The True Father (8 page)

   “So Jettie liked music?”

   “Sort of. But he didn't care much for the new pop stuff. He liked guys like Keith Whitley, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and he liked cowboy music from guys like Chris LaDoux Michael Martin Murphy, and Ghost Town Council. Stuff with soul.”

   “Cool.”

   “Jettie wasn't a follower. He liked what he liked and that was it.”

   “That's very admirable.”

   She leaned back and looked into my eyes. “I'm sure you would have liked him.”

   “Yeah, well my mom thought differently.”

   “I didn't know him then, of course, so I can't help you there.”

   “Yeah, I know. I guess that's why I'm going to have to meet some more people.”

   “You know I'll help all I can?”

   Her eyes seemed soft and compassionate, and like the last time I held her, I was feeling a sense of belonging. I tried to return the same compassion with my own smile, though unsure how successful I would be. “I know you will.”

   Suddenly the song changed again and now the jukebox played Ain't Goin' Down (Till The Sun Comes Up) by Garth Brooks, and other couples began to join us on the dance floor.

   She let loose of my waist and grabbed my hands and looked at me with a beguiling stare. “So now do you really want to dance?”

   “Do I have a choice?”

   She grinned and shook her head, then took my hand, raised my arm and twirled around underneath. At first I felt novice and awkward, but decided to let her lead the way, and before long dancing with   Bella seemed amazingly simple. So simple that it became second nature, as did the number of beers that kept us going the rest of the night.

  
   I knew Jeremiah would be surprised to see me, but from the way he jerked his head and stared, the image of me in a straw cowboy hat and driving Jettie's pickup appeared to disturb him. 

   He stood outside his machine shop, filling the GMC with gasoline out of a red barrel that lay on its side on top of a tall girded tower. When I stepped out of the truck, Jezebel came from under the GMC and barked at me, but on Jeremiah's command she hushed and went back to her shady post. After he hung the pump nozzle on a wire hook on the tower, he spun the gas cap back on the GMC and gave me the smile I had been waiting for.

   “You sure know how to scare the hell out of a man,” he said.

   “Didn't mean to.”

   “I thought I was either seeing a ghost or that my whisky hangovers are getting way out of hand.”

   I chuckled and we shook hands, then I looked back at Jettie's old pickup. “I thought I'd take her for a spin.”

   “That was Jettie's pride and joy.”

   “Yeah, and I'm yet to figure out why.”

   “So, are you here for the weekend?”

   “No, for the summer.”

   He pushed his cowboy hat back and squinted at the light that now covered his face. “No shit? What about your job?”

   “There are other jobs.”

   The expression on his face seemed more relaxed and, in a squinting fashion, his eyes let me know that he was happy with my decision. “Well, you're just in time. I was about to go check for newborns.”

   “Newborn what?”

   “Calves.”

   He opened the door to the GMC while simultaneously retrieving a cigarette and placing it between his lips. Jezebel darted swiftly from under the truck and leaped almost acrobatically onto the bed, then rested in what seemed to be a favorite spot next to the hay bale. I got in on the passenger side and we drove to one of the far pastures that waved with tall amber grass and where several head of cattle grazed. They were of an assortment of colors—black, red, white, gray, some with white faces, and several with large humps on the backs of their necks and long floppy ears. Many of them had small calves near their sides, which either sucked on their udders or frolicked in the grass.

   Jeremiah pointed to a silvery gray cow with a neck hump and floppy ears. “She's about to pop one out,” he said. 

   The black circles around the cow's large glassy eyes gave her a natural and almost profound beauty. Like her eyes, her square black nose offered an attractive contrast to the silvery-white hide that formed over her skull. And her body, though slender and lean in many places, swelled in the center as though she'd swallowed one of Jeremiah's gasoline barrels.

   “Interesting looking cow,” I said.

   “She's a Brahma. I've raised some prize bulls out of that old girl.”

