Wounded

FIVE

WEATHER WALLY on the radio called for periods of heavy rain, but it was the stiffness in Gus’s knees that had me believing it was coming. The breeze was bracing out of the northwest and I remembered seeing snow this early. I spent the morning getting the barns and paddocks ready for wet weather, digging trenches along the perimeters of shelters, filling in low spots, pretty much trying to forestall anything that nature was going to do anyway. The mule had gotten out again and spent the wee hours munching at the alfalfa bales. I put him in a stall in the barn and gave him a half feeding.

Back in the house, I found Gus sitting at the kitchen table, sewing a ripped shirt pocket. I absently studied the project over the old man’s shoulder. “You sew like I weld,” I said.

“Yeah, but I’m old.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride into town?” I asked. “I don’t plan to be there very long.”

“I’m sure. I’m gonna stay here and crank up the heat. Maybe that will make my knees feel better.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Well, I’d better make myself presentable if I’m going to pick up a young lady.”

“Good luck,” Gus said. “With the getting-presentable part.”

The sky teased as I drove to Morgan’s. Emily was standing in her garden, surveying. She wore an apron that read Born to Be Old.

“Morning, Emily.”

Emily nodded.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Saying good-bye to everybody, my flowers,” she said. She looked at the sky. “Because as sure as dogs are smarter than people, it’s gonna snow.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It ain’t because of Weather Wally, I can tell you that. That idiot is calling for rain. That sky is full of snow.” She pointed up. “The hawks tell me. They’ve been circling all morning.”

Morgan came from the house and down the porch steps. “Don’t listen to her,” Morgan said. “Those hawks are always up there.”

“Yes and no,” Emily said. “So, where are you two off to?”

“We’re going to a rally in town,” I told her.

“What rally?”

“A gay and lesbian rally.”

Emily frowned. “What will they think up next? Well, have fun. Of course, that’s my general advice about everything.” She turned back to her garden. “Good-bye, gaillardia.”

In town, I parked my rig on a street off the main drag and we walked a short block to the square. Only a few people had begun to assemble. There were some blankets laid out on the lawn where box lunches waited. A couple of deputies stood near the entrance to the Town Hall, but they didn’t give the appearance of guarding the place. Deputy Hanks was strolling the sidewalk. The air had turned cold and most were wearing jackets. A podium was set on the landing halfway up the Hall steps. A television news crew from Casper was lazily putting together equipment, laying out cables and setting up tripods. Morgan and I were the first to sit on the thirty or so chairs that had been set up in uneven rows at the bottom of the steps.

“We’re early,” I said.

“We’re not that early,” Morgan said.

I shrugged. “This is really sad, isn’t it? For someone to get killed like that. To kill somebody any way is sad.”

Morgan looked around. “There are just few enough people to make this creepy. Maybe it’s the weather.”

“Maybe,” I said.

David and Robert came into view, turning onto the block.

I pointed with my eyes. “There’s David.”

Morgan turned to see. “Good-looking boys.”

The men were huddled together, in only light sweaters against the cold. They had come in September expecting the summer warmth to persist the way it might in other places.

“They must be freezing,” Morgan said.

“I suspect so.”

“Which one is David?”

“On the right.”

“Handsome,” she said.

“Well, he’s attached,” I said. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“More or less.”

“I don’t know which is more insulting,” I said. “More or less.”

I stood and tried to catch David’s attention, but my wave went unnoticed. A couple of men rapidly approached David and Robert from the other side of the street. One was rangy with a shock of dark hair and the other was tall but stout. They wore jeans, boots, T-shirts, and no jackets. I observed David’s body stiffen and in the young man’s face, for the first time, I could really see Howard.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know.” I had already started to move off in their direction, trying to run without running.

“John?” Morgan was frightened.

I could see but not hear the exchange of words. The rangy redneck pushed Robert, of a sudden, two open hands to the chest. Robert fell back a step or two and regained his balance.

