Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (6 page)

After spending a little time with an old
National Geographic
magazine, I let my eyes drift closed. I may have nodded off to sleep, but I was aware the instant someone approached me. I opened my eyes and found Speed Malloy staring down at me.

“You okay there, Tripp?”

“Yes sir.”

“This is
Señora
Reyes, and her mother,
Señora
Hidalgo.”

“Hello.” I stood, surreptitiously wiping my mouth in case I’d been drooling. I pointed at the registration desk. “Did you let them know you’re here?”

“I told them.” Malloy nodded.

Mrs. Reyes and her mother stared at me, faces blank and unreadable. Malloy got appreciative sidelong glances from Joanne. I couldn’t fault her for it. Malloy was a fine-looking cowboy. He was also oblivious to her admiration.

“He’s in recovery?” said Mrs. Reyes.

“Right.” I nodded. “As soon as he can see anyone, they’ll let you in.”

She eyed me. “You brought him here?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Hidalgo stood in grim silence, hands in the folds of her overlarge black sweater. The ladies were tiny—barely five feet tall. Mrs. Reyes wore her short hair in a flattering, curly style, and Mrs. Hidalgo kept hers longer, braided and tucked into a bun. They couldn’t have been more different from Ma.

Eventually they got tired of glaring at me and Mrs. Reyes coaxed Mrs. Hidalgo into sitting some distance away. She stared stonily off into space.

Malloy said, “Lucho is very close to his
abuela
.”

I nodded, understanding. Was this the widow of the man Lucho had accused my father of killing? I stood.

“Can I go now?” I asked Malloy. “I’m sure I’ll be more useful at the J-Bar, now you’re here.”

“Sure.” He nodded absently. “Jim and Eddie will put you to work.”

“See you later, then.” I nodded to the ladies and made my escape, but leaving without a word to Lucho didn’t sit well with me. I wanted to offer some kind of wish for a speedy recovery, something to cheer him when he woke up. I knew from experience that the battle with pain had its physical and its emotional allies. I looked in the tiny gift shop for something that might coax a smile from his lips.

“Hello, dear.” The lady behind the counter chirped. She had big hair, cat’s eye glasses, and she called me “dear” with a twinkle in her eye that wasn’t as grandmotherly as it should have been. “What can I help you with today?”

“I’ve got a friend who hurt his foot. He just came out of surgery.”

“Flowers to brighten up his room?”

“I don’t think flowers are his thing.” Flowers were romantic, plus they were fleeting. They died, and people just dumped them in the trash.

“Maybe a card then.” She indicated a rotating rack full of greeting cards.

I looked the cards over. Those seemed to come in two speeds: sentimental or sarcastic. What I wanted was something that said what I had in my heart, which was I felt bad for him. I wished his injury had never happened, even though I was benefitting from it, job-wise. I wanted him to know I got weak knees when I thought of the pain he was going through and . . . maybe I’d have even shared the load, if I could have.

I turned away from the cards. “I guess I’ll know what I want when I see it.”

“You go right ahead and look dear, and while you’re doing that, so will I.” She leaned over the counter, rested her chin on her hands, and winked at me.

I blushed as I went through shelves of inspirational books, little statues with signs, angels, snow creatures, and what looked like psychedelic cows. On a shelf of plants, I found a bowl with a variety of cacti, all squished together with some iridescent rocks around them. They had googly eyes and wore little cowboy hats. Stuck into the dirt, a little sign read, “Get well soon, partner.”

That was us right there. Prickly. Shoved together whether we liked it or not, and trying to get along despite our differences.

Despite our past.

It fits.

I gave the woman some cash and Lucho’s full name. She said she’d have it taken to his room as soon as he was out of recovery.

After that, I went back to the J-Bar to make myself useful.

When I got up the following morning, Ma was in the kitchen, making biscuits and gravy. She heaped sausage and eggs and potatoes on my plate while I poured myself a big cup of coffee.

“Ma—”

“I do the cooking around here. Just cause you want to sneak out with barely an egg in your belly doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with it. Fool me once . . .”

I sat down, resigned. “Thank you, Ma. This looks delicious.”

“Cowboys work hard. Food has to stick to your ribs.”

“I was a little hungry yesterday.”

She sat down opposite me with a cup of coffee. Even stripped of makeup, even with shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep, my ma was still a beauty.

