Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (16 page)

“What’s going on with my dick.”

“You won’t need your dick for this baby. It’s just slapping against your stomach because you’re getting fingerfucked so good.”

“C’mon. My dick will get lonely.”

“Okay. Then I’ll reach up with my free hand and give you something to punch that fat cock of yours into. Something tight, and wet, and—”

Lucho gurgled and I knew it was happening for him. I could almost smell his jizz. See it painting his abs. I pictured licking it off him, drawing my tongue over his salty skin, and that did it for me. I grunted and creamed my fist like a teenager.

After a while, I heard him sigh. “This phone-sex thing has potential.”

“I hope we don’t have to resort to it too often. Ma’s practically on the other side of the wall.” I grabbed a bunch of tissues and cleaned myself up. “Christ. Tell me I did not come home from a war for this.”

“I’ll take care of you,
papi
. Next time we’re in the barn, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Look. I’ve got to go to Tucson on Saturday but when I get back, I’ll pick you up and take you out for that steak. Think Malloy would be okay with that?”

“I’m kind of useless to him right now. Pretty much just fixing tack.”

“Ask him. If he says it’s okay, I’ll make reservations somewhere nice in Silver City.”

“Yeah. All right.”

“Thanks man. Good to talk to you.”

“Don’t worry so much about shit with your dad. It is what it is. Maybe you need closure. “

Right
. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay,
papi
. Then get some sleep. Dream of me.”

“You too.” I waited for him disconnect the call.

“You ain’t what I thought you’d be at all.”

“You’ve said that before. Does it really still surprise you?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.” A brief silence. “I like you, army. Not just because you’re hot. I . . . like you.”

I laughed. “What’d it cost you to say that?”

“I probably lost my man card. And my ancestors are definitely rolling around in their graves.”

“I like you too.” I smiled into the darkness. “But I’ve still got my man card, ’cause I’m a badass.”

“Right. That’s why all the baby animals follow you around like you were Jesus.”

“Not that I’d ever compare myself to the Lord—on any level—but I’d say Jesus was OG badass, wouldn’t you?”

A chuckle. “Maybe so.”

“’Night.” What was I, twelve? I didn’t want to hang up. I didn’t want to lose the one solid connection I had in the world—the only person who wasn’t deluded or dangerous or just plain incomprehensible to me.

“’Night . . .”

“’Night.”

Work days that week fell into a predictable rhythm—that is, if chaos can be considered rhythmic. More calves were born and I helped to tag them. We watched over all the cows pretty closely, taking shifts and trading off other chores. Pio was coming along so well that when I woke up on Friday morning I had the feeling this was going to be the day he’d take my weight for the first time.

I had riding Pio in my heart, in my plans, when I got out of bed, and I told my ma when I saw her at breakfast.

“That’s the same horse that crushed Lucho’s foot, right?”

“Yeah. But don’t worry. Lucho and I have been making real progress with him. Yesterday I got a saddle on him for a while. He lets me climb on him for a few seconds at a time when I’m brushing him down. He’s coming along.”

“But that doesn’t mean he won’t just throw you off him when you try to ride. You should wait and let this Lucho ride him. Isn’t he supposed to be some kind of expert?”

I’d been telling Ma about Lucho—how he always seemed to know what to expect from Pio. How the others at the J-Bar respected him. “I’ll wait until Lucho says it’s okay, but when Pio’s ready, I’ll be ready.”

“I don’t know how much I like this Lucho.” She put a plate of eggs and potatoes down in front of me and then went to get the coffeepot to refresh my cup. “He’s trying to get you to do something he got hurt doing.”

“It’s not like that.”

“But what if the horse throws you? What if he stomps you or falls on you or—”

“I’ve been thrown by a horse or two. That’s part of riding. Do you remember that sorrel mare we had? I called her ‘Ruby’?”

“I remember you fell off and nearly broke your neck after church on Easter Sunday.”

“She got spooked by something.” I thought back to the years we had horses. “Actually, she got spooked by everything. I think that time it was Heath’s cap gun.”

“You were both little devils.”

“She was a good horse.”

“I felt bad about letting the animals go.” My ma said quietly as she filled her own cup. “I just couldn’t take care of them without your dad.”

“Heath should have taken care of them for you, Ma.”

“Heath wasn’t the kind to rise early or worry about chores. After Slade gave him a job, he wasn’t ever going to take care of the animals the way they needed. He never even rode anymore. He liked fast cars—” she pressed her lips together, unable to continue.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” I put my hand over hers.

