Wounded

NINE

THE BIG SILVER GREYHOUND from Laramie was on time in spite of the foul weather, mainly because the trip did not involve the interstate freeway. When the highway was being planned in the sixties, the ranchers told the highway folks that the chosen route was a bad one. The ranchers suggested the old road. The completed freeway came to be called the Snow Chi Minh Trail and was closed quite a bit during the winter. The old road became the alternate and always-open route. Twenty minutes after greeting David, I was saying good-bye to Gus as he boarded another bus for Casper. The old man would arrive that evening, check into the Motel 6 next door to the hospital, not eat or drink anything after six, and be ready for his exams the next morning. Gus had refused my driving him, saying one, “I ain’t no baby and I can take care of myself,” and two, “Besides, you’ve got a guest coming into town.” So, David and I waved good-bye to the bus. Gus didn’t really notice and seemed older to me.

David and I wandered down the street toward the restaurant where we had first met. The snow was dirty and a bit more charming because of it. We walked in and were seated at the same table by the same young woman, who took the same interest in David.

“You came back for the good weather, I see,” she said.

“I guess so,” David said.

“How are you, today?” I asked her.

“I’m fine. As long as I’m inside, I’m fine. What would you two gentlemen like to drink?”

“Coffee,” David said.

“Tea for me,” I said. “Earl Grey and some milk with that?”

“Coming up,” she said and walked away.

“How are you, my friend?” I asked.

David shrugged.

“Relationships,” I sighed. “They’re always difficult. Things don’t always go the way we plan. Blah, blah, blah, and all the other inane platitudes that you’ve already heard fifty times.”

David laughed.

“What I meant to say was, doesn’t life suck?”

He laughed again, fell quiet for a few seconds. Then, “I really trusted Robert. I think I’m one of the those people who’s too quick to fall in love.”

I nodded. “Could be. Personally, I thought Robert was an asshole.”

“Really?”

“Big-time,” I said. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s true.”

“He was a little older, sure of himself, cute. I just missed all the signals.” He looked out the window.

“Signals?” I asked.

“They seem obvious now. Going out and not telling me where he was, late-night phone calls, the phone would ring and if I answered no one was there. His own narcissism should have tipped me off.”

“Hindsight,” I said.

“I should never have moved in with him,” David said.

“It’s never a good idea to rush things,” I said.

The waitress delivered our coffee and tea, smiled admiringly at David, took our food orders, and left again.

“Have you talked to your parents?”

“I called my mother and we sort of talked, you know what I mean. What’s there to say?”

“Listen, I need to tell you that I let your father know you were going to be here,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I guess not.”

“I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry.”

“No,” David said, “really, it’s all right. What’s it matter anyway? It’s no secret.”

I poured some milk in my tea. “I don’t mean to sound stupid,” I said. “I just kind of do that naturally, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“When did you realize you were gay?”

“That’s not stupid,” David said, generously.

“My experience is limited and I’m just curious.”

“When I was ten I knew I was different and when I was thirteen I knew I was gay.” David sipped his coffee. “I don’t know how, but I knew it. I kept it to myself until I was out of the house because of the way I’d hear my father talk about fags and queers. He scared me.”

“I can imagine. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” I said.

“I know. So, what’s new with you?”

“I’m getting married.”

David didn’t say anything, but he set his mug down.

“You remember Morgan? Well, she’s the victim. She’s living at the ranch now.”

“That’s great,” he said, though I doubted he meant it.

“Kind of living there. We have her ranch as well. We’re going to put it on the market.”

“What does Morgan do?” David asked.

“She has taught some courses at the community college, literature and composition, but not for a while. For several years she was mostly caring for her mother who just died.”

“That’s great. About your getting married, I mean.”

We stopped by Morgan’s ranch on the way home. She had built a fire, and smoke was coming from the chimney; the place looked postcard pretty in the late afternoon.

“We’ve moved her horses to my place,” I said as I killed the engine. “This is a sweet place. It’s going to be hard for her to let it go.”

Morgan met us at the door. Zoe was standing behind her and behind Zoe was the coyote, well formed, still with three legs and fuzzy. She was redder than I thought she would be.

“Morgan, you remember David,” I said.

“Of course I do,” she said. She gave David a hug, then kissed me.

“The puppy’s really gotten bigger,” David said. He kneeled down and stroked both dogs. The coyote was not nippy, I liked that, and appreciated the attention.

“Gus get off okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yep.”

“What’s the puppy’s name?” David asked.

“Gus named him after my mother,” Morgan said. “Her name is Emily.”

