Chapter 10.
The steer slobbered, bellowed, and bucked its head from side to side. Jacob held the dehorner and dodged a bloody spray that squirted from the steer's head. On the ground, next to his boots, lay the lopped horn, barely an inch long and bloodied on one end.
Atop the cattle chute, Ethan pushed the steer with his feet to stabilize the animal for the removal of the other horn.
"Got that one a bit deep," said Ethan. A ring of blood seeped out quickly on the steer's head into the gaping sinew.
"No," Judd said, "that ain't deep. I've cut 'em deeper than that."
"Shake some clot on it," said Ethan.
"I'm gettin' to it," said Judd, shaking the white powder onto the head of the steer. "Good God, you are high-strung."
"How'd you like it if we chopped out a corner of your head and nobody did anything?"
"They're too dumb to care," said Judd. "It don't hurt 'em."
"The hell it doesn't," said Ethan. "They have nerves in their head same as you."
"An expert on everything now, aren't you?" said Judd.
"I'm just saying," said Ethan. "Dumb or not, they feel pain same as you and me."
The spine of the steer raised when Jacob set the dehorner on the other horn. This time the steer knew before the pain started. Ethan did his best to hold the animal in place, using his feet so that Jacob could make a clean cut.
The back bowed and raised upward, legs splayed, manure dropped, and the steer bled. Jacob wrenched on the handles, cutting through the horn. The steer bucked and brayed again. The powder sopped up the blood, but the flow continued. The hot iron followed, causing the steer to groan. Another groan under the hot cauterizing iron. A sizzle, followed by the smell of burning hair, smoke drifting out from beneath the iron, curling upward into the heights of the barn. Rain pelted the tin roof overhead. The sound of shuffling hooves came from behind the gate, where thirty other steers waited their turn, reaching their tongues into corners where leftover hay had fallen. The blood seep slowed under the iron. Judd opened the headlock and Ethan slapped the side of the steer while Jacob pushed on its head. The steer backed up slowly and exited the chute, bewildered, hornless, and free.
"Next," Jacob said, without enthusiasm.
The three men walked into the gathered herd and separated one animal, guiding it toward the chute, hissing and hawing at the steer until it stopped bobbing around and jumped into the chute. Jacob ran to the front and locked the gate before the steer backed up. On the first horn, the steer usually complied, unaware of the purpose of the tool. The crack of the dehorner livened them up.
"I tell ya," said Jacob, "that smell might make me lose my cookies. I still have beer in me. I'm not quite steady yet."
"You should have another beer right now." Judd said, "That'll solid your stomach. When I was your age, we drank all night and started again the next morning."
Ethan mumbled, "That explains a lot."
"What's that?"
"I said, that explains a few things."
"You're a smartass, Ethan, you know that?"
"Why's that?" asked Ethan, laughing. "You can dish it out, but can't take it?"
"Guys, I need a minute," Jacob said, and walked to the back of the barn, leaning over to dry-heave. He stood up and put his hands on his head, waddling out of view.
"You know, you're getting to be more and more like your old man," said Judd to Ethan, putting a cigarette in his mouth.
Ethan lost his smile. "I'd like to know where you're going with that comment."
"A snob." Judd lit the cigarette.
"When have I ever been a snob?" said Ethan. "I've listened to your stories all these years and never said peep. Even about the things you should be locked up for." He paused, waiting for Judd to respond. When he did not, Ethan prodded him. "What's your problem? You been on me since I saw you this morning."
"It's just in you," said Judd. "You don't even know it, but it's there. You're a Werther."
"What's my name?" asked Ethan, rhetorically. "It's Marak." He thumbed his own chest, a flare in his cheeks. "And don't you forget it."
"Don't get touchy now, I'm not trying to…"
"Trying to piss me off? That's exactly what you're trying to do. I'm a Marak as much as Jacob. To hell with you for even saying it."
"I didn't say it, you did."
"And I'm not a kid anymore, Judd, so I don't sit and listen when you run your mouth. Guess you got used to not hearing anything back."
"Relax," said Judd, laughing. "Jesus, relax. We're just jawin'…"
"What are you trying to communicate then, Judd. That I ain't a Marak?" asked Ethan, with his tongue going dry from anger and nerves.
"Just get that next goddamn steer in the chute," said Judd, knocking the dehorner against the gate. "Ain't got time to listen to you bleat, I got things to do today. Christ, you sound like a woman when you get excited. I think you need to get laid, that'd calm you down. Still waitin' for marriage like you said?"
"You are about one comment away."
"From what?"
"From being face down in the shit." Ethan stared down at Judd, knowing he could not do what he claimed, knowing Judd Blanks' reputation for winning brawls. Ethan shoved his feet against the steer and pinned its head to the side, tending to the work at hand. He was a Marak. He reminded himself again, as he had for the past decade.
Once out of sight of Ethan and Judd, Jacob stopped pretending to dry-heave. He slipped around the building, into the parlor to get some water, taking a long drink himself from the faucet before finding a calf pail to fill. He ran to his pickup truck with the pail, and peeking in the window he saw Tara laying on the seat, on her back, with her eyes closed. "Hey Snow White," he said, tapping on the window. "It's me, your prince, with a kiss for you!" He opened the door quietly, ducking low. She jumped and he shushed her.