“I can’t think what your father had in mind when he went with Hal Johnson and those other men . . .”

Oh my God.
That was the very first time I’d ever heard her come close to accepting that my father might have been responsible for what happened to our family—the first time she’d said Hal Johnson’s name in our house since I’d come home. “Dad was thinking—like all men who commit crimes—if they think at all—that he’d get away with it.”

“Hal Johnson is a spiteful piece of trash.” She pulled her hand away.

And yet, after giving testimony against my dad, Hal Johnson was home with his wife and kids and they still had all their livestock. “Hal didn’t let Slade represent him, did he?”

“He did not. He chose to go with a public defender barely out of school who listened to his lies and got him off scot-free while good men went to the federal penitentiary for so-called hate crimes.”

“Maybe he’d had enough and he just wanted to go back to his life.” Something about Hal Johnson’s decision started me thinking in a whole new direction. The feeling was like trying to pry up the corner of a piece of tape, but being unable to get a fingernail under it. Why hadn’t Slade tried to get that same deal for my dad? Surely he could have outmaneuvered some wet-behind-the-ears lawyer from the public defender’s office.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t sell your friends out just to get out of trouble.” My ma sniffed. “He saved his own skin by betraying your daddy. What kind of person does that?”

I stood, picking my jacket off the back of the chair and pulling it on before I took my plate to the sink and rinsed it off.

I was going to visit my father, and I planned to go straight from the J-Bar and spend the night in Tucson in order to be there early enough the following morning. I didn’t like leaving Ma alone, but she didn’t give me much choice.

“Why won’t you come with me to see Dad? I can come back here and get you. You can sleep in the car on the way. You were so upset about this last week and now—”

“He wants to talk to you man-to-man, honey. He told me to stay home. I’ll see him next week. Just don’t forget those things Slade left for the outreach. You have the address where you’re supposed to drop them off?”

“It’s on my phone. I’ll call you when I get into Tucson tonight.”

She lifted her cheek for my kiss. “See you tomorrow night.”

“See you.”

***

My phone rang while I was driving to the ranch.
Lucho.
I put the call on speaker. “Hey.”

“Fausto has Galleta tacked up and ready to go. Malloy wants you to head out to the calving shed. There’s a cow having some trouble and he figures you ought to watch and see what happens.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Okay. Nice talking to you last night.”

“You too, boo.”

“Whoa. Boo? You’re gonna call me
boo
now?”

“You didn’t like honey.”

“Boo? Like I’m some sorority girl?”

“All right. I’m still working on a nickname. Boo’s out. Got it.”

“Maybe you just need to call me Lucho. Say it with me, Lu—”

“Give me time. I’ll come up with something.”

“See you later.”

“When I can.”

I got to the ranch and parked my truck by the bunkhouse. Instead of going inside, I headed straight for the barn. Like Lucho said, Fausto had Galleta saddled and ready for me.

“I’m not your butler, man. You need to saddle your own horse.”

“I didn’t tell you to do it.”

He turned and stalked away, leaving me holding the reins. He was fifteen and surly and—when I thought of him as a baby Lucho—he was cute as a muddy piglet.

I mounted Galleta and we headed toward the calving shed. The sun had risen, and the land looked sharply beautiful. I loved the sky—the blue was so intense it hurt my eyes to look at it. I loved the landscape. A lot of people would call it a wasteland. It was dangerous. Everything had to adapt to hard living to survive, but within the J-Bar land that rough desert gradually gave way to a forest of juniper trees.

I loved the wind-scoured hills. I loved the sage, the overzealous agave. I love the red and yellow earth dotted with black livestock. I loved the livestock scent on the air. I breathed it deep, filling my lungs with the fragrance of home.

There was a time I might not even have noticed those things, but I loved it now, when I’d been gone so long. Now it smelled like safety and starting over and maybe even a rare chance at a life I’d only dreamed about.

I could be happy here with the animals and men at the J-Bar.

Somehow, I’d lucked into the best situation I could ever hope for, and I for damn sure wanted to keep it.

When I got to the shed I slid off Galleta’s back and tied her next to Jim and Malloy’s horses. I found them inside, behind a cow in a standard head catch. Malloy was seeing to her, while Jim set up supplies.

“Hey,” Malloy greeted me warmly.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“I want you to watch Jim set up. He’ll tell you what he’s got there, so next time we’re in this situation if he’s not here you can get the ball rolling for us.”