“She’s really strong,” David said.

“So, how’s it going here?” I asked.

“Getting there,” she said. “Mother had a lot of papers.”

“We all do,” I said.

“What do you say we kill the fire and head home?” Zoe came and pushed her nose under my hand. “Have I been ignoring you, girl?” I said to the dog. “I’m sorry.” I rubbed behind her ear. “We’ll all ride together. We’ll come back for your truck tomorrow.”

“I just want to grab a few things,” Morgan said. Then to David, “How was your trip? Was the bus cold?”

“If anything it was too hot,” David said. “The flight into Denver was bumpy. I’m not a fan of flying.”

“Who is?” Morgan asked.

“Get your stuff,” I said. “I’ll kill the fire. David, would you walk outside with the dogs and make sure the pup stays close?”

“Sure.” David left with the dogs.

“How’s he doing?” Morgan asked.

“Fine, I guess.” I put my arms around Morgan. “I missed you.”

“See, I knew you were a big pussycat. You’re not going to change after we get married, are you?”

“Well, I hope being around you will make me better looking,” I said.

“Keep wishing, cowboy.”

Back at my place, I prepared dinner while Morgan and David went out to muck stalls. The temperature was plummeting and I asked them to throw blankets over a couple of the older animals. Morgan came in complaining about my being in the warm house and I told her that cooking was man’s work. David closed the door, took off his jacket, and slapped his arms.

“This is worse than Chicago,” he said.

“Chicago can be pretty cold,” I said. “David, I decided to let you have the bedroom downstairs. It’s down the hall off the den. I’m afraid the room upstairs is full of somebody’s stuff.”

“My stuff,” Morgan said.

“The bathroom is close and you won’t have to share it with Gus.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll check out the bathroom right now.” David left the room.

“He’s very quiet,” Morgan said. “He hardly said two words while we were out there.”

“Really? I guess he’s shy.” I said. “You know you can be pretty intimidating sometimes.”

Morgan snuggled up close to me. “Oh, yeah? You think so, do you?”

“Yes, indeed. Downright overbearing.”

She kissed me. “Little ol’ me?”

“Yep. Now get out of here and let me cook. You make me nervous.”

David returned. “The room looks great.”

“It can be a little chilly in the morning. The wall heater in that bathroom is pretty good, though.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

“You can help by sitting down and having a cup of tea while I do this,” I said. “You, too, madam.”

“I’m going upstairs to do a few things,” Morgan said. “Fifteen minutes?”

“That’s about right.”

When Morgan was gone, David said, “She’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s something special.”

“So, when is the wedding?”

“The spring, I guess.” I poured olive oil and balsamic vinegar over the salad and gave it a toss.

“I never imagined ranch people eating like you,” he said.

“All city people eat the same?” I asked.

“Okay, okay.” David stood and walked to the window. “Does the mule always just wander around like that?”

“I can’t stop him. Unfortunately, he’s mine now. I call him Pest. He answers to it, so I guess it’s his name.”

“John, I want to thank you for letting me come here.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t know if you’re going to be thanking me tomorrow when we’re riding the fence in ten-degree weather.”

“You should probably know, I’ve never ridden a horse,” David said.

I turned and looked at him. “Never? Not even a pony ride?”

The young man shook his head.

“Well, it will be a ten-degree riding lesson and then a fifteen-degree fence check. I’ll put you on my old App; she’s as safe as it gets.”

“Have you ever fallen off a horse?”

“I’ve been bucked off and launched off, but I’ve never fallen off a horse. You ever fall off a chair?”

“Chairs don’t move,” he said.

“Well, if you can sit on a chair without falling off, you can sit on a horse. You’ll like it.” I heard Morgan coming down the stairs. “David, why don’t you grab some plates out of that cupboard behind you.”

“It’s not ready?” Morgan said.

I gave the salad another toss. “Shadup and sidown,” I said. “But first, grab some silverware.”

She opened the drawer. “Don’t listen to him, David,” she said. “This is not silver. I’m not sure what it is.”

David chuckled.

“He’s not a bad cook, though,” Morgan said. “He’s kind of a keeper.”

The next morning was clear and hard cold. David was bundled up in a down coat and wore a watch cap pulled down over his ears. We finished the feeding, ate some cereal, and saddled the App for his lesson.

In the round pen I told him the basics of reining. “Touch her neck on the left side with the rein and she’ll go right. You don’t have to pull. The horse will go where your belly button points. Point your navel to where you want to go, lay the rein on her neck and you’re off. Now, give her a little kiss sound and a squeeze with your calves.”