“How’s the Reyes boy?” she asked.

It seemed funny to think of Lucho as a boy, but to my ma, we were all just boys. “I don’t know. I expect I’ll find out when I get to work. After work I might drive down to the hospital and see him, if they’ll let me.”

“I made a casserole for his family last night. I’ll pack it up into a bag for you to take.”

“No.” I pressed my napkin to my lips and managed to swallow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why ever not? When people are sick, or they pass—” she paused to let the pall of death drift over us “—one always sends a cake or covered dish for the family. It’s what one does, honey.”

“Believe me when I say this time the family will not appreciate the thought.”

“Why not? Are they vegans or something? I could make a Seven-Up cake but it has eggs in—”

“No. They’re not vegans. They’re
victims
.” I let the word hang in the air. “They’re Dad’s victims. They owned El Rey, the taqueria in Silver City Dad burned down.”

“Oh.” She frowned as if that made no sense. “But your father says he wasn’t even in town when—”

“It was Dad.” The bite of potatoes I’d just taken turned to cotton in my mouth. How could she turn a blind eye after the things he’d done? After what I’d seen with my own eyes and reported back to her? “You know it was.”

“Now you see? This is why Yancy is filing an appeal. We’re going to set the record straight and then these other things won’t be laid at your father’s door like this.”

I gave up, grabbed a couple of biscuits, and then pushed my chair back. “If I don’t leave, I’m going to be late. Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re entirely welcome.” She tilted her face up to receive a kiss and I gave it, knowing there was no changing what couldn’t be changed. She smiled and caught my hand between hers. “Tell Speed Malloy I said hello, will you?”

“I will.” I gave her hand a last squeeze and I left.

To say I couldn’t wait to get outside and into the freshness of the still-dark morning would be an understatement. I shot out the door, flooded at once with relief and a subtle kind of shame.

Every day that I didn’t lose my temper or try to burst my mother’s fragile bubble felt like a win. Maybe it made me as bad as my dad and Heath—letting her go on believing in fairy tales—but I wasn’t sure what she’d have left if she let herself understand the truth.

She’d have me, and that was all.

Where once she’d had a husband and two sons, a small house on a property with chickens and horses–where once she’d had a full and respectable life, or at least she thought she had—now she had only me.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be enough.

The ride to the J-Bar made me wish I could simply roll out of bed like the other hands and slog out to the barn. It’s not that the drive was perilous. It was only that when I listened to the news at that hour, I hardly ever heard anything I liked, and when I drove without the radio on I liked my thoughts even less.

Once I had the J-Bar’s gravel drive beneath my wheels it was a real relief. I parked and got started in the barn right away.

I don’t think it was my imagination that the horses recognized me. They waited with benign curiosity while I fed each of them in turn. They shivered under the curry comb and preened when I brushed them. They let me pick their hooves without making a fuss. I’d forgotten how good it felt to gain the trust of an animal that size—how good it was to simply spend my time with these intelligent, gentle beasts.

In my limited experience, horses didn’t seem to have an agenda. People always want money or power or some kind of attention, and most don’t care how they get it.

All those horses expected from me was routine and kindness, and we got along just fine.

Once I got the barn done, I took care of the other critters. Threep’s curiosity brought her out to join me. While I watched, she exercised her natural drive to herd, nipping at the sheep—and sometimes me—while I fed and watered them. I was just finishing up with the alpacas when I heard a voice call out, “Everything okay out here?”

I turned to see Eddie and Jim heading my way. “It’s easier now that I know where things are.”

“We’re going to ride out. Do you want the unofficial tour?”

“I think I already got that.”

“You saying no to a trail ride?” Jimmy asked. He had my number all right. I could swear he saw my inner cowboy—how much I longed for the hard work and freedom the ranch offered—and he seemed okay with showing me what I needed to know to do it.

“No sir,” I came out of the alpaca pen like a shot. “I mean yes.”

Eddie grinned. “Pumpkinhead thinks you’re her mother.”

I glanced back at the alpaca in question. Big brown eyes gazed worshipfully back at me. All my life, animals had been friendly like that. Whether it was a stray dog on the road or an emu at the zoo or a camel in Kuwait, animals always took to me. It was only people who gave me grief.

I patted her long neck. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“You got the touch, all right.” Jimmy observed. “Let’s get the horses.”

