to drive the road to my place.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Come on,” Morgan said to me and pulled me toward the door.

“I’ll call you if I hear anything,” Hanks said.

Morgan and I walked out and got back into her car. I was again behind the wheel, but I didn’t start the Jeep. “I can’t believe this is happening again,” I said. The rain was falling less hard.

Morgan reached over and touched my hand.

“I love you so much,” I said.

“I know you do, John. I love you, too.”

“Where is he?”