He did and the horse walked.

“Go ahead and walk her around the circle.”

David was awkward, but the horse was confident and soon he looked comfortable enough.

“That’s all we’re going to do is walk,” I said.

“What if something scares her?” he asked.

“This old girl is bomb proof. But if a spaceship does land and gets her running, hang on and realize that she’s the least of your worries.”

We rode out the gate and toward the southeast.

“What are we doing again?”

“Duncan Camp wants to park some cattle on BLM adjacent to my place and I want to make sure my fence is good.”

“A range war,” David joked.

“That’s right. No, not really, but I don’t want his cows coming close and messing up things. I don’t much like cows, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, it will be easier for him to find the beasts if they can’t wander across my place and find their way onto the desert.”

We rode the fence and re-stretched barbed wire in places, rolled up discarded wire and made sure the gates were in good shape and closed. The work and the sun warmed us up and soon we were a little sweaty in our coats.

“I’m getting hot,” David said.

“Well, stay hot. Better to be hot in your coat. You take that jacket off and that cold hits your wet body and you’ll be sorry.”

“Got it.”

We stopped on a ridge and looked down at the valley. “This is something, isn’t it?” I said.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I never get used to it.” I looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here, David.”

“Me, too. Thanks.”

We came on one last sagging string of wire. David managed to tangle it around his leg. It ripped through his jeans and sliced his calf. He let out a scream and started hopping around.

“Let me see it,” I said. “You’re going to have to drop your pants.”

“Jesus, that hurts.” He undid his belt and exposed his leg.

I pulled my first aid kid from my saddlebag and began to treat the wound. “This is going to sting a little,” I told him, then put some antiseptic on.

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” I looked at the flap of skin. There wasn’t a lot of blood. “You’re not going to bleed to death. Tell me this, cowpoke, do you remember the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“No.”

“In the past ten years?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Past five years?” I asked.

“No. I’m sure of that. Is that bad?”

I stared at the wound. “It would be real bad if we were in the middle of nowhere,” I said.

David looked around and started to laugh. “I guess everything’s relative. What now?”

“We drive into town and get you poked with a big needle,” I said. “That way you won’t get lockjaw and whooping cough and die before your time, leaving me to explain things to your parents.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“A big, fat needle.”

“That’s better.”

“Besides, you deserve a better dressing than the one I can give you,” I said. “Mount up.”

We dropped Morgan at her place and she planned to drive back in her car. We didn’t have any wait at the hospital. David got his shot and we left. I decided I wanted to buy some flowers for Morgan, so we stopped in at the only florist shop in town. As we walked out to the Jeep, I saw the BMW parked across the street. The rednecks were just getting out as we were getting in. They shot me a look as we drove away. I don’t think David saw them.

That night Gus called and told me what time his bus would be arriving the next day. He sounded low and I asked him how the tests went and he said he didn’t know, only that they were uncomfortable and he was tired.

“How is he?” Morgan asked. She was sitting on the sofa in the study, reading.

“Tired.”

“Thanks again for the flowers,” she said.

“Pretty gal like you needs pretty things around her,” I said in my best cowboy voice.

“You’re the one who’s tired,” she said. “I’ll pick up Gus tomorrow. You catch up around here. That will make three days into town in a row.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Thanks, honey.”

I fell onto the sofa next to her. “You know, I never called anybody else sweetie and honey before.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Where’s our guest?”

“I think the young man has retired for the evening,” I said. “It was a rough day for him. He was nervous the whole time he was on horseback.”

“At least he’s a sport,” Morgan said.

“He’s a good kid.”

“He’s not a kid. He’s twenty years old.”

“He’s not a kid to you because you’re a spring chicken,” I said. “He’s a kid to me because I’m old as dirt.”

The phone rang and I walked across the room to the desk to answer it. It was Daniel White Buffalo.

“Another cow dead?” I asked.

“No, but Clara Monday thinks somebody took a shot at her,” he said.

“Say again?”

“She was over in the Owl Creeks, just riding along, and she says somebody put a bullet into the slope behind her.”

“Did she see anyone?” I asked.

“I don’t think so.” Daniel took a breath and listened to my silence. “I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Daniel.” I hung up.

“What is it?” Morgan asked, closing her book and leaning forward, seeing the expression on my face.

“It seems somebody fired a shot at Clara Monday.”

“Oh, my god,” she said.

“Daniel said he thought I should know.”

Morgan walked over and put her arms around me.

“Don’t worry,” I said. I knew, however, that she could feel my uneasiness. I stroked her hair.

