Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (12 page)

“I heard that,” Jimmy called from the other side of the barn. “There’s always room in our hotbed for one more. You might find it eye-opening.”

“No thanks, Jimmy.” Petey shook his head Jimmy’s way. “My wife is all I ever needed.”

“Plus she’d kill you dead,” Stu warned him. He shook his finger at Jimmy. “And don’t you even ask me, son. I can’t keep up with what I’ve got.”

“Now that’s just sad,” Jimmy lamented. “Ain’t you never seen all those erectile dysfunction ads? If your truck ain’t got enough power to pull the trailer, they got a way of hitching up a team of horses to help you out. That’s called a
metaphor
.”

“My
truck
works just fine, Jimmy. There’s just too goddamn many roads.”

For the rest of the day we worked and laughed. Saddletamps, they called themselves. They said I was green as new grass, but I watched every move they made. Listened to their talk.

All of them, Crispin, Jim, Ed, Stu, Petey and Malloy, seemed easy in their skin, and I didn’t even know what that felt like.

I did know one thing for sure.

I wanted to be just like them.

That night, my phone rang as I headed home so I put it on speaker to answer.

“Hey.” Lucho’s voice
.
“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I tried, you were out.” The man slept like the dead. “Fausto’s uncle brought him back after school and then the guys came back. You were out through all of that.”

“Fucking painkillers.”

“If you slept, you must have needed it. No one wanted to wake you.”

“All right. I just wanted to say ’bye, is all.”

“Me too.”

“So. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lucho. Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks. Except now I’ll be up all night ’cause I slept all day, goddamnit.”

“That’s above my pay grade, honey.”

A lengthy pause. “Did you just call me ‘honey’?”

“Too soon?”

“There will never come a right time to call me ‘honey.’”

I hesitated. “So what, then? I don’t want to call you Lucho all the time. You’ve called me ‘army’ and ‘
esse
’ and ‘
papi
chulo
’ and I’ve got to have something.”

“And ‘
honey
’ is what you came up with?”

“What I lack in imagination I make up for in sexual staying power.” I thought back to the afternoon. “Usually.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Well if you weren’t such a hot motherfucker, I probably could have taken things slower.”

“Yeah?”

“Man, when you look up at me with your sweet lips wrapped around my dick? I’m going to go off like a bomb, every damn time, guaran-goddamn-teed. At least until I get some of it out of my system.”

“Great. Now I’m gonna to be awake and horny.”

“Me too.” I admitted. “Just sayin’.”

“So when you gonna take me for that steak dinner, mister.”

“See, now you got a ‘
mister
’ in there too. I’ll take you for steak as soon as I figure out a good nickname for you.”

“Preferably one that isn’t ‘honey.’”

“‘
Papi
’?”

“Nuh-uh. Sounds stupid coming from you,
güero
.”

“All right. ‘Baby’?”

“Nope.”

“I’m home.” I pulled into the driveway and noticed six file-size moving boxes on the porch. “And I’m going to have to table this discussion until I have more brain power.”

“Then I won’t hold my breath.”

“Smartass.”

“Nope. Not that either.”

I parked and settled back to talk for a few minutes. No way I wanted to shoot the shit with Lucho while my mother was listening. “All right, all right. You like steak? I mean, I guess we could go for seafood, or Italian or something.”

“I like steak. A porterhouse. Also, I’ll need a baked potato, a Caesar salad, and a massive slab of chocolate cake. And beer.”

“All right. But if you blow up like a tick on a fat man, I’m just walking away.”

“Like a what on a what?”

“You heard me. No exploding. But I’ll find somewhere and we’ll plan for a week from tomorrow night.”

“Sure you can afford me? I like to eat lavishly.”

“I guess so. One good meal won’t break the bank, but I have to warn you, the motel’s not going to be much, if only because we’re pretty limited to places off the I-10 or in Silver City.”

“Long as the guys from the hour before us are gone.”

“Oh, gross. I think I can afford clean sheets.”

“Aw. You treat me good,
papi
.”

“You’re just spinning that big goddamn wheel of nicknames and you won’t even let me use
one
.”

“You can call me Lucho. That’s a nickname.”

“Yeah. But I also need something to scream when you make me come.”

Even over the phone, I heard him swallow hard. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Very funny.”

“Well?”

“How about, ‘Oh Jesus, my Lord and savior. Oh Christ, Oh God.’ That’s what I usually hear when I make a man come.”

“Blasphemy. I’ll be sure to say all of that if I want to get struck by lightning.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“I do not take the Lord’s name in vain, goddamnit.”

“We are both going to hell.”

