Horace laughed and the laughing sent shocks of pain through his face and nose and he let out a soft cry.
‘It hurt bad?’
‘A little,’ said Horace.
‘What about Ernie Lopez?’
‘Who?’
‘You don’t know Ernie Lopez?’
Horace shook his head. ‘I’ve heard of Danny Lopez.’
‘Ernie was his brother. They called him “Indian Red”. They say he was a Ute, but there had to have been a Paiute that jumped over the fence one night when the husband was off licking cow balls, like all Utes do. No, he was Paiute alright. I know things. I can tell who is and who isn’t in the first thirty seconds I meet them. And I saw him fight four times and he fought like a Paiute.’
‘He was a good fighter?’
‘They say, if it wasn’t for Nápoles, he would have been a world champion. That’s how good he was. His brother, Danny “Little Red” Lopez, was a world champion. But I liked “Indian Red” better. He was a Paiute with red hair and freckles. A gringo Indian. An Indian that needed sunblock.’ He laughed and took another drink from the bottle.
‘But the Mexican guy beat him?’
‘No, Nápoles was Cuban. You probably don’t even know where Cuba is!’
‘It’s an island down by Florida,’ said Horace. ‘So what happened to Lopez?’
‘He fought Nápoles twice and lost both times and then he went crazy. I think he fought three more times but lost them all.’ The fat woman next to him began talking in her sleep. The man put his hand on her leg and rubbed it.
‘Why did he go crazy?’
‘Who?’
‘Ernie Lopez,’ Horace said.
‘I don’t know. Maybe “Indian Red” got his brain rattled. Punch-drunk, maybe. Boxers always go nuts – or usually, anyway. Maybe he just couldn’t handle losing. Most people can’t. But whatever happened, Lopez couldn’t make it after the second loss to Nápoles and then his wife split and shit went south. But that’s always the way it is. When you’re going down, people jump ship. Most don’t even say goodbye.’
‘So what happened to him after that?’
‘Who?’
‘Ernie Lopez.’
‘He became a drifter. He gave up on everything and became a bum. Rode the rails, all that sorta shit. What’s your name, anyway?’
‘Horace – Horace Hopper.’
The man laughed for a long time. ‘That’s one hell of a Paiute name. What kind of name is Horace?’
‘I don’t know. My mom’s grandfather was named Horace.’
‘What was he, some sort of sea captain?’
‘I don’t know what he was.’
The man looked over to the sleeping woman. She had rolled on her side. She had a tattoo of a snake holding a red flower in its mouth running up her calf. Her large right breast fell out of her blouse and the man took it in his hand and pushed it back inside and covered her with a blanket. Next to her was a green leather purse. He took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from it.
‘Is that your wife?’
He shook his head and lit the cigarette. ‘Shit, no – I’ve been married enough.’ He blew the smoke out and smiled. ‘But I’ve been with her seven, maybe eight years. I think in most states you’d say we were married. But I’m not divorced from my last wife, so maybe not. In some states I guess you’d say I’m a polygamist, but in most states I think you could just say I’m fucked.’ He again laughed.
‘How many times you been married?’
‘Twice.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Billy Malachowski.’
Horace laughed.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘That ain’t much of a Paiute name either.’
‘My grandfather was Polish. I forgot about that,’ Billy grinned. ‘My father was Irish and Mexican and Polish but my mother was a Paiute. A hundred per cent, if there is such a thing. What do you have in the bag?’
‘Church’s Chicken,’ Horace said. ‘You can have some if you want.’
‘Sit down.’
Horace sat across from him. Two hard-shell suitcases were next to them and a pair of new basketball shoes sat beside Billy’s arm. Horace took a chicken sandwich from the sack and handed one to Billy, who opened it, looked at it and set it next to the woman. ‘I can’t eat that ’cause I don’t have teeth. What else you have?’
‘An apple pie.’
‘I’ll take that.’ He set the lit cigarette on the concrete next to him and took the pie.
‘You always lived in El Paso?’
