She stepped aside.
I walked to the fridge and pulled out the milk. My hand was shaking as I poured it.
Granny stared out into the garage, focusing first on Holes. “Get your lazy butt up off the ground. You ain’t hurt. Big ole boy like you.” She looked at Knuckles. “You better get to cleaning that mess up off my floor. The Pine-Sol is behind you. Stacey…” She stared at him. “I better call your mom. Doc Pipson might need to set that.”
I walked out back, trying to breathe, trying not to cry. My adrenaline was about played out. I went around the house, where nobody could see me, and threw up from my toes. Mostly milk. White specks splattered my jeans and high-tops. When I looked up, my dad stood across from me. He was leaning against the house, next to the window. Two cigarette butts stamped at his feet.
He was forty. Sun-spotted hands, callused palms, big fingers. Tall, skinny, tanned. The Marlboro man. He smoothed my hair. “You okay?”
I wiped my mouth on my shirtsleeve. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded, and pulled his tobacco bag from his shirt pocket, opening it with his teeth. He fingered out a roll paper with his left hand, quickly poured with his right, then while balancing the Carter Hall on the paper, he cinched the bag tight with his teeth, dropped it in his pocket and rolled a cigarette. His fingers were steady. Then he flipped the paper together, rolled it with a quick twist, and licked it. Tight and cylindrical, he dropped it on the end of his lips. He slipped his Zippo from his front pocket, lit the tip of his cigarette, then slammed the Zippo shut on his thigh.
I’d seen him do that a couple hundred times and to this day, it’s one of the noises that reminds me of my father. He drew deeply, the end glowing bright red. He exhaled, talking through a sheet of smoke. “What’d you learn?”
The smell showered me. I filled my lungs. “Hit the toughest first, and hit him with everything you got.”
He nodded, squinting one eye. “Then get ready to hit him again in case that didn’t work. Whatever you do, plan on it not working. That way you’re always one step ahead of them. Then, if it does work”—he smiled—“be thankful.” Another deep draw. A glowing ruby between his teeth. “What else?”
“Just ’cause they’re big, don’t make them tough.”
“Sometimes that’s right. And…” He smiled again. “Sometimes, they’re big and tough. Each time is different.” He exhaled. “Anything else?”
I stared through the glass at Knuckles and Holes still sitting on the garage floor. Granny had Scrapper sitting on the back steps with ice on his face. She had his face tilted back. He was coughing and hacking and spitting blood. I looked at my dad out of the corner of my eye. Polished boots made by a man named Dumps he’d put in prison, starched jeans, double-thick belt, button-up white shirt, white hat. His .45, a custom-made Les Baer, sat holstered on his right hip in a black Milt Sparks holster. His star hung on his left shirt pocket. Polished to a shine. The edges were worn. I whispered and could not look at him. “Dad, I was scared.”
He laughed, flicked ashes and ground them into the dirt with his toe. He knelt, looking up at me. On Fridays he’d take me to the drive-in and we’d watch John Wayne reruns. We could quote entire scenes. He smiled. “Remember, courage is being scared to death—”
I finished it. “And saddling up anyway.”
He pushed the hair out of my eyes. “Being scared is okay. It’s better than not being scared. If you’re not scared, you’re probably cocky and about to get in a whole mess of hurt. Trust me… scared is good.”
“You ever get scared?”
“All the time.”
“But… you’re a Texas Ranger.”
We sat, leaning our backs against the garage. “Rangers get scared, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What do you do?”
He smiled “Keep swinging.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Or, if need be, focus on the front site.”
I nodded like I knew. Like I understood.
He put his arm around me. Dad didn’t talk much. I discovered after he was gone that when he did, it was worth listening to. “Sometimes, we’re the only one to stand against bad people.” He looked out across the fence, out across the pasture. “If we don’t… who will? Who’s gonna stand up for someone who can’t stand up for themself, or those they love?” He shook his head and spat. “I won’t stand for that. I wasn’t put here to tuck my tail and run.” Several hundred acres of flat Texas ground lay around us. Nothing but rows as far as the eye could see. A tree line on the far side. “Like it or not…” He traced a line in the dirt with his toe. “This is a battlefield. Has been since Cain killed Abel. And don’t let it get complicated. Gray it ain’t. It’s black and white. Good versus evil. You might as well choose sides right now.” He nodded back over his shoulder. “Thanks to you…” He lifted my hand and stared at the center knuckle. The cut had spread open. “… those boys in there are reconsidering their choice.”