“How about . . . ‘Homey G. Dog.’”

Another long silence. “‘Honey’s’ starting to sound good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Given all the alternatives? I think I can live with ‘honey.’”

“Sweet.”

“Hah, hah.”

“How about, ‘
luz de mis ojos
’?”

“Shut the fuck up. Did you just speak Spanish?”

“How about ‘
mi corazon
,
mi vida
, o
mi lindo
’?”

“Now, you’re just fucking with me.”

“Yeah. Kinda. But I took Spanish in high school, and I am not afraid to use it,
mi léon
.”

“Fuck you.”

“
Mi tigre
.”

“Shit. Can we table this until laughing my ass off doesn’t hurt no more?”

“Sure. I probably ought to go, though,
precioso
.” I didn’t want to hang up, but the curtains twitched in the kitchen window. “My mother’s probably wondering why I’m still sitting out here in my truck.”

“All right.”

“Thank you for”—
how to say it?
—“today.”

“You’re very welcome. I look forward to doing that again.”

I smiled into the darkness. Before I hung up, I said, “Me too. You know. Next time.”

I guess I sat there a second too long, because Ma came out onto the porch and waved me over like I was standing out in the rain or something.

“Well, come on in! What are you sitting there for?”

I opened the door, and the sweet bubble of happiness around me burst. “Hey, Ma.”

“Hey, Junior.” She waited, apron neatly tied over a high-necked white blouse and slacks. She wore three strands of fake pearls and phony diamond earrings. Who was she trying to impress?

She really did live in another world.

I took a deep breath instead of correcting her for calling me “Junior” again. Let my air out slowly. She’d called me “Junior” for a lot of years. There was probably no stopping her now. “Why’s this stuff on the porch?”

“It’s for tomorrow when we go see your Daddy.”

Caught off guard, I stammered, “W-wait. What?”

“You told Yancy you’d take over driving me in to see your father. Tomorrow is visiting day. We always take along charitable donations for the prison outreach. You and I can drop them off in Tucson before we go see your daddy like Yancy and I always do.”

“Wait. About that.” I started up the stairs and followed her inside. “Malloy expects me to work on Saturdays. If you want me to take you to the penitentiary, I’ll have to ask someone to switch days with me. I didn’t expect we’d be going this weekend on account of my job is so new and all. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.”

“But you promised to take me to see your father.” She brought her hand up to the collar of her blouse. “You said—”

“I did. I will. I just didn’t realize you’d expect to go so soon. You have to let me make an impression on my boss before I ask for favors. I’m the newest one there.”

“But your father will be expecting me.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand if we’re unable to make it this week.”

“No. He won’t.” She headed for the kitchen. “I’ll go call Yancy, he’ll have to take me.”

“Ma—”

“You said you’d take me. He brought these boxes all the way from his office because you said you’d take me and now I’ll have to tell him I need him to drive me anyway. Oh, dear.” She knitted her fingers together nervously. “He’s going to be so unhappy with me.”

“It will be fine. It’s not going to kill Dad if you can’t come this week. We’ll take these things next week.”

“No. I have to go this week. Calvin
depends
on me. Please call your boss and ask him if you can switch days.”

“It’s calving season. We’ll be working around the clock soon. They told me how it is. They’re already short a couple of men. I could lose my job.”

“The J-Bar isn’t the best place for you to work anyway. The money can’t be that good. Yancy said he offered you a much better job and you turned him down.”

“I have a job I like.”

“Shoveling horse manure?”

“You’re the one who told me I should apply there. Why are you changing your mind now?”

“That’s before Yancy told me the place is run by a bunch of Sod—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Mama. You won’t be able to take it back and we’ll both feel bad.”

She tightened her lips until they were white and glanced away.

“I’ll ask Malloy for time off next week and take you then. It’s going to have to be enough.”

“There are things you don’t understand. Reasons I need to see your father.”

“And
I
am bound by my boss’s needs. It’s not a desk job I can put away for a few hours. The animals depend on us.”

“Your father depends on me. I need to go tomorrow. If you don’t take me, let me know now, so I can make other arrangements.”

I rubbed my face to buy myself time. “I’ll call Malloy and see if I can take you. I’ll explain and see what he says. That’s the best I can do.”

“Tell him it’s important. If you don’t take me, I’ll have to call Yancy right now, tonight, and see if he can.”

Goddamnit.

“All right. I’ll make the call. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Thank you, son. Dinner’s on the stove,” she murmured from the doorway to her bedroom.

“I’ll get to it. I need to call Malloy now, before it gets too late.”

I felt her eyes on me. It was probably my imagination when the walls started closing in.