   As we drew closer the cow turned swiftly; a long string of white snot flew from her nose into the grass and hung there. Then I noticed a thin bloody mass hanging from her backside.

   “What's wrong with her?” I asked.

   “Her water broke.”

   “You mean she's about to give birth to a baby cow?”

    I wasn't sure why, but Jeremiah chuckled a bit. “Yeah, that's right.”

  The old cow bawled and strutted away from us, then stopped again and fell slowly to her side. A shiny, wet, bluish, membrane looking lump appeared on her backside. And in a matter of seconds, the wet lump plopped into the grass, unfolded and sprawled its limbs. The old cow went fast back to her feet and turned and licked the newborn.

   “Atta girl,” Jeremiah said.

   “That's one of the coolest things I've ever seen,” I said.

   “Stick around and you'll see a lot more. About twenty more to go.”

   “What will you do with all of them?”

   “Different things. Some will be used for calf roping, steer wrestling, and when they grow up some will eventually join the cow or bull herd.”

   “Where will this one end up?”

   “When it gets on its feet I'll tell ya.”

   The mother cow licked the little newborn until thick strands of almost white hair became more visible and it started to look more like a calf than a wet, bloody mass. Eventually it tried to stand, and amazingly, with very few attempts it wobbled to its feet and instinctively to its mother's udder.

   “Ah,” Jeremiah said. “That could very well be the next Bodacious.”

   “Say what?”

   “Bodacious—the most famous bull that ever bucked inside an arena.”

   “So that's a bull calf?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “What's so good about Bodacious?”

   “He was a champion, and one of the fiercest bulls in the business. Only seven cowboys ever rode him a full eight seconds. Some wouldn't even ride him.”

   “That sounds almost counterproductive. What good is he if cowboys won't ride him?”

   “To the cowboy, rodeo is a sport and to a few it's a way to make a living. To the rodeo promoters, it's a business. Fans would pile into the arena to see Bodacious. Bottom line, he sold tickets.”

   “I see. So if you can raise another Bodacious, you can make a lot of money?”

   “Well, sorta. I really don't give a damn about the money, I just enjoy the hell out of competing against other stock contractors.”

   “Sounds like you've almost got your own little side competition going.”

   “Yeah, I guess I do.”

   We both watched the newborn suck aggressively; milk frothed around his miniature black mouth. The mother watched attentively as other calves came to inspect their new pasture mate, extending their noses and sniffing at him.

   “This is better than the Discovery Channel,” I said. “Minus the stalking hyenas, that is.”

   “No, they're out there.”

   I gazed to the far reaches of the pasture. “Hyenas?”

   “Coyotes.”

   “Where?”

   “Where we can't see them.”

   “Do they bother the calves?”

   “Oh yes.”

   “That's not good. Is there anything you can do?”

   “We do what we can. Me and Jettie and a few of the neighbors used to organize a hunt every so often. We'd kill quite a few but I think they produce ten to every one we kill.”

   “So I guess ranching has its antagonists?”

   “Yes, it does.”

   Jeremiah continued to drive slowly through the pasture, inspecting the cows and calves along the way. I was suddenly amazed at how content I was riding through the field; attracted to the scenery, the livestock, and the intriguing stories that Jeremiah told. I had never experienced anything so new and different, and ironically the life had always surrounded me without me ever knowing. It made me wonder what life might have been like if I had known my father. If he had taken me on drives through the pasture, teaching me about cattle and bull riding. Even with such a little taste of the life, I already had some understanding of why he would never want to leave it, but the void that still lingered in my mind was why Mom wanted nothing to do with it, and more so, why it eventually killed him.

   “What happened in the accident?” I asked.

   Jeremiah looked at me, as if frightened by my question. But he took a deep drag off his cigarette then smashed it into the ashtray.

   “Jettie got on a bull named Cyclone. It was a young bull and no cowboy had ever succeeded in riding him.”

   “Was Cyclone like Bodacious? Was he dangerous?”

   “No, nothing like Bodacious. No different than any other bull, really.”

