It was a picture of a lady from a long time ago, with short hair curling in close to her head on the sides. She was plain, if somewhat dreamy; with deep-set, dark eyes that looked a little like Jake's. Her positioning was Raphaelite, bespeaking the work of a small town photo parlor and a small time practitioner. She seemed focused on some spot just above the horizon, a place in infinity toward which all her conscious thought apparently flowed.
"Oh, she's pretty ..." Tory said, a little less than convincingly.
"Let's see," Py said, taking the photo from Tory. He looked at it, was rendered speechless, and then handed the picture to Pete, who looked at it and then held it far away, at arm's length, for easier inspection. "You resemble her a bit," Pete said. "Something about the mouth..."
"Where was it taken?" Tory asked. "Grand Island, Nebraska," Jake said. "Is that where you grew up?" Py asked. "That was one of the places."
Jake wasn't exactly forthcoming with information, apparently happy to let the picture speak for itself. He had a mother and once she had her picture taken, and there it was. That was about all there was to it.
"Do you still have family in Nebraska?" Py asked, to which Jake answered "No, they're all dead." "You got brothers or sisters?" he followed, and again Jake was close to the vest. "I got one of each," he said. "You ever seem 'em?" Py asked. "No," Jake said. And so it went, with Py interrogating Jake about his family and childhood, and Jake providing precious few details. Py was hungry for information on his partner, though, and he wouldn't take the hint that Jake had shared all he intended to. "You weren't in the war, were you?" he asked.
Jake grinned and chuckled softly. "I was in the Army during the war years, but I never got out of Fort Riley, Kansas. Never saw action overseas or anything like that."
Again, Jake allowed the conversation to screech to a halt. Py shook his head and smiled, trying to make as much as he could out of the exchange, but absent a volleying partner he finally, reluctantly decided to let it rest. Tory and Jake exchanged pleasant looks and Py noticed that Pete's eyes had dropped shut and he had fallen asleep where he sat.
"Well, I guess I'm about ready to turn in," Jake said, placing his mother's photograph back in his wallet, rising up from his chair.
"It is later than I thought," Tory said. "It's almost ten-thirty!"
"I want to get up early and get started on that fence," Jake said. He seemed warmed to the idea of having a task laid out before him.
It hit Py that he hadn't seen Jake's accommodations and was unsure as to where they were. Was he sleeping with Tory? Under her father's roof? A twinge went through him, the way it often did when he was confronted with behavior too adult for his experience. He got up from his chair as Jake got up from his. "Py, I'll see you in the morning," Jake said, to which Py nodded affirmatively.
"I'll walk you out to the bunk, Jake," Tory said, slipping her arm under his, escort style.
"You got a bunkhouse?" Py asked, surprised.
"Calling it a house would be a bit much," Tory said. "There's room for one." "I didn't see it," Py said. "Where's it at?"
"It's out in the windbreak," Jake said. "I'll show it to you tomorrow." He nodded to Py. "Goodnight," he said.
Jake and Tory walked together through the living room and out to the back door, just off the kitchen. Py heard the screen door close, then noticing that Pete was deep in dreamland, still sitting up in his chair, Py crept through the house, tracing Jake and Tory's steps to the backdoor. He stood at the screen, peering out into the dark after them, unable at first to see them until a light went on in the bunkhouse that revealed them in silhouettes. They stood at the open door. Py watched as Jake drew her close to him and pressed his lips to hers. They locked in a passionate embrace, with Py looking on, his forehead pressed up against the door screen. The boy felt that pressure in his chest again, the clamping of blues around his heart. Then, turning slowly, he left Jake and Tory to be alone with each other in the night.
CHAPTER 7 – Providence
During the night Walt Vrbas' broken body was taken from O'Shay's mortuary and driven by hearse over to the Burlington Northern station on the outskirts of Longmont. There it sat on the loading dock for two hours before the No. 117 finally rolled into station on its return trip from Fort Collins. No. 117 was freight and arrangements had been made to take the casket aboard. Walt was being shipped out to Cope, where a funeral director from Holyoke would be waiting to unload him off the train and into another hearse for the final leg of the ride home. There wouldn't be a large reception in Holyoke, since most of Walt's people were gone long before. There was an aunt and a cousin. He had a sister out in Oregon, but no one had been able to reach her with the news. Now it was going to be too late for her to return for the funeral, even if she was so inclined. Walt was scheduled for interment the next morning.
Py and Jake had discussed going to Walt's funeral, but they hadn't really thought the plan through completely. They made a pact to keep their eyes open for announcements of the service, never stopping to think that Walt might be shipped elsewhere, that he had a home someplace where a plot would be waiting for him beside those of his mother and father. Days would pass before it would occur to both that they had seen no local announcements and then would come the realization that it was all over and that, best intentions aside, they had missed the opportunity for a final good-bye. It wouldn't affect Jake much. He always felt a bit of a chill whenever death brushed near, but it passed. Experience had taught him that it was hard to get out of emotional troughs once you've been in them, so he swung wide. Py, on the other hand, was yet to discover this insulating truth and when he realized that his journey with Walt was done he felt a horrible sorrow at not having ended it well. He felt he owed it to Walt to be there when the minister spoke the final words over him and sent him to his peace. Somehow life had stolen from him his chance to tell Walt that he was sorry for all that had happened. He would carry the hollowness around inside him for a long time thereafter, first as a deep wound in his chest, later as a lump in his throat. Py didn't really blame himself for the death as much as be blamed himself for the loss. Walt had completed his personal cycle. Whatever time had been taken from him was going to be a replay of his past. But Py was going to have to journey on, to see where life would take him. And he would have to go forward with this enduring sadness. It was part of who he was going to be, though at this awakening Py was unable to understand.
Innocent of his departure, Py and Jake awoke on Pete Parker's ranch hours after Walt disappeared into the night. Tory had breakfast waiting for them and after they ate the two of them drove the field roads in Pete's old pickup, loaded with fence wire and posts, launching their campaign to rejuvenate Pete's cattle operation. Pete spent a little time with Cooksin, his prize bull, but was soon recruited to help Tory around the house and yard. With company around, Tory had stepped up pressure on her father to spruce up the old homestead a little. Pete was put to repairing the picket fence, while Tory busied herself with housework.
"Your eyes look like a