The deputy, Hanks, was there before me, inserting his wide body into the middle of the trouble. By the time I got there, Hanks was shooing the rednecks away, roughly. He had his hands in the middle of their backs and had pushed them halfway across the street.

The man who had pushed Robert shouted out, “Faggot!” and Hanks gave him an extra shove that sent him to his knees. He got up, then loaded with his friend into a rusting, mid-seventies BMW.

I asked Robert if he was all right.

Hanks came loping back. “Sorry about that,” he said. It was a sincere apology, though it wasn’t clear whether he was apologizing for the actions of the thugs or for our village.

“Yeah, right,” Robert said sarcastically. His face was still red.

Hanks pulled away from us, then walked again toward the BMW. The wiry man put the car in gear and peeled away.

“Pigs,” Morgan said.

David put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, but he jerked back, twisting his body at the waist. Then he paced off, looked up at the sky and just screamed. Everyone up and down the street and in front of the Town Hall turned to the noise. Deputy Hanks’s back had been turned and the scream gave him a start. He pivoted to run back, but stopped. I waved the deputy off, letting him know that everything was under control.

David approached Robert again, stepped behind him, and put a hand on his back. Robert didn’t pull away this time.

“What kind of fucking place is this?” Robert asked. He shot a look at me. “Tell me.”

I felt embarrassed.

Just then, snow began to fall.

I looked at the sky, flat and gray, and a flake landed on my face and melted. When I looked back at Robert I saw that his eyes were moist. I turned away, afraid to make him self-conscious by noticing. The townspeople, what few had come, began to leave their seats. Others who had laid out blankets, folded up and started to depart as well. They had all been willing to brave the cold, but the snow was too much. The news crew was quickly disassembling their equipment while the reporter sat in the passenger side of the satellite truck having an animated conversation on his cellular phone.

“This doesn’t look good,” Morgan said.

I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the storm or the sudden and premature end to the rally. Whatever, I responded, “No, it doesn’t.” To David and Robert. “We’ve got to get you two something warmer to wear.”

“We didn’t expect the weather to turn,” David said.

“I’ve got extra jackets at my house,” I said. “Why don’t we just ride on out there now?”

David turned to Robert, his body language asking for his feeling.

“I don’t care,” Robert said. “You decide.”

“Okay,” David said to me.

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten how cold it was in the back of my Jeep. Morgan and I were roasting in the front while David and Robert huddled beneath the blanket I kept stowed under the seat. The snow had fallen heavily for about twenty minutes and was now tapering off. It was just beginning to stick on the light green leaves of the sage that grew along the highway.

“So, what do you guys call this?” David asked.

“September,” Morgan said.

“Warming up at all back there?” I fiddled with the heat controls, not that I could push the lever any farther to the right.

“Not really,” David said.

I looked at the weather and then at Morgan. “I’ll drop you off. What do you think?”

“You probably should. I’ll try to keep Mother from running out naked in the snow.”

“Need anything done with your animals?” I asked.

“No, I’ve got it covered. Anyway, there’s still plenty of light left.”

I looked at the boys in the mirror. “You guys mind if dinner becomes lunch and I drive you back before it’s too late?”

“Makes sense,” David said.

I dropped off Morgan and let the two men stay in the back under the blanket. Soon, we were rolling down the trail to my place.

“It’s beautiful,” David said.

“It’s work is what it is,” I said. I looked at it. It was especially beautiful under the dusting of snow.

I halted the Jeep in front of the house and watched the mule come walking out of the barn toward me. “Have mercy,” I said, shaking my head.

“What is it?” David asked.

“The devil himself,” I said.

“What?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s get you two warmed up. Gus said he’d have the heat cranked up today.” Gus must have forced Zoe out of the house for her daily business because she came trotting over to me. She sat at my feet and awaited her command. “This is Zoe,” I said. “Greet, Zoe.”

