Wounded

EIGHT

THE MORNING was hard cold. I’d just come in from breaking the ice on the horses’ water. I was heating water for tea and looking out at the foot of snow that covered the ground. The snow was still falling and every half-hour or so I would go out and sweep the steps. Emily, the little coyote, skated around on the linoleum of the kitchen while Zoe watched from the corner. The older dog’s interest in the puppy had diminished some, but she still kept an eye on her. Out the window, the sun was just reaching the top of the barn.

“Good morning,” Gus said as he came into the room.

“Morning, Gus.”

“And how’s my little girl?” he cooed to the pup. He reached down and let the coyote chew on his finger.”

“Gus, I don’t think you should do that,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“I’d like you to flip her on her back as often as you think of it. Hold her there until she doesn’t struggle.”

“Okay.”

“This is important, Gus.”

“I hear you,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” I grabbed the kettle and poured my tea water. “I don’t mean to be a nag.” But I did.

“Where’s Morgan?” Gus asked.

“I think she’s still sleeping. That’s how I left her anyway. It’s a good morning to sleep.”

Gus looked out the window over the sink. “Christmas Eve already. Is it as cold at it looks out there?”

“Oh, yeah. It hasn’t been this cold since the last time it was this cold.” I sat at the table with my mug.

“You mean yesterday.”

I nodded. “Hey, how about whipping up some of those farm fresh eggs and that fake bacon?”

“Sure thing.” He went to the refrigerator and took eggs from the tray in the door. “How do you want them? Scrambled, over-easy, sunny-side-up, hard-boiled, soft-boiled, poached, or shirred?”

“Surprise me.” I got up and put my mug in the sink. “I’m going up to see my sweetie.”

“I’ll take my time,” he said.

I walked up the stairs, trying to avoid the squeaky spots and stood in the doorway, watched Morgan sleep. She was facing me and the light through the window was falling over her covered legs.

“Hey there, cowboy, why aren’t you in the bed with me?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“For one thing, I’m wearing filthy clothes and for another, I think you’d find my hands to be freezing cold.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I can take it.”

“Well, okay then.” I kicked off my house shoes, pulled back the covers, and crawled in beside her. When my hands hit her warm skin, she screamed. “I told you they were cold.”

“Get those icy things off me.”

“You said you could take it.” I put my knuckles on her stomach. “How’s that? Cold enough?”

She let out a shriek, slapped at my hands. “No, not there, not there. Put them on my butt, on my butt.”

I did as instructed. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. Actually, that’s not bad,” she said.

“Not bad? Whatever happened to ‘great’ or ‘good’?” I made to go again for her belly.

“Good, good,” she said. “That feels good. Please, please, please don’t touch my stomach.”

I pulled my hands back and looked at the ceiling. “Gus is making breakfast. Eggs and that awful phony bacon.”

“Do I have time to shower?”

“I insist,” I said.

“Wise guy.” Morgan kissed me, then pushed me down as she climbed over me and out of the bed. “I’ll be right down.” She was pulling off her nightshirt as she walked into the bathroom.

“Who wears a nightshirt these days?” I asked. I followed her and leaned on the sink, watched her step into the shower.

“Old-fashioned girls like me,” she said. She turned on the water and stood away from the spray while she checked the temperature.

“Hey, old-fashioned girl.”

She talked over the sound of the water, stepping into it now. “Yes? What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what an old-fashioned girl wears when she gets married?” I asked.

The water stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I think I just proposed.”

“Marry you?” she asked.

“That’s what I had in mind.”

She turned the water back on and began to lather her hair. “I guess I’ll wear jeans and boots.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The eggs were scrambled, fluffy and pretty good. The fake bacon was what it was, but I was getting used it. Not a thing one wants to say about food, I’m getting used to it, but better than the converse. I was on my second cup of tea and making eyes at Morgan.

“Well, if you two aren’t absolutely disgusting, I just don’t know what is.” Gus said.

