The Weather and Women Treat Me Fair Page 4

“Yeah.”

  Davis looked around at the stable and at the horses, at the stallion in front of him. “The other stables look this good?”

  “Gettin’ there.”

  It was a fun-time job, all right, and I went to bed sore every night. Finally, I took a weekend off and drove the hour to Portland. I got a hotel room downtown on Saturday and tried to figure out what I was going to do all day. I went to the zoo and a movie, ate at a restaurant, watched bizarrely made-up kids at Pioneer Square, saw another movie, shot pool at a tavern, and went to bed. I dreamed about women. You work ranches and you talk about women and you talk about going to town to get yourself a woman, but you end up watching movies in dark rooms and shooting pool with men.

  After a big breakfast at the hotel restaurant, I headed back to the ranch. The weather in Portland had been nice and, to my surprise, the sun was out all during my drive home. I parked by my trailer. Charlie was splitting wood over beside the house. Seeing him doing this made me feel good. I went inside and stowed my gear. There was a knock.

  “Come,” I said.

  Davis came in. He had a bottle with him and a couple of glasses. “How was your trip?”

  “Oh, it was a trip.”

  “Mind if I sit?”

  I nodded that he was welcome and watched him fill the glasses. “You like bourbon?”

  “You bet.”

  “Here you go.” He handed the drink over.

  I took it and sat with him at the table. He knocked his back and I followed suit He poured another round.

  He cleared his throat and focused on me. He had already had a few. “You’re all right, Cooper.” He leaned back. “Naw, I mean it.” He sipped from his glass. “You want to hear how I lost my wife?”

  I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him.

  “Killed herself.”

  I had a headache.

  “Know what she died of?”

  “A sudden?”

  He frowned off my joke. “She took pills. She was an alcoholic and a diabetic and a Catholic. All three, any one of which is fatal alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He drank more. “They said she was manic, too.” He looked out the window at the sky which was growing overcast. “Charles is a good boy.”

  “He’s quiet.”

  “That’s my fault, I guess.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “He’s small, you know.”

  I just looked at him.

  “I don’t have a lot of patience. I don’t have a lot of friends either. I guess the two go together.”

  “I reckon.”

  “Tell me something, Cooper. What do you think of a man who can’t talk to his kid?”

  I swirled my whiskey in the glass and held his eyes.

  “I’ve got a temper. A bad one.”

  I nodded.

  “You want to hear what happened at Charlie’s school last year?”

  “To tell the truth, no, I don’t.”

  Davis pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and fumbled his way through lighting one, blew out a cloud of blue smoke and coughed. He stood and went to the window, watched as his son split wood. “Look at him. He could do that all day. He’s small, though.”

  I polished off my drink.

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, I ain’t crazy. He ain’t right.” He was hot and I was beginning to think he was touched. “Don’t tell me how to run things!”

  “Sure thing.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about.

  He snatched up his bottle and walked out.

  I fell on my bunk and looked at the ceiling. I wanted to pack up and leave, but I needed the job and I wasn’t the sort to leave a man in a lurch. He had a mare ready to drop and a couple of horses with thrush real bad. I didn’t like what I had seen in Davis’s eyes. He was slow-boiling and soon there wouldn’t be anything left to scorch but the pot.

  I fixed some grits and scrambled eggs and sausages and sat down to dinner by myself. An evening rain came and went and I could see the fuzzy glow of the moon behind the clouds. I felt bad for little Charlie. Funny, I hadn’t thought of him as small before, but he was. I felt sorry for him and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t about to get involved, though. My mother had a number of hobbies, but raising fools wasn’t one of them.

  A couple of days later, four fellows rented horses and went into the hills for elk. I knew when they rode out that all they were going to get up there was drunk. They didn’t deserve the weather that day. It was almost hot when they came back. I was trimming hooves. Charlie was in the stable with the pregnant mare.

  “Woowee,” said one man, “what a day.”

