Twisted (47 page)

“I was gonna ask a favor from ya, Jeff.”

“What’s that?”

“In my marketing hospitality class, I need to put together a flyer to pass out at travel conventions, give to travel agents, that sort of thing. I was gonna work on it this evening on the computer. Do you think you might be able to look it over and tell me what ya think?”

“Sure! I’d be happy to do that. I told ya before, I’d always be happy to help ya with school work.”

“Thanks! I appreciate it. It always makes me feel better when I have someone else look over my homework.”

“I understand that. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“I was meanin’ to mention, Jason’s turnin’ into a real cowhand.”

“That he is, Mike. It’s nice to see. He doesn’t got that chip-on-the-shoulder attitude anymore either. I remember when Smitty and José first started teasin’ ’im. He’d get all angry and defensive. Now he just answers back. He’s pretty good at holdin’ his own.”

“I’m glad we hired him. He had it even tougher than I did. I feel good about helpin’ him.”

“I reckon your Dad feels the same way. Jason really leans on him a lot.”

“I know. Jason told me. I actually been talkin’ with my dad more too. I asked him, how can he still believe in God when he felt that the way he was actin’ was sanctioned by that God?”

“Did he answer your question?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t at all what I expected. He said that God really smacked him down and punished him for actin’ that way to me. He also told me he needed to be smacked down like that and the greatest hurt he did to himself. He lost his wife, his family, pretty much everythin’, from bein’ so bigoted.”

“That must have been tough for you to hear.”

“It was. My first reaction was to tell him he never had to go through garbage cans for stuff to eat or sleep on the street, but then I got to thinkin’, gettin’ thrown out and endin’ up in San Francisco, I got into the program that got me workin’ in the stables. I was able to go to several horse camps and do some work there. I got good enough your dad gave me a job cowboyin’. Then I met you.” The look in his eyes was incredibly sweet and tender. “I reckon if he wouldn’t have kicked me out, we wouldn’t be together. I told him it worked out all right in the long run, and he ain’t lost me, he found me.”

“That’s mighty big of you, Mike.”

“It’s somethin’ I learned from you.”

“From me? How?”

“Remember when Wayne was behind the cattle rustlin’, and he tried to kill you?”

“I ain’t likely to forget that.”

“You also asked the judge to go easy on Wayne. When you had to stand up there before he got sentenced, you asked the judge not to impose the death penalty. You talked about rememberin’ the good stuff, how Wayne was there when you got your first pony and how he helped you learn how to cowboy and rodeo. I reckoned that if you can be that big about Wayne, I should at least think on forgivin’ my own father. Once I thought about it, then it wasn’t all that hard.”

“I’m a real lucky man, buddy, that you’re on my team.”

He smiled at me. “You got anythin’ planned for us tonight?”

“Nope, you got any ideas?”

“I was thinkin’ that maybe we could have a nice dinner, say some steaks, baked potatoes and salads, and a bottle of wine. Then maybe build a fire in the fireplace and cuddle in front of it for a while. Then maybe we could roll back the rug for a little close dancin’. To top off the evenin’, I was hopin’ we could go upstairs and you could fuck me, long and slow and sweet.”

“That sounds like one hell of a good plan, Mike.”

“Great! Only thing is, since I gotta go to school for the exam, you’re gonna have to cook.”

“I reckon it’s gonna be worth my while.”

“I’ll make damn sure it is!”

“You got a date, then!” He had to run off to his exam, so we kissed goodbye nice and slowly. He headed out and I heard his truck start. I cleaned up the kitchen, took some steaks out of the freezer, and headed out to my workshop.

I’
D
CAST
one sculpture a couple of days before. It was a bull, and a cowboy curled up on the ground who’d just got bucked, and a rodeo clown distracting the bull. I thought it would be nice to dedicate it to rodeo clowns when I took it to the artists’ co-op for sale. I reckon I’m pretty proficient in the rough stock events, but I know there’s been a good share of times that the clowns have distracted bulls to give me time to get up and get the hell out of the way when I haven’t covered. I cracked the plaster mold off the statue and had a look. The detail I’d carved into the wax mold had been faithfully reproduced in the sculpture. There were no air bubbles or rough spots. I dusted off the bronze with a cloth and looked at it closer. With some polishing, burnishing, and shellac, it would be all ready for the artists’ co-op. I spent a couple of hours doing just that, and then set it aside for the shellac to dry.

Mary Grace had suggested that I make a numbered set of sculptures. They’d be less expensive than an original, but they would still command a pretty good price, since I made them, and I’d only make ten or so. I’d seen a picture, in looking through some cowboy photographs, of a wrangler on horseback, carrying a calf through a snowstorm. I got to thinking on how I could reproduce that. I got the picture in my mind and made a quick sketch of it with pencil and paper. After about an hour or so, I was satisfied with the sketch.

I got up, stretched, and got a glass of water. As I was walking around, I realized the longhandles of Mike’s that I was wearing were really shrunk tight and kind of threadbare. It would be too warm in a few weeks to wear long johns anymore, and I made up my mind to order some new clothes for him online after I was done. It would be a nice surprise for him. I smiled, thinking of him getting home and us necking for a while, with me in his worn and shrunk longhandles. They fit like a second skin, so I reckoned he’d really like that. I daydreamed about that for a few minutes and then decided to get back to work.

I got some plasticine and began to shape it and carve, using my sketch as a model. It took a few hours for me to get a good outline of the horse, rider, and calf. I was set to call it a day. I took off the leather apron I used in the workshop and brushed the plaster and plasticine dust off my jeans, boots, and shirt sleeves.

I walked into the living room and set a fire in the fireplace. All we’d have to do when Mike got home was touch a match to it. I smiled, thinking of the evening we had planned. It had been quite a while since we’d danced together at home. We would roll back the rug, move the furniture, kick off our boots, and slide around the hardwood floor in the living room in our socks, two-stepping real close, to some nice slow songs. Mike was just gone to school in Wenatchee for the day, and I already missed him. The phone brought me back to earth from my daydreams about Mike. I headed into our office to answer it.

“Lucky Jeff Ranch, this is Jeff speakin’.”

“Hi, Jeff, it’s AJ, remember me?”

“Of course, AJ, how are you doing?”

“It’s been hard, Jeff. I know I only knew Lonnie a real short time, but he was a special guy. I thought we might have been able to really build a nice relationship.”

“I’m really sorry for you, AJ. He was a really good guy. Hopefully they’ve caught the son of a bitch responsible.”

“Yeah, I was surprised when they arrested David. I wouldn’t have pictured him as clever enough to continue outwitting the police and FBI.”

“People will surprise ya.”

“That’s true. Anyway, Jeff, I called for two reasons. First of all, do you have any vacancies?”

“We sure do, AJ, and you still got that discount for repeat guests I’d mentioned earlier.”

“Great! I’d love to see you guys again and stay there. It’s so peaceful and relaxing.”

“Okay, when do you need the reservation for?”

He gave kind of an embarrassed little laugh. “Actually, for tonight and maybe a few days more.”

“That’s quick, but we do got room. Are you in Seattle or Portland?”

“That’s actually the second thing. I’m here in the valley. Mike’s going back to school inspired me to take a photography class. I remember some of the places I saw here when I was visiting before and thought I’d want to photograph them. You’d told me how Winslett was almost a ghost town and that there were lots of abandoned ranches around. I asked at the gas station in Pateros about any, and they told me about this place I’m at. Anyway, I got up here and on one of the back roads, and my car broke down.” He laughed again, sheepishly. “I was hoping that you might be able to come by and wait until the tow truck gets here and then give me a ride to the ranch. I’m really sorry to put you through any inconvenience.”

“Just where are you?”

“I’m east of town on one of the roads that heads off north. It’s by an old gas station which is closed down. It goes a couple of miles back and up the hills on the north side of the valley. It heads down to a hollow with an old, abandoned ranch. I wanted to photograph the ranch buildings, and when I was done, the car wouldn’t start.”

I thought a few minutes and then realized where he must be. “Is the road you went down through pasture and grassland with no trees until you get up the hill?”

“Yes. There are some pine trees on the ridge, and then when the road goes down to the ranch, it looks like there’s a small stream that runs behind the house. There’s some sort of tree all along the edge of the stream, but the trees don’t have any leaves now, or they’re dead.”

“Relax, AJ, I know where you are. I can be by there right quick. You’re by the old Schmidt place. It’s a fairly big farmhouse, all boarded up and run down? It looks like the porch would topple over with a good wind?” As we were talking, I began doodling on some paper we keep by the phone for messages. I drew a house with a collapsed porch and some cottonwood trees behind it.

“That’s it, Jeff. You described it to a T. Is Mike gonna come with you?”

“No, he’s off at school today with exams. His classes have been online, and he just has to go in for exams. It’ll be just me. Do you want me to call a tow truck?”

“No, I already called one. They said they’d take a bit, though. I was hoping to go back to Seattle today, but since the car broke down and needs to be fixed, I think it’s the perfect time for us to visit.” I continued drawing. I drew a small car with a flat tire. Under the drawing I wrote, “AJ” and “Old Schmidt Place.”

“Interesting, AJ, you’re AJ Schmidt and you’re at the old Schmidt place. Any relation?”

He laughed. “Not to my knowledge. It might be nice if I was related and could get the property. It would be nice to live here in the valley. Anyway, are you sure it’s okay for you to come and pick me up?”

“No problem at all, AJ. I’m happy to come and get you. It should take me about a half an hour to get there.”

Thanks, Jeff. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“No worries at all. I’ll be there shortly.”

“See you in a bit. Thanks again, Jeff.” I grabbed a jacket and a beat-up old Stetson from the coat and hat racks in the mudroom and headed out the door.

I
DROVE
down the valley, heading east. Where AJ’s car had broken down was about thirty miles or so from the ranch. Out where we live, that’s really nothing, and driving thirty or forty miles to run an errand is normal. I thought again about buying Mike some clothes. The Internet has really been great for us. I could go online and order most of the clothes we needed. I hated to shop, so if I could avoid the malls in Wenatchee, that was fine by me.

Driving eastward, the trees started to thin out as I lost elevation and got further from the mountains. By the time I got to Winslett, the pine forests that grew on Lucky Jeff Bluff and further west were pretty much gone, giving way to cottonwoods by the river and small creeks which fed into it. The day was partially cloudy. Quite a bit of snow had melted in the last few days, and although it still froze at night most nights, the days were warm enough to continue the thaw which had started last week with the rain while we were rounding up cattle.

As I passed Winslett, I could see buds on the cottonwoods. Spring wasn’t too far off. Mike and I had been talking about camping and hiking. We’d thought about doing a backpacking trip for a couple of weeks from Highway 2 at Stevens Pass to Manning, British Columbia. The eighty miles would take about a full two weeks if we didn’t want to kill ourselves. I was starting to get excited, thinking about a long-distance hike with Mike. I really enjoyed his company, and we both enjoyed the outdoors. My dad had liked to hike and backpack, and we’d gone on many hikes as I was growing up. A couple of times we even took a week or ten days. I knew Mike didn’t really have any long-distance hiking gear, but I knew in the camping equipment was my dad’s backpack and other things. The part of the trail we had talked about hiking went right through some of the most rugged and isolated territory in the lower forty-eight states. It would be really fun to share that with Mike. We had plenty of time to plan. Much of the high country wouldn’t even melt out before the middle to end of July. Some north-facing slopes might have snow until August.

The miles just seemed to fly by as I daydreamed about camping and hiking with Mike, maybe even taking some horseback trips. When I was in high school, I’d occasionally guided hunters in the national forest, and hikers and horsemen into the North Cascades.

I came up to the turnoff and began up the rutted road to the abandoned Schmidt farm. The road obviously hadn’t been maintained in quite a while, and once I got past the old gas station down by the highway, it was badly rutted and had some pretty nasty mud holes. I remembered AJ telling me when he was staying at the ranch that his car was a four-wheel-drive vehicle. I reckoned it would have to be to get through this. My truck had pretty big tires and was all-wheel, all-the-time drive, so I wasn’t too worried. Besides, having grown up in the valley and having spent a good amount of time on similar roads, driving supplies out to line camps, and on unused logging roads for hunting or fishing, I figured I could handle the mud.