“Sorry, Gus,” Morgan said.

I looked out the window to see that the snow was tapering off.

“What are you thinking about?” Morgan asked.

“I’m thinking that I have to go out in this mess and ride the fence. And I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” Gus said.

“I have to,” I told him. “I need to check the line so I can take off some shoes and turn out a few horses.”

“I’ll keep the house warm for you,” Gus said. “Yep, I’ll just kick back, turn on one of them soap operas and keep it nice and toasty.”

“Oh, yeah. And Gus, we’re getting married,” I said.

“To each other?” he asked.

“Do you two read the same joke book?”

Gus smiled at Morgan. “I think you’re a damn fool, but I’m glad to hear it. Best wishes, little lady. And good luck.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“You’re one fortunate son of a bitch,” he said. “So, when is this going to happen?”

Before Morgan could say we didn’t know, the phone rang. I got up and answered it. It was Daniel White Buffalo.

“You must come out here again,” Daniel said. He used “must” the way the Arapaho used it; it wasn’t a command.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s up this time? Another cow shot?” I laughed.

“Yes.”

I stopped laughing. “Jesus, you’re joking.” But he wasn’t joking. “Daniel, I don’t know why you’re calling me. I can’t help.”

“I think you should see this one,” he said.

“I’m assuming this one looks a lot like the other one. Listen, Daniel, I’m behind as it is. I’ve got to ride my line.”

“No, you must see this one.” This was a command.

I studied the snow again through the window over the sink, considered the roads. I looked over at Morgan and shrugged. “Daniel, I’ll be there in about an hour. I’ll expect some hot tea when I get there.” I hung up.

“What’s that all about?” Gus asked.

“It appears that Daniel White Buffalo’s got another dead beef. Wants me to look at it.”

“What, are you the cow undertaker or something?” he asked.

“Must be.”

“Would you like some company?” Morgan asked.

“No, you stay here. The roads are a mess,” I said.

“What do you want me to do around here?” Gus asked.

“Keep the house warm,” I said. “Morgan, would you lunge Felony and the App for me?”

“You bet.”

I gave Morgan a kiss. “I’ll see you two in a couple of hours.”

“So, this is twice in a month,” I said to Daniel White Buffalo as he approached. “People are going to start talking.”

“Let ’em talk.”

“Where’s this one?”

“Not far from the other one.” Daniel’s usually cheerful face was wiped somewhat blank.

“It’s too bad about the animal, Daniel. This is getting to be too much. Have you called Bucky yet?”

“What good is it to call him?” the man asked. He removed his cap and scratched his head. “He didn’t do anything the last time and he won’t do anything this time. I guess there’s not much he can do.”

“I suppose,” I said. “Your rig or mine?”

“Mine,” he said. “My truck knows the way.”

We walked to his Bronco and I had to brush snow off the seat. “You ever cover this up?”

“When I remember.” He started the engine.

“Why am I here, Daniel? I can’t help any more than the sheriff. I can help less that the sheriff.”

“You’ll see.”

We didn’t say anything during the short, bouncy drive. I sat back, pulled my coat tight around me, dipping my face into my collar to keep warm, and enjoyed the view of the rolling landscape. Daniel stopped and set the brake a hundred or so yards upstream from where he’d shown me the first cow. This one was on the far bank as well, but today the creek was frozen. I skated, not intentionally, to the other side. This time Daniel followed.

The cow’s head was a bloody mess; he’d been shot a few times. And this time the animal had been ripped through its middle and so the ground under it was soaked with blood. The blood had drained down the slope and melted snow to the water’s edge. The ground was stained black.

“Well, I’d say this is pretty ugly,” I said. “Tell me, when did it stop snowing here?”

“Last night, early this morning,” Daniel said. “But this is not what I called you out here to see.”

I looked at him.

“It’s up here,” he said. He turned and climbed the slope to flat ground, pointed down with a nod of his head.

