Chapter 13
Daniel’s truck finally came to the end of the long, winding driveway. I immediately picked up the reek of animal excrement. Jessie looked like she might puke.
A tall, lanky guy silently took bags from the truck bed; Daniel introduced him as Paul. I noticed that he left my green duffle bag in the truck.
The air was thin and dry, and I found myself panting as we mounted the porch. Another man – short with wiry hair – poked his head out the front door. He wore a stained apron. “Welcome home Miz Franks, Judge. C’mon in, kids. I got supper almos’ ready.”
We trooped beneath the beams of the living room and then under the loft, where a simple wooden table was spread. There was a big loaf of bread, steaming piles of corn, and whole head of cauliflower smothered in cheese sauce. The man in the apron – James – reappeared from the kitchen with an enormous skillet of burger-n-beans. Paul joined us and we all sat down.
Daniel said grace, with a special addition for the safe trip and new crew members. There was little talking – the men shoveled down the food as politely as they could manage. Amazed at the sheer quantity, I asked Paul, “Do you guys always eat like this?”
He shook his head. “No sir. Tastes much better when Miz Franks cooks.”
His face gave no hint if he was being funny or just misunderstood me. I looked at Daniel. A grin was partially hidden under that bushy mustache.
“So she doesn’t try to starve you like James does?” I asked.
Everyone was watching Paul, as is they’d never heard him speak two sentences in a row. He looked at me kind of funny, like he was seeing me for the first time.
“No sir, she’s generous to a fault,” he drawled. “But you look like a dried out twig. What you been eatin’, boy?”
“Fish and Twinkies.”
It caught him taking a bite of beans and he almost choked. His face went crimson and he dropped the forkful in his lap, rocking back so far I just knew he was going end up on the floor. He roared with delight, as if that was the funniest thing ever said.
And then there was pie.
Afterward, Daniel lit his pipe and rocked with Grace on the front porch. I waddled out to the truck for my bag, and then dragged myself to the bunkhouse.
“Newbies go on top,” Paul said.
I dropped the duffle at the bottom of the ladder and didn’t bother undressing. I don’t even remember getting to the top rung.
A second later, Paul was shaking my shoulder. “Gittup, kid. It’s near dawn an’ we got work t’do.”
Outside, Jess was just stumbling out of the house, looking as bleary as I felt.
“Sit at the picnic table, an’ take off yer shoes an’ socks.” said Paul, and walked off. He reappeared with two pairs of boots and some thick wool socks.
“Put these on,” he ordered. “Now rub this all over them socks.”
“What is it?” Jessie asked.
“S’made with beeswax. Soffins up the leather some.”
When we’d coated the socks with the soapy substance, he said, “Well, whatcha watin’ for? Put ‘em on.”
“How do we even know they’re the right size?”
“Miz Franks called me with yer shoe size, miss. Quit yackin’ – git a move on.”
We looked at each other, then hooked our fingers into the straps and pulled the boots on. Paul dumped a bucket of cold water onto our new boots, soaking the legs of our jeans.
“Now leave ‘em on all day – they’ll fit better tomorrow.” He headed off to the stables with us squishing and squashing behind him. From that moment on, we were immersed in the equestrian experience.
He left us with James, who pointed out the far stables and the dung heap. We slogged to the main stable and he gave us the nickel tour, introducing us to the horses. Jessie’s horse was named Whiskey. Her coat was buttery bronze, but her mane and tail were almost blonde. Mine was called Storm, an imposing brown horse, but with a mellow attitude James assured me. We were warned to steer clear of Dolly. The Judge’s roan was a little touchy.
And last, we were instructed how to clean the empty stalls. James handed us a rake and a shovel, and admonished, “Breakfast is in an hour – best be done by then.”
“You mean you’re just going to leave us here?” Jessie groaned, squishing her boots uncomfortably.
He grinned and strode off for other duties.
I guess being responsible for one horse was not the whole deal. They were all our responsibility. There were twelve stalls and half were dirty. We were supposed to leave the occupied stalls alone – he’d teach us about that later. It was a good thing we’d spent the first half of the summer outdoors. Mucking the stalls and hauling it away left me gasping for breath.
At first, I figured it was my bad lungs, and used my inhaler a lot, but after a couple days Jessie admitted that the altitude was rough on her, too. We worked hard, tired easily, and slept like stones. Every day we did a couple hours of chores, ate a big breakfast, and then it was riding lessons. At first, we could only tolerate an hour at a time, but pretty soon we were managing two sessions a day, each a couple hours long. There didn’t seem to be a moment that our butts weren’t sore, or where we were alone together.
