Ghetto Cowboy (5 page)

My eyes bug out. “You
stole
it from the City?”

He leans in real close to make sure I hear him right. “No. We reclaimed it. It’s called homesteading — that means if they don’t use it, they lose it.”

I look around the spread. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“We turned something ugly into something beautiful, Cole. Turned it into a real neighborhood. It’s the only safe place around here, the only place a kid can go without worrying about messing with guns. And it’s all ’cause of them horses.”

My eyes come to rest on that smelly mountain in front of me. “But what you gonna do now? How much bigger is that pile gonna get?”

He laughs bitterly. “A lot, because the City suddenly decided it wanted to build a mall and condos out here. Now it wants the land back.”

I’m confused. “What’s that got to do with
this
?” I say, pointing at the pile.

He takes his hat off, wipes his brow. “Everything.” He looks up and sees a neighbor staring out her window at him. She don’t look happy and shuts her curtains.

“See, the neighbors always liked us, but now they see this . . . 
pile
 . . . growing in the heat and humidity of summer, where it smells ten times worse and . . . well, you get the picture. City stopped service in order to divide us. Then all they gotta do is wait for the complaints to start rolling in, and next thing ya know,
BOOM,
they swoop in with health code violations —”

He stops, must see he lost me. Shrugs.

“Just shovel this onto the pile. It won’t matter much, ’cause they’ll be coming to shut us down soon.”

Before I can say
Why?
he gestures over to something covered with a tarp.

My jaw drops again when I see a hoof sticking out from underneath the tarp. “Is that —?”

“Yep. But we got nowhere to take it, just like we got nowhere to haul this pile. And it ain’t even our horse.” He spits. “Yep, the end is coming, that much I know. . . .”

I
start rolling that wheelbarrow back and forth. Fill it, empty it, fill it, empty it. I don’t care.

Slowly them other kids bring back the horses they was washing to put them in the stalls. The oldest one smiles when he sees me working. “I guess Harp told you everybody works if they come in here.”

“I just felt sorry for y’all. I still ain’t stayin’,” I say as I roll up to the last stall. I hear a noise and peek into the stall where that horse Harper broke is standing — big, black, sweaty, and staring me down.

I freeze in my tracks just as Harper comes strolling in with a bunch of hay. “You ’bout done?”

He takes the hay into the stall, but the horse is still staring right at me and starts backing into the corner.

“I think he’s scared of you,” says Harp.

Yeah, I don’t think so. He just wants me to come closer so he can stomp on me.

Harper sees me frozen there. “Boy, if you gonna be around horses, you gotta learn they ain’t gonna hurt you unless you scared. A horse can smell fear; it makes ’em nervous. You scared?”

I look at him. “Who you calling scared?”

He shakes his head. “Nobody, unless you
are
scared. Now, come here.”

I take a few steps in, and the horse snorts and backs up to the wall.

Harper hands me some hay. “Hold it out for him.”

I look at Harper like he crazy.

“He’s not gonna bite you. Just do it.”

I hold it up, and the horse looks at it.

“Say something to him. He’ll come.”

My mind goes blank. “Like what?”

He rolls his eyes. “What would you say to a dog?” he asks.

That is one big dog. “Uh . . . come here, boy?”

“You got it.” He nods.

And with that, Harper walks out.

“Hey.” I turn around, but he gone. Then I feel a tug on my arm. I turn slowly and see the biggest head I ever seen on anything right in front of my face.

I can’t move.

The horse’s big ol’ nose is sniffing me. I can feel it huffin’ and puffin’, its nostrils opening up like they gonna suck me right in. Then it raises its head and
CHOMP,
these giant teeth start pulling at the hay in my hand, chewin’ away, his big ol’ eyes staring at me. It bites closer to my hand, and I let go. He follows the hay to the ground and he keeps eating, like I ain’t even there.

This thing is huge. I just stare at his giant yellow teeth as they crunch away. He do kinda act like a dog, so I slowly put my hand on his neck like Harper done. He don’t flinch. His hair is rough like doll hair, but the fur on his neck is soft and smooth.

“Good boy . . .” I whisper.

I think about how Harper talked to the horse earlier. I let my hand move up to his neck and keep saying, “Good boy, good boy.” He moves his hoof and almost steps on my foot. I can feel his weight when that hoof goes down. That makes me nervous, like maybe he don’t know how big he is. But when I look back up at his face, he looking right at me, and then I know he knows that I’m there. And suddenly I don’t feel so scared no more.

I
finish up and wait for Harper. Outside the barn door, I can see the sun turning orange as it gets low in the sky. Sun feels different here than in Detroit, bigger maybe. I can see the downtown buildings way off in the distance, the freeway hustling nearby.

I hear a bang go off in the distance. I think it’s a car backfiring, but then a few more go off and I know it’s gunshots. That much is the same as Detroit. Pretty soon, I hear a ’copter chopping overhead. I can feel it in my body as it whooshes by. It ain’t going far.

