by Frank Hayes
“Why thank you, Virgil. There isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t like to hear that. That’s nice, but it sounds almost like a revelation.”
“It is,” Virgil said. “I mean, maybe I don’t always say something I should, in the moment.”
She could sense his unease. “You mean, like the other night in the cabin.”
“Yes. But I wanted to say it now. Maybe the other night it would have got lost. But now, here, in the clear light of day I want you to know how I feel. You weren’t just a moment for me. I want you to know that and I’m really glad you’re staying. Whatever else, I’ll be there if you need me. Hope I’m saying this right. I . . .”
Cesar had pulled the truck alongside the corral fence, shut off the engine, and was leaning against the front fender waiting for Virgil. Virgil raised his hand in a half wave, then turned to Marian. He could see tears in her eyes. She took a couple of steps toward him, then reached up and brushed his cheek with her lips.
“Virgil, you said it just right. You weren’t just a moment for me, either.”
She reached up again this time, kissing him on the lips. In the next moment, she turned and ran toward the house. Virgil watched until she disappeared inside, then he put his hand to his face, touched a dab of moisture, wondering for a moment whether it was his or Marian’s. When he turned toward the truck, he saw that Cesar had not moved. Virgil walked across the broad open area to meet the older man.
It was early afternoon by the time they reached the ranch. The dull ache in Virgil’s back had eased some, but when he stepped out of the cab of the truck, he felt stiff all over.
“Who’s the old-timer now?” Cesar said.
Virgil winced at the well-aimed jab. “Been a long time since I spent that much time in the saddle.”
Cesar gave a little snort.
“What?” Virgil asked.
“I noticed you were walking a little bit bowlegged. Reckoned it was from riding one thing or another.” He threw a knowing look at Virgil. “Nice-looking woman we left back there.”
Virgil took a couple of steps forward, accompanied by a grunt. Cesar had come around the cab.
“Well, you’re always at me to get out, be more social.”
“Absolutely, but you got to pace yourself. You’re not twenty-one anymore. Remember old bull, young bull. You can still get there, but you just don’t have to be in a hurry.”
“Thanks for the philosophy. Yeah, well, ninety percent of this ache is from Jack. The other ten percent, well, let’s just say you’re right. She is a nice-looking woman. Now, since you got what you were after, do me a favor, unload Jack while I go inside and soak in the tub for about two hours.”
Cesar nodded, then walked to the rear of the trailer. He let down the ramp, then Jack backed out. He glanced at Virgil, stiffly going up the stairs to the porch, and a little smile crossed his face.
Virgil couldn’t resist the lure of the bed when he climbed out of the tub. He was asleep in less than five minutes. When he awoke almost two hours later, he realized he was in the exact same position as when he first lay down. He swung his legs around, resting his feet on the floor. When he stood, he was pleasantly surprised that much of the ache was gone. He was taking inventory of the contents of his refrigerator a half hour later when Cesar walked through the kitchen door.
“You’re pretty much wasting your time. A starving man wouldn’t last more than a day with what’s in there.”
“Guess that means I’m eating at Margie’s.”
“You could actually go to a food store. Then watch one of those cooking shows to figure out what to do with the stuff you bought.”
“I can cook,” Virgil said as he took a box of cereal out of the cabinet over the dryer.
“Pouring out-of-date milk over a bowl of raisin bran don’t exactly qualify as cooking. Me, I just had a burrito filled with leftover steak, chili, a little hot sauce, and a scoop of sour cream. Oh, and some rice and beans on the side.” Cesar patted his stomach. “Real tasty.”
“That don’t show much culinary imagination. Hell, you’d have rice and beans with pancakes.”
“Maybe, but it tasted better than anything you’re going to find to eat here.”
Virgil just scowled at that. Cesar left him standing in front of the mostly empty fridge along with an even emptier stomach.
It had gotten to that time of the year when the light begins to fade early. Virgil stood on the porch awhile noting the shadows in places where they hadn’t been a couple of weeks earlier. He hadn’t put on his uniform when he got up. Instead, he was wearing jeans that showed some wear and a new blue chambray shirt. There were times when he didn’t want to be just a uniform. His matching denim jacket lay on one of the porch chairs. As yet the evening winds hadn’t picked up, so he left his jacket there when he walked down the stairs toward the barns. Jack wasn’t in the corral. He reckoned Cesar had bedded him down early in his stall, probably after giving him a thorough going-over. Checking his feet, working out any small stones with a hoof pick, maybe even painting his hooves to avoid any cracking. Probably also hosed him down, then gave him a good rubdown, combing his mane and tail, then currycombing and brushing him nose to butt. It was the kind of thing Cesar did because it was just the right thing to do. It was hard for Virgil to think of him as anything other than family. They had been so close so long that Virgil couldn’t even remember a time when it hadn’t been that way. First of the month, he always cut a check for Pedro and José, but there wasn’t one for Cesar. When Cesar needed money he just wrote out a check for cash on the ranch account, but he always insisted Virgil sign it. He was no forger.