Billy shook his head. ‘Hell, no. I’m from Los Angeles. I had a good job there for a long time. I had a company car and an expense account. I lived in Oxnard in a three-bedroom house that, if my ex-wife still has is it, is probably worth a half-million dollars. You ever been to Oxnard?’
‘No,’ Horace said.
Billy finished the apple pie and put the cigarette back in his mouth. ‘It’s not a bad place. I was a rep for an auto parts company. I hit twenty stores a day. Just driving and talking. I had five guys working under me. Fourteen years I put in there. I got paid good, but we could all sense the company was going down. Our days were numbered. At the same time, I could tell my wife was getting tired of me. I’m not sure why she was, but she was. I never cheated on her, never went out. I only drank three beers a night. Never more, never less. But I knew in my guts she didn’t love me anymore. The woman and the job both went south at the same time. So one day after work I didn’t go home. I drove the company car all the way to the main headquarters in Miami. You know where Miami is?’
‘In Florida,’ said Horace.
He nodded. ‘Florida – the opposite end of the country. The car had twenty thousand miles on it when I started. When I got to Miami it had almost thirty. I had it washed, detailed, and left it in the parking lot of the main headquarters office. I put the keys under the mat, called my boss in LA, told him where it was, and that was it.’
‘What about your wife?’
‘I called her a few times but I never went back.’
‘You really never went back?’
Billy nodded and took a drink.
‘What did you do?’
‘A lot of shit but nothing. I worked as a bartender at a sports bar in Vero Beach for a few years. Worked day labour when I had to. Was a cab driver.’
‘But you don’t work anymore?’
The woman again talked in her sleep. He nudged her and she opened her eyes. ‘I’m hungry, Poppa,’ she said.
He handed her the chicken sandwich. She stayed on her side and began eating it. A car stopped across the street and two men got out and began yelling at someone farther down the block, and then ran after him. In the quiet, Billy lit another cigarette. When the woman had eaten half of the sandwich, she put it down and closed her eyes.
‘You ever see your wife again?’
‘Sure. Seen my kids too.’
‘How many kids you have?’
‘Three.’ He looked in a yellow plastic sack near his feet and took another quart of beer from it. He took an opener from around his neck and opened the bottle.
‘Was your wife mad at you?’
He nodded. ‘Sure, for a while. But she remarried. My kids hate me. My two daughters are more worried than mad, but my son hates my guts. He thinks I’m a bum. And he’s right – I am. At least I have one smart kid.’ He laughed. ‘Mona,’ he said. ‘Mona.’
The woman opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘What, Poppa?’
‘We’re sitting with a Paiute boxing champion.’
‘Okay, Poppa,’ she whispered and closed her eyes again. Billy looked at her for a moment, glanced out across the street and then looked at Horace. ‘What else you got in there to eat?’
‘Mashed potatoes and gravy. You can have that if you want.’
‘Real food,’ Billy said, and smiled.
Horace took the container from the sack, gave him a plastic spoon, and Billy started on
it.
‘How did you get a second wife?’
