Wrangler (2 page)

Other thoughts too. Memories. Some that would be better forgotten.

“Well, I know I’m ready.”  Roger slaps me on the shoulder as he breezes past.  “Or maybe you want to shave that thing off your face first?” He attempts to grab at my beard, and God knows there’s plenty of it to grab, but I smack his hand away with a growl. As I lean back I rub at the hair on my cheek with my middle finger.

Roger chuckles and gives me the finger right back.

“Well, I like it.”  Sally stands up and copies the brunette, adjusting the hem of her jean skirt in a show of false modesty.  “I think beards are sexy.”

Roger nods. “Uh huh. Of course you do.”

She smiles at me and bats her eyelashes, Roger’s playful insult going right over her head.

“Ready,
Chad
?” Roger toys with my name.  He’s looking my way, meeting my eyes, measuring just how pissed I am. His toothy smile spreads like wet paint.

My urge to take him to the ground, put him out with a half-nelson and then go find a quiet, empty bed is compelling. But even though he’s half asshole, there’s something comforting about being around him. He’s familiar, and right now familiar feels good.  He never fails to entertain, that’s for sure. He flashes me his best shit-eating grin, turns and grabs his black Stetson off the hat rack.

I crack a smile and shake my head. “Let’s go.” 

Roger motions towards the door. “Ladies, shall we?” When he pulls it open the breeze brings with it the scent of lilacs and fresh cut hay. The crickets are starting to sing as a dusting of stars pierce a wide country sky.

The girls jostle and giggle with each other as they trot out the door, followed so closely by Roger that he’s able to give the brunette a loud slap on her ass to send her on her way.

He looks back over his shoulder. “So, now that you’re back, you planning on keeping your Oklahoma look?  You channeling a little bit of the old Forrest Gump? You know, running from coast to coast. I’m just saying, people gonna have a hard time deciding if you’re a homeless guy, a sociopath or a Viking.”

He wrangles me out the door and slams it behind us.

“Will you shut the fuck up?  Where are we going, anyway?”  We fall in step across the wooden planks of the front porch toward the steps.

Sally turns her head as she walks in front of us. “That rugged look is hot.  I like it.”

“Which car?”  Brunette asks.  Roger never introduced us and I’m not interested enough to ask her name.

“Whichever you want, ladies, your choice.”

They laugh and rush on ahead, leaving me and Roger to walk together. For a moment it’s like old times. “I have to admit, you’re doing well,” I say, nodding at the lineup of cars.

Of the three vehicles arrayed in front of us, the Ford 350 pickup would be my first and only choice. Roger knows that, which is why it’s the one he used to collect me from the airport. It’s as big as the fucking plane that brought me in, with black dual tires, four doors and an engine ready to haul the weight of a dozen Clydesdales.

The girls don’t give the truck a second glance; they head straight to debate between the Mercedes and the Range Rover.

“Yeah, you know, I’m doing okay.  You know when mom passed and I sold the old farm, this place was perfect.  A little closer to civilization with freeway access for the haul-in clinics than back home. Two hundred acres all the arenas and pastures all set up.  It worked out perfect. Add to that the horse training business and I’m making ends meet.  But you know all that already.  But, I’ve franchised my system, did I tell you?”

“
Your
system?”

Roger and I started training horses since before we had any hair on our balls back in our hometown of Meyer about two hours from here.  We might have taken different paths since, but our roots are in what we learned together over many years and a whole lotta mistakes.  If you need a serving of humble pie, training horses is a good place to start.  They don’t care who you are, how much money you make, or how much swagger you may think you have.  It takes patience and more than that, you best check your ego because they can smell a fake like week-old road kill.

He laughs, puts up his hands. “Okay, you got me.
Our
system. But you know, we have different styles, man.  Anyway, I’ve packaged it up, branded it. Videos, webinars. I’m doing three seminars a month. All over the country to a full stable of eager students at twelve hundred bucks a pop. I even have my own line of training tack and supplements.”