Zoe went to the strangers and got a noseful.

David patted her head. “She’s well trained.”

“She’s smart,” I said. “She makes me look good.”

Gus met us at the door. “Can you believe it,” the old man said. “Snow! I tell you weather has no respect.”

“Gus, David and Robert.”

“Howdy.” Gus shook Robert’s hand and then David’s. “Your hands are like ice. Where are your coats?”

“Don’t have any,” David said.

“Get your asses in there by the fire,” he barked. “No coats. What the Sam Hill is that all about?”

“We’re doing lunch instead of dinner,” I said. “That all right?”

“That’s fine. No coats.”

“How’s our patient?”

“She’s dragging herself around pretty good, now. I had to push Zoe outside. I’ve been giving the little girl warm milk from a rubber glove. I pierced a finger and she really goes after it.”

“That’s great, Gus.” I made a move toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going out there and I’m going to tie that mule’s legs together. How the hell did he get out?”

“He was out as soon as you left. I caught him and stuck him in a paddock, but there he is. He’s a spooky one.”

“Well, I’m sticking that son of a bitch back in a stall and I’m going to weld the damn gate shut. If he gets out again, then he’s just going to have roam around loose. I can’t be worrying about him all the goddamn time.”

Gus had started away in the middle of my rant and was asking David and Robert if they wanted coffee.

“Yeah, go ahead and walk away from me while I’m talking,” I said. I liked that Gus didn’t have time for anyone’s carryings on.

I was pleased to find myself outdoors and alone. The snowflakes were swirling, the cold front getting confused by the wall of heat offered by the Red Desert. I took this as a sign that the storm wouldn’t amount to much. Unfortunately, my taking it as a sign meant that we were in for a dumping, my guesses about weather were almost always misguided. The mule was waiting for me about halfway to the barn and he heeled to me like a dog and ambled agreeably into a stall when I swung open the door. “Okay, you candidate for the glue factory,” I said. I had to be impressed by the animal. I secured the gate with a nose chain, then tied a rag in a hard knot around the chain’s clasp. “You get out of that and you can sleep in the house.” I realized my light jacket was becoming inadequate for the weather, another indication that my perceived sign had been characteristically wrong. I walked quickly through the barn and checked everybody’s water before heading back inside.

Gus had pulled a load of coats from the closet and put them in a pile on the floor. He and the guests were picking through them.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Trying to find these boys some proper outerwear,” Gus said. “Something toasty for the remainder of summer.”

“Outerwear?”

“That’s what they call it in the stores and the catalogs. You ought to know that — jacket man.”

David laughed.

That fed Gus. “This man loves jackets. He’s a pathetic addict. He can’t pass one up.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

Gus gestured to the pile on the floor. “None of these are mine.” The old man paused for effect. “I rest my case.”

“It gets cold around here,” I said.

“Take your pick,” Gus said to David and Robert. “The man’s got no favorites. One’s the same as the next.”

The younger men looked to me. I waved them on. “Have at it,” I said. “He’s right. I need help, a twelve-sleeve program or something. Find something warm, though. You’re going to need it.”

“Bad out there?” Gus asked.

“Could be,” I said.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you about the painting on the wall,” Robert said.

“What about it?”

“Is it a Klee?”

“It is.”

“A real Klee?”

“Yep. A real little Klee.” I walked over to the small canvas. “And on that other wall is a Kandinsky watercolor. But that’s the extent of my art collection.”

“How much is the Klee worth?” Robert asked.

I bristled, but not noticeably. “I never think about it. I’m sure its value goes up and down. Why? You want to buy it?”

“No, I was just wondering.” Robert laughed nervously. He turned back to the pile of jackets.

Gus watched the men try on the coats. “Did you know the boy who was killed?” he asked.

Robert shook his head.

“Terrible thing,” Gus said.

“We had some truck with the boy they arrested,” Gus said.

David stood. He was swallowed by a yellow slicker. He looked at Gus and then at me.