  “That was fun,” said another, groaning and trying to work a kink out of his back as he climbed down. “That was more fun than huntin’ coons.”

  They all dismounted and I took the horses. They’d ridden the animals hard right up to the end and they were sweating like crazy.

  I called Charlie over. “Take these horses out and walk ’em around, get ’em cool.” As he stepped away, I yelled for him to loosen the girths. His dad had let up a little and he was freer to hang about and help.

  The men lined up along the fence and watched Charlie in the corral.

  “Ain’t he pretty?” I heard one of the men say. I thought he was talking about a horse, but another spoke up.

  “Hey, I heard about that locker-room business,” he said.

  “Oh, this was the boy?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stepped out and saw that Charlie was ignoring them pretty good. They said a few more things and I got fed up, started toward them.

  “Looks like we got the nigger riled,” one said.

  I stopped at the crack of a rifle shot. Davis was out of his house and just yards from the corral.

  “You boys paid?” Davis asked.

  The leader, more or less, put his hands up and laughed a little. “Yeah, we paid.”

  “Then get along.”

  “Okay, Davis. We’ll get along. Nice boy you got there.” The man chuckled again. They got into their car and left.

  Davis watched them roll away. “Charles,” he said. “Go on inside.”

  I caught Davis by the arm. “Hey, just let him forget about it.”

  He pulled away, didn’t even look at me.

  I watched him disappear into the house. Things were becoming a little more clear. More reason to ignore it. My motto: Avoid shit.

  It was raining real good when I came back from the grocery store. As I swept around the yard I saw Charlie standing by the tree behind the house. I parked at the trailer, got out of my truck, and went inside for lunch. I finished my coffee and shivered against the chill in the air. Outside, I found it warmer than in the trailer. I started to go check the horses when I noticed that Charlie was still standing by that tree. I went to him. At twenty yards l could see that he was tied to it.

  “What’s the story?” I asked, looking around.

  The boy just cried and I was pretty damn close to it myself. Rain dripped from his hair and ran down his face.

  “Your father do this?” I was looking at the house, but I knew Charlie was nodding. “Why? Did he say why?” I was hesitant about untying him. I thought Davis had flipped and might be waiting at a window to blow my head off. I shouted as I reached for the rope. “Davis! I’m untying the boy! Okay!” I undid the knots and led the kid back to the house.

  Davis was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. He looked really spaced out. “Hey, Davis, you all right?”

  He said nothing.

  “I brought Charlie inside here.”

  “I heard you.” He leaned forward and poked at the burning logs. “He wouldn’t tell me who they were.”

  “He’s a strong boy?’ I said.

  “You could call it that.” He sat back again. “Earl Pryor has a mare ready, wants to breed her with Nib. Be over
tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have him ready. What time?”

  “Said eight-thirty. Maybe I should have Charlie watch.”

  “For the love of God, Davis, stop and think. Listen to yourself. Charlie’s a good kid who got beat up—think of it like that. It’s none of my business, but—”

  Davis cut me off. He stood and faced me. “You’re right. It’s none of your business and you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Charlie didn’t do anything.”

  “Pack up, drifter.”

  I looked at him for a second, but I’d heard him right. “Okay. Fine. But listen up, you’re gonna drive that boy away and for no good reason.”

  But he wasn’t listening. He was at his desk. “I’m paying you for this month and next. Fair enough?”

  I looked across the room at Charlie. He had settled on the sofa and was looking out the window. Davis waved the check in front of me. I wanted to tell him what he could do with his goddamn money, but I didn’t. I didn’t look at his face. I just took the check, went to the trailer, and started packing.

  I kept waiting for a knock on the door; Charlie coming to say goodbye or Davis coming to tell me to have that stallion ready in the morning. But there was no knock. I climbed into my pickup and drove away.