   “So then it was just a freak accident?”

   Jeremiah looked at me again, took a deep breath then reached for another cigarette. “There's something you need to know, Trevor. Jettie wasn't killed in an organized event. He was with me on a contracting job down in Fort Worth. He got drunk and accepted some stupid dare.”

   “He rode a bull drunk?”

   “And then some. It was two in the morning. He and a bunch of his old buddies and a few young cowboys got into an argument at a local pub. His old buddies tried to cool him down, but one of the young bucks had him hot and riled. So they all followed him back to the arena and they worked Cyclone into the chute.”

   “At night?”

   “Well, they turned a few of the arena lights on, but it didn't matter. Jettie was drunk, out of focus, and too damned old and out of shape to be riding a bull. That young bull spun so fast out of the chute that Jettie was airborne before the gate had completely opened.”

   “Did the bull trample him?”

   “No, his head hit the gate. From what I understand, it killed him instantly.”

   “Damn.”

   Jeremiah exhaled a long stream of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, it wasn't a good night.”

   “Did you see it happen?”

   “No, I was asleep in my camper. Buddy Wells came and woke me and told me they took Jettie to the hospital.”

   “Did Bella see it?”

   “No, thank God. She was in her camper, too. Jodie and I went and got her and we all went to the hospital together. He was already dead.”

   I tried to absorb all the drama, along with a new taste of Jettie and his behavior. From what I had already learned about him, this almost seemed out of character. But then again, I could remember a few instances when alcohol challenged every bit of my good sense.

   “I'm sorry if this was difficult for you to talk about,” I said.

   “No, you needed to know.”

   “Suddenly there's a lot I feel like I need to know. And I still don't quite know how to handle the inheritance.”

   “Well, there's no hard feelings in this family.”

   “And that amazes me.”

   “Oh, why?”

   “Well, I heard you and Jettie were close. Why didn't he give you the money?”

   Jeremiah smirked a bit. “You're right, we were close, which is why he knew I didn't need the money. Plus, I understood why he did it. In a way, it made him feel like a real father.”

   “It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

   “Then just accept it as that. And if you're not sure what to do with the money, then don't do anything. It'll do nothing but grow where it's at.”

   “I also don't know what to tell you about my interest in this ranch. I kind of like it. It's sure a lot nicer to look at than a bank statement.”

   “You definitely have Hodge blood.”

   “Why is that?”

   “The land and the life have always been more important. But some folks have a rough go at making money on their ranches and end up losing them to foreclosure. The business is very volatile anymore.” He looked at me and grinned. “Which is why I'm glad I bought a little of that Wal-Mart stock, too.”

   “Cool. Did you fare as well as Jettie?”

   He continued to smile. “Let's put it this way. For every dollar of stock Jettie bought, I bought five.”

   All I could do was smile and Jeremiah eventually laughed out loud. It was apparent that this lost family of mine were either naturals at managing money, or just damned lucky. And from the modest way they lived, they didn't flaunt it in a way that would come across as offensive to others. All Jeremiah seemed to care about was his family, his livestock, and the peaceful scenery around him. Never before had I known such a man, and in an uncanny way, his humble nature made me feel right at home.

  
   I spent the entire Sunday with Jeremiah on the ranch, observing how he inspected the livestock, logged the newborns into a ledger, and even documented those that needed special medical attention. I was impressed at how much he knew; especially that he performed his own veterinarian work. Later in the afternoon we saddled two horses out of several in a fenced pasture near the house. Jeremiah's was tall and tan colored with a black mane and tail. He said it was a buckskin, and a gelding, and that its name was Francisco. 

   He pointed out several others that had belonged to Jettie, particularly three of his favorite geldings. He said that Jettie knew horses pretty well, and that they all served certain purposes. There was a sorrel he'd called Dancer because of the graceful manner in which it moved its feet, and which he used for cutting cattle. And there was a stout dapple-gray named Floyd that he used for fun riding, and his name came about when Jettie first saw it as a colt, and commented that it was such a “pretty boy”. Then there was a red roan named Jack, who from his versatility was deemed a “Jack of all trades” and was a backup for both horses. I also learned that the names were just everyday handles for the horses, that their registered names were much different, but too awkward to use on an everyday basis.