“I think I’m a little wider than you, son,” I said. “Besides, that will keep you dry, but not warm.”

“You met the guy?” David asked, peeling off the garment.

“He actually did a little work for me around here,” I said, embarrassed by the association.

“Little is the operative word,” Gus said. “Showed up out of nowhere. He wasn’t so much weird as he was slow.”

“He was dumber than a bucket of hair,” I said. “Still, I can’t imagine his doing such a thing. Hell, I can’t imagine anybody doing it.”

“We put up with people like that all the time.” Robert’s tone was only slightly strident.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Then it was as if Robert realized for the first time or again that Gus and I were black. He fell back into himself.

“Don’t worry about it, Robert,” I said. “Nobody’s got the hate market cornered in this country.”

“Yeah,” said Gus. “There’s plenty of hate for everybody. Rally round the flag, boys.”

Robert smiled weakly, then turned his attention to a down-filled parka with purple pockets.

“Now that will keep you warm,” I said.

“It had better,” Gus sneered. “As ugly as that thing is.”

I walked to the window and peered out. Just as I had predicted, counter to my prediction the wind was really blowing and the snow was really falling. “It’s an official mess out there,” I said. “I hope you boys don’t mind staying the night. I’d rather not risk your lives and mine on that road in this storm in the dark.”

Robert gave David an uneasy look, but David didn’t notice or simply didn’t respond.

David said, “That’s fine.” When David did look at Robert, Robert looked away. “Robert?”

“Sounds okay. Thanks, John.”

“You bet.”

While Gus prepared the meal, I took David and Robert, in their new coats, out to see the barns and horses. We wandered through the long barn and out the other end. The friendly horses shoved their heads out into the alley, looking for treats or just a rub on the nose.

“How many do you have?” David asked.

“Twenty-five,” I said. “A nice even odd number. But they’re not all mine. Several I’m training for other people. When winter comes, I’ll take the shoes off most of my guys and turn them out.”

“When winter comes?” Robert laughed.

“Son, this ain’t winter,” I said in my cowboy voice. “This here is sun-bathing weather.”

“This must be a lot of work,” David said. We were in the small barn now. The wind was spinning the vents above us.

“Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat,” I said. I led them to the end of the middle barn. “And this is Felony.” The horse pushed out his head. I was a little surprised by it. I stroked his nose. “He belongs to a neighbor.”

“Felon?” David asked.

“Felony,” I said. “Which of course is a much nicer name than Felon. The man’s daughter named him. He’s been a bit of a problem for them. He’s a looker though. And he’s coming along.”

“That’s what you do, train horses?” Robert asked.

There was a coolness between Robert and me that I didn’t like. But also, I didn’t much care, so I let it stand. “Now and again,” I said.

“What’s Felony’s problem?” David asked. He reached out and rubbed the horse’s nose.

“Basically, he’s a nut. It’s not so much that he thinks he’s a person as he doesn’t know that people aren’t horses. That’s a bad thing. Like I said, he’s making progress. Or I’m making progress, I should say.”

“You and Gus take care of this whole place?” David asked.

“Mostly. I hire a hand from time to time. They come and go. How’d you like a job?”

Robert laughed.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t want me,” David said. “I don’t know how to do anything.”

“You can learn,” I said. “Are you boys cold?”

“I’m fine,” David said.

“Well, I’m cold,” I said. “Let’s get inside and grab some grub. How’s that for authentic regional yak?”

In the kitchen, Gus had the table set. I could smell the chili. Zoe was in the corner lying on her bed, curled around the coyote pup. The pup pushed and whined, trying to get purchase on one of Zoe’s dry teats.

“I see you moved our little patient,” I said, stomping my boots clean in the mud room.

“More light in here,” Gus said. He looked out the window over the sink. “The snow’s not going to be all that bad. It’s tapering off a little already.”

“All I know is it’s cold out there,” I said.