I nodded, trying not to cry.
I stared at his .45. He picked up on it.
“The gun don’t make you right. You’re either right or wrong long before you pick this thing up. Matter of fact, if you’re wrong, it’ll only get you in trouble. But, if you’re right… this can help even the odds. They say God made man, but Sam Colt made them equal.” He patted his hip. “Then John Browning came along and made some better than others.” He paused. “Oh, and, just so’s you’ll know, the odds ain’t usually in our favor. Bad stuff happens to good people. Happens all the time. Remember that.”
He paused, staring out across the field. Then he turned, took off his white hat and placed it on my head. “You keep going the way you’re going, and there may well come a day when that choice involves more than just you. When on the other side, is someone who can’t defend themself, maybe himself or herself, and all that stands between them and some real bad stuff is you. Some folks don’t care. Some walk away. Some lie down and cower. And, some of us, well…”
The sun was going down. Setting on the edge of Texas. We studied it. He spoke through the air in front of us. “When I joined the Rangers, your grandfather walked me out to that fence yonder and we leaned against it a long time. He said he’d been infantry in World War II. Stormed a beach or two. Said he was at the Bulge when things got real bad. Cold. Snow. Nearly surrounded. They got in a fight that lasted all night. Come morning, he looked down the line and saw a lot of his buddies lying alone, exposed. Half blowed up. Germans just picking them off. Said his lieutenant crawled up and ordered him to pick up a stretcher. He did. That night they had to pry his hands off the handles.” He paused, nodding. “Sometimes the most courageous thing a man can do is run back across the battlefield and rescue the wounded.” He shook his head and spat. “But don’t fool yourself. It ain’t glamorous. Ain’t at all. It’s simply a choice.”
I looked up at him. “You ever had to make it?”
I could tell he didn’t want to answer. It would take me years to understand the answer once he did. Finally, he whispered. “Every day.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dear God,
You’re not gonna believe this. I’m not sure I do.
We were at the truck stop, trying to get some money or something when Billy showed up and tried to kidnap us. It scared me real bad and I peed in his van.
Then, just when I thought Billy was about to do what Billy done, this man… the one that helped us… his name’s “Tyler,” I guess you already knowed that. His nickname is “Cowboy.” He’s the guy that wears the hat. Anyway, he thumped Billy in the head, tied him up, threw him in the bushes. Then he carried Momma all the way to his truck. He must be real strong. And then he gave Momma a gun and told her to shoot anyone that ain’t him.
I didn’t know what Momma was gonna do. When he walked off, she got out of the car, and stood there, pacing back and forth and she just didn’t know what to do. She was clutching that gun and waving it around and muttering to herself and, I just didn�
�t know what she might do. But, after a few minutes, she climbed back in the car, put her arm around me and told me everything was gonna be all right. That all we had to do was get away from Billy and this man was our ticket out of here. And then she looked at me and told me, “Baby, if that man gets in this truck and puts one hand on you, I’m gonna shoot him in the face.”
I think sometimes that Momma’s had a rough go. Like maybe things is harder on her than they are on me. That maybe sometimes she feels all the bad that happens to both of us. Like, she feels the bad that happens to her and then on top of that she feels the bad that happens to me so all that bad is just piled on Momma. That’s why I believed her when she said that bit about shooting him in the face. ’Cause I think she’s had about enough of all the bad stuff.