On Friday mornings trucks with empty trailers rolled up the drive. Paul and James helped load the horses, then the trucks would leave for the rodeo in Steamboat Springs. It went on like that all day. On Saturday night, the older guys came back while the younger riders partied in town. There was an unofficial cut-off time around ten-thirty so we could get some rest.
“The drunker they get, the later they’ll git here t’mara,” James explained.
When we’d been at the ranch about three weeks Daniel said to me, “Let’s take a ride. You’re goin’ to help me restock the line shack.” I was excited that I’d actually get to ride outside the corral.
Grace brought out bag lunches, and Paul led out Dolly and Storm. I expected to see Whiskey as well, but instead Paul led out one of the older horses. I remembered him; the plaque on his stall read ‘Fireball’, but everyone called him Cinders. He was loaded with gear for the line shack, and Daniel led him on a painter. I took up the rear as we headed away from the house. I suspected it was an easy trail, but found it pretty challenging. Riding up and down hills wasn’t as easy as getting walked around the ring.
We took it slow, but after what seemed like an hour I called up to him, “Where is the line shack, anyway?”
“Bout time ya asked. It’s at the northwest comer, beyond that little ridge. We’re halfway or so, depending on the route.” I got the impression we could probably have been there and back, depending on the route. He was just taking me for a ride, and I was fine with that.
“I usually enjoy the long way,” I tested.
“Yup, me too.” I was right – he and I kind of understood each other.
The ridge looked like a row of teeth. It reminded me of a dream I had once. Everything out here was bigger than I expected. Now that I was a little more used to the trail, I started paying more attention to my surroundings. The aspens, birch and pines were lush from a couple days of rain. Was I imagining it?
“Long way can be dull, though.” I yelled, “All the trees here look the same as the ones we passed before.”
“S’atta fact?” was all he replied.
When he said line shack, he wasn’t kidding. It was basically an eight-by-eight plywood box with a door and a tarpaper roof.
“There’s a key under one of these rocks, but I never can recall which one, so I brought mine.”
He felt around in his pockets. “...Or maybe not.” He didn’t fool me; he just wanted me to look for it.
“I thought there was no lying here, Daniel.”
“Who d’ya think makes these stupid rules, kid?”
I grinned and dismounted, and starting near the door, began flipping over anything bigger than a padlock key. Bending over like that, it occurred to me just how sore my behind had be
come. Daniel dismounted and fussed with the saddlebags.
“I’m really going to ache tomorrow, aren’t I?”
“Long way or short way back? I’ll let you pick.”
“Long – I might as well make it worthwhile. Some less monotonous scenery would be nice, though. Aha – there’s the key.”
“Huh. Ya shoulda started lookin’ there.”
I unlocked the door. There was a rusty bed frame and a thin mattress tied up in a roll. There were loops of fence wire. Shelves held matches, tools, and a whole bunch of other stuff.
“Fetch me out the medical kit. Stuff goes bad after a while. And grab that box of rimfires; nobody uses those. And them books.”
He ordered more and more items from the shed. When I had built a small pile by Cinders, Daniel started handing me things from the saddlebags. I dutifully placed them on the half-empty shelves.
“What do you use this place for?”
“Ever been stuck outside in a hailstorm?” He started moving the pile into the empty saddlebags. “Other stuff, too. Git out them foldin’ chairs.”
I set them up in front of the shack. He handed me a sandwich and a canteen of cold water.
“You’re getting’ better at that guitar. I like hearin’ ya play. James used to play some, until he busted up his hand. If ya ask, though, he might show you a couple things.”
“I’ll do that. Hey, Daniel?” I asked between bites, "How come we get to call you by your name and no one else does?”
“Names can say a lot of things. Some people call me Yer Honor outa respect, but m’ friends can call me Judge. Only Gracie ken call me Paw.”
“But us?”
“Nobody but you two get to call me Daniel. I was kinda a substitute dad for Mike, so that makes me kinda your Grampa, but ain’t nobody gonna call me that. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“So what’s goin’ on with you an’ yer sister?”
A cold chill shot up my spine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the way you look at each other.”
So that’s what this little trip was about.
“I don’t think you were swapin’ beds exactly, an’ that could be real trouble.”
“We like to sleep together. What harm does that do?”
