Percival Everett - Half an Inch of Water - Stories

“You can carry my shit any day, cowboy,” she said.

“Where do you want it?”

“By the hydrangeas.”

“And which ones might those be?”

Lauren pointed.

Oliver put down the bag.

“What was that phone call all about?” she asked. “You got me all nervous and scared.”

“Sorry about that. It’s just that I found out about the twins up on the reservation from a note left on our door. And I started worrying because someone had been on the place.”

“Well, you got yourself another note.” Lauren pulled a paper from her sweater pocket, handed it to him. “It’s from Billy White Feather.”

“He was here?”

“No, some woman brought it by.”

“Indian woman?”

“White. Never saw her before, but she was wearing one of those pale blue uniforms from that fast-food place near the grocery store. What’s it called?” She searched. “Tasty Freeze.”

“What did she look like?”

“Twenty-five, maybe a little older. Thick body, but not fat. Blond hair. Bad makeup.”

“Did she say her name?”

“No, but her name tag said Billie with an i-e. ”

“Very funny.”

“I kid you not.”

Oliver looked at the note. Sorry about this morning. Beautiful twins, but not mine. Call me if you need a ranch hand.

“You sure you don’t know this guy?”

“Now I’m not so sure. Maybe from a while ago. Maybe he used a different name. I’m trying to remember if I know any tall, short, skinny, fat white Indians with black blond hair.”

That night Oliver couldn’t sleep. He pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and walked downstairs. Tuck raised his head from his bed when Oliver sat in the mudroom to put on his boots. He told the dog to stay and Tuck put his head back down. The snow had stopped and the clouds had blown clear, allowing the temperature to take a serious drop. He folded his arms over his chest and walked out into the pasture with his donkeys. They stirred at the bottom of the hill and plodded their way up, investigating, hoping for treats.

Oliver thought about the twin foals and hoped they would be all right. He then considered Billy White Feather or rather he tried to consider him, tried to imagine him. He wouldn’t have cared at all, except that the notes that had been left on the door of his home. It irked him even now that a stranger had stood on his porch without his knowledge. He worried for Lauren. Then the fragility of it all, everything, became so apparent. Strangers always had access to one’s home. He could not be there all the time. He decided to find a companion for Tuck.

The donkeys came and stood around him, became still and peaceful. One of them lay down. Perhaps they were asleep. Who could tell? Perhaps he was still asleep and only dreaming that he was standing out in a pasture. The cold air bit at him some more and he decided, dream or not, he’d go back inside.

The next morning, after feeding the horses, after fixing a near-downed section of fence, and after a light breakfast of yogurt and toast, Oliver drove into town to the Tasty Freeze. He arrived a little after eight to discover they opened at eight thirty. He sat in his truck with his dog and listened to the news and weather on the radio. It seemed winter was coming early and hard.

An old-model blue Buick 225 rolled in and parked in a spot on the far side of the lot beside the dumpsters. A man got out and walked toward the restaurant. Oliver got out and waved to him.

“We’ll be open in about twenty minutes,” the man said.

“Does Billie work here?” Oliver asked.

“Who wants to know?” The man was rightly suspicious.

“My name is Oliver Campbell. Billie brought a note by my place yesterday and I just want to ask her about it.”

The man looked Oliver up and down. “What kind of note?”

“It was a note about some horses. She delivered it to my place for Billy White Feather.”

“Fuck Billy White Feather. If you’re a friend of his, then you ain’t no friend of mine.” The man started to move away.

“I’ve never even seen Billy White Feather. I just want to know why I’m getting these notes.”

“Yeah, well, that guy’s got problems.”

“You know him then,” Oliver said.

“He came around here about three months ago messing with every waitress he could talk to.”

“White guy?”

“Hispanic, I think. Anyway, that’s what the girls told me.”

“You never saw him?”

“I wish I had.”

Oliver nodded. “Does Billie work today?”

“She should be here soon.”

“Mind if I wait?”

“Suit yourself.”

Oliver returned to his truck.

Another man arrived by bicycle. A tall, skinny, older woman parked her late-sixties Cadillac Coupe de Ville beside the Buick. A stout young woman with blond hair was dropped off by a man in a white dually pickup.

Oliver got out of his truck and called to her. “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you Billie?”

The woman looked at Oliver and then at the door of the Tasty Freeze as if she was considering running. When he was closer he could see that her name tag did indeed read Billie.

“It’s okay,” Oliver said. “I just want to ask you a couple of questions. You left a note with my wife yesterday. The note from Billy White Feather.”

The woman’s face showed some kind of relief, but she was still uncomfortable. “And?” she said.

“I just wanted to ask you about Billy White Feather.”

“I delivered that note for my idiot roommate. I don’t even know Billy White Feather.”

“Your roommate.”

“Yes, my roommate.”

“And where might I find your roommate?” Oliver asked. He felt suddenly exhausted and perhaps overwhelmed. He certainly had no idea what he was doing in the parking lot of the Tasty Freeze.

“Not here,” she said.

“You think I can drop by and see her?”

“Not here meaning not in town. She’s gone. She’s on her way to Denver to meet up with that guy.”

“Billy White Feather.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I’d really like to track down this guy. Did she give you a forwarding address or anything?”

“I can’t tell you that. I don’t know you.”

“I understand.” He looked at the sky. “But you’ve seen my place, my wife. You know I’m not some crazy killer.”

“I don’t know that.”

“I’ll give you ten dollars for the address.”

“Listen, I’m late for work.”

“Twenty dollars.”

“You’re not a crazy?”

“No ma’am.”

She gave Oliver the address and walked on into the restaurant.

Oliver returned home to do his chores. It was time for his horses to have their shots and so he waited for Sam Innis, the vet. Innis always delivered the vaccine and left it to Oliver to administer the shots. He drove in while Oliver was combing out his mare’s tail.

“I’ve got the drugs,” Innis said conspiratorially, stepping out of his rig.

“Thanks.”

“First one’s free.” Innis looked around, then at the sky. “Any animals need looking at?”

“Everybody is standing. Got time for coffee?”

“A quick cup sounds good.” The vet followed Oliver across the yard and into the house.

Innis sat at the table in the kitchen. Oliver pulled some mugs from the cupboard and reached for the pot.

“Where’s Lauren?”

“Food shopping.”

“Shoot. The only reason I come all the way out here is to see her. You can tell her I said that.”

“I will.”

Oliver poured the coffee.

Innis yawned. “Sorry. Late night.”

“Out partying?”

“I wish. Some foals died up on the reservation.”

“The twins?”

“Yup.”