Gus turned to David and Robert who were sitting at the table. “The coldest I’ve ever been was thirty-three in Phoenix. Not even a freeze and I thought I might cry, I was so cold.” He pulled a ladle from the drawer and dropped it in the pot. “Come and sit down, ugly.” This was to me.

“That coyote is really cute,” David said as I sat.

“She’s something, all right.”

“How did you find her?” David watched Zoe with the pup.

“Some idiot torched her den and killed her mother,” I said. “Her little brother didn’t make it.”

“Beautiful people,” Robert said.

I nodded.

Robert put his hand on top of David’s on the table.

“I didn’t make the chili super hot,” Gus said. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. There’s Tabasco if anyone needs it.”

“It smells great,” David said.

“Gus can actually cook,” I said.

“What do you mean by that?” Gus said.

“Well, to look at you, one wouldn’t, well, never mind.”

“You’re lucky you’re getting to eat at all,” the old man said. Gus didn’t take chili, but filled his bowl with salad.

“Aren’t you having any chili?” David asked.

“Stuff gives me heartburn,” Gus said.

“Since when?” I asked.

“Everybody eat up,” he said. “I’m happy with leaves and bread. The bread’s not great. I’m still working on that.”

We ate for a while in silence. I tore off a piece of the crusty bread and studied the sleeping puppy. “You know, Gus, I think you’re right. That little girl is going to pull through.”

“Tough,” Gus said.

“Did you want to call either of your parents?” I asked David.

“Certainly not my father,” he said. “My mother’s away on business.”

“These things happen,” Gus said. “People live, people die, people split up, people stay together and make each other miserable. Me, I’ve got ugly and he gets to live with me.”

Robert laughed.

“Your mother’s a special person,” I said to David.

“Not special enough, I guess,” David said. He poked at his chili with his spoon. “Why does my father hate me? He hates homosexuals. I’m a homosexual. It follows that he hates me. That’s logic, right?”

I didn’t say anything.

“I think the leg is going to fall off,” Gus said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“The coyote. I was looking at it and I think it has to fall off. Do you think we should cut it off?”

“Maybe, but not in the middle of a meal,” I said.

“I didn’t mean right now.”

“All right, let’s take a look at it later tonight. We might have to perform a little surgery.”

We ate for a while.

“So, your being a homosexual’s not a problem for your mother?” Gus asked, slapping butter on his bread. Gus had a way of cutting right to the chase.

“She’s cool with it,” David said.

“She says,” Robert added.

“I believe she is.” David put down his fork. “She’s got her own stuff right now. Do you know why they broke up?”

I shook my head. “All of this is brand new to me.”

“Well, I don’t know either. I don’t think my mother knows. That’s what’s so hard about all of this.”

“Sounds hard,” I said. I put down my fork and wiped my mouth. “Well, now that I’ve eaten, I think I’ll go out and shovel the shit of large animals.” I snapped my fingers for Zoe to come.

“I hope that’s not a crack,” Gus said.

David laughed.

“You guys want to join me in the freezing cold or stay in here where it’s nice and toasty and have hot chocolate? You’re not obliged to help.”

“I’ll help,” David said.

“I think I’ll sit in the other room with the fire,” Robert said. “I have a bit of a headache.”

“You want some aspirin or ibuprofen?” Gus asked.

“No, thanks.”

Outside, Zoe led the way to the barn. The snow had all but stopped falling. That silence that snow brings had fallen.

“What kind of dog is Zoe?” David asked.

“She’s a heeler. Some people call them Australian cattle dogs.” I whistled and Zoe looked back. “Zoe, go find a rope, girl.” Zoe trotted off into the barn, then came back with a lead rope in her mouth. “Good girl.” I took the rope and gave her head a rub.

“That’s pretty good,” David said.

“I’d like to say I’m a great trainer, but Zoe’s a genius.”