In my dream, I was dragging a reluctant donkey around a large pen. I was afraid she was going to colic and I didn’t want her to roll. The vet had called and told me he would be right there, but that was hours ago. It was a hot day, sweltering, and I was drenched. The donkey would willingly walk a few steps with me then fall back on her heels, leaving me to drag her and her quarter-ton pendulous belly forward. Then she would stop and try to cough up something and I began to think it was choke and not colic. Susie came out to the corral and told me that the vet had called and that he was on his way and that he was all worried that the donkey was going to die and so she was all worried that the donkey was going to die and I said, “Well, she isn’t dying yet, so let’s wait and worry when we know enough to worry about.” This made her mad and she walked away into the house. I wanted to go after her, to tell her that my saying that was probably just a clumsy way of my expressing worry, but I couldn’t leave the donkey. Every time I tried to walk away from the donkey, she moved as if to lie on her side, so I would start tugging again. The vet showed up and Susie joined him as he walked toward the donkey and me. Just as they reached the gate, the donkey hacked up a black piece of plastic. The vet sighed relief and said, “So, it was choke.” He turned to Susie and said, “I’m sorry I got you all worked up.”

I said to the vet, “We were both pretty nervous, all right.”

“Well, I’ll take a look,” the vet said. “We’ll put a tube down her and pump in some oil to be sure everything’s going where it ought to be going.”

Susie had turned away and was marching to the house.

I followed her inside, but couldn’t find her anywhere. I looked in all the rooms and then in the barn. The vet was riding the donkey around in the pen. I looked out across the field and saw footprints in the snow, even though it was hot, but I didn’t follow them. I just went back into the house and tried to start a fire, but every match I lit went out and I became more and more frustrated. Finally, my hands were trembling and the matches wouldn’t even spark.

“John.” Morgan woke me. Her voice broke through and when I opened my eyes I saw the hint of sunrise through the window.

“Yes?”

“You were having a bad dream.” She used her thumb to stroke the furrow of my brow.

I put my arm around her and pulled her close. Her skin was bare and warm. “Was I kicking and screaming like a dang fool?”

“No, just muttering.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “What time is it?”

“Five-forty-five. We’re burning daylight.”

“I might as well get up then.”

She pushed me back down. “Oh, yeah?”

“Why, do you have something else in mind?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“I get it,” I said. “You want us to sleep for another half-hour. I can do that.” And I turned over.

Morgan poked me in the side and made me jump. “You’d better show me some cowboy lovin’ or you’re in for it.”

“Oh, all right, if I have to.”

I fed the horses and groomed those whose turn it was. Then I worked Felony in the round pen for a while. He had really come along and it was about time to let him go home to Duncan Camp. He’d begun a fairly steady ride and his big body let him cover ground in a hurry, even if it did make him a little clumsy on steep terrain. I cantered around a few more times, then stopped in the center of the ring and looked up at the sky. The sun was out and the only clouds were well away over the mountains. The day promised to be mild, but those clouds were going to make things bad, I just knew it in my gut. I’d asked Morgan if she wanted to saddle Square and take a ride into the high country with me, but she said she was going to make bread. She suggested I take David up there. He and Gus were sleeping late. I figured that they deserved it on New Year’s Eve. I left Felony saddled and tied at the post outside the kitchen.

Morgan was measuring flour into a bowl next to the sink. David was at the table, dressed and finishing a bowl of cereal.

“How about a ride in the hills?” I asked. I could see that he was apprehensive. “Nothing fancy. You’ll be used to this in no time. It’s not necessary to ride a horse to work on a ranch, but it’s the fun part. Unless that leg’s going to give you trouble.”

“No, it’ll be all right.”

“We don’t have to go out,” I said.

“No, really, I want to,” he said. “I’ll just run and brush my teeth.” He left the room.

“I didn’t push him, did I?” I looked to Morgan.

She shook her head. “No. But it’s kind of cute.”

“What is?”

“That kid really wants to please you.” She cracked an egg into the bowl. “He looks up to you.”

“He doesn’t even know me,” I said.

“Well, that would explain it,” Morgan said.

“Very funny.” I poured myself half a cup of coffee. “You feed the puppy yet?”

“Yep. She’s really growing. She’s got a nice temperament.”

“And what are you making?”

“Cookies,” she said. “I woke up and felt like making cookies. I’m praying that David loves cookies because I don’t want to eat them all myself.”

“Is Gus still in bed?”

Morgan nodded.

I looked at the clock. It was almost eight-thirty. “I think I’ll check on him. You think I should?”