Billy finished the mashed potatoes and took a long drink of beer. ‘I was working in a warehouse. This big-ass Lakota worked in the office at the same place. She found out I was Paiute, and she was all over me after that. She was an Indian freak – everything had to be about being Indian. We always had to go to powwows. Every fucking weekend it was something. She had a room-mate but kicked the room-mate out. She was a big woman, but I like big women. She had a temper. I don’t mind tempers as long as there’s no hitting or knives. No forks either.’ He laughed. ‘I was in Cleveland with her for five years, married. When she wasn’t mad or moody she had a good sense of humour. But she was a drunk, a bad one too, and finally, because of it, she found Jesus. She got sober and after that we didn’t last long – maybe a year. She was no fun then. Without booze she had no sense of humour. Just a big fucking tree up her ass. So I moved to Colorado and got a job as a bartender in Durango and goddamn it if my wages didn’t start getting garnished ’cause my Christian wife defaulted on a car loan and on some credit cards that she put in both our names. I moved to Denver and mowed lawns under the table for this white guy named Sid. I stayed for a couple years. I ran a truck and a crew of three guys. One guy who showed up for a while, Rob, had been in and out of prison. He used to huff gas and thought that Mexicans had different intestinal organs than white people.’ He stopped, laughed and took a drink. ‘I went to a family barbecue of his and met his sister, who’d just gotten out of rehab. That sister is Mona and she’s the one sleeping right here. We lived in Denver until her mom got sick and then we moved down here to El Paso and took care of her. Then her mom died and it turned out there was a bunch of tax liens on her house and she owed a bunch of people a bunch of shit. So we put all her things in a storage locker, moved out of the house and took her 1978 Chrysler Cordoba and drove to Houston, where Mona knew a bar owner and so I bartended there. But the place went under. We came back to El Paso to get the things out of storage and then Mona broke her ankle coming off a sidewalk. We were laid out flat then. She had to have surgery. I couldn’t work a straight job either ’cause my teeth got all fucked up and my face swelled. I looked worse than you. It was hard to just walk down the street without people staring. We ran through the money we had, I got my teeth pulled and she had to have a second surgery on her ankle. Then the Cordoba’s radiator blew. Not a big deal, but I left it on the street and didn’t deal with it ’cause I got an infection in my mouth and was bedridden. When I finally went outside, the car was gone. They’d towed it and we couldn’t get it back ’cause they wanted a grand and the car wasn’t even ours. The title was in her grandmother’s name.’
‘So what are you gonna do now?’
‘My sister runs an Applebee’s in Omaha. But she’s in AA and won’t have drinking in her house. Once I get my new teeth, which is in two days, I’ll hit her up for the bus fare and we’ll move out there. She can get me on washing dishes and then I’ll move up until I’m bartending. I’m a good bartender. I’ve been successful wherever I’ve worked.’ He took another drink and Mona started talking in her sleep again, and Billy rubbed her arm until she fell quiet. ‘When’s your next fight?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s your name again?’
‘Horace Hopper.’
Billy broke out laughing again. ‘That’s a hell of a Paiute name. I’ll keep my eyes out for you.’ He finished the beer. ‘I’m going to have to crash out now. Good meeting you and thanks for the grub.’
Horace stood back up. He took $100 from his wallet and handed it to him.
‘That’s a lot of money,’ said Billy. ‘You should keep it.’
‘I don’t need it,’ said Horace.
‘From one Paiute to another,’ Billy said, and laughed. He put the money in his sweatpants pockets, moved next to the woman and lay down.
15
Mr Reese’s phone rang as he drove into Tonopah. It was his third trip to town in five days, all because of the tractor. Each time he left NAPA Auto Parts he was certain he had everything he needed, but always he drove back to the ranch to either break another part or find one thing he had forgotten to put on his list.
It was late afternoon and over a hundred degrees, and the old truck had no air conditioning and there were neither clouds nor breeze. He pulled the truck to the side of the road and parked next to a boarded-up, long-forgotten store. The phone continued to ring. He took off his cowboy hat, set it on the seat next to him and wiped his forehead with a red handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. He cleared his throat and answered. ‘Is that you, Cassie?’
‘I was hoping I’d catch you, Pop. I got lucky.’
‘I think I’m the lucky one,’ he said. ‘I want you to know a day doesn’t go by where I’m not thinking about you.’
‘You always say that,’ she said, and laughed.
‘That’s because it’s true,’ he said and looked out the driver’s-side window. A large motorhome pulling a car passed going the opposite direction. The licence plate said Louisiana. The man driving had a small dog on his lap, and the dog had its paws on the steering wheel. Mr Reese could just make out a woman in the passenger-side seat wearing sunglasses, her bare feet on the dash. ‘I think I know why you’re calling. I appreciate it and, in her own way, Mom appreciates it too.’
‘Both Lynnie and I are worried about her again.’
The old man again wiped his face with the handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry you are. I know you’ve both had hard talks with her on the phone lately.’