Then Momma told me when he got back I had to hush and not say nothing, which I wasn’t planning to anyway. But then she told me she was finished trusting men and she’d be danged, well—that ain’t what she really said but I can’t say that word to you, but she said she’d be that if she told him our real names so she didn’t. She made up a couple. She told him her name was Virginia and my name was Emma. And she told me to go along with it like it was true. Now we both know that ain’t my name and it ain’t her name but we didn’t know nothing much ’bout this man and we ain’t having too much luck with men right now and I was just wondering if you were okay with us lying to him, even though she told the truth later. I mean, when Momma said it, I didn’t disagree with her. Which makes me an accessory—I saw that on TV and then looked it up which means I didn’t do it but knew about it which is just like doing it—which is why I’m bringing it up.
When the man came back, he gave Momma the chance to keep the gun. Told her she could. Told her right there, “Ma’am, if you want, you can keep that as long as you’re with me. If it makes you feel better. Safer.” But Momma didn’t. She gave it right back. Handed it back like it was a hot potato. And then he gave her another chance and he said, “You sure?” And Momma just nodded. And I can’t tell you why other than I think it had something to do with his voice. His voice just makes you want to believe him. It ain’t like other voices. It’s like one of them voices that when you hear it, everything in you wants to believe that what he’s saying is true and if it’s not, then, well, something’s not just wrong with him, but something’s wrong with the whole wide world.
I know I’m rattling. I tend to do that when I’m scared. But, I ain’t as scared as I was. I ain’t peeing myself no more.
Dear God,
Cowboy drove us to Momma’s sister’s house in New Orleans but she was gone. Like, she didn’t even own the house anymore so Momma freaks out and starts walking down the sidewalk and Cowboy lets her get about two blocks away and then he stops her, puts Turbo in the car, puts us in the car and carries us to this hotel where like kings and princes and presidents would stay. It’s a palace. They got marble everywhere. And in the bathrooms, like the ones in the lobby, they got real towels. Not paper. And they got free perfume in little spray bottles. The bed in the room is huge and it has a tent over the top. We got our own coffeemaker and stereo with speakers in the ceiling and the TV is real thin and bigger than I can reach across. Cowboy even had a doctor come to the room and sew up Momma’s eye and then he had a woman doctor come and look at me and she said I’d be fine. And, to be honest, it don’t really hurt no more. Well, maybe a little, but not much.
Then they let us swim in the bathtub. Which we did. Momma and I got in, dumped in two bottles of bubbles and we soaked and sang and played like dolphins. She shaved her legs and armpits ’cause she said they were “ ’bout long enough to braid” and then I put the plastic cover on the razor and pretended ’cause I ain’t got nothing to shave. Then we got out and we started laughing ’cause we were all pruny. Our skin was drawed up like raisins so we put on these robes. I ain’t never had a robe before. It smells like flowers. I felt like a movie star. All I need now is some wet concrete and a sidewalk.
You remember that woman I was telling you about downstairs? The big woman? Well, she came back up and brought these two women pushing racks of clothes—all our sizes. And we got to shop with no one else around. They made us try on everything. And we did. I got new jeans, new T-shirts, new panties, a new gown, and everything was still new and never been worn ’cause it still had a price tag. And you know what? Those jeans… they cost a hundred dollars. A hundred dollars! Can you believe that? He must be real rich ’cause he bought us all this stuff.
A little while later, Cowboy knocked on the door and when Momma opened it, he held his hat in his hand and cussed. But I don’t think he meant to ’cause he apologized to me but I think it’s okay ’cause he just don’t know that most men say lots of other stuff when Momma gets all prettied up. So, we went to dinner and sat down to a white tablecloth and candlelight—just like you see on the soap operas. We ate for an hour. They had this cheese, the lady said it was like a breeze, whatever that is. It was creamy. Momma spread it on a cracker and then talked with her mouth full. She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh my… oh my… that’s good.” She shook her head and took another bite. “That’s like sex on a cracker.” But I don’t think she was being ugly. I just think it was really good cheese. And Cowboy laughed. His face even turned a little red but I noticed he never drank a sip of wine or nothing. Just water.