“Okay.”

Jimmy held up a bucket. “We need these OB chains cleaned before each use, so I’ve got them soaking in disinfectant. Which is here,” Jim indicated a big bottle with blue solution. “This here’s OB lube. I put this in a smaller bottle so Malloy can just keep it in his pocket, and I get another bottle of iodine solution ready. He needs long gloves and surgical gloves.”

“I put on the long gloves first,” at this, Malloy pulled an extra long glove up each arm. “And then the short gloves go over that so I have some dexterity. Now I lube up and reach inside and make sure the calf is positioned okay.”

I watched wide-eyed after that. He took his time and lubed the way. The heifer looked like she wasn’t bothered by what he was doing, but I dunno. I kept my mouth shut and my brain in the game, because watching the drama unfold was fascinating. He dug out one little hoof and wrapped the OB chains around it, and then dug around inside the cow until he could wrap the chain around the other and then he coaxed, and pulled, pulled and coaxed, while I watched, sweating in the heat of the calving shed, while Jimmy helped with traction and lube. The cow finally lay down, and we helped Malloy position her to ease the calf’s passage.

All told, he must have spent an hour maneuvering that baby from inside and out. It was like he could create contractions and in turn the cow slowly, very slowly, pushed out both hooves and then eventually, a little black leathery nose became visible.

Malloy’s patience as he pulled the calf, his quiet strength, his gentle hands, all mesmerized me until that whole, small body emerged from the cow along with something resembling a big, burst water balloon. She was filthy and wet and her tongue lolled and her eyes rolled back in her head. The calf was more exhausted than its mother, so Malloy had me rub its little body all over with straw to get its blood circulating. Finally the calf pulled its tongue in and shook its head at us, irritated like we were waking it up early for school.

I laughed because I was so moved by that—overcome on some level I didn’t understand.

I’d never been part of anything like that, but right then I felt like we could move a mountain or two . . . Me and the J-Bar cowboys. I wished Lucho was there to share it with me.

I also teared up for reasons I didn’t understand.

“That’s right,” Jimmy stroked the little girl’s floppy ears as she bawled her displeasure. Her cries were weak. Almost comical. “That’s right, girl. You tell us.”

“Shaking the head’s a good sign.” Malloy stood and brushed straw off his jeans.

“We keep colostrum milk in a freezer to feed them. We just thaw it out when we need it. I got one ready.” Jimmy motioned to a giant bottle he’d prepared. “Hand me that, will you?”

“Can I feed her?” I asked.

Malloy nodded. “If she’ll suckle. But if she needs an esophageal feeder Jimmy will take care of it. He knows how to set the tube right. It’s tricky, because you get it wrong and you dump milk into the baby’s lungs.”

“I see.” They let me try the bottle with a nipple, but after a couple of tries it was obvious the calf wasn’t ready for it yet. Jimmy fed her with a tube, getting those nutrients straight down her little gullet. She wasn’t any too happy about it either, but you could see the food gave her some energy. I couldn’t really say her color was better because a black cow is a black cow is a black cow, but she looked more focused. Interested in us, where before she’d pretty much tuned us out.

We settled momma and baby in a straw-covered stall where we could check on them regularly.

“If I’m going to be expanding the seed stock operation, I’m going to need a bigger calving barn,” said Malloy.

“That’s ‘if.’ Are you planning to do it this fall?” Jimmy asked.

“Crispin and I are still talking things over with Emma. Well, he’s still talking about ostriches.”

“Of course he is.” Jimmy shook his head. “Your man doesn’t give a fig about my self-respect.”

“Don’t discount the value of ostriches. They’re hearty creatures.” Malloy’s eyes held a teasing challenge. “You could get used to wrangling ostriches, couldn’t you?”

“I ain’t even going to respond to that.” Jimmy wiped sweat from his brow.

The straw concerned me because blood would draw predators, but I couldn’t see where it was supposed to go. “What should I do with the bedding?”

“We need to disinfect everything and haul the waste here special. I’ll show you.” Jimmy nodded my way and then turned to Malloy. “You did good, boss. Momma and baby are looking fine.”

“Tag her and clean up, I’m going to go have a look around.”

We did as Malloy asked—there was no chasing this little calf to tag her. It took just a minute, and then I helped Jim clean up. The whole birthing area, even the dirt, had to be sanitized. Before we left, I took one last look at the cows. I swear I saw that little calf wink at me before I left.