Medicine Wheel (8 page)

“I can’t give you a mortgage if the bank makes the loan, and you don’t want anything on the public record. You won’t have any security. You’re taking quite a chance. How do you know you can trust me to pay the note or sell to you later?”

“You’ve seen what happens to men that mess with me.”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“Oh shit. Don’t look at me like that. I’m joshing. You take things too seriously.”

“I need to think about this. I don’t have any cash, and I’d have to find a lender. I assume you have your money lined up?”

“Yes, I’ve got some inheritance from my dad left, and then I was going to have to sell off more cattle than I wanted anyway to pay your brother some up-front fees. Makes me wonder if he thinks I’m going to be around to pay his bill when they’re done with me.”

Thad didn’t say so, but he wondered if she was going to be around to finish her part of the land deal and what would happen if she was not.

“Well, I have to look into all of this. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know either way . . . are you certain Rickers will sell the land to me?”

“As long as he knows I’m out, he’ll sell to you. He just wants to get the deal done.”

“You will run this by Cam?”

“Yes, first thing in the morning. One more thing.”

“What is it?”

“How’s Henry?”

Thad smiled. “He’s fine, but he’s taken over my office. Thinks he’s in charge. I can’t sit down or he’s settled on my lap.”

“Bastard. He’s loyal to his next meal.”

15

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
Thad was rousted out of bed before five o’clock with a pounding on his door. One of Jasper Shortridge’s young hands informed him that a first-calf heifer was having trouble calving over at the Circle JS. He lifted Henry out of his bed in spite of the cat’s protests, fed him a hunk of sausage, and then tossed him outside. Thad figured he could do some mousing the rest of the day and earn his keep. He didn’t seem inclined to abandon the place.

Thad kept a half dozen saddle bags in his home office, each stuffed with supplies for specific veterinary tasks, and he grabbed the obstetrical bags before he saddled Cato and joined the cowboy, whose name he learned was Luke, and headed for Jasper’s. He was not all that pleased when Luke told him the heifer was calving in one of the pastures about five miles southeast of his ranch house but was relieved to learn that the patient was tied to a scrub oak tree. He decided he should just be glad they had her roped and tied.

 
When he arrived, Jasper, a stocky, fair-skinned rancher in his mid-fifties, who seemed to have a perpetual sunburn, was pacing back and forth like an expectant father. His son, Junior, a younger version of his father, sat Indian-style in the grass nearby, puffing slowly on a just-rolled cigarette.

Thad dismounted, nodded at the ranchers and walked over to the heifer. She was still on her feet and strong enough yet to strain against the rope. He noted she was a Hereford, but small and bred too young. Jasper ran a sloppy operation when it came to keeping young breeding heifers separated from the bulls until they were proper age and size.

“I need a tail holder,” Thad said.

Luke ran up and grabbed the heifer’s tail, hanging on tight as she commenced kicking. The tail holder helped by pulling the tail to the side and giving the vet a better view of the animal’s vulva so he could make an initial appraisal of the problem. More important, he helped by controlling the heifer’s rear-end and, with some luck, deterring a few kicks—a vet’s shins tended to be perpetually bruised.

Thad saw two small hooves peeking through the swollen flesh of the vulva. He would usually expect to see the beginning of the calf’s nose at this stage—his guess was that the head was turned back, blocking exit from the womb. “Do you have a place close by where you can get some clean water? Do you have a bucket?”

“No on both counts, Doc.”

Thad stripped down to his waist and retrieved some short chains with narrow links Quincy Belmont had fashioned for him, as well as a bottle of bean oil he’d been using for lubricant lately. Quincy had also devised some cylindrical handles, each with a hook welded midway between the ends. Applying a generous helping of the oil to his hands, he moved in behind the heifer. “Hang on to that tail like your life depends on it, Luke.”

“I’ll do my best, Doc.”

Junior hadn’t moved since his arrival, although he had rolled and lighted another cigarette. Jasper, on the other hand, watched the proceedings intently. “You going to get me a live calf, Doc?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I think the calf’s head is turned back and that’s not good. And Mama’s not much more than a calf herself. You’re letting these heifers get bred too damn young, Jasper. You’re begging for calving trouble.”