By the time he got down to the barn, Cesar was well into his end-of-day routine. Virgil watched him move down the aisle between the stalls with the wheelbarrow, checking each stall before he brought the horses in to feed. While the weather held, the horses were still left out at night. Most of the time Jack was with them, but Virgil figured tonight he’d probably stay in the corral, a little downtime for him after the workout he’d had during the last few days.
The cattle were out almost year-round, unless the weather turned rank. In winter that could be on the heels of a Blue Norther, which could drop temperatures forty degrees overnight and bring blowing snow creating deep drifts on the range. The driven snow along with the bitter cold could be disastrous. Over the years, as begun by his father before him, Virgil, along with the men, built loafing sheds out on the range, where the cattle could shelter from the extremes in winter or in summer. Virgil could remember only three times in his life when the winter weather had been so severe that the cattle had been rounded up and brought down to the home pasture. Winter kill occurred occasionally, but it more than likely was the result of a freak accident, a steer slipping on ice or predation by a mountain lion. Other than that, most of the losses were the result of the natural cycle. A cow with a prolapsed uterus undiscovered, after giving birth out in some arroyo where she had gone for seclusion, or a too-large bull calf wrong way in a cow. These were the events every cowman did everything he could to avoid, but on some level were unavoidable, no matter how much oversight was given.
Virgil followed Cesar down the aisle, scooping up grain from a filled wheelbarrow used for that purpose. He gave each horse the required allotment in the heavy, rubber feed pail that hung in the corner of each stall. Cesar had come up with the idea of hanging a feeding sheet on the door of each stall in the new barn, so anyone could check it to make sure they had given the correct ration. Virgil also checked the water buckets in the opposite corner from the feed buckets, filling them when it was required. When he and Cesar were finished with their routine, they met at the end of the barn, then opened the doors to the corral on the far side, where the horses had gathered and were impatiently waiting. Not a word had been spoken. They stood in the half-light as the horses entered, each going automatically to their assigned stall. The last b
ox stall was reserved for Star and her yet-to-be weaned colt.
“You know,” Cesar said when Virgil came alongside, “he could use some work if your appetite hasn’t got the better of you yet.”
Virgil looked at the colt as he sidled up to nurse from his mother while she buried her nose in the grain bucket.
“He looks good,” Virgil said as he and Cesar stood leaning over the top rail of the stall. “Got some size to him, good straight legs.”
The colt finished nursing, then ambled over closer to where they were standing. Virgil extended his right arm between the rails, his hand palm up. The colt, ears forward, stood his ground.
Virgil started talking to him in a low voice. “Hey, son, easy.”
The colt watched, then after a few moments took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he reached a point where he could stretch his neck out so he could make contact with Virgil’s outstretched hand. The soft velvet of his muzzle brushed Virgil’s fingers. Virgil continued his monotone. The colt took a step closer, began to nibble, then suck on Virgil’s fingers. Virgil reached his left hand inside the stall slowly, then while the colt worked the fingers of his right hand, he ran his left hand along the colt’s neck. The process continued until Virgil could run either hand over the colt’s head.
“Good start,” Cesar said as he handed Virgil a small halter and a brush.
Virgil stepped inside the stall, then spent the next ten minutes brushing the mare while incidentally stroking the colt. Finally, after rubbing the halter over the mare’s body to pick up her scent, he began rubbing it on the colt, letting him smell it, even at one point nibble at it until he no longer showed interest in it. At last, Virgil slipped it over his head. The colt balked a little so Virgil continued talking to him in a soothing voice. The colt settled after a couple of minutes. By the time Virgil left the stall, he had haltered the colt numerous times. Cesar smiled as he stepped out.
“Bueno.”
Virgil nodded.
“Next time, I’ll halter him in the corral. Maybe try a lead rope, drop a come-along over his rear end, then get a little more serious.”
On the way into Hayward a little later, Virgil reflected on how much he had enjoyed the experience with the colt. In a way he knew that part of his life offered a balance that down deep sustained him. His stomach was growling, but before he headed to Margie’s there was something he had to know. Rosita and Dif were in the office.
“Didn’t expect to see you today,” Rosie said. “Figured, after all that time on horseback, you’d be sitting in a bucket of Sloan’s Liniment.”
“Hell, that was just a light jaunt,” Virgil lied as he sat down behind his desk.
“So, I guess that wince when you sat down was just for show,” Rosie said.
Virgil glanced around the room, choosing not to engage.
“Yeah, well, it’s nice to see this place didn’t go to wrack and ruin while I was gone. Sure is a comfort.”
“There you go, thinking you’re indispensable,” Rosie said. “This place runs like a well-oiled clock whether you’re here or not.”
Dif gave a snort. “Guess you ain’t going to tell him about that mix-up at the Lazy Dog or about that Travis woman shooting her husband when she found him in the wrong bed or . . .”
“A well-oiled clock,” Virgil interrupted as Rosie glared at Dif. “So, what’s the body count?” Virgil nodded in the direction of the holding cells on the other side of the closed door on the far wall.
“We are full up,” Dif said.
“Full up?”
“Yep, we’re stacking them up in there like cordwood. We even got them in transit.”
Rosita never said a word.