I nod. “Good for you, man.”

“Where are we going?”  Sally yells from her place by the Range Rover.

Roger cups a hand to his mouth as he hollers back. “Murphy’s.”

“No.”  I stop dead on the gravel drive.

“Man, what now?”  Roger turns and squints his eyes at me.  “Come on, no one’s going to know who you are.  We’re two hours from where anyone knows you.  You don’t have to worry about that around here. And even if we were back home no one would ever recognize you with all that hair. And that baseball hat.  I mean, who the fuck wears a baseball hat around here? Unless it says ‘Mack’ or ‘John Deere.’”  Roger snickers at his own joke but I don’t move.

“I’m not going to Murphy’s.”  My skin prickles, the evening suddenly chillier than it was a moment ago.  Murphy's is a place where Roger and I used to hang out just before I left for Oklahoma. It was a good ninety minutes away from our hometown when he had an apartment here and back then I needed the distance.  It was kind of a shitty time in my life, and I just don’t want the trip down memory lane.

“Okay, okay.”  Roger waves a hand at me.  “Where then? Your call, buddy.”

“Head over a couple towns, maybe Plythesville.  They have that downtown with a few bars.  I’m sure not that much has changed in four years.”

“Fuck man, that’s a whole forty minutes away from here. We’ll take so long we’ll meet ourselves coming back.”

“Then go ahead to Murphy’s, but I’m staying here.”  I spin to head back to the house. 

“Okay,
okay
.” Roger sighs and shakes his head.  “Fine, well there’s that giant barn of a place, you know,” He thinks for a moment. “Crutches. Yeah, that’s it. Got a good and rowdy mix of regulars, bikers and townies.”

“Fine.”  If anyone recognizes me it’d be a miracle this far from home but tonight I need to be sure I’m anonymous.  Besides the beard and hair, I’ve put on a good thirty pounds in muscle since I left.  My life in Oklahoma consisted of horses, chores and two hours on the weights every day. 

Roger starts walking toward the girls, pressing the key fob in his hand and the lights on the Range Rover come to life. 

“Let’s go.” I puff out a laugh, and with everything that’s going on it feels good to release the tension like that. “You need a beer.”

“Yeah?” Roger chuckles. “You sure you don’t have a six pack hiding in that beard? Why don’t you root around in there and see what shakes out?”

I hurl a half-hearted swing to his jaw, but Roger jets forward out of the way. I miss by a whisker, and I’m sure he must have felt the rush of air as my fist passed his face. Anyone who didn’t know us would think it was serious, but he’s laughing and hooting as he takes off at a canter, leaving me to take a few calming breaths of Michigan’s late summer air. 

I reach up to grab the coarse hair that hangs from my chin and there is an emptiness that rumbles in my gut.  Being home with no idea what the future holds is both freeing and frightening.

Roger turns and leans against the Rover while the girls climb into the back. “Since you don’t seem interested in the little homecoming gift I brought you, I see a three-way in my future and you may need to find your own ride back.”  He tips his hat at me then clucks his tongue.  “Just sayin’.”

He nods, and I return it as I saunter over to stand with him. The girls are in the back, adjusting their skirts for some level of decency.

“Hey.”  I set my hand on his arm, keeping him a second longer from opening the driver’s door.  “Thanks for letting me stay.  I’ll get down to town and start looking for a place tomorrow.  You sure you don’t mind if my place is around here?  Competition?”

“Hell, no.  Buddy, I’m glad to have you close by.  We don’t compete, I think it will help both our businesses. And you know what it’s like around here, finding your own farm with barns and training arenas and everything else you’re going to need, well that might take a while. Or you’ll have to find a blank slate and build everything. Going to put a dent in your wallet, too.  The price of land around here isn’t what it used to be. The city’s coming in. You can’t stop progress.”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out.  My wallet’s fine.”