Unfazed by Thad’s scolding, Jasper asked, “What’s this going to cost me?”

“Two dollars.”

“Shit. I’ll go you double or nothing for a live calf.”

“You’re on.” Thad began working his oily fingers into the heifer’s vagina and she reared and kicked, missing him by an inch. To his credit, Luke held on to the tail and soon had her under control. Thad’s arm was quickly buried to the elbow, his fingers probing, functioning as his eyes in the dark cavern. He began pushing the calf back the way it came, leaving some room to latch onto the nose and, both hands working now, got purchase and straightened the head.

The calf moved forward and the nose and front feet poked through the vulva. The heifer strained and pushed mightily, bawling loudly with pain several times. Thad could see the route out for this calf was just too narrow. In spite of slick and bloody hands, he quickly hitched the chains to the front feet, and then hooked the handles onto the ends of the chains. “Junior, we need some muscle over here.”

“Shit, I’m not no good at this stuff.”

“Junior,” his father yelled, “Get your fat ass off the ground and lend a hand.”

Mumbling to himself, Junior got up and stumbled over to the cow. Thad put the handles in his hands. “You just hold onto these and keep the chains taut, and put your weight into it and pull when I say so.”

He put some more lubricant on his hands and began to slick the vulva and lower vagina to help ease the calf’s journey. He knew that one way or another he’d get this calf out, but he’d about given up on a live birth. Suddenly, the chains went slack. Thad turned his head and saw Junior lying face-down on the ground. He had fainted dead away.

Jasper grabbed his son’s legs and dragged him out of the way and moved into Junior’s spot, picking up the handles, which Thad re-hooked to the chains. “He has trouble with blood sometimes. Helluva thing for a cattleman.”

“Pull,” Thad said, “Steady, but hard as you can.” He kept working his fingers around the calf and felt it coming inch by inch. He got a grip on the legs and helped with the tugging. All at once, the calf shot out like a ball out of a cannon, knocking both Jasper and Thad to the earth. Thad jumped back up and drug the calf off Jasper’s legs and began clearing its mouth of the mucous and afterbirth and then pumping its rib cage vigorously. It coughed and took a few breaths.

“Release the mother . . . she’s got work to do here,” Thad said to no one in particular.

By this time Junior was on his feet and helping his father release the heifer. Thad grabbed his simple instruments and got out of the way. They all stood back and watched as the heifer scrutinized this creature that had caused so much pain. There was instant forgiveness, and she went over and began to lick her baby as it gathered the strength to get to its feet.

“It’s a heifer calf,” Thad said. “If we’d had a big bull calf, we would have been at this for hours yet. And by the way, Jasper, you owe me four dollars.”

He didn’t argue. “I’ll get a draft to you next week.”

There was no reward, though, like bringing a live, baby calf back from the brink of death.

16

I
T
WAS
STILL
early in the morning, so Thad returned home to wash up and change clothes, deciding he needed to look respectable if he was going to make a visit to the banker. He didn’t see Henry but didn’t worry any. The tomcat seemed perfectly capable of looking after himself. He grained the three horses and turned Cato and the pregnant mare out to grass, saddling up the sorrel mare and nudging her south toward Manhattan.

Aunt Nancy’s and Uncle El’s place was on the way, and Thad stopped by to get Uncle El’s thoughts on his plans. Aunt Nancy thought he could do no wrong—and he never wanted her to think otherwise—and he considered Uncle El very wise, even wiser than the Judge when it came to things ranching.

The three sat down at the kitchen table after Aunt Nancy had set down a pot of coffee and a plate of spice butter cookies. This had been a ritual of many years, for this was the home in which Thad and his twin sister, Hannah, had grown to adulthood. He figured Aunt Nancy had reached her fifty-fifth birthday now, so that would put Uncle El at sixty years. They hadn’t changed all that much. Aunt Nancy was still a trim handsome woman with only a few streaks of gray in her almond-brown hair, and her twinkling, blue eyes radiated the same enthusiasm for life. She was a quiet woman, almost always calm and collected. To be near her was to feel warm and loved.