“Depends what you mean by sleepin’ t’gether.”
I flinched, thinking of the night before we left.
“Not like that.”
“D’ya wear p’jamas?”
“What?” I fidgeted. This was getting too personal, “We don’t sleep naked, if that’s what you mean.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Have ya ever touched each other?”
I made a face that I hoped was like disgust.
“Ya gonna tell me ya never played doctor?”
“Geez, Daniel!”
“Okay, objection sustained. I hadta check, y’understand. I’ll bet she kisses you g’nite, though.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s innocent.”
“Is it? People make assumptions. Put yerself in my boots.”
“I guess it could look like more.”
“Yep. If I didn’t know better, I’d take ya for a married couple.”
We sat in silence for several minutes. Every once in a while he’d glance at me, as if to remind me he was still waiting for a response.
Finally, I said, “Yeah, we kind of are.”
He scrutinized my face, like Dad did sometimes.
“It’s serious between ya, ain’t it?”
“We said I do,” I admitted.
He nodded, but said nothing.
“It’s not just that, though. We took care of stuff together – school, shopping, bills… And Dad.”
“Kinda young for that much responsibility.”
“Dad says the only way to learn responsibility is to be entrusted with it.”
“Ya did okay, kid.” He got some homemade cookies out of the bag and split them between us. “You can tell me the other stuff when yer ready to.”
“What other stuff?”
“The stuff you ain’t sayin’. There ain’t no secrets here, kid. I can read a colt at a hundrit yards, so if you think yer foolin’ me, you ain’t.”
“So what am I thinking?” I challenged.
“You really wanna know?”
I nodded, curious now.
“Yer scared, and with good reason.” He leaned forward. “Yer mom’s gone and your daddy’s sick. How long’ll it take him to git better? What if he don’t? You showed as how you can be an adult, but yer still jest a kid for the nex’ six years – which to you sounds like eternity.
“Ya love a girl as much as a man loves his woman, y’figure, but it ain’t allowed no-how. Ya can’t have her, butcha can’t live without her. To top it off, you’re stuck a thousand miles from home with folks you barely know. How’m I doin’ so far?”
“You forgot reading minds – that kinda scares me, too. I feel like I haven’t got any clothes on.”
He laughed like Dad used to, right from his toes but a higher pitch. “Okay, now let’s make it even, an’ you tell me what I’m scared of.”
“That doesn’t make it fair – I don’t read minds.”
“Jus’ try, an’ see how well you can do.” He gestured his encouragement.
“Okay, you’re afraid of... Dad not getting better, and being stuck with us, and... That we’re too independent. Oh, and you’re afraid that if you’re right about me and Jessie – and I’m not saying you are – that we could get you in a bunch of... uh, horse droppings.”
He smiled. “Good guesses, but you ain’t no palm reader yet. You two are a blessing to an old fart like me. Makes m’ feel a generation younger just havin’ ya ‘round. I admire your spunk, an’ you’ll follow the rules as near as you hafta. It’ll be hard on you when Mike gits better, which I know he will. Unless they do sumthin’ funny to his head, he won’t give you near the independence you’ll find here.”
Independence? I almost laughed.
“On that last one,” he went on, “I’m gonna hafta watch you two. Like I said, there ain’t no secrets here, an’ I mean none. I like ya kid, I like you a lot, but no one tosses me in horseshit. Period. One of ya’d hafta go, and yer aunt’s the other option. We square on that?”
“Yeah, square,” I sighed. At least I knew where things stood.
That night at dinner I was so saddle-sore I could barely sit still. Daniel saw me squirming, and nodded. He announced, “I got good news an’ bad news, kids. The good news is your dad graduated from rehab t’day, and he’s on the mend. The bad news is that he still needs some supervised time before he’s ready for you kids ta come home. Looks like yer stuck here fer another cupla weeks.”
I was secretly glad. I wasn’t ready to leave yet.
My bottle of morphine pills was almost empty, so I asked Daniel if he could go to town and get a refill. He squinted at the label.
"What're ya doin' takin' this stuff?"
"It's for my burns."
"Hold still." He reached out and tapped me on my right cheek. What was that about?
"Ya didn't even flinch. Ya don't need them pills."
"But if I don't take them I get all shaky and sick."
He poured the last few tablets into his hand. To my horror he flung them into the dry grass.
"You're gonna be real sick for a couple days, but you'll get better."
"No, wait! You don't understand!" I tried to run and find the medicine but he held me with a strength that surprised me.