"Keep your head down."
"Take me home, now. Jacob, this is bad," she said, leaning her head down to the seat again. "I can't even tell you how bad. My parents have probably called the police by now."
"Tara, I have everything under control," Jacob said. "I just have to figure out a way to get my keys and then I can give you a ride."
"Your keys? What happened to just stopping in?"
"Mother has quick hands," said Jacob. "She's like a raccoon. She looks slow, but she's quick when she's sees a shiny thing like keys. If this were the Wild West, she'd be a gunslinger..."
"What? Jacob, she took the keys? Your keys?"
"She's fast. Ever see her do needlepoint? She's Betsy Ross raised up. I once saw her snatch a dragonfly out of the air. Took an egg from a hen without waking the bird."
"You don't even have chickens."
"Not after that, they ran away. That old raccoon."
"Do you have another car I can borrow? Or a four-wheeler. My Dad – you don't know him. He will lose it."
"Trust me, everyone loves you, Tara. If you go home, look sad, and cry – how do you not know this? You're a girl – this will be an easy fix. I have to work to get out of trouble, but for you, it should come natural. Just sit tight."
"Sit tight?"
"Would you like some water?" He held up the pail and sloshed it around.
"From a pail?"
"It's all I could find. You don't have to drink it."
"Yes, give it to me. My mouth is cotton."
"It's your fault as much as mine," he said. "You were at the party, too."
"An underage drinking ticket would be better than kidnapping."
"It will all be fine. Just, be patient, Tara, I'm working on it," he said, nodding with confidence at her, like a doctor with no cure. He closed the door on the pickup but opened it again to add: "If you had just fooled around with me a bit after we crossed the creek, all of this could have been avoided. But no, you had to say no, and just give me that one little kiss. Could
have been home by midnight. Now I'm grounded and you're in the truck."
Tara pulled the pail away from her mouth. "You said we were stuck!"
Jacob cleared his throat. "We were."
"You liar," she said. "You…" She tossed the water into his face. "Then you got me drunk."
Dripping, he said, "I didn't drink the beers, you did. Besides, we didn't do anything."
"Didn't do anything? Jacob, I've never cheated before in my life."
"Cheated? That wasn't cheating."
"Get out of here. My God, I can't believe this. My friends will never speak to me."
"We didn't do anything. Just think of it that way."
"What?"
"Nothing happened."
Tara kicked her foot toward Jacob but missed. "It sure as heck did."
"I don't remember. Even if it did, just remember, it didn't."
"Leave. Don't come back until you have keys and a clue."
A silver car entered the driveway and Jacob saw Kathy Werther. She waved politely to Jacob but did not smile. The girls in the back seat of the car wore blue jeans and rain coats, and like their mother, straight faces, except for the youngest, Bryce, who was singing a blubbering rendition of a song known only to him.
Jacob returned to the barn with a new strategy, invented on his walk from the pickup to the cattle chute. He interrupted Judd and Ethan while they released another steer from the gate. Judd held the dehorner and pushed the steer from the chute with his boot. "Get outta here, you dumb bastard!"
Ethan said, "Why don't you sit in the chute and I'll do the horns."
"Why?" said Judd. "Am I being too rough?"
"Damn right you are," said Ethan. "In an hour, we're going to have to check that one to make sure the blood stops."
Judd said, "I ain't any rougher on them than your old man is."
"There's a big difference in how it's done. You're cutting deep for no reason, other than that you're twisted."
"You want the horns to grow back? You gotta get the root," said Judd. "If I'd known you'd be here bitching all morning I'd have stayed home."
"Fellas," Jacob cleared his throat. "Fellas, I just talked to Mom. She waved me over to the house and I never got to finish heaving, God bless her. Word is, she said – word is that Dad called the house," he pointed at the house and gesticulated a phone call, "Dad called from the Masterson house. He doesn't have enough tarps to cover the gravity boxes. So I'm to take the tractor and pull the uncovered wagons home as soon as possible. Getting wet out there."
"He's got enough tarps," said Judd. "We counted them out yesterday."
"Funny you should mention it," Jacob said, improvising. "I guess a badger, or a school of badgers, chewed through one of those tarps last night."
"Badgers?" said Ethan. "A school of badgers? Come on."
"Or a flock of badgers, sorry, I don't know the official terminology. Anyhoo, Dad said it smelled like something sweet was spilled on that tarp. Honey maybe. That's what attracted the raccoons."
"Honey?" said Judd. "What honey? Where would anyone get honey to spill?"
"Something sweet – I don't know what it was, maple syrup, antifreeze – something that badgers like," said Jacob. "But seriously, does it matter what the badgers were eating? You tell me, Judd – you were the one counting tarps. Were you having pancakes at the same time? " He slapped Judd on the shoulder and laughed, implying the error was his. "I suppose you didn't open them tarps up and look at them, did you? Just counted them out, one, two, three, please pass the pancakes." He shoved Judd to distract him. "Anyway, I'll be back in about forty-five minutes."
After Jacob walked out, Judd looked at Ethan. "I just don't see how honey…that a badger would – that don't make no sense."