I piled a deep cart with flakes of hay and asked David to push it down the aisle and put two flakes in each metal feeder. I checked the mule’s gate and caught up to the cart. Once we had the hay tossed I started mucking out.

“I can help with that,” David said.

“That’s great. Grab a silage fork from over there and a bucket. Do the bay’s stall.”

“I thought you were married,” David said.

“I was. My wife died.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I knew that.”

I waved him off. “You were a kid. Anyway, Gus came to live with me about six years ago. He’s a big help.”

“Gus is cool,” David said.

“He is that.” I rubbed at a stiffness in my neck. “Hey, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad feelings earlier. You know, about your parents and all.”

“The bad feelings aren’t too far below the surface, I’m afraid.” David paused to look in at Felony, the big palomino. “That’s a big horse.”

“An enormous baby,” I said. “David, I don’t know your mother very well at all. But I do know, or at least I used to know your father. He can be pretty rigid in his thinking.”

“You got that right.”

“I’m not just saying this to get on your good side, but sometimes it helps to hear that somebody else sees the same things you’re seeing. Your father is a good person, but on occasion he can be a selfish—” I looked for a word.

“Jerk,” David said.

“Not a word I would have used,” I said. I looked up and down the aisle, as if afraid Howard might appear. “I lived with him. He’s my friend, but he’s sometimes clumsy when it comes to other people’s feelings.”

“And he’s not tolerant of other people’s ways,” David said.

I nodded.

David looked at my eyes for a second, then we both laughed. “Well, you did get on my good side,” he said.

“That wasn’t my aim.”

“So, why are you so tolerant?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I like to think I am. I’d like to think that if you were my son I’d behave differently from your father. But I can’t honestly say that. You’re not my son. I don’t have a son.”

“That’s pretty honest,” he said.

“Hey, I’m trying,” I said.

“You know, my dad used to talk about you all the time like you were a god or something.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t have much respect for gods.”

“He used to say you could do anything, fix anything.”

I looked at Felony, reached out and scratched his big nose. “Well, that’s real flattering. It’s not true, but it’s flattering. Hey, it’s getting cold out here. We’d better finish up and get back in that house before those two suck up all the heat.”

Back in the house, Gus told us that Robert had decided to turn in for the night. David said he’d better go check on him.

Gus had scooped up the coyote puppy and had it lying on a nest of towels on the kitchen table. “That David’s a nice man,” he said.

“He is,” I agreed.

“Robert’s having a tough time.” That was like Gus. He was generous of spirit. He wouldn’t settle on thinking Robert was a jerk or an asshole, Gus just thought that this was difficult for him.

“Seems so,” I said. I leaned over and examined the puppy. “So, you think we should just take that leg off.”

“I think so. What do you think?”

“Well, it won’t heal and become a leg she can use, that’s for sure.” The tissue was thin and dark and the remaining piece looked as if it might fall off.

“Want me to go get your kit?”

“No, that’s okay.” I got a sharp knife from the drawer and went to the stove where I held the blade over a flame. I came back and sliced through the tissue. It was the smallest cut, but the largest as well. There would be no putting the leg back on. That was it. The slightest slash and now this animal had three legs instead of four.

“That’s it?” Gus asked.

I looked for bleeding. There was none. “That’s it.”

“I could have done that,” the old man said.

“We can all do a lot things,” I said, “but we won’t.”

“I don’t think she felt it.”

“I doubt she did,” I said. “But who knows. Not that it matters now anyway. Let’s try to get her through this alive.” As I stood there watching Gus stroke the little head on the three-legged body, I realized that if the animal lived, she was a fixture. I couldn’t very well put her into the wild. But she was wild. I’d have to find a way to socialize her and even then I knew I’d have to kennel her when new people came around. I got way ahead of myself in my thinking and tried to shake my head clear.

“What is it?” Gus asked.

“Nothing. You know, I think the little girl is going to make it.”

“What’s going on?” from David in the doorway.