We had more to eat than I’ve ever seen on one table and then we had dessert and the chef rolled out this table and did something with bananas and poured something like gasoline over the top and then lit it on fire and it burned blue and I’ve never eaten gasoline but it was yummy. Didn’t upset my stomach or nothing. Cowboy let me have three helpings. Three helpings! Momma said I couldn’t have any more or I’d be bouncing off the walls. But Momma didn’t eat much dessert ’cause her stomach is having a hard time. Stuff ain’t staying in her very long. I think it’s ’cause she don’t know what to do. She’s been to the bathroom fifteen times today. The doc says it’s her nerves. She said it’s like “crap through a goose” but I’ve never seen a goose crap. Me? I’ve only been to the bathroom like twice. Which they said is good.
After dessert, they ordered coffee and the man in the white jacket brought me some milk in a little cup with a spout which I thought was real cute so I sipped it straight from the spout but when I tasted it, it wasn’t milk. Well, not exactly. It was milk but it was sweet and thick. Momma said it was cream. I told her I liked it and asked her if I could drink it and she looked at Cowboy and then at me and shook her head but he just sipped his coffee and said that if I wasn’t going to drink it that he was gonna and he don’t know why we even bother with that other stuff so Momma smiled and nodded, which meant I could drink it so I did. Every bit. The man in the white jacket even brought me some more. It was the best milk I ever drunk. I don’t know why we don’t drink that all the time. I mean, Cowboy is right. Why do we even mess with that other stuff?
After dinner, Cowboy took us back to our room and showed us how to watch movies and he gave us his phone number. Put on his reading glasses, and wrote it down for Momma on a napkin.
We found a movie, which cost us $14.99—for one movie—and I guess it’s worth it ’cause we didn’t have to go to the theater. It’s like they called the theater and brought the movie to us. I’m sort of watching it right now while I write, and I’m eating out of the refrigerator in our room. Momma’s over there with her eyebrows scrunched together thumbs twitching. Rolling one over the other. I think she’s thinking about tomorrow. I asked her if we could stay here another night and she shook her head. But, I don’t know where we’ll go. And she don’t neither. Funny thing is, we’re up here in this nice room and I don’t know where Cowboy is. I asked Momma and she shook her head. I think she’s worried that Billy is gonna find us and come knocking on the door and she don’t know what she’ll do when he does. Wait—
Things are all upside down here. Just as the movie was getting good Momma threw her robe back on and said we’re go
ing to find Cowboy. So, we rode the elevator in our slippers down to the parking garage and walked out to his truck where we found him sleeping and I felt real bad being up there in that palace and him down here in this old truck but he said it weren’t no problem at all and he slept there many a night so I felt a little better but not much. Then Momma curled her finger like she does when she wants you to do something right now and he got up and pulled on his boots, put in his hearing aid and turned it up and grabbed his hat, which he don’t never go nowheres without and when we got back up here Momma pulled out the sleeper sofa, straightened the sheets and made him sleep right there. He’s over there now. Sleeping. I thought all men snored but he don’t. He’s quiet as a church mouse. I can tell Momma ain’t asleep yet ’cause she ain’t breathing like she does when she’s sleeping. Like she’s holding part of her breath. Which is most of the time.
One thing you should know about Cowboy… he carries a gun all the time. Actually, two guns. One on his hip and one on his ankle. I been thinking. I think Momma needs to learn to shoot and she needs to carry a gun. That way she could shoot Billy. And you know what… I think Momma’s starting to think that, too, ’cause she keeps looking at his gun. One of them is resting right there in a holster on his hip. I can’t see the other but I can sort of see the bulge around his ankle through the bend in his jeans.
I got one more question. Cowboy seems like a good guy, but Billy seemed like a good guy, too. Saw his picture with the mayor. He helped kids. But he turned out to be bad. How do you know? I mean, what’s the secret? What if Cowboy turns out to be like Billy? Just what do we do then? I asked Momma that and she shook her head and said, We’re screwed. I think Momma’s having a tough time.
I’m glad he sleeps with that gun on. I like that. I hope he shoots Billy. I hope that’s okay to say. Oh, and if you’re wondering what those two things are below here, one is a Tinker Bell sticker and the other is a lottery ticket but we didn’t win nothing. Least ways not no money. At first I threw it away, but then I went back and got it ’cause no one ever got me one before. I taped it in here so I wouldn’t forget.
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