 
Uncle El, with white, short-cropped hair and sun and wind burned skin, looked a bit older than his age, but barrel-chested and thick-shouldered, he was still a fit and vital man. The crow’s feet at his eyes dug deeper when he smiled, which was often. He and Aunt Nancy were a team in harness. They stood firm together when they were raising Hannah and Thad, he remembered—no sense trying to play them off of each other. They were best friends first, lovers second, Uncle El once told him. “That’s the recipe for a good marriage and a good life, Thad.” He hoped to have that someday, but it didn’t look like it was coming anytime soon.

“You’re up to something, Thad,” Aunt Nancy said, “Why don’t you just tell us?”

Thad told them about the Rickers land, leaving out the part about Kirsten’s involvement in the deal. He doubted if Uncle El would have approved of the little side agreement, and he likely would have shot some holes in it. Thad didn’t feel right about the subterfuge, but he owed confidentiality to Kirsten. He admitted to himself this could be part excuse.

From the way he was looking at Thad it was evident that Uncle El thought he wasn’t getting the whole story, but he wasn’t the snooping kind. He certainly must have wondered where his nephew had come up with the cash for half of the purchase price.

“It’s a big chunk of land to take on,” Uncle El said, “but you’ve got nice equity to start with. The price is probably top of market, but by the time you’re my age the value will triple or more. And when it comes to land, they don’t make any more of it and it’s always there . . . not going to run away from you.” He looked at Aunt Nancy, and there was some silent communication between them.

She nodded and said, “It would be fine with me, El.”

El said, “We’d loan you a thousand, if you’d let us.”

“I couldn’t—“

“Nan and I had talked about this a week ago. Times have been good and we’ve set aside some money. I’m done buying land, and we agreed that if you came up with a use for it at the right place we’d offer a loan. I think this is the right place. We’d charge you one percent interest and take a second mortgage on the land . . . after the bank’s lien.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes and thank you,” Nancy teased. She was sitting beside Thad and reached over and gave him a hug.

“Yes and thank you. I’ll only need a third from the bank. I don’t see how they’d turn me down for a loan on the balance.”

17

T
HAD
STAYED
FOR
lunch with his aunt and uncle and then rode in to town to talk with a loan officer at the bank. When he got to the bank and entered the small lobby, he was pleased to see that both of the loan officers were available. He preferred to deal with Corbett Avery, one of the Manhattan Bank’s junior vice-presidents. Avery had been with the institution only a little over a year but had always been congenial to work with. Nigel Baker, the other junior vice-president, a slight man with slicked-back black hair and a thin mustache, had a slightly longer tenure with the bank, but Thad had always found him a bit standoffish, if not unfriendly, although he had never tried to do serious business with the man. Baker nodded at him, though, as Thad walked past him toward Avery’s desk, and he returned the nod.

Avery got up to greet Thad as he stood in front of his desk. He had a round, cherubic face with a ruddy complexion and was a man of average height who packed extra pounds about his mid-section, but he was not obese. He was a man who could quickly put a stranger at ease and he reached out his hand and gave Thad’s a firm grip. “Good afternoon, Thaddeus,” he said, “sit down. You look a bit grim. I hope I can help with that.”

Thad supposed he did look a little grim. He had procured a number of loans, several from Corbett Avery, who was only a few years older than himself, but borrowing money was never a casual occasion from his standpoint. He knew loaning money was the bank’s business and that the directors were always looking for good loans, but he still hated asking for money and had not yet become comfortable with debt. He doubted he ever would. “I’d like to speak with you about a real estate loan,” he said.

Once again, Thad selectively told his story. Kirsten’s money was some he’d saved up. He didn’t have to lie about the money he was getting from Uncle El and Aunt Nancy, but he felt like something of a criminal. Of course, as long as the bank held a first mortgage to secure its loan, the source of the remaining funds was none of the lender’s concern.

“You could have paid off your other real estate loan with the money you’d set aside,” the banker observed. “Would have saved some interest.”

“Yes, I suppose I could have.”

“You know, Clem Rickers banks here, too.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yes. He spoke with Nigel the other day . . . said he was working on a deal with Kirsten Cavelle or Brannon or whatever her name is.”