Percival Everett - Wounded

“See, I knew you were a big pussycat. You’re not going to change after we get married, are you?”

“Well, I hope being around you will make me better looking,” I said.

“Keep wishing, cowboy.”

Back at my place, I prepared dinner while Morgan and David went out to muck stalls. The temperature was plummeting and I asked them to throw blankets over a couple of the older animals. Morgan came in complaining about my being in the warm house and I told her that cooking was man’s work. David closed the door, took off his jacket, and slapped his arms.

“This is worse than Chicago,” he said.

“Chicago can be pretty cold,” I said. “David, I decided to let you have the bedroom downstairs. It’s down the hall off the den. I’m afraid the room upstairs is full of somebody’s stuff.”

“My stuff,” Morgan said.

“The bathroom is close and you won’t have to share it with Gus.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll check out the bathroom right now.” David left the room.

“He’s very quiet,” Morgan said. “He hardly said two words while we were out there.”

“Really? I guess he’s shy.” I said. “You know you can be pretty intimidating sometimes.”

Morgan snuggled up close to me. “Oh, yeah? You think so, do you?”

“Yes, indeed. Downright overbearing.”

She kissed me. “Little ol’ me?”

“Yep. Now get out of here and let me cook. You make me nervous.”

David returned. “The room looks great.”

“It can be a little chilly in the morning. The wall heater in that bathroom is pretty good, though.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

“You can help by sitting down and having a cup of tea while I do this,” I said. “You, too, madam.”

“I’m going upstairs to do a few things,” Morgan said. “Fifteen minutes?”

“That’s about right.”

When Morgan was gone, David said, “She’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s something special.”

“So, when is the wedding?”

“The spring, I guess.” I poured olive oil and balsamic vinegar over the salad and gave it a toss.

“I never imagined ranch people eating like you,” he said.

“All city people eat the same?” I asked.

“Okay, okay.” David stood and walked to the window. “Does the mule always just wander around like that?”

“I can’t stop him. Unfortunately, he’s mine now. I call him Pest. He answers to it, so I guess it’s his name.”

“John, I want to thank you for letting me come here.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t know if you’re going to be thanking me tomorrow when we’re riding the fence in ten-degree weather.”

“You should probably know, I’ve never ridden a horse,” David said.

I turned and looked at him. “Never? Not even a pony ride?”

The young man shook his head.

“Well, it will be a ten-degree riding lesson and then a fifteen-degree fence check. I’ll put you on my old App; she’s as safe as it gets.”

“Have you ever fallen off a horse?”

“I’ve been bucked off and launched off, but I’ve never fallen off a horse. You ever fall off a chair?”

“Chairs don’t move,” he said.

“Well, if you can sit on a chair without falling off, you can sit on a horse. You’ll like it.” I heard Morgan coming down the stairs. “David, why don’t you grab some plates out of that cupboard behind you.”

“It’s not ready?” Morgan said.

I gave the salad another toss. “Shadup and sidown,” I said. “But first, grab some silverware.”

She opened the drawer. “Don’t listen to him, David,” she said. “This is not silver. I’m not sure what it is.”

David chuckled.

“He’s not a bad cook, though,” Morgan said. “He’s kind of a keeper.”

The next morning was clear and hard cold. David was bundled up in a down coat and wore a watch cap pulled down over his ears. We finished the feeding, ate some cereal, and saddled the App for his lesson.

In the round pen I told him the basics of reining. “Touch her neck on the left side with the rein and she’ll go right. You don’t have to pull. The horse will go where your belly button points. Point your navel to where you want to go, lay the rein on her neck and you’re off. Now, give her a little kiss sound and a squeeze with your calves.”

He did and the horse walked.

“Go ahead and walk her around the circle.”

David was awkward, but the horse was confident and soon he looked comfortable enough.

“That’s all we’re going to do is walk,” I said.

“What if something scares her?” he asked.

“This old girl is bomb proof. But if a spaceship does land and gets her running, hang on and realize that she’s the least of your worries.”

We rode out the gate and toward the southeast.

“What are we doing again?”

“Duncan Camp wants to park some cattle on BLM adjacent to my place and I want to make sure my fence is good.”

“A range war,” David joked.

“That’s right. No, not really, but I don’t want his cows coming close and messing up things. I don’t much like cows, if you haven’t noticed. Besides, it will be easier for him to find the beasts if they can’t wander across my place and find their way onto the desert.”

We rode the fence and re-stretched barbed wire in places, rolled up discarded wire and made sure the gates were in good shape and closed. The work and the sun warmed us up and soon we were a little sweaty in our coats.

“I’m getting hot,” David said.

“Well, stay hot. Better to be hot in your coat. You take that jacket off and that cold hits your wet body and you’ll be sorry.”

“Got it.”

We stopped on a ridge and looked down at the valley. “This is something, isn’t it?” I said.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I never get used to it.” I looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here, David.”

“Me, too. Thanks.”

We came on one last sagging string of wire. David managed to tangle it around his leg. It ripped through his jeans and sliced his calf. He let out a scream and started hopping around.

“Let me see it,” I said. “You’re going to have to drop your pants.”

“Jesus, that hurts.” He undid his belt and exposed his leg.

I pulled my first aid kid from my saddlebag and began to treat the wound. “This is going to sting a little,” I told him, then put some antiseptic on.

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” I looked at the flap of skin. There wasn’t a lot of blood. “You’re not going to bleed to death. Tell me this, cowpoke, do you remember the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“No.”

“In the past ten years?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Past five years?” I asked.

“No. I’m sure of that. Is that bad?”

I stared at the wound. “It would be real bad if we were in the middle of nowhere,” I said.

David looked around and started to laugh. “I guess everything’s relative. What now?”

“We drive into town and get you poked with a big needle,” I said. “That way you won’t get lockjaw and whooping cough and die before your time, leaving me to explain things to your parents.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“A big, fat needle.”

“That’s better.”

“Besides, you deserve a better dressing than the one I can give you,” I said. “Mount up.”

We dropped Morgan at her place and she planned to drive back in her car. We didn’t have any wait at the hospital. David got his shot and we left. I decided I wanted to buy some flowers for Morgan, so we stopped in at the only florist shop in town. As we walked out to the Jeep, I saw the BMW parked across the street. The rednecks were just getting out as we were getting in. They shot me a look as we drove away. I don’t think David saw them.