“We just made a tripod,” Gus said. “We cut off her leg. Well, John did, but hell I could have done it.”

“Really?” David came over for a better look. “What will you do with the leg?”

Gus looked at me.

I’d intended to toss it into the garbage can beneath the sink, but now that suddenly seemed unceremonious. “I don’t know,” I said. “What does one do with a dead leg? I mean, it’s not an animal.”

“You weren’t just going to toss it in the trash, were you?” Gus asked.

“What, do you want me to mount it on a plaque?” I looked at David and Gus looking at me. “I suppose I could bury it.”

“That sounds right,” Gus said.

“To me, too,” David said.

“I suppose you expect me to say a few words over it as well. I mean, we’re not having a funeral for a leg.”

“No, of course not,” Gus said.

“Give me that damn thing.” I picked up the leg between my fingers and walked out of the kitchen. I was going to dig a little hole and drop it in.

And that’s what I did, but before I tossed any dirt in on top of it, I said, “Well, little leg, I hope you’re the last death the little girl has to see for a while.” So, the leg had its funeral anyway.

The following morning was still and clear and not as cold as I thought it would be. The sun was rising in a cloudless eastern sky, but there were already clouds bunching up in the northwest. The snow stayed where it had drifted the night before. There was finally not much of it, just enough to quiet things, to muffle morning’s naying for hay and grain. I was done feeding by the time David made his way down to the kitchen. Gus was preparing an uncharacteristically unhealthy breakfast of sausages and eggs.

“I have to say that smells great,” I said. I looked over Gus’s shoulder at the frying sausage. “When did you buy that?”

“It’s not exactly meat,” he said.

“What exactly is it?”

“Soy.”

“Soy,” I repeated.

“Soy sausage.”

“Oh, lord.” I shook my head. “You know, we’ve got some antelope steaks in the freezer.”

“This is better for you.”

“I’ll try it.”

“I’ll bet those boys won’t be able to tell the difference.”

I walked over to Zoe and the puppy. “How’s our patient this morning?” I asked.

“A little better, I think,” Gus said. “She’s really trying to drag herself around. I think somebody’s coming down.”

“Good morning,” David said.

“David,” I said.

Gus said, “Orange juice is in the fridge. Coffee’s on the stove. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

“In other words,” I said, “Get it your damn self.”

David laughed and went for the fridge and the orange juice. “Breakfast smells terrific,” he said as he pulled down a glass from the cupboard.

“Where’s your …” Gus stopped, “what do you say? Partner? Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend’s good enough.”

“Well, where the hell is he?” Gus asked.

“I don’t think he slept too well.” David sat at the table with his juice. “He’s not usually in such a mood. I’m sorry.”

I waved off David’s apology. “Robert’s okay.”

I watched as David looked away out the window. He turned his attention to the puppy, but didn’t say anything. There was sadness there and I didn’t know what to say.

Gus set a plate in front of the boy and said, “Have at it while it’s hot. Your boyfriend might have to fix his own breakfast if he’s not down here pretty soon.” He looked at me. “Put your butt in a chair.”

I sat and looked at my plate. David had already started to eat. “How is it?” I asked.

“Good. I don’t know what it is, but I like it.”

“Don’t know what what is?” Gus asked.

“This fake meat,” David said.

“It’s soy,” I said.

“I like it,” David said.

As we finished, a truck pulled up to the house. I stood and looked out. “That’s Duncan,” I said. “If you two gentlemen will excuse me.”

I put on my jacket and walked outside.

“The snow is a good sign,” Duncan said as a greeting. His daughter Ellie was with him. The young woman had spent a couple years down in Laramie at the university, but was taking a year off, she said.

“Good morning, Ellie,” I said.

“Hi, Mr. Hunt.”

“You make me feel old calling me that,” I told her. We were all walking toward the barn.

“Sorry, Mr. Hunt.”

“So, why is the snow a good sign?” I asked Duncan.