We got gear from the barn and headed to the paddock. Eddie said, “Tripp, you take Galleta.”

I stopped, mid-stride. “Lucho’s horse?”

“He ain’t going to be needing her.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Boss said it might be weeks before Lucho can get back on a horse. She’s going to need exercise and care while he’s away.”

“But I’m the last person he’d want riding her. He probably thinks—”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It only matters what the horse needs.” Eddie gave me a look I was used to seeing from my Ma. Fond, but exasperated. “Saddle Galleta, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Out of long habit, I nearly saluted.

“Lucho won’t mind, as long as you take good care of her,” Jimmy reassured. “The horse’s welfare is what counts.”

It took a few minutes to get the horses tacked up. Eddie checked on Galleta, but apparently I passed inspection. Once we were all mounted, we headed out.

“Boss says you don’t know much about cows?”

“We had a milk cow when I was a kid, but that’s about it.”

“This ain’t a dairy farm.” Eddie shot me a sour expression and then took the sting out of it with a grin. “The way things work here is each year, all our cows go out and make more cows and we sell the baby cows. That’s how we make money.”

“I don’t understand.” I teased. “How on earth do cows make more cows?”

“Well, when a mommy cow really loves a daddy cow, they—”

“All right, all right.” I snorted. “I don’t need the gory details.”

“That’s good, because Malloy and Crispin are determined to improve the herd, and we’ve been using artificial insemination instead of daddy cows and it gets confusing.”

Jimmy and Eddie rode abreast and I let Galleta take up her position behind them. Jim and Ed were old-school cowboys, relaxed and happy in the saddle, using the barest pressure of their knees to control their mounts like they’d been riding those horses forever. Horatio and Sassafras were well-trained and complacent, where Galleta was younger and had a little bit more spirit.

I had to get her attention twice in the first few minutes. Once she knew I wasn’t going be some pushover, she settled right down and we became partners.

“Ranch work is all seasonal jobs.” Eddie glanced over at me. “Right now, the cows are getting ready to drop calves. We bring the herd in to keep an eye on them in winter, but we’ll be bringing the heavies in even closer as their time comes.”

“Heavies?”

“The cows that are about to calve. Once the calving starts, the work goes on around the clock. We have to make sure the cows aren’t having any trouble and pull calves when it’s necessary. We check and make sure all the mommas are doing their jobs and if they ain’t, we gotta be doing it for them. Babies need to be fed and if the momma rejects ’em, we gotta take over.”

“How many people does it take?” I asked.

“It’s the boss, Crispin, me and Jimmy, Lucho, and the three hands who are in Santa Fe right now. They’ll be here in time to bring in the first group.”

“Can I come?”

Eddie exchanged a glance with Jimmy. “If you ain’t ever cut cows, then you’ll probably just get in the way. Our seasonal hands, including Lucho, are experts. Their horses are trained for the job. You’re a good enough rider, but you’ll have to learn to work cattle before you can ride out with us. If you stick, we’ll teach you. You’ll need your own mount.”

Jimmy turned and eyed me. “Is that something you want to do? It’s hard work. Long hours.”

“Little reward,” Ed said dryly.

Jimmy turned to him, his expression warm. “I don’t know about that.”

Eddie flushed and turned away, but not before I caught the answering warmth in his smile.

I let a few seconds pass in silence. “Yeah. I want to learn everything you can teach me.”

I couldn’t think of anything I’d ever wanted more.

“Our way of life’s disappearing, son,” Ed said grimly. “People are herding cows with quad bikes and helicopters.”

“There’s global warming.” Jimmy patted Sassafras’s flank. “Those green folks are blaming it on beef producers.”

“From what I understand, there is actually some truth to that.” Jimmy did a double take and I regretted saying the words immediately.

“No way our cows cause more pollution than all those SUVs everybody’s driving,” Jimmy said hotly. “I don’t think so.”

I backtracked. “It’s not just your cows. It’s—”

“The point is cowboying, the way we do it at the J-Bar, won’t be around for much longer. No one can afford to do it. This is a small operation and our needs are few. The Crandalls are probably barely breaking even.”

“All the more reason to do it now.” I could barely contain my excitement. “I can always flip those burgers later. Will you teach me?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Jimmy. “Never let common sense get in the way of what you want.”

I laughed at that.

“Sounds like he’s kidding, don’t it?” Ed looked skyward. “He ain’t.”