Percival Everett - Wounded

“She’s smart,” I said. “She makes me look good.”

Gus met us at the door. “Can you believe it,” the old man said. “Snow! I tell you weather has no respect.”

“Gus, David and Robert.”

“Howdy.” Gus shook Robert’s hand and then David’s. “Your hands are like ice. Where are your coats?”

“Don’t have any,” David said.

“Get your asses in there by the fire,” he barked. “No coats. What the Sam Hill is that all about?”

“We’re doing lunch instead of dinner,” I said. “That all right?”

“That’s fine. No coats.”

“How’s our patient?”

“She’s dragging herself around pretty good, now. I had to push Zoe outside. I’ve been giving the little girl warm milk from a rubber glove. I pierced a finger and she really goes after it.”

“That’s great, Gus.” I made a move toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going out there and I’m going to tie that mule’s legs together. How the hell did he get out?”

“He was out as soon as you left. I caught him and stuck him in a paddock, but there he is. He’s a spooky one.”

“Well, I’m sticking that son of a bitch back in a stall and I’m going to weld the damn gate shut. If he gets out again, then he’s just going to have roam around loose. I can’t be worrying about him all the goddamn time.”

Gus had started away in the middle of my rant and was asking David and Robert if they wanted coffee.

“Yeah, go ahead and walk away from me while I’m talking,” I said. I liked that Gus didn’t have time for anyone’s carryings on.

I was pleased to find myself outdoors and alone. The snowflakes were swirling, the cold front getting confused by the wall of heat offered by the Red Desert. I took this as a sign that the storm wouldn’t amount to much. Unfortunately, my taking it as a sign meant that we were in for a dumping, my guesses about weather were almost always misguided. The mule was waiting for me about halfway to the barn and he heeled to me like a dog and ambled agreeably into a stall when I swung open the door. “Okay, you candidate for the glue factory,” I said. I had to be impressed by the animal. I secured the gate with a nose chain, then tied a rag in a hard knot around the chain’s clasp. “You get out of that and you can sleep in the house.” I realized my light jacket was becoming inadequate for the weather, another indication that my perceived sign had been characteristically wrong. I walked quickly through the barn and checked everybody’s water before heading back inside.

Gus had pulled a load of coats from the closet and put them in a pile on the floor. He and the guests were picking through them.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Trying to find these boys some proper outerwear,” Gus said. “Something toasty for the remainder of summer.”

“Outerwear?”

“That’s what they call it in the stores and the catalogs. You ought to know that — jacket man.”

David laughed.

That fed Gus. “This man loves jackets. He’s a pathetic addict. He can’t pass one up.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

Gus gestured to the pile on the floor. “None of these are mine.” The old man paused for effect. “I rest my case.”

“It gets cold around here,” I said.

“Take your pick,” Gus said to David and Robert. “The man’s got no favorites. One’s the same as the next.”

The younger men looked to me. I waved them on. “Have at it,” I said. “He’s right. I need help, a twelve-sleeve program or something. Find something warm, though. You’re going to need it.”

“Bad out there?” Gus asked.

“Could be,” I said.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you about the painting on the wall,” Robert said.

“What about it?”

“Is it a Klee?”

“It is.”

“A real Klee?”

“Yep. A real little Klee.” I walked over to the small canvas. “And on that other wall is a Kandinsky watercolor. But that’s the extent of my art collection.”

“How much is the Klee worth?” Robert asked.

I bristled, but not noticeably. “I never think about it. I’m sure its value goes up and down. Why? You want to buy it?”

“No, I was just wondering.” Robert laughed nervously. He turned back to the pile of jackets.

Gus watched the men try on the coats. “Did you know the boy who was killed?” he asked.

Robert shook his head.

“Terrible thing,” Gus said.

“We had some truck with the boy they arrested,” Gus said.

David stood. He was swallowed by a yellow slicker. He looked at Gus and then at me.

“I think I’m a little wider than you, son,” I said. “Besides, that will keep you dry, but not warm.”

“You met the guy?” David asked, peeling off the garment.

“He actually did a little work for me around here,” I said, embarrassed by the association.

“Little is the operative word,” Gus said. “Showed up out of nowhere. He wasn’t so much weird as he was slow.”

“He was dumber than a bucket of hair,” I said. “Still, I can’t imagine his doing such a thing. Hell, I can’t imagine anybody doing it.”

“We put up with people like that all the time.” Robert’s tone was only slightly strident.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Then it was as if Robert realized for the first time or again that Gus and I were black. He fell back into himself.

“Don’t worry about it, Robert,” I said. “Nobody’s got the hate market cornered in this country.”

“Yeah,” said Gus. “There’s plenty of hate for everybody. Rally round the flag, boys.”

Robert smiled weakly, then turned his attention to a down-filled parka with purple pockets.

“Now that will keep you warm,” I said.

“It had better,” Gus sneered. “As ugly as that thing is.”

I walked to the window and peered out. Just as I had predicted, counter to my prediction the wind was really blowing and the snow was really falling. “It’s an official mess out there,” I said. “I hope you boys don’t mind staying the night. I’d rather not risk your lives and mine on that road in this storm in the dark.”

Robert gave David an uneasy look, but David didn’t notice or simply didn’t respond.

David said, “That’s fine.” When David did look at Robert, Robert looked away. “Robert?”

“Sounds okay. Thanks, John.”

“You bet.”

While Gus prepared the meal, I took David and Robert, in their new coats, out to see the barns and horses. We wandered through the long barn and out the other end. The friendly horses shoved their heads out into the alley, looking for treats or just a rub on the nose.

“How many do you have?” David asked.

“Twenty-five,” I said. “A nice even odd number. But they’re not all mine. Several I’m training for other people. When winter comes, I’ll take the shoes off most of my guys and turn them out.”

“When winter comes?” Robert laughed.

“Son, this ain’t winter,” I said in my cowboy voice. “This here is sun-bathing weather.”

“This must be a lot of work,” David said. We were in the small barn now. The wind was spinning the vents above us.

“Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat,” I said. I led them to the end of the middle barn. “And this is Felony.” The horse pushed out his head. I was a little surprised by it. I stroked his nose. “He belongs to a neighbor.”

“Felon?” David asked.

“Felony,” I said. “Which of course is a much nicer name than Felon. The man’s daughter named him. He’s been a bit of a problem for them. He’s a looker though. And he’s coming along.”

“That’s what you do, train horses?” Robert asked.