“I don’t know. It’s just a thing to say.” Duncan put a cigarette in his mouth, but didn’t light it. He often did that. “Daniel White Buffalo told me to tell you to give him a call.”

“When did you see him?”

“I had to go out there. He claims that old Monday woman is stealing his cows. He claims that a lot. I suppose it’s true, but I can’t see it.” Duncan was one of the few cattle detectives left in the area. “White Buffalo is so bad at keeping records.”

“And Clara Monday is smart,” I said.

“Tougher than a dairy cow steak,” Duncan said. “Rides around up there on that App with a thirty-thirty across her lap. She’s gotta be seventy.”

Ellie was stroking Felony’s nose. The horse seemed grateful for the attention.

David came into the barn and joined us.

“Duncan, Ellie, this here is my friend David. He’s from Chicago.”

Duncan shook David’s hand. “Where is Chicago?”

David looked to me.

“Just kidding you, son,” Duncan said.

“How’s he doing?” Ellie asked about Felony.

“He’s going very well. You could ride him right now, but I don’t know what he thinks of snow yet.”

“He’s a beautiful horse,” David said.

“Thanks,” Ellie said.

“Know much about horses?” Duncan asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re smart enough to say that, you’re all right with me.” Duncan put the cigarette he’d been fiddling with back into his pocket.

Robert came into the barn and we all looked his way. He walked up to David and gave him a kiss. I glanced at Duncan, looking for a reaction, then felt bad that I was doing that.

“Ellie, Duncan, this is Robert.”

Robert nodded, but didn’t offer his hand.

Ellie said, “Hello.”

Duncan said, “Robert.”

“The snow is beautiful, isn’t it?” Robert said.

“Well, John,” Duncan said, “Ellie just wanted to see her baby here. I guess we’ll be going.”

Robert decided to take offense. “Do we make you uncomfortable?”

David was as surprised as me at how confrontational Robert was being, especially with someone he didn’t know. He was, however, less amused than I was. I looked to Duncan for his response.

“No, son,” the big man said. “The two of you don’t make me uncomfortable, but you alone do.” Duncan was completely relaxed. “I’ll give it to you in good old cowboy talk. I ain’t never been around any homosexuals. Not to my knowledge, anyway. I’m just assuming that’s what you are. I ain’t never given it much thought, and I reckon I don’t approve of it, but I can’t say why. Still this is a free country and, to my mind, you can do what you want.”

“Let’s go, Daddy,” Ellie said.

“Wait a second, darlin’,” he said. “The man asked me a question.”

“Son, I don’t like anything thrown up in my face.” He looked at David. “David, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

Robert was angry. “Nice speech,” he said.

Duncan smiled. “I don’t lie. There are people around here who might shoot you for what you are. I don’t know why, but I’ve no doubt that they would. People are bad like that and we’ve got our share. Maybe we’ve got more than our share, I don’t know. Like I said, I believe this here is a free country. Now, my speech is over. See you later, John.”

“Bye, Mr. Hunt,” Ellie said.

I watched Duncan and his daughter leave the barn. What I liked about Duncan was that he was never out of control. He was a strange man in that he admitted to a lot of prejudices, but he never held that against himself.

David looked at Robert. I couldn’t tell what was in him. He was confused, I knew that much, but whether he was angry with Duncan or with Robert, I simply had no clue. He shuffled his feet and walked over to scratch Felony’s nose.

I probably should have said nothing, that would have been best, I knew it even then, but my mouth opened, “You just make friends everywhere you go.” With that, I walked away. I didn’t like feeling bad and this kid made me feel bad every time I turned around. This time I was feeling bad because I considered that I was being unfair to him. All he had really done was kiss his partner and I couldn’t tell whether I was bothered by that or by the way he had done it.

After breakfast, I drove the boys back to town and to their motel. The ride in the Jeep was quiet, ending with a polite handshake from Robert and an unexpected and warm embrace from David.