Since we were going to sort and bring in a few cows and calves that needed medical attention, Jeremiah helped me saddle Dancer. He demonstrated to me how and where to lay the thick saddle blanket, position the saddle, and how to attach and tighten the cinch. It wasn't a lot to remember, but I could tell that getting it right would take some practice.

   I was amazed at how well I rode, even though it felt awkward at the start. But the point of view from horseback gave me a feeling of sovereignty, as if I now had some superlative control over everything around me. Then again, as I looked at the tall grasses waving in the breeze like a rippling blanket, at the colorful birds in the air and in the trees, and at the livestock and swarms of flies and gnats that swirled around them, I realized that I was very much like them—a mere electron in the great atom of life. 

   The sorrel that carried me was a beautiful animal, with a blonde mane and tail and a sure-footed gentleness about him. I developed an instant fondness for him and wondered if all horses gave their riders such a rare sense of security.

   Jezebel came along and I was able to experience her at work for the first time. I had never seen an animal so intense and serious. Somehow, she knew exactly which animal Jeremiah wanted to cut out of the herd. She ran swiftly to whichever side of the animal was necessary, and by barking at its feet forced it to head the proper direction.

   Not having a clue what to do, I did only what Jeremiah instructed me to do, which for the most part was stay back and out of the way. But when the work was done Jeremiah and I rode on each side of our small sorted herd while Jezebel made sure none ran astray. For the most part, the cattle seemed to know where to go, and eventually we ended up in a rectangular corral near the machine shop.

   At one corner of the corral was a red metal contraption, what Jeremiah called a squeeze chute. My job was to send a cow or calf, one at a time into the device, and when it was far enough in, Jeremiah pulled a large lever that closed around the animal's neck and restrained them. Some of the cattle fought the contraption like hell, kicking and bawling, while others seemed to be very good patients. 

   A couple of the cows each had one bad eye that, unlike the good one, was clouded over by a pink or purplish film. Jeremiah said it was pinkeye, naturally, and that the cows needed to be injected with an antibiotic. I thought I would fall off my horse in a dizzy awe when I watched him grab a large syringe and stick the needle under the cows eyelid. But from her bawling reaction, I'm sure the old girl was much more uncomfortable with the method than I was. In fact, by the way she raised her tail and emptied her bowels, I believed in her own way she told Jeremiah exactly how she felt about his doctoral methods.

   And when the little calves went into the chute, Jeremiah tagged their ears with a plastic yellow tag printed with large black numbers, and also, using a needled device, he tagged the back of the same ear with what he called a hormone implant. He said it was kind of like Miracle Grow for cattle.

   When we were all done the cattle remained in a small fenced area on the other side of the corral, an area Jeremiah called the “sick pen”. This is where the cattle remained so he could keep a close watch on their eyes to make sure they healed properly, then once healed he would release them back into the herd.

   We took the horses back to the horse barn, removed the saddles and bridles and returned them to the tack area, then released the horses back to the pasture.

   Jeremiah opened a small cabinet in the tack area and removed a pint bottle of his homemade potion, removed the cap and took a drink. As he puckered his lips and held the liquid inside his mouth, he handed the bottle to me. Though the idea of taking another drink of that awful stuff scared the hell out of me, I at least knew what I was up against and that sipping would be less likely to cause any physical trauma. So I accepted the bottle and took a small sip. Though still very bitter this round was much easier to handle.

   I handed the bottle back to him and he retired to a square bale of hay. He leaned back against the barn wall, removed his hat and set it beside him on the hay bale. His hair was sweaty and indented where the hat had been, and his face looked hot and tired. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit one.

   “It's been an interesting afternoon,” I said. “Thank you for including me.”