“Please,” Morgan said.

I walked up the stairs and tapped on Gus’s door. “Hey, Gus.”

“Yeah?” he answered.

I felt a load lift from me. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” he said, gruffly. “That bus ride took it out of me. I’ll be down in a while.”

“You bet. No rush.”

I walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. David was in the mud room, pulling on his boots.

“How is he?” Morgan asked.

“I think he’s just tired. He said he’ll be down soon.”

“Maybe I should take him up some juice,” she said.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Morgan understood and went back to the counter. “See you later, sweetie,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Sure you won’t come?”

“Have a good ride.”

“Ready to ride, cowboy?” I stepped out of my house shoes and into my own boots. “Let’s go pop some brush.”

David, like many people on their second time in the saddle, was tense and trying to feel in control, so he held the reins short in a tight fist and clamped his legs around the horse.

“Let her have her head,” I said. “Give her some slack. Relax your body. Let it go.” I took a deep breath and let it out to show him.

He eased up.

“Take another breath,” I said. “Let it all out.”

He did.

“Now, you relax and let the horse do the walking.”

We rode out through the south gate and toward the hills.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked.

“Pretty well. That room is nice and warm.”

“It’s the warmest room in the house and I have no idea why. It’s a little tight in there, I know.”

We rode on a ways and David began to relax a little with the App. She was a good horse, but she was still a thousand pounds of nonthinking muscle and I didn’t want David to forget that.

We started up a slope, my horse following his. “Take your downhill foot out of the stirrup on the steep. That way, if something goes bad you’ll fall to the closest ground and not under the horse.”

That made David tense up again.

“I told you that because it’s true and because you should never forget you’re on a horse when you are, in fact, on a horse.”

“Have you ever been hurt on a horse?” David asked.

“Sure.” I looked down the hillside at the frozen creek. I thought about Susie and didn’t say anything else.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all. How are you doing up there?”

“Good. I feel pretty good.” He looked up the slope. “What kind of animals do you have around here?”

“Elk, antelope, deer, the occasional mountain sheep. We have bears, black and grizzly. They’re all sleeping right now. And of course we have coyotes and a wolf now and again.”

“Everything is so beautiful,” he said.

“Take the trail to the left,” I told him. “I want to show you something.”

We followed the trail to a ridge that overlooked a lower hill and beyond that was the Red Desert, red in the midday light, just like its name implied, stretching out forever, a butte standing sentinel in the middle of it.

“My god,” David said.

“This is why I live here,” I said. “Every time I come up here and look at that I know my place in the world. It’s okay to love something bigger than yourself without fearing it. Anything worth loving is bigger than we are anyway.”

“That sounds almost religious,” David said.

“I wouldn’t know anything about religion,” I said. “I know this is my life and this is my place.”

“My mother is a Catholic,” David said.

I nodded.

“She’s full of guilt. I don’t think her religion makes her happy.”

“Well, that’s no good,” I said. “Come on, let’s head back. I’m starting to feel the cold.”

Gus was up and playing with the coyote, who had taken to the game of fetch. Gus would slide a balled-up sock across the kitchen linoleum and the puppy would scamper after it, grab it, and then demonstrate her instinct by shaking the thing until dead. Only then would she drag the by-now-unrolled sock back to Gus.

“What a gorgeous day,” I said, looking out the window.

Gus balled up the sock and threw it again. “Do you want green beans or spinach with dinner?” he asked.

“Whatever you want,” I said. “Where’s Morgan?”

“She’s in the study going over her mother’s papers.” Gus groaned as he pushed himself up from a knee and into a chair. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some papers I want to go over with you.”

“Okay,” I said.

“How’s the boy?” Gus asked.

“He’s good. I’ve got him out there grooming a couple of animals.”

The phone rang and I picked up. It was Howard.

“Almost Happy New Year,” I said.

“So, how do I get to your place from Highland?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise. I’m in Highland. I rented a car in Denver and here I am. How do I get there?”

I gave him directions. “See you in a while,” I said. As I hung up David came into the house, sat on the bench in the mud room, and began to remove his boots.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing what must have been puzzlement on my face. “What’s going on?”

“It seems your father is on his way here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He just called. He flew to Denver, rented a car, and now he’s in Highland. He’ll be here in about an hour.”

“Fuck,” David said.

I nodded.

“Fuck,” he repeated and walked away in his stocking feet toward his room in the back.

Morgan came in. “What was that all about?”

Gus said, “We’re having company. The boy’s father is on his way.” He turned to me. “Put on some tea water.”