Percival Everett - Wounded

I felt a load lift from me. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” he said, gruffly. “That bus ride took it out of me. I’ll be down in a while.”

“You bet. No rush.”

I walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. David was in the mud room, pulling on his boots.

“How is he?” Morgan asked.

“I think he’s just tired. He said he’ll be down soon.”

“Maybe I should take him up some juice,” she said.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Morgan understood and went back to the counter. “See you later, sweetie,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Sure you won’t come?”

“Have a good ride.”

“Ready to ride, cowboy?” I stepped out of my house shoes and into my own boots. “Let’s go pop some brush.”

David, like many people on their second time in the saddle, was tense and trying to feel in control, so he held the reins short in a tight fist and clamped his legs around the horse.

“Let her have her head,” I said. “Give her some slack. Relax your body. Let it go.” I took a deep breath and let it out to show him.

He eased up.

“Take another breath,” I said. “Let it all out.”

He did.

“Now, you relax and let the horse do the walking.”

We rode out through the south gate and toward the hills.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked.

“Pretty well. That room is nice and warm.”

“It’s the warmest room in the house and I have no idea why. It’s a little tight in there, I know.”

We rode on a ways and David began to relax a little with the App. She was a good horse, but she was still a thousand pounds of nonthinking muscle and I didn’t want David to forget that.

We started up a slope, my horse following his. “Take your downhill foot out of the stirrup on the steep. That way, if something goes bad you’ll fall to the closest ground and not under the horse.”

That made David tense up again.

“I told you that because it’s true and because you should never forget you’re on a horse when you are, in fact, on a horse.”

“Have you ever been hurt on a horse?” David asked.

“Sure.” I looked down the hillside at the frozen creek. I thought about Susie and didn’t say anything else.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all. How are you doing up there?”

“Good. I feel pretty good.” He looked up the slope. “What kind of animals do you have around here?”

“Elk, antelope, deer, the occasional mountain sheep. We have bears, black and grizzly. They’re all sleeping right now. And of course we have coyotes and a wolf now and again.”

“Everything is so beautiful,” he said.

“Take the trail to the left,” I told him. “I want to show you something.”

We followed the trail to a ridge that overlooked a lower hill and beyond that was the Red Desert, red in the midday light, just like its name implied, stretching out forever, a butte standing sentinel in the middle of it.

“My god,” David said.

“This is why I live here,” I said. “Every time I come up here and look at that I know my place in the world. It’s okay to love something bigger than yourself without fearing it. Anything worth loving is bigger than we are anyway.”

“That sounds almost religious,” David said.

“I wouldn’t know anything about religion,” I said. “I know this is my life and this is my place.”

“My mother is a Catholic,” David said.

I nodded.

“She’s full of guilt. I don’t think her religion makes her happy.”

“Well, that’s no good,” I said. “Come on, let’s head back. I’m starting to feel the cold.”

Gus was up and playing with the coyote, who had taken to the game of fetch. Gus would slide a balled-up sock across the kitchen linoleum and the puppy would scamper after it, grab it, and then demonstrate her instinct by shaking the thing until dead. Only then would she drag the by-now-unrolled sock back to Gus.

“What a gorgeous day,” I said, looking out the window.

Gus balled up the sock and threw it again. “Do you want green beans or spinach with dinner?” he asked.

“Whatever you want,” I said. “Where’s Morgan?”

“She’s in the study going over her mother’s papers.” Gus groaned as he pushed himself up from a knee and into a chair. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some papers I want to go over with you.”

“Okay,” I said.

“How’s the boy?” Gus asked.

“He’s good. I’ve got him out there grooming a couple of animals.”

The phone rang and I picked up. It was Howard.

“Almost Happy New Year,” I said.

“So, how do I get to your place from Highland?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise. I’m in Highland. I rented a car in Denver and here I am. How do I get there?”

I gave him directions. “See you in a while,” I said. As I hung up David came into the house, sat on the bench in the mud room, and began to remove his boots.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing what must have been puzzlement on my face. “What’s going on?”

“It seems your father is on his way here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He just called. He flew to Denver, rented a car, and now he’s in Highland. He’ll be here in about an hour.”

“Fuck,” David said.

I nodded.

“Fuck,” he repeated and walked away in his stocking feet toward his room in the back.

Morgan came in. “What was that all about?”

Gus said, “We’re having company. The boy’s father is on his way.” He turned to me. “Put on some tea water.”

THE DAY HAD GONE SOURin more ways than one. The sky had turned slate gray and was beginning to spawn fat snowflakes. Weather Wally had actually predicted heavy snow and the face of the day had caused me to summarily dismiss him. I was standing out in front of the house in the near dark watching the storm get bad. It had been two hours since Howard’s call and I was growing concerned. Zoe and the pup were out sniffing and taking care of matters.

David came out and joined me. “It’s so cold.”

“This is blowing in out of the north. I sure didn’t see it coming. Maybe you should go back inside.”

“No, I’m okay. Hey, I wanted to thank you for the ride today. That was great, beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. You looked good on horseback. How’d it feel?”

“Better. Not bad, really.” He jumped a little to keep warm. “I liked it. Jesus, I’ve never been this cold.” He looked at the snow in the sky above us. “John, have you ever been hurt on a horse?”

“Sure. But hell, you can get hurt getting out of the bathtub, but you’re not going to stop taking baths.” I looked at the boy’s face. “My wife was killed by a horse. Actually, she caused it. She tried to get on a horse that wasn’t ready when she wasn’t ready and things got bad in a hurry.”

“Jesus.”

“Six years ago. I miss her.” I spotted headlights on the ridge. “There he is,” I said. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll be okay. I’m a little nervous.”

I nodded.

He pulled his jacket tighter around his body.

“It’s going to get colder, too,” I told him.

The car bounced along the drive toward us and stopped. Howard got out and so did a woman.

“Who’s that?” David asked me, softly.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. The woman was wrapped in a long down coat and her blond hair squirted from the edges of her fuzzy cap. I walked toward Howard. David hung back.

“John!” Howard greeted me with a hug. “John, I’d like you to meet Pamela. Pamela this is the famous John Hunt.”