I stood next to him and looked down at a bright blue tarp laid open over the snow. It looked like a thousand blue tarps. My mind raced and I imagined that there was a dead human under the cover.

Daniel bent over, grabbed a corner of the tarp, and pulled it away. Written in the snow, in red, in cow’s blood, were the words Red Nigger.

I blew out a soft whistle of a breath. “I don’t suppose you’re the one who wrote that,” I said.

“Pretty scary, eh?”

I nodded. “This makes my list of scary things.”

“So, what do I do?” Daniel asked.

“I’m afraid I have no idea.” I looked around at the ground around the writing, then started to pace a circle around it. I stopped and looked at some blue in the sky. “I say you call the sheriff.”

“I’ll consider that as an option, but what should I do?”

“Lock your doors, I guess. Face it, there are some bad folks in the neighborhood.”

“And I’ll keep a rifle loaded as well,” he added.

I couldn’t argue with that.

“You know, I have half a mind to camp out here and wait for the bastards,” he said.

“And you might end up with half a mind,” I said, looking at his eyes. “You can’t sleep out here every night. Just to end up getting shot yourself.” I began to circle the area again, looking for anything, maybe more shell casings. “I sure as hell wouldn’t park myself out here.”

“I should just let them kill my stock, kill my livelihood?”

“Listen, I’ll come back and help you round them up,” I said. “We can at least move them closer to the house.”

Daniel just shook his head.

“Well, think about it. I’m glad to come back and help. All you have to do is call.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

We slid down the bank and made our way across the creek to the Bronco. “And call Bucky,” I said.

“I’ll call him,” Daniel said.

The largest presence on Christmas morning was Emily’s absence. The three of us didn’t celebrate the day, but Gus insisted on cooking a big meal, big insofar as he would be preparing real meat, moose steaks from the freezer, a gift from the Gunthers in the fall. That morning, Morgan and I lay in the warm bed silently watching the sky just beginning to turn light.

“I miss her,” she said.

“Me, too.”

There wasn’t much else to say. If Morgan were going to cry, she would cry. I’d hold her until she stopped crying. But she didn’t cry.

“Mother always gave the horses carrots on Christmas,” she said. “Can we do that this morning?”

“Of course.”

We pulled on our clothes and went down to the kitchen. We found a bag of carrots in the refrigerator. I had a thought that Gus wanted the carrots for the dinner and when I looked at Morgan I knew she was thinking the same thing. I shrugged and closed the door.

“Are you sure?” Morgan whispered.

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” I said.

We went outside and began passing out carrots, one animal at a time. The mule was loose and following us, so he got several.

“What’s the mule’s name again?” Morgan asked, watching him walk away from us toward the hay once it was clear we were out of carrots. “His name is Pest now. He’s mine. I don’t like it, but I like him.”

“That thing at Daniel’s scares me,” she said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you think we’ve got some crazed militia assholes around here?” she asked. She was studying my eyes.

“I know we do. There might be only one or two or there might be fifty, but they’re out there. I’d be a fool to think there weren’t.”

Morgan pulled my arm to her and hugged me. “John, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. Nothing’s going to happen to any of us. I’m very cautious and, besides, I’ve got old Gus.”

“What will you do if they come around here?” she asked. “What are we supposed to do?”

That was a really good question and I didn’t want to let on that I had absolutely no idea.

“I mean the sheriff is an hour away.”

“Sweetie, things happen in a second. It doesn’t matter whether Bucky is a minute away. This is my home.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve lived here for twenty years. It’s been good so far. No Son of Sam, no LAPD, and, until now, no neo-Nazis. Everything will be fine.” I put my arm around her and pulled her close. “Let’s go in and have some coffee and a little something to gnaw on.”

Morgan and I sat at the table with our coffee and toast. Gus was at the refrigerator and he was pulling out things, surveying the stores. “I was sure I had a bag of carrots,” he said. “Did you move my carrots?”