“We sent two lightweight offenders down to Redbud with Dave to work off some time and to make some space for any new arrivals.”
Virgil couldn’t resist a smile. “So, it’s nice to know you got everything under control.”
Suddenly, the door opened and Deputy Jimmy Tillman came in. When he saw Virgil, he stopped in his tracks.
“Well now, it looks like we got the whole Hayward police force on duty,” Virgil said. “Guess things got a little busy around here over Thanksgiving weekend. Hello, Jimmy.”
“Sheriff.”
Jimmy didn’t add to his one-word response.
“Okay, Virgil,” Rosie said. “So, maybe we’re glad you’re back. Virgil, we need another deputy. Things got crazy here last night. Dave had to come up from Redbud.”
“I guess,” Virgil said. “Looks like I’m going to have to make a case. In a way, this looks like pretty good justification. I might even bring the council in here to see this place full up.”
Jimmy started for the door.
“Where are you going, Jimmy?”
“Oh, I just got to see someone, Sheriff.”
Before Virgil could respond, he was out the door.
“Kinda closemouthed today,” Virgil said. Rosie and Dif looked at each other, but said nothing. “Well, I’m going over to Margie’s, but before I go, did Kyle Harrison call with any news?”
“Nothing, Virgil. They haven’t found any trace of the plane. He said it could be at the bottom of one of those canyons in the Superstitions. If the weather holds they are going in there to do a ground search. He said maybe they’d try to enlist some volunteers from the reservation to help in the search. Virgil, I think you got to accept the real possibility that they won’t find anything.” After Rosie’s plea Virgil looked out the window from his desk for a long time. Then he stood up.
“I’ll stop back later.”
“Virgil?” Rosie said.
He glanced again out the window. “Yes. There’s a lot of country out there to get lost in.”
25
When Virgil walked through the door at Margie’s he was surprised to see Marian Thompson sitting at one of the tables.
“Hey, Marian.”
“Sit with me, Virgil. Don’t like to eat alone. Too many stares when you’re a woman eating by yourself in a restaurant.”
“Didn’t need the invite, Marian. Not a big fan of eating by myself, either. Do it too much. But for me the stares come from a different place. Maybe I’ve had a negative interaction with them or someone in their family. Sheriffs aren’t universally well liked. That’s why I’m here in disguise, hoping no one will notice me.”
“I noticed. Not even carrying a gun. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just another working cowhand. I almost think I can smell the barn on you.”
“There’s no almost about it.” Virgil explained how he’d spent the last hour on his ranch.
“Working with a new colt. I’d like that. That was one job Pop always gave me, like Ringo. Pop always said a lot of women had a natural intimacy with horses. I always gentled the babies.”
Margie came over to their table. “That tapeworm acting up again, Virgil?”
“Big-time, Margie. My stomach feels like my throat’s been cut. Was going to try to rustle up something at home, but like the old lady said, the cupboard was bare. So I figured I’d come in here to stimulate the local economy.”
“Thanks for thinking of us, Virgil. Need all the help we can get. So what’ll it be?”
“I’m thinking that rib eye sitting on Marian’s plate looks good for starters.”
“You got it. I’ll get it working.”
A minute or two after Margie left, another waitress came over with a cup of chili and a tall glass of lemonade.
“Margie said, while you’re waiting.”
“Thank you,” Virgil responded as he reached for a spoon. “So, Marian, why are you in town?”
“I came in to bring some flowers from Mom’s garden over to Simpson’s. Going to be a wake tomorrow, then a funeral on Tuesday.”
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s stable
as far as his vitals are concerned, but he’s pretty much out of it. Doctor says it will probably be another day before he’s fully conscious. Doc says they got him just in time. But we’ve got to go ahead with Mom’s funeral without him.”
“Good thing we were able to get that helicopter,” Virgil said.
“Yes. You know an interesting thing about that. I mentioned to the pilot about how he was able to find us at night. I mean, obviously the fire helped, but still there’s a lot of country up there. He told me that he was pretty familiar with the general area because he’s made a few trips up there in the last six months.”
“I must be missing something. Don’t get it. Why would he be going up there?” Virgil asked.
“That’s the way I felt, but I didn’t get the chance to follow up, because we were getting ready to set down at the hospital. Anyway, just thought it kind of strange, which is why I mentioned it.” As Marian finished, Margie set a steak down in front of Virgil that overflowed the plate, then she set down a couple of sides in separate dishes.
“You look like you need a little nourishment, Virgil.”
“If I manage to get through this, I won’t need any more for the rest of the week. I’ll give it my best effort, Margie.”
She smiled as she stepped away from the table. “I’m sure you will, Virgil.”
“So, Virgil, do you think that’s odd or strange about the helicopter making those trips up to that ridge?”
Virgil stopped cutting his steak, looked around the room, then at Marian.
“Strange? Yeah, I’d say so. But the way things have been going in my life lately, I’m beginning to think strange is the new normal.”
26
Virgil had planned to head back to the ranch after eating, but instead chose to walk Marian over to Simpson’s.
“Do you want to come in with me?” she asked on the sidewalk outside the funeral home.
“No. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind, unless you feel the need for a little support.”