   “Your welcome,” he said. “But there's really no including you in something that's part yours in the first place.”

   “Yeah, well, I guess that part hasn't totally soaked in yet.”

   We sat in silence for a moment. I sensed that something bothered Jeremiah, but then again we had been working so I figured he was just tired.

   “I spent yesterday with Bella,” I said.

   He nodded as smoke streamed from his nostrils. “Fine gal, that Bella.”

   “Yeah, I like her.”

   “She didn't try to sell you on that Wrangler jean bullshit, did she?”

   I grunted slightly. “Yeah, she tried.”

   “Besides being a little misguided about things, Bella would have made Jettie a fine wife.”

   “You really think she's misguided?”

   “Oh, I don't know. It may just be that she's from a younger generation. Nothing bothers me more than to hear some greenhorn flap their jaws like they know more than people with experience do. They need to open their ears and shut their mouths.”

   “I don't recall Bella being that way.”

   “She's not as bad as most. But so many times she'd come around, crying to me and Jodie because Jettie won't commit. 'What can I do! What can I do!' she'd say. We tried to tell her that she was digging for gold in a mine that had already seen too much dynamite. But she wouldn't listen, and I got tired of hearing her weep.”

   “She's had a pretty rough life. Maybe her search for peace is wearing her out.”

   “Yeah, you're probably right. And like all of us, it hurt like hell to see Jettie crumble.”

   “Crumble?”

   He glanced at me with his tired eyes, as if he regretted getting started. He took another drink from the pint and looked out into the daylight. “I've seen a lot of bull riders in my life, but I never seen one better than my own brother. And I ain't biased, neither.

   “I remember the first time he made it to the National Finals. I swear that Jodie and I were more excited than he was. He did well until he got to the last ride. He drew a bull that was very predictable, and that bull came out of the chute exactly like he knew it would.”

   “What happened?”

   “He fell off in the first spin—as if there was grease in his goddamn saddle.”

   “Do you know why?”

   His face reddened and he glared back at me. “Hell no! And that wasn't the first time. He'd go to NFR five more times, only to repeat that same embarrassing ride as if it were some canned performance!”

   “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

   “He'd just as soon have a knife fight than talk about it. And before he ever had a chance to figure it out, he got too old and out of shape to compete.”

   “Bella said that he worked out and stayed in shape.”

   This made him laugh a bit. “Trevor, when you reach forty, you can lift and run all you want, but none of that is going to fool Mother Nature.”

   “I see. Well, hopefully the answer is out there some-where.”

   He looked sternly at me. “What good would that do now?”

   “Are you saying you wouldn't like to know?”

   We stared in silence for a moment, then he looked back toward the pasture. “Hell, I don't know. There's times I'd just as soon forget all of it.”

   “Well, Jeremiah, I can keep it all to myself if you want, but I came down here to learn who my father was. And I can't leave until I know.”

   He looked back at me and I held my candor. And from the way he relaxed his expression, I was sure he understood, or at least respected my commitment.

   He stood and patted me on the shoulder and didn't say another word about it. He invited me in for supper and for the rest of the evening I enjoyed a fine meal and a quiet time with him and Jodie. She too was pleased to know I decided to stay the summer, and insisted that I ride along to all the rodeos where they were providing livestock. The idea fit in very well with my reason for being here, so I accepted.

   I returned to Jettie's house after dark, took a hot shower and changed into a pair of cotton boxer shorts and a clean T-shirt. My body was tired from riding, especially my crotch, groin, and lower back.   The hot shower had felt very soothing to my aching muscles and joints, and since Bella was coming over in the morning to start our workout routine, I figured it was best to get some rest. 

   When my head hit the pillow, I stared at the white textured ceiling now shadowed by the sheer drapes that filtered the streetlight, and my mind wandered into a recap of the weekend. I saw myself riding Dancer in the pasture, Bella rounding the barrels in the arena, and her and I dancing at The Oasis. I closed my eyes and smiled and couldn't remember a bed feeling so good.