“Sorry, man.” His usual lighthearted tone is gone.  “I know it’s hard to come back.  With what happened with Leander and the farm and everything. But I’m glad you’re here.”  Roger twists his lips toward the side, then shakes his head and gives me a mischievous smile.  “You’re who I want to be when I grow up and get old!  Now get the fuck in the car and let’s go get drunk, you pussy.”

Yep, there’s no place like home. 

CHAD

S
mall towns are full of cliques and clichés.  Seems everyone’s favorite pastime is passing information. Information about everyone else is the best form of entertainment, and bad news is as good as it gets.  And that’s exactly why I’m not back in Meyer.

It’s been great to have Roger settled here.  Far enough away from home, but with him here it feels rooted somehow still.  Back when Leander, my half-brother, was on trial, you would have thought it was the O.J. case all over again. I remember people actually following us in their cars back home, chasing us down.  That entire time in my life is something I’d rather forget.  But I remember the pain on my mother’s face, the way my dad got thin and drawn, tired. He never recovered.

I remember being ashamed. Hell, that still hasn’t gone away.

But between my new Viking look, and the distance we’ve put between ourselves and my hometown, I’m feeling like I’m getting a fresh start. And besides, the years out west changes things.  I’ve spent my time turning the helpless into the hopeful.  The lost into the found.  Sure, they had four legs and the smell of horse is not everyone’s idea of perfume, but to me, it’s as close to heaven as I can find here on planet Earth. 

Roger barrels down unlit dirt roads chatting it up with the girls, I just keep my eyes forward until the lights of the big barn come into view.

The parking lot at Crutches is half filled with motorcycles and pickups. A baker’s dozen shining Harleys stand near the entrance, probably a local MC, but there are other bikes around the lot mixed up with flat beds still stacked with hay. There are other vehicles here too. Hondas and Priuses that have made their way in from the new suburbs out to the east. As Roger says, you can’t stop progress.

As we pull into the lot we can hear the music thumping, pulsing against the car windows. Roger palms the wheel and settles the Range Rover into a space by the line of trees where the vehicles are sparser.

“Why’d you park so far from the door?”  Sally hits the high notes with her displeasure and the fillings in the back of my teeth feel it.  “I don’t like to walk.” I glance in my side mirror to see them already refreshing their faces with more makeup.

“I’ll carry you.”  Roger puts the car in park and turns to the back seat.  “Just hop on.”  He glances down toward his crotch then back at the girls. Their laughter isn’t convincing, but Roger doesn’t care.

As they open their doors and start to climb out I grab Roger’s arm. “You need to learn some manners my friend.”  My tone is light, but it’s true and sometimes his disrespect to women pisses me off.  I would never talk to a girl the way he does.

“Chad, man, you need to learn to lighten up and get laid.”  Roger checks himself once in the rearview before grabbing the door handle and stuffing the key fob down in his pocket.

I shake my head without answering his gruff chuckle.

“You’re officially a virgin again, you know that, right?  I know you; you didn’t even get yourself a slice of that sweet Oklahoma pie, did you?”  He jumps down out the door and slams it behind him.

The girls are ten feet in front of us already as I slide myself out the passenger door and adjust my ball cap down a hitch.  Being back has my gut knotted.  I shouldn’t feel shitty about what’s happened —it had nothing to do with me.  I somehow feel Leander’s mess is still on me.

Roger tips the brim of his hat up and kicks a rock in the dirt parking lot toward the girls making them spin around and yelp. 

“Don’t y’all go wanderin’ off now. My friend here needs some lovin’.”

“Shut the fuck up, man. 
Enough.
”  The glare I shoot Roger settles his ass right down because his jokes are getting fucking old.

“Fine, fine.”  He chuckles and shakes his head.  We close the space toward the door and the girls slow down when they see the bouncer collecting cover charge.  “Hey, you bringing Arabelle back?”

I’m surprised he’s interested —surprised he even remembers her name— but then that’s Roger. One moment he’s a cocky pain in the ass, the next he’s genuine and solid.