When neither of us spoke, he let the door swing shut. “I asked if anyone moved my carrots.”

“Morgan, the man asked you a question,” I said.

“John ate them,” she said.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, flatly.

“We fed them to the horses,” she said.

“That, I believe.” He glared at us for a second. “How am I supposed to make glazed carrots without carrots?”

“We’re sorry,” I said.

“Well, you got that right.”

“My mother always gave the horses carrots on Christmas.”

Gus softened. “And a fine tradition it is.”

The phone rang. Gus answered it. “He’s right here,” he said.

Morgan looked worried.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. I took the phone from Gus. “Hello.”

“Hi, John, it’s me, David.”

I was thrown. It took me a second to realize it was Howard’s David. “David, how are you? Happy holiday.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said. He sounded subdued.

“So, how are things?”

“Okay,” he said. “Well, not so hot.”

“I’m sorry. Problems with your folks?”

“No, nothing like that. John, would you mind if I came out there and worked at your place next semester? I’m going to take some time off.”

I was really caught off guard now. “Hold on for a second,” I said. I slapped my hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s David,” I said to Gus and Morgan. “He wants to come here for the semester.”

Gus made a face.

“Is he okay?” Morgan asked.

I put the phone back to my ear. “David, are you all right?”

“Robert and I broke up,” he said.

“You broke up?” I repeated for the benefit of Morgan and Gus.

“He cheated on me. He slept with one of our friends.”

“That’s awful.” I could hear his pain. “It’s cold as hell out here, but you’re welcome to come out. I do need to build a shed and put up some fencing.”

“I’ll work hard.”

“I know you will, son,” I said.

“I thought I’d fly into Denver and take the bus up to Highland on the 28th. I don’t have it all figured out.”

“Of December?”

“Is that too early? It’s just that I really want to get out of here.”

“No, that’s fine. Just call and tell me when to meet you,” I said. He agreed to that and I hung up. “Is that okay?” I asked Morgan.

“What happened?” she asked.

“That Robert-boyfriend-guy slept with someone else, one of their friends. He sounded awful. Love trouble.”

“Of course it’s all right if he comes here,” she said.

“He can’t talk to his father?” Gus said.

“I think it’s great that he thought he could call you,” Morgan said. “He needs to be able to talk to somebody.”

“I suppose.” I sat at the table, slouched, and stared up at the ceiling. “I guess this is okay. Sure, it will be fine. I should give Howard a call, though, let him know where his kid is going to be. That sound right?”

“Yes,” Morgan said.

The first thing Howard said when he was apprised of the situation was, “Why did he call you and not me?”

“You two have had your problems,” I said.

“But I’m his father.”

“That’s true and maybe that’s what makes it so hard. I don’t know. I just thought I’d let you know he’s going to be here.”

“What exactly happened?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “He said he needed to take some time off from school and said he wanted to work here on the ranch for a while.”

“He didn’t say why?”

I couldn’t bring myself to lie again or didn’t believe I would do it effectively, so I said, “He’s arriving later this week.”

“You think I’ve pushed him away by disapproving of his lifestyle?” he said.

I didn’t lie this time. “That’s probably true.”

Howard was silent for a few seconds. “Thanks for calling to let me know. You’re a good friend, John.”

“Sure thing.”

Dinner was wonderful, even without the glazed carrots. The moose steaks were sweet and tender, Gus’s dressing was moist and peppery, and the sweet potatoes were covered with little melted marshmallows. Then there were the Brussels sprouts. Gus made up small plates of moose meat for Zoe and the puppy. The dogs finished their treat in a matter of seconds and looked up for more.

“If the horses can have their Christmas meal, then so can the dogs,” he said. Then he sat down and lowered his head.

Morgan glanced to me. It looked like Gus was praying before his meal, but he never did that.

“Gus?” I asked.

He raised his head and looked at us.

“Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

“A little dizzy, queasy all of a sudden,” he said.

“Have some water.” I handed him his water glass.

“Maybe it’s the wine I drank earlier,” he said. “I shouldn’t have had any, but I sneaked a sip.”

“Still dizzy?”

“A little.”

“That’s it, we’re going to the hospital,” I said, pulling my napkin from my lap and putting it on the table.

“No, it’s going away,” he said.

I looked across the table at Morgan. She was terrified.

“Gus,” I started.

But he cut me off. “I’m going to stretch out on the sofa. If I don’t feel better in a few minutes, then you can take me in.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

I helped him up and he walked fairly steadily into the den and to the sofa. I stood there staring down at him, feeling useless.

“You go finish dinner,” he said. “I didn’t toil over that damn stove all day so no one would enjoy it.”

“I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

In the kitchen, Morgan was pacing. I knew that she was reliving that last day with her mother. “We have to take him in,” she said.

“Let’s give him the couple of minutes he asked for,” I said. I wasn’t certain it was the wisest course, but I didn’t want to upset him. “Just a couple minutes.”

We sat down, but we didn’t eat.

Gus came into the room. “I said for you two to eat.” He walked, fairly steadily on his own, to the sink where he poured himself a glass of water. “I’m an old man. These spells happen. I feel better now.”

“You’re sure?” Morgan said.

Gus nodded. “You eat. I’m going to go upstairs and rest.”

“Need help?” I asked.

“Eat!”

“Okay, but tomorrow, we’re going to see the doctor,” I said.

“All right.”

All Gus told me after his visit to the doctor was that there had to be an adjustment in his blood-pressure medication and that he’d have to go down to Laramie for tests in a couple weeks. He’d also been prescribed a few other things, but as usual his dealings with his physician were kept close to him. While we waited at the pharmacy for the drugs, the sheriff walked in.

“Bucky,” I said. I didn’t rise from the green vinyl seat.

“Hey, John. Merry Christmas. How you doing, Gus?”

Gus nodded. The old man had always been cool when it came to the sheriff. I thought at times that it was simply the badge, at others that there was in fact something about Bucky that put him off.

“Did Daniel White Buffalo give you a call?” I asked.

“He did. And I drove out there and I saw it and I don’t know what the hell to do. That’s the skinny.”

“What do you think?”

“What is there to think? I hope they’re passing through. I hope lightning strikes them.” He looked over at the sound of the bell on the door. “All I know is this is going to be my last term.”

“Daniel’s pretty upset,” I said.

“I don’t blame him,” Bucky said. “What about you?”

“What about me?’

“Are you upset?”

“Yeah, I’m upset,” I said. “Don’t you think I should be upset?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

The pharmacist came over, and Gus got up to talk to him.

“How’s Morgan?” Bucky asked.

“She’s okay,” I said. “She’s at her place trying to close it up. We moved her animals to my place a couple weeks ago. I have to tell you, this stuff scares her.”

Bucky nodded. “I’ll have Hanks swing by your place periodically. I’ve got someone doing the same thing at White Buffalo’s.”

“That’s good,” I said.

As we walked back to the truck, I asked Gus why he didn’t like Bucky.

“He gives me the willies,” he said. “Can’t say why. It’s in my gut. I don’t like him.”

“Fair enough.”

Once in the truck and rolling out of town, I asked, “Won’t you tell me what the doctor told you?”

“Same stuff.”

“That might mean something to me if I heard the first stuff,” I said. “What kind of tests are you going to have?”

“The usual crap. A tube here, a tube there. He wants to check out my colon again. He seems to like that.”

“But they did that at the hospital here last time,” I said.

“I think it’s a scheduling thing, I don’t know.”

I didn’t press. Gus was going to the doctor, taking care of things. My knowing wasn’t going to change what he would or wouldn’t do. It was his business and I would let him see to it.

“Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” I said.

“I know, John.”