I dialed the ranch house.

“Malloy.”

“Hey, it’s me. Tripp. Sorry about this. I have to ask you for a favor. Can I get the day off tomorrow?” There was a space of silence on the line for a minute and I took advantage of it to do some fast talking. “I need to take my mother to visit my father, who is incarcerated near Tucson. Apparently she needs to go every week. I didn’t have that information when I asked you for a job or I’d have said before.”

“She’s been going every week up until now?”

“Yes sir. My father’s lawyer has been taking her.”

“And he can’t or won’t continue now that you’re home.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Tripp. The J-Bar’s not an army base. Of course you can speak freely.”

“My dad’s lawyer is a douchebag.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” Malloy laughed. “As a man of the world, I mean.”

“Yes, sir. For a lot of reasons, the less hold he has over my family, the better I’ll feel about it.”

“I’ll see if someone else wants to switch days with you, but I have to tell you, the new guy usually gets last pick.”

“I understand sir. I’d appreciate it if you’d do what you can while I negotiate with my mother.”

“Fortunately, we have Fausto this weekend. Take the day off tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can do for next Saturday.”

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you, not just the hours, obviously, but the favor.”

“It’s all right. I understand you need to visit your father.”

“I’m just driving my mother. I won’t be visiting.”

“I—” Malloy didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “Well. Safe travels.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Could you stop calling me sir?”

“Yes, sir.” Malloy seemed like the kind of guy you could rib a little. He’d given me a measure of his trust. I felt like one of his cowboys, right then. Like I’d found a new brotherhood to belong to.

I responded with the same level of comfort I’d enjoyed with my men—respect, imbued with affection. It felt good. It felt
right.

“I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Ma packed a picnic for us: sandwiches, some fruit, and a bunch of water bottles in a cooler. “What’s that for?” I asked.

“It’s so we don’t have to stop anywhere along the way.”

I hoisted the cooler and put it into the back of my dad’s crew cab. “Is this everything?”

“I believe so.” She glanced back toward the house. “Are the boxes secure in the truck?”

“As secure as I can make them.” I’d lashed them down with a length of rope I found in the shed.

“Well then,” she said brightly. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” I opened the truck’s passenger door for her. Once again, I was a little dazzled by her. She’d dressed in some kind of creamy wool pantsuit, with a rose-colored blouse that made her eyes sparkle. Despite the heat, she’d remained cool and put together, like a model or a politician’s wife. She’d always been like that. Like a fashion doll, made from glass. Fragile and cool.

My dad didn’t deserve a woman like her. He must have done something to win her affection when they met, but in no way had her life been easy since. She dressed and acted the part of the perfectly contented helpmeet, and I still didn’t understand why. Glancing at the small, tense figure she presented, I sighed. Maybe I would never understand.

On the way to the interstate, I stopped by the J-Bar to check on Lucho. My mother waited in the truck while I ducked into the bunkhouse. I found Lucho sitting comfortably in a recliner, watching television and eating a man-sized bowl of breakfast cereal.

“Hey.” He grinned up at me, mouth full of milk and fruit-flavored
O
’s. “I thought you were driving your mother to Tucson today.”

“I am. She’s waiting outside. I came by to see you.” I had to add something new to my list of dumb things that cross my mind about Lucho Reyes:
The man could wrench my heart from my chest, simply by eating kid cereal.

“Me? Why?” He might have been surprised to see me, but the welcome in his eyes told me he was also pleased. He used the remote to turn off the television.

“I wanted to see how your foot is doing.”

“It’s good.” He eyed me from under that fringe of thick lashes. They fluttered slowly as he blinked. Maybe he was actually fluttering them on purpose, hell if I know, but the sight made my gut tighten. “Healing, I guess. I’m keeping it up like they said. Doing everything right.”

I glanced around but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the bunkhouse. I leaned over to taste the milky sweetness of his kiss. He melted for me, and I wanted to drape myself over him and return the favor. Our tongues twined while I explored the slick roof of his mouth, his teeth, and the way his lower lip felt when I caught it between my teeth and let go with a snap.

I whispered, “I can come back later tonight. Maybe I could take you for a drive or something?”

“That sounds nice.” He tilted his head and gave me access to his throat. He smelled like citrus and bed and I could not get enough of him. Whether it was chemistry or something deeper. I did not want to let go.

The truck’s horn gave three sharp blasts.

I closed my eyes, full of regret. “That would be my mother.”

“Too bad,” he whispered against my lips.

I pulled back and smoothed a hand over his T-shirt where I’d curled my fingers in the fabric. “She’s not known for patience.”