"What I understand is that you need them pills like your Daddy needs his liquor."
It took a minute for that to sink in, but when it did I stopped struggling and started to cry.
"Whatcha bawling for?"
"Daniel, I'm so scared! You don't know how bad it can get."
"Actually, I do. It's rough, but you'll live."
On his advice I skipped dinner and just drank water
. By the next morning I was alternately vomiting into the toilet and sitting on it. As the fever rose, sweat poured from my body. My muscles shook and ached. I begged for them to get me the medicine to make it stop. After two long days it eased and I slept for fourteen hours. It was almost a week before I felt like myself again.
“Daniel? Is that what Dad had to go through?”
“Pretty much. If I was to offer you a pill now, would you be tempted to swallow it?”
“No way!”
“That’s the difference with alcohol. You never stop craving it, even though ya know what it does to you.”
When late August came, the rodeo closed for the season. The stables grew quiet and chores took less time. Jessie and I were still kept busy, though, and under close watch. We took rides with Daniel, but individually, never together.
He told me about the trials he presided over. None of the names stuck with me, it was always somebody versus somebody else. He explained how lawyers won and lost cases based on the arguments they used. He told me the best ones understood what the judge and jury would respond to, and didn’t just flood them with every possible line of reasoning. Sometimes he’d test me by making up cases for me to argue.
Jessie and I, on the other hand, barely had time to say hi to each other in private. We could still read each other’s looks. Mostly they said “I miss you.”
One night Daniel said at dinner, “Kids, I got good news an’ bad news. The good news is your dad is certified and ready for you kids to come home. The bad news is that I’m gonna miss ya. We all are.”
“What?” I was disoriented. Home? This was home. And now Dad was a stranger.
Jess just said, “Oh.” I could feel the sadness in her voice. “Maybe we can come back to visit?”
“We’d like that a bunch. I’ll see what I kin work out with yer dad.”
The table was silent for a while. I asked, “So when do we go?”
“Mike didn’t want you flyin’ on airlines alone, what with all the connections and such. I told him you’d handle it fine, but he’s the dad. I asked Lester t’fly ya back, but he’s tied up t’mara, so we figured Thursdee. Don’t give ya much time. Yer dad said school starts Monday and ya ain’t even signed up fer classes yet.”
Classes? School? Home? I wasn’t ready. It seemed like I was less ready than when we got there.
All the next day gloom hung over the ranch. We sleepwalked though our chores, and skipped riding altogether. James tried to get me to play guitar, but I just wasn’t up to it. I told him I’d leave the cheap guitar in the bunkhouse for him when we left.
I was sitting on the front steps, thinking about how hard they had been to climb that first night. Daniel came and sat down next to me. I liked the smell of his pipe; Cavendish, he called it.
“I got sup’m ta tell ya, Cory, an’ it’s a hard thing.” I’d had enough hard things, but he never called me Cory. Whatever this was, he had my attention.
He put his hand gently on my arm.
“This might be beyond the horizon for ya, kid, but now’s the only time we got.” He took a long drag on the pipe. “I know that more’n anything on earth you’re bent on protecting yer sister, and that’s a good thing. A real good thing. But it’s gonna cost you dear.”
“It doesn’t matter, Daniel. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do...”
“I know that. But there’s gonna come a time – likely soon – when ya need ta break it off.”
I must have misunderstood. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re gonna hafta end it b’tween ya.”
“Why would I do that?”
“For her safety, to protect her like ya promised.”
“But...”
“An’ that ain’t the worst of it. Yer gonna hafta do the breakin’. She can’t do it. It ain’t her way.”
I couldn’t fathom it. I searched his eyes. He turned away.
“I’m sorry, kid.”
His words slammed into me like a falling mountain. Whatever this was, it was real. I never doubted him, and that was the awful part. There was no lying between us. He squeezed my arm.
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
I wanted to argue, to plead, to grovel and beg this wasn’t true. I couldn’t have – there was a knot in my throat that I couldn’t clear or swallow. He rested his hand on my shoulder.
“When it’s time, you call me. I’ll help ya do whatcha hafta.”
“Protect her from what?” I was able to rasp.
“You’ll know. You just be sure ta call me. Promise?”
“Okay.” The lump slid down my throat and took up the place that my heart usually was.
“Bein’ a grown-up ain’t as easy as it looks,” he sighed. I’d seen that look once before. It was when Dad told Jessie that Mom wasn’t ever coming back.