Wounded (14 page)

“I knew that before.”

“Your father’s packing to leave,” I told him.

“Good.”

“Well, you get some more rest. I’m going to do the same thing.”

In the kitchen, the puppy was bouncing around, roughhousing with Zoe. The little girl growled, leaned back, and lurched forward. I looked over at Gus and Morgan sitting at the table.

“Somebody please turn the puppy over,” I said.

“She’s only playing,” Morgan said.

“Gus, flip her over.”

Gus got up, walked to the coyote, kneeled down and flipped her onto her back. Emily kicked, twisted and tried to reach over his hand to bite him.

“Hold her until she doesn’t squirm,” I said.

He did. The coyote surrendered, became soft under Gus’s hand and he slowly let her up.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Are you all right?” Morgan asked, a kind of accusation.

I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, you two. I’m just tired and worried about everything too much.”

“No, you were right about Emily,” Gus said. “I’ve been lazy about the training. I need to turn her over more and take her food away like you told me.”

“Gus, you’re doing fine. Really.”

Morgan asked me if I wanted tea.

“Is there any coffee?”

“I’ll make some,” Gus said. He opened the cupboard and took down the coffee beans.

“I just looked in on David. He was awake. He appears to be in pretty good shape.”

Morgan nodded and sipped her tea. “Did you tell him that his father is leaving?” she asked.

“I did. The news didn’t seem to bother him too much. I guess that’s a good thing. Where is Howard?”

“Having a drink?” Gus said, sarcastically.

“No, actually, he’s preparing to leave,” Howard said from the doorway.

Gus turned to the counter and ran the grinder for several seconds, then a couple more seconds.

“I’m sorry all this happened,” I said. It was an expression of dismay and not an apology.

“Yeah, me, too,” Howard said, softly. Neither was he apologizing. He had settled into anger; his jaw was fixed. He tossed a glance back to Pamela who hovered at his shoulder.

“Have a good trip,” Gus said. “The roads can be slippery.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Morgan said, seeming to suck the statement back in once it was out.

Howard didn’t say anything. What could he say? I followed them to the front door where they had already placed their bags. I reached out to shake Howard’s hand and he reluctantly took it.

“We’ll talk soon,” I lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Being above you like this.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“John, do you think David likes me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?” Morgan asked.

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

“You were thinking something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you trust him?” I asked.

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

“What’s that?” David asked.

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

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

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

“I’ve never shot a gun,” David said.

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

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

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

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

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

“You bet,” Morgan said.

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

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

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

“No, he really doesn’t,” I said.

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

“Of course it does.”

“You don’t seem nervous,” he said.

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

“To tell the truth, I’m scared.”

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

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

“I suppose it is.”

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

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

“About what?”

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

“I don’t know what there is to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

He just looked at me.

“What is it?”

“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you feel anything?” he asked again.

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“Maybe we should just drop this.”

“Maybe we should,” he said.

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Stop apologizing, goddamnit.”

“I’m attracted to you.”

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

“I’m just being honest.”

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

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

“Well, that’s good.”

“Like I said, I’m just being—”

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I appreciate that,” I told him.

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

“You don’t have to leave, son.”

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

“Life’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Are we friends?” he asked.

“Yes, we are.”

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

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

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

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.

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

“I like it.”

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

“I’ll keep that in mind,” David said.

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

“Yeah, why?”

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

“Morgan’s nervous.”

“I’ll bet,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“They wanted to know where the diner is.”

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

“Yeah, so I told them.”

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

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

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

David nodded.

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

“I can drive it.”

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

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

“Okay,” he laughed.

I closed my eyes.

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

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I said.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

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

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

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

“They do a good job.”

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

It started to rain.

“That should make it better,” I said.

David laughed.

“Just go slow down the hill.”

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