Percival Everett - Wounded

“When did you see him?”

“I had to go out there. He claims that old Monday woman is stealing his cows. He claims that a lot. I suppose it’s true, but I can’t see it.” Duncan was one of the few cattle detectives left in the area. “White Buffalo is so bad at keeping records.”

“And Clara Monday is smart,” I said.

“Tougher than a dairy cow steak,” Duncan said. “Rides around up there on that App with a thirty-thirty across her lap. She’s gotta be seventy.”

Ellie was stroking Felony’s nose. The horse seemed grateful for the attention.

David came into the barn and joined us.

“Duncan, Ellie, this here is my friend David. He’s from Chicago.”

Duncan shook David’s hand. “Where is Chicago?”

David looked to me.

“Just kidding you, son,” Duncan said.

“How’s he doing?” Ellie asked about Felony.

“He’s going very well. You could ride him right now, but I don’t know what he thinks of snow yet.”

“He’s a beautiful horse,” David said.

“Thanks,” Ellie said.

“Know much about horses?” Duncan asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re smart enough to say that, you’re all right with me.” Duncan put the cigarette he’d been fiddling with back into his pocket.

Robert came into the barn and we all looked his way. He walked up to David and gave him a kiss. I glanced at Duncan, looking for a reaction, then felt bad that I was doing that.

“Ellie, Duncan, this is Robert.”

Robert nodded, but didn’t offer his hand.

Ellie said, “Hello.”

Duncan said, “Robert.”

“The snow is beautiful, isn’t it?” Robert said.

“Well, John,” Duncan said, “Ellie just wanted to see her baby here. I guess we’ll be going.”

Robert decided to take offense. “Do we make you uncomfortable?”

David was as surprised as me at how confrontational Robert was being, especially with someone he didn’t know. He was, however, less amused than I was. I looked to Duncan for his response.

“No, son,” the big man said. “The two of you don’t make me uncomfortable, but you alone do.” Duncan was completely relaxed. “I’ll give it to you in good old cowboy talk. I ain’t never been around any homosexuals. Not to my knowledge, anyway. I’m just assuming that’s what you are. I ain’t never given it much thought, and I reckon I don’t approve of it, but I can’t say why. Still this is a free country and, to my mind, you can do what you want.”

“Let’s go, Daddy,” Ellie said.

“Wait a second, darlin’,” he said. “The man asked me a question.”

“Son, I don’t like anything thrown up in my face.” He looked at David. “David, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

Robert was angry. “Nice speech,” he said.

Duncan smiled. “I don’t lie. There are people around here who might shoot you for what you are. I don’t know why, but I’ve no doubt that they would. People are bad like that and we’ve got our share. Maybe we’ve got more than our share, I don’t know. Like I said, I believe this here is a free country. Now, my speech is over. See you later, John.”

“Bye, Mr. Hunt,” Ellie said.

I watched Duncan and his daughter leave the barn. What I liked about Duncan was that he was never out of control. He was a strange man in that he admitted to a lot of prejudices, but he never held that against himself.

David looked at Robert. I couldn’t tell what was in him. He was confused, I knew that much, but whether he was angry with Duncan or with Robert, I simply had no clue. He shuffled his feet and walked over to scratch Felony’s nose.

I probably should have said nothing, that would have been best, I knew it even then, but my mouth opened, “You just make friends everywhere you go.” With that, I walked away. I didn’t like feeling bad and this kid made me feel bad every time I turned around. This time I was feeling bad because I considered that I was being unfair to him. All he had really done was kiss his partner and I couldn’t tell whether I was bothered by that or by the way he had done it.

After breakfast, I drove the boys back to town and to their motel. The ride in the Jeep was quiet, ending with a polite handshake from Robert and an unexpected and warm embrace from David.

ALTHOUGH I WAS ITCHYand eager to get home, my reaction to visiting town so many times in so few days, I decided to stop by Myra’s and pick up shots for the young coyote. I considered it ironic that if left in the wild she would have been healthy, contact with humans notwithstanding, but because she was in our care she now had to be protected from distemper, parvo, and a host of other things. Protection against rabies would come later. The thought of rabies reminded me of my primary concern, that the little dog was a wild animal. Normally, I could see raising her in a cage and then turning her free to roam and hunt, but this pathetic creature had but three legs and who knew what kind of respiratory damage she might have suffered. I’d have to establish our respective stations and socialize her as best I could.

As I drove back through town, the medicine in a shoe box with dry ice around it, I considered Gus’s attachment to the coyote. It seemed a bit extreme, but the pup was plenty pitiful. What little traffic there was slowed near the square. I could see an ambulance parked in front of the sheriff’s office. I inched closer and I saw a stretcher being rolled along the walk to the vehicle. Bucky was standing nearby, his hat in his hand while he scratched his equine head. I tapped my horn and the tall man turned to see me. He walked to my rig.

“What’s going on, Bucky?” I asked.

He put a hand on the roof of the Jeep and leaned toward me. He spat on the ground before saying, “It’s bad, John.”

“What?”

“Your friend killed himself,” Bucky said.

“Castlebury?”

“Hanged himself from the upper bunk with his britches. One leg around his neck, the other around the top rail. I sure didn’t see it coming. Should have.”

“Good grief.”

“Terrible thing to see.” The sheriff looked over at the ambulance doors being slammed shut. “Terrible thing.”

“Good grief,” I said, again.

Bucky stood and looked away across the lawn of the courthouse. “It’s about the last thing I need, I can tell you that.” Then he fell silent.

“What is it, Bucky?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think he did it,” I said.

“What do you think?” he asked. The ambulance drove away, no siren. “You knew him a little.”

“No, I don’t think he did it.” I was surprised to have said it, but I knew I’d thought it all along. “You still haven’t told me what you think.”

“I don’t know, John. It’s felt funny from the beginning to me.”

“So, what now?” I asked.

“I guess I’ll do my job. Now, I guess I’ll get around to doing my fucking job.” He shook his head. “We both know I’ll never find out who killed that boy. Jesus Christ. Two men dead.”

I nodded. “I’ll make the call for you.”

Bucky looked at me.

“I know you,” I said. “You look for your murderer. I’ll call Castlebury’s brother.”

“Thanks. Still, you’re going to have to tell him to call my office.”

Bucky stood away and I drove off. Bucky had a hard time with bad news, an obvious liability in his profession. He was either tender that way, and if true, I liked that, or he was weak. But I wondered why I was not either tender or weak. Fact was, I had little stomach for it as well, and I wondered why in the world I had offered to do it. Perhaps I thought I owed something to Wallace Castlebury. Perhaps I felt I’d failed to let him think that at least one person thought he was innocent. Maybe he’d have been alive if he thought I believed him. I carried enough guilt and I wasn’t going to carry any more. I would call his brother and do this last thing for him.