‘I hate putting you in a spot, Pop, but we both think she’s getting worse.’
‘That might be the case from where you’re sitting, but in my estimation she’s about the same.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘What I’ve come to realize is that your mother’s moods are built more or less on a cycle. I have a notepad in the shop and I keep track of the good times and low times. We’re just in a low spot right now, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t know you kept a record of it,’ she said.
‘I guess, more than anything, it’s an attempt to make sense of it. I do know that, in the last thirty years, she’s been in the same sorta state ten or twelve times during the month of September. I think my first September entry is nineteen eighty-one.’
‘I’m sorry, Pop.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘That’s just a part of who she is. It’s harder on her than us.’
‘Is she leaving the house at all?’
‘She feeds the dogs, the donkeys and the chickens and of course looks out after the barn cats. But what you mean is, does she go into town? Does she see people?’
‘That’s what I mean.’
‘I took her to a doctor’s appointment a month ago and we did the shopping together and ate lunch at the park.’
‘Really?’
‘More or less,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you know if you should worry, but right now I don’t think it’s time to worry.’
‘Alright,’ she said, and paused. ‘And your back?’
‘My back’s fine. Almost better.’
‘All of a sudden?’
‘No, it’s been a process, but it’s okay now.’
‘I can’t help worrying.’
‘I know.’
‘I love you, Pop, but I have to say this: Mom just seems different this time … Even on the phone. I can feel it.’
‘That’s probably true. Your mom is about where she was when you left and again when Lynn left. But she pulled out of it each time and look what happened. We visited you in college. We visited Lynn in college. We visited the babies. She’s just going through a gully right now. I think a lot of it has to do with Horace leaving.’
‘How is he doing?’
‘To be honest, I’m just not sure.’
‘I woke up the other night thinking about my old boyfriend, Roy Gifford.’
The old man laughed. ‘I’ve thought about him over the years too.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t want to marry him, Pop.’
‘You weren’t cut out for ranch life,’ he said.
‘Maybe … You know, I want more than anything for the ranch to stay alive.’
‘I know you do.’
‘You really think Horace will come back?’
‘I’m certain of it.’
‘I hope so,’ she said.
‘He’s a good boy.’
‘I’m so glad you found him, Pop.’
Again Mr Reese laughed. ‘I’m glad he found us. He helped us keep things going when we were getting tired of keeping going. And he’s taught me a lot of things. Taught your mom things too. He can get you inspired, that’s for sure. You should have heard him talking to your mom about being her own champion, about building her own boat and being the best she could be. He’s read a few self-help books, that’s for sure.’
Cassie sighed. ‘I guess I just woke up this morning feeling guilty.’
‘You shouldn’t feel guilty. I knew by the time you were eleven you would move on.’
‘You did?’
‘Yep.’
‘How did you know?’
‘You were bright and curious, and most of all because you had maps of the world taped to the walls of your room. That’s a pretty big hint that you might not want to spend your life on a small-time ranch in the middle of Nevada. And remember, your sister was the same way too. You both had bigger plans, and I’m just glad that you did what you wanted to do.’
‘And you think Horace really will take over?’
‘That’s my plan. He’s young but ranching is in his blood. I can feel it. He’s a natural for it.’
‘I hope you’re right, Pop.’
‘Me too. Anyway, how’s Scott?’
‘He’s fine,’ she said.
‘And the boys?’
‘Everyone’s good.’
‘And work?’
‘It’s the same old thing here. I guess I just woke up worried today.’
The old man looked at the closed-down store. The plywood that covered the windows had been tagged with spray paint and part of the awning was hanging low and broken. On the side of the building were dozens of pallets and an old table leaned against the wall. ‘I can hear it in your voice,’ he said. ‘Look, you guys want to change some things. I appreciate that. You want us to move in with you. I hear that. But Mom’s not there yet. I don’t know what else to say about it. The good news is the ranch is in fine shape, my back is better and, if I give Horace a year or two to sow his oats, I’m certain he’ll come back. So don’t worry too much about us.’
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