“Go,
papi
. I’ll see you later.” Absently, he touched his fingers to his lips. I wanted to be those fingers, caressing him.

“Take care of that foot. I want you up—” I shot him my most salacious grin “—and around as soon as possible.”

“I’m on it.” As I left, he went back to his cereal and his television show, whatever it was. I bounded down the steps, prepared for the long drive.

Malloy stood leaning on the passenger window frame, talking to my mother.

“Hey, Tripp.” His expression was mild. “Safe travels.”

“I’ll be by as soon as I can later. If there’s anything you need me to do, leave it, and I’ll catch up when I get back.”

“All right.” He tipped his hat to my mother and continued on toward the barn. When I got in, my mother was still watching him walk away. “It’s such a shame about him. Emma must be devastated.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’ll never give her children.”

“You don’t know that.”

She laughed lightly. “I’m certain you’re joking or I’d worry about the quality of your education.”

“He could have children any number of ways. He wasn’t Emma’s natural child. He and Crispin could foster, adopt, use a surrogate—”

“My God, the way you say it. As if it would be all right to bring an innocent child into a situation like that.”

As I turned the key in the ignition, I bit back any sort of reply.
Ask a stupid question . . .

“What was so important we had to stop here?” my mother asked.

“I just wanted to see how Lucho’s foot is doing.”

“He’s that boy you visited in the hospital?”

“He’s hardly a boy.”

She turned to me. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

I shrugged as I pulled out onto the road.

“Your father wouldn’t like your friendship with that Reyes boy at all.”

“Dad doesn’t get to pick my friends.”

“I don’t know what he’s going to say when I tell him.”

I glanced over at her. “So don’t tell him.”

Her eyes widened with shock at the idea of keeping something from the old man. “Your father is still my husband. When his appeal is successful, he’ll come home, and I doubt he’d be very pleased to find out you’ve made friends with—”

“First of all—” I held up a finger to silence her. “Dad’s not going to come home. He committed those crimes, Ma. He’s in prison because he belongs there. Second, I don’t care what he thinks.”

And okay. Maybe I didn’t care what he thought about me from prison, but I was ready to admit—if only to myself—that I
did
worry that my father might come home.

My dad was a vicious bully. There were times—especially when he initially got arrested and throughout the duration of his trial—that I was afraid he could still reach out through time and space and reel me back somehow. That he could to draw me into his web of rage and paranoia even though I was half a world away. Subliminally I’d been on high alert every day since I’d come back home.

Family terror threat level: blood orange.

Despite my best efforts, fear made me actively hate him. I’d never hated anyone but my dad, not even the Taliban, who’d tried to kill me. I just did my job where they were concerned.

I forced myself to relax my grip on the wheel.

My dad still had power over me, through Ma and Slade. Through guilt over my brother and worry over the bills. The fact that I was driving my Ma to see him in prison was proof of that—a two-and-a-half-hour drive into another state.

In fact, that was a long way. Why on Earth was Slade giving up his Saturdays to take her, week in and week out. Why was she going? I knew how much she despised being outside the iron control she exerted on the sphere of home and hearth.

Miles passed beneath our wheels as we rode in silence.

The closer we got, the tighter I felt Dad’s jaws close down on my throat.

Just before we got to the Arizona border, the truck started shuddering and jerking—rocking us forward and back like a carnival ride. The engine gave a few sputtering coughs and when I put my foot on the gas I got nothing, its hesitation an ominous sign that something was seriously wrong.

“What’s happening?” My mother’s hand landed on my arm.

“Truck’s acting up.” I coasted off to the shoulder as the truck slowed to a crawl. Acrid white smoke billowed out from under the hood. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“Engine trouble. We’ll probably have to call for a tow.”

“No. See if you can do something. Surely—”

“I smell burning antifreeze. The truck’s not drivable. I only hope we don’t have a cracked engine block.”
Crap, crap, crap.
“Wait here.”

I got out of the truck and raised the hood, and the stench of burnt insulation confirmed things. I should have checked the hoses, I guess. I should have taken the truck somewhere to make sure the cooling system was functioning properly. I’d planned on that, of course, but I hadn’t had the time.

“How are we going to get to the facility now?” Ma had exited the truck to peer at the engine over the passenger side fender.

“That’s not happening. We’ll have to change our plans.”

“We can’t change our plans. You have to do something.”

“I’ll call for a tow.” I took out my phone but I didn’t even know who I could call in a situation like this. Christ. “It’s bad. We’re not going to make it to the penitentiary today.”

“Give the phone to me.”

“What for?”

“I’ll call Yancy and he’ll straighten this mess out.”