  Last Fair Deal

  There were once two brothers. They shared a modest house where the older had lived with a wife. Bill did not miss his wife. She had planted a garden in the backyard. Dan, the younger brother, took over the garden when he moved in.

  A mole lived in the garden, digging and disturbing. Dan hated what the mole did. He became obsessed with catching the pest.

  Dan built many traps. He could not catch him. Dan thought to shove a hose into the dirt and flush him out, but that would only have damaged the plants. Finally, he put up a sign offering a reward to anyone killing the mole. He put the sign on the telephone pole in the corner.

  One day, Bill looked out the kitchen window. He saw several neighbor kids, crouching or lying flat, silently watching the garden. They held BB guns and sling-shots at the ready. Bill watched for a while. Ever so often an eager boy would fire. This was followed by a pelting of the same spot by the others. They destroyed plants. They pumped up the rifles and re-loaded their slings and waited again.

  Bill observed their faces. They were intent, anxious, solemn. He considered the boy who might fire the fatal shot. Conditions being what they were, there could be no accurate determination of the killer, but he considered the boy anyway. He would know he had fired the shot and he would feel excited, sad, a little confused, relieved. Bill had felt the same when, at that age, nine or ten, his uncle had shoved a knife in his hand and told him to kill a wild hog that the dogs held stretched out. “Stick him,” his uncle had said, and he looked at the pig, a dog at either end. He slit the animal’s throat, surprised at how sharp the knife was, feeling thrilled, honored to be allowed to do it, sickened. But after he had killed the hog there was a release, not only on his part, but on the part of the hog.

  Dan had a girlfriend whose name was Alison. She was appalled when she learned of the reward. “I’m appalled,” she said. She marched out into the backyard and dismissed the hunters, told them to find something better to do.

  Dan stepped out as the boys were leaving. “Where are you going?” he asked. He glanced at the garden. “Is he dead?”

  “No,” said Alison. “I told them to go home.”

  “I want that mole dead.” He looked more closely at the garden and saw the demolished plants. “What’s this?” He moved closer to the damage. “Go home!”

  That evening, Bill and Dan were visited by their friend Robert. Dan got so worked up while telling Robert about the mole in the garden and his destruction that he was up and pacing and saying he must kill the pest tonight. Alison, who was there, was appalled, Dan said, “I’m going to get a flashlight and jacklight the son-of-a-bitch.”

  “No,” Alison said.

  “This will work,” Dan said.

  Bill and Robert just looked at each other. They followed Alison who followed Dan who went into the backyard with a light and a hatchet.

  Dan got down on his knees in the dirt, the light in his left hand, the hatchet held high in his right.

  “Dan, would you just look at yourself?” Alison said.

  “Go into the house,” Dan said.

  Alison stormed away, slamming the back door.

  Bill and Robert watched Dan in that position for many minutes. “I don’t think this is working,” Bill said.

  Dan wiped perspiration from his forehead with his shirtsleeve as he lowered the weapon.

  “What you need is a trap,” Robert said.

  “Traps don’t work,” Dan said.

  “My son has one that he caught a squirrel in,” Robert said.

  Dan stood. “Really? A squirrel?”

  “Yes. Would you like to borrow it?”

  “Of course I’d like to borrow it. What are you, stupid?”

  “We’ll bring it by.”

  “Alison’s going to end up hating me,” Dan said.

  “Why don’t you just forget the mole,” Bill said.

  Dan looked at his brother as if he were crazy. “I can’t forget this animal, this plant-torturer.”

  The following day, Robert came by with his son, Ward. Ward was eleven with very thick glasses that made his eyes look big. Ward held in his arms the trap. Bill could never look directly at Ward because of the way the boy’s eyes looked behind those lenses.

  “Dan!” Bill called.

  Dan came down the stairs, rubbing his hands together at the sight of the trap. He nodded a hello to Robert and looked at Ward. “So, let’s see the trap.”