Harper pops his head in. “Time to go.” I’m covered in dirt and who knows what. He nods, like he approves. “You’ll feel it in the morning.”

Harp closes up the barn and puts some other stuff in the storage room while I spend about ten minutes cleaning the muck from my Nikes.

When we walk out onto the street, I notice all the kids is gone. About ten of the guys is left, gathered around a fire in a trash can on the vacant lot across the way, sittin’ on a old couch and chair somebody left behind. Some of them is Harper’s age, but they dress different — wearing goatees and shades, black cowboy hats, Levi jackets, and boots. They look tall and serious, like a cowboy Malcolm X. They knocking back some brews, talking trash about some race coming up at a place called the Speedway.

The Muslim guy, who ain’t drinking, waves to Harper. “Hey, you letting Lightning out tomorrow?”

Harper smiles, all sly. “Who wants to know?”

The Muslim dude laughs, points to another guy I ain’t seen before, a dude as big as Notorious B.I.G., wearing a red Phillies jacket.

“Big Dee says he’s got a hundred riding on a Lightning-Rocket rematch.”

Tex pipes in, egging Harper on. “That is if you ain’t too
scared.
 . . .”

The other guys start chanting,
Race, race, race.

I can tell Harper likes the attention.

Big Dee holds up his big hand. “When you gonna grace us with your presence, Harp? It’s been three months, man!”

Harper smiles. “You know, once you been king for so long, it gets kinda old. Besides, Lightning’s just been resting up till y’all recover from your last humiliation.”

The guys all bust up. They know a good smackdown when they hear it.

The Muslim guy pipes in. “I don’t know, man. Rocket’s been looking
goood
lately. Big Dee got a new rider an’ all.”

Harper raises a eyebrow. “Yeah? And who that be?”

Big Dee grins, his eyes hidden behind his shades. “Come on down and find out for yourself, man.”

Harper acts all amused. He glances at me, winks. “Maybe I will, just to show the boy here what speed really looks like.”

That gets a big reaction. The guys really whoop it up. Harper starts walking away, and Big Dee adds, “Maybe your boy can handle that horse better than you.”

Harper laughs at that one. A little too much. I give him a look, but he keeps walking and laughing like that’s the funniest thing he ever heard.

I follow Harper to his house. The sky is turning purple and darkness is coming on fast. People who was out earlier is now clearing from the streets. If it’s anything like where I’m from, I know you don’t wanna be out after dark or some fool might clip you by accident.

When we get back in his house, Harper locks it up good and tight. As soon as the sun sets, I can hear the streets coming to life again. The booming bass of a car passing by rattles the walls. I feel all jumpy and Lightning acts nervous too, but Harper calms him down.

Now that I got nothing to do, my mind starts thinking again, remembering what’s up. “When you gonna call Mama?” I ask.

He stops petting Lightning. “I get to it later.”

That won’t do. I know she home by now. “You better call her. I can take a bus back or something.”

He stands there a moment, not saying nothing.

So I keep talking. “I know she over it by now. Probly feels all lonely in our apartment, wondering what the heck she did and —”

“She ain’t coming back, Coltrane.”

I ignore him. “She be sitting all by herself, eating some frozen dinner, thinking she’ll come get me tomorrow. . . .”

“There ain’t gonna be no tomorrow. She’s not coming.”

I look at him good. “How you know that if you ain’t called her yet?”

For the first time, he don’t look so tough. I can see him struggling to figure out what to say.

“What?” I ask.

“Your mama called me a couple hours ago.”

A car comes booming up the road, setting the windows a-shaking. Harp come right up to me. “She called me, saying she had a long time to think about it and how even though she don’t care for me any, she knows this is a better place for you. She’s got other things to deal with right now.”

This is like a bomb going off in my head. How long she gonna play this game? “Nah . . . she just saying that to mess with you. She be back.”

“Coltrane, I know this woman. When she makes up her mind, it’s done.”

“I know her too. I know she loves me and would never give me up for good. She would never —”

“Coltrane!” he yells.

I jump back.

He grinds his teeth. “I waited for years for her to come back, but it never happened. She’s a strong-headed woman, and she means what she says.”

My mind is racing. I don’t wanna hear him talk no more. “She didn’t come back ’cause she don’t love you. Whatever you done to her isn’t like what’s going on between me and her.”

“Yeah? Well, what
is
going on between you and her? What kind of kid drives his mama to the point where she can’t deal with you no more? You on drugs? In a gang? Do you hit her? What?” He towering over me now, but I don’t care. He can’t hurt me.

I push him away. “I ain’t do nothing to her!”

Suddenly I’m out in the street, the door banging behind me. All I can think of is,
I’m outta here! I don’t need him! I just need to get back home.

I start running. I hear him call out, “Coltrane!” but I keep moving. I don’t even look back.