“What do you think he’s going to do about it? We need the number of a tow company and then we’ll need money to fix the truck. We’ll need a rental so I can get you back to the house.”

“I’m not going back to the house. I’m going to visit your father in the facility.”

“In what universe?” I shouted. “Because in this one, the one we live in, the one where I am driving an ancient truck that has been sitting for God knows how long and needs who knows what repairs for it to be functional, we are stuck.”

I got a bottle of water from the cooler for each of us and handed her one. I didn’t meet her gaze as she took it from me.

“Give me your phone,” she said again.

“My pleasure.” I handed her the phone. She plugged her ear and stepped away but I could hear her shouted half of the conversation just fine. The way she talked about our situation—about the truck having mechanical difficulties—impugned my manhood somehow. It was fairly clear she didn’t believe this could have happened to a decent son, one who’d been prepared and conscientious.

Her words rankled like hell. In the army we’d done more with less than any civilian could ever imagine. We’d gotten less sleep, had less functional equipment. We’d thrived in some pretty inhospitable places and we didn’t have the Auto Club or Mr. Yancy Slade to help us out there either.

I had no idea what was wrong with the truck, but given enough time and patience, I could MacGyver a solution. Yet while my mother talked to her pricey lawyer friend, she eyed me as if I’d caused the problem on purpose.

“Yes, we’re stuck on the highway.” Whatever the listener had to say, my mother glanced at me and frowned. “Well, he never wanted to go and now I guess he has his wish.”

“Ma—” I complained, bitterly embarrassed.

“No, I need Yancy to come fix this.” She held up her hand. “He’s not? But what will I do?” Another pause. “Can’t you try to get in touch with him?”

Cars sped past us. People stared. A tractor-trailer truck passing by nearly blew me over. I used my shirt to open the radiator cap. The water was long gone, so consequently, there was no steam. From what I could see, the hoses appeared to be intact. I’d checked those when I’d first started up the truck. Probably needed a new radiator.

“If that’s the best you can do, I guess it will be fine, dear.” My mother handed me the phone. “Yancy’s girl Alice will call for a tow truck. I have no idea where we are. Can you tell her?”

“Yes.” I held my hand out and she dropped the phone into my palm. I gave Alice directions. Really, it was only a matter of telling her which mile marker we were closest to. My mother stared at me, and at some point I realized she expected me to open the passenger door for her again.

I didn’t know which was going to be worse for her, standing out in the baking sun with only the wash of air from sparse traffic to cool things down, or sitting in the shade of a hot truck, because even with the door open, it was scorching. In the end, I helped her back inside, leaving the door open between us.

She wasn’t exactly talkative.

“Make sure you hydrate, Ma.”

She cracked the cap off her water and took a delicate sip.

After about three minutes, I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “What do you and Dad talk about when you go visit him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you tell him about how things are with you? How you don’t go out, except to visit him? How Mr. Slade—”

“I do not. There’s no earthly reason to burden him with my problems.”

I nodded. A passing horse trailer caught my eye. It made me think of the rescues at the J-Bar and Lucho. Everything made me think of Lucho.

“Did you tell him I was coming back?” I asked. I didn’t know if I had a preference for how she answered. If she’d told him, maybe I didn’t want to know how he took the news. If she didn’t tell him, maybe I didn’t want to know why.

“He knows you have left the army,” she said carefully.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, he knows you’re back. That you will be living at home.” She stared straight ahead. “I planned to tell him that you have a job at the J-Bar today. I don’t know what he’ll say about that.”

“You’re the one who got me that job. You’re the one who—”

“I know.” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t like to think what he’ll say when he finds out, but I honestly had no idea Emma would allow her son to flaunt his lifestyle there on the ranch like that. That she’d support it.”

“Do you truly believe what you’re saying? Or is this Dad talking?” I asked. “Because I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m gay. It’s not a lifestyle. It’s not a choice. I’m the same person I’ve always been. I’m a good man. I’m a decorated soldier.”

“You’re confused.” She folded her hands tightly in her lap. “I don’t blame you for your nature, but you can control your
actions
. While you’re under my roof, I expect you to follow God’s law. I hope I don’t have to make myself any clearer than that.”

“You’ve made yourself plenty clear, Ma.” I yanked off my hat and upended the tail end of the water I’d been drinking over my head. The refreshing splash did more than cool my temper. It was a baptism of sorts. A declaration of independence and a reminder that I was a grown-up and I didn’t need her permission to live my life.

I wasn’t going to follow any rules and I wasn’t going to move out, because I was there to help
her
. Getting my panties in a wad because she talked trash wasn’t going to accomplish my objective.