  The boy put the trap down on the floor and began to explain the workings to Dan. He pointed to the rectangular cage. “You put the food back here and when he hits that little wire, the door shuts and you’ve got him.”

  “And we’ve got him,” Dan said. He took the trap and the boy into the kitchen to look for bait.

  Alison came in through the front door. When she saw Robert she began to shake her head. “You didn’t bring that trap.”

  Robert nodded.

  She sighed loudly and walked into the kitchen.

  Soon, they were all in the backyard. Ward was on the ground, setting the trap. Dan hovered over him. Alison paced.

  “I don’t believe you people,” she said. She put her hands on her head. “Stop!”

  Dan looked at her. “Calm down. It’s just a mole.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Why don’t you go inside.” Dan looked at his brother. “We’ve set it for a light strike.”

  Ward stood up and away from the trap. They went into the house and waited in silence. They ate cake and drank iced tea. Alison sat opposite Dan and just stared at him.

  “What is your problem?” Dan finally asked.

  “I don’t have a problem,” she said. “The mole has a problem. You have a problem. I don’t have a problem. Tell me why you want to kill that little creature, that poor little creature.”

  “That poor little creature, is a vandal. That poor little creature eats better than we do. What about the poor plants he’s killing?”

  Things again were silent and tense. Alison’s eyes were still fixed on Dan. He studied the tea in his glass.

  Then it was time to check the trap. Dan and Ward led the way out back. There was indeed a small furry ball in the cage. Dan held up the trap and looked at the animal. “At last, we meet.”

  “Oh, he’s so cute,” Alison said.

  Dan frowned at her, stepped away with the cage.

  “He is cute,” Bill said.

  “So what?” Dan said. “Atilla the Hun was cute.” He paused, looked at the mole. “He’s cute, but he’s no Bonnie Jean Cox.”

  “Who?” Alison asked.

  “Never mind.”

  “You can’t kill him,” said Alison. “The
y’re blind, you know.”

  Robert answered his son’s question before it was uttered. “No, you may not have him.”

  Dan reached into the cage and cautiously grabbed the furry thing. The mole did not bite. He pulled it out and held it in the palm of his hand. “He isn’t all that cute.”

  “He likes you,” Alison said. “Awwww.”

  “He’s pretty cute,” Bill said.

  Ward stroked the mole’s back with a finger. “He’s neat.”

  “I’m not going to fall for this stuff,” Dan said. “Tell you what, I’ll let fate decide. I’ll give him a chance.” He went into the house, the mole still in his hand.

  “What’s he up to?” Alison asked.

  Bill shrugged.

  Dan returned from the house with a baseball bat. Standing with them again, he said, “Trial by ordeal.”

  “No,” Alison said.

  “I’m going to toss him and take a swing.”

  “No,” she said.

  “He’s never been any good at this,” Bill said.

  He tossed the mole up. He planned to miss. He had every intention of setting the mole free, but he wanted this as a theatrical end to the whole affair. He wanted to fan the air in a statement for the power of chance.

  It was a good swing. Dan watched his brother’s face. Bill wore the same expression as when they were teenagers and Dan had pointed a rifle in his direction while hog hunting. Bill had been standing on a dike studying signs when Dan came upon some piglets. The sow appeared behind Bill and chased him up the hill. Dan didn’t know what to do. He raised the gun and tried to draw a bead on the hog. Bill’s face was full of surprise and alarm when he saw the rifle, and he fell to the ground as Dan squeezed off the round. The sow was dead on his legs when Bill finally looked up. Dan was already trying to catch the piglets. “We’ve got to get them or they’ll starve.”

  Alison screamed. Dan recoiled, almost hitting himself on the face with the bat, as wood meeting mole resulted in a dull thwack.

  Bill stepped to his brother’s side and watched with him as the dark ball disappeared over the neighbor’s house. Dan let the bat fall at his feet. Alison ran into the house. Robert quietly led his son away.

  Bill scratched his chin. “There you go.”