Percival Everett - Damned If I Do

“Basically. I put it on this side because the bumps hurt my behind.”

“I can’t ride all the way to Pueblo on this buck-board bench.” Austin looked out the window at the moon. “Back this thing up. Let’s put the trailer on my truck and I’ll drive.”

“Okay, but I’m paying for the gas.”

“You’re damn right you’re paying for the gas.”

They hitched the trailer to Austin’s pickup and left at first light. Dwight laughed to himself. “You know why cowboys all have the same-sized balls?”

“No, why?”

“So they can pull each other’s trailers. That’s an old one, but I love it.”

“What did you say that made me say yes to going with you?” Austin asked.

Dwight shrugged.

On the interstate, Dwight said, “I don’t know if it matters much to you, but I don’t think Sarah should have left.”

Austin sighed agreement.

“I was surprised when she picked up the way she did. I mean, just out of the blue like that. I suppose you were in a better place to see it coming. For another man.”

“Yeah.”

“Must have hurt like hell. She’s a damn beautiful woman.”

“Dwight,” Austin said, “you want to shut the hell up?”

“Sure thing.”

Austin considered his soon-to-be-ex-wife. It had hurt like hell. And it had probably been all his fault, but recognizing that so late wasn’t going to help and sure didn’t ease the pain. He looked over at Dwight and the older man smiled at him.

“You ever been dumped?” Austin asked.

“Hell, who hasn’t?” Dwight said. He rolled his window down another inch.

“This is my first time.”

‘Scary, ain’t it?”

Austin turned his attention back to the highway.

Four hours later they were ouside Pueblo picking up Delores’s horse. He was a beautiful black and white paint with wild eyes and a piebald nose. He pranced around the corral and Austin noticed that he searched for balance here and there with his left hind leg. He and Dwight were standing there with the former owner.

“Did Delores get a vet check on this guy?” Austin asked.

Dwight didn’t know.

The other man, named Hicks, said, “She came up and looked him over.”

“He acts like he’s got the wobbles. Look at how he moves in his back end.” The horse was trotting away from them. “He’s all loose like he’s crazy in the caboose.”

“Delores saw him move,” Hicks said.

“All I know is I’m supposed to pick him up and deliver him,” Dwight said.

“Why isn’t he cut?” Austin asked.

“Somebody might want to breed him,” Hicks said.

“Let it go, Austin,” Dwight said.

Austin thought better of saying any more. It wasn’t his deal. He’d seen horse traders like this man before and if Delores didn’t care, he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Hicks twisted up his face as if thinking. “Austin. You that guy whose wife left for that goat roper?”

“Let’s get this horse loaded,” Austin said.

“Well, you boys ought to get home before dark, easy,” Hicks said as the gate of the trailer closed against the horse’s rump.

“We got to make a stop in Trinidad,” Dwight said.

“How long a stop?” Hicks asked.

Austin thought the question was odd. He latched the door and stepped over to the man. “Why?” The thought flashed through his mind that maybe they were being set up for a hijacking.

“No reason. This horse does a little better when it’s light out, is all. But he’ll be fine. You fellers seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Right then, Austin was absolutely certain that was not true. He and Dwight left with the horse, but Austin’s stomach was already upset.

“Something bothering you?” Dwight asked.

“Just everything.”

Austin and Dwight made it into Trinidad about lunch-time. They sat in a diner and downed some coffee and a couple of sandwiches before checking out the address Delores had given Dwight. Austin asked directions a couple times and they found the street, then the house, a run-down aluminum-sided affair with a shake roof and an ancient Doberman on the porch. The dog lifted his head, then let it fall again. Dwight knocked. Again.

“It’s the right number,” Austin said, looking at the digits arranged vertically in front of him.

As they were stepping off the porch, the door opened.

“What do you want?” a fat woman asked. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her giant T-shirt came to the middle of her thighs and giant, wide-legged jeans covered her the rest of the way to the floor.

“Is Myron Rainey here?” Dwight asked.

“No, he ain’t here. Who are you?”

“His sister asked me to give him a ride down to Cimarron. You know where I can find him?”

“Try a bar.”

“Any bar in particular?” Dwight asked.

“One that got booze in it.” And with that she closed the door.

“Nothing’s easy,” Austin said as they walked back to the truck. Austin stopped at the trailer and stroked the tip of the horse’s nose. “He’s a nice animal. I wouldn’t ride him for a million dollars, but he seems sweet.”

“Well, let’s hit a couple of taverns,” Dwight said, getting into the cab. When Austin was behind the wheel, he added, “Just a couple. Hell, if he ain’t at hand, Delores will just have to live with it.”

It was a bright afternoon and Austin felt strange walking into a tavern. He was blinded when he entered, and he followed Dwight to the middle of the room. He let his eyes adjust as he looked around. A couple of sad rejects were slumped over the bar and a fiftyish woman with with big, platinum hair was wiping out glasses.

They went to the woman and Dwight asked, “Do you know a big guy named Myron Rainey?”

“Don’t know nobody what’s named Myron.”

“They call him Yeahbutt.”

“Oh, Yeahbutt.” The woman smiled tenderly, while shaking her head, as if considering a dead friend. “He comes in here. Was in here last night. Ain’t in here now. He owe you money?”

“No ma’am,” Dwight said. “You know where I might find him?”

“No clue. I reckon he lives someplace, but I don’t know where.”

“Thanks anyway.”

The next place was a little better lighted and served food as well as drinks and so there were more patrons and they looked a little less pathetic. At the bar was an enormous, hulking mound of human being and Austin said, “I’ll bet you that’s him.”

Dwight weaved through the tables, Austin behind him. He tapped the big man on the shoulder. “Myron?”

The red, glazed eyes turned to them. The man looked every bit of sixty-five, but was huge, three feet wide and as tall as Dwight while still sitting.

“Are you Myron Rainey?” Dwight asked.

“Who the hell wants to know?” he slurred.

“Your sister asked me to give you a ride down to New Mexico. My name is Dwight Twins. This here is Austin.”

“You think I give a flying fuck what your name is? My sister, eh? You mean Delores?”

“Yeah. She told me you knew I was coming.” Dwight looked at Austin and then at the door.

“My sister sent you to pick me up?”

Dwight nodded.

“Ain’t that some shit.” Myron nudged the drunk beside him with a elbow. “You hear that? She sent this peewee to come pick me up.” He looked at his empty glass. “Well, okay.” And he stood up. He was nearly seven feet tall. Austin felt the front of his neck stretch. “But I gotta hit your buddy.”

“What?” Dwight asked.

“I’m gonna hit your pal here.”

“Why? He didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah, but that’s what bothers me.” He swayed a bit with the alcohol. He looked at Austin as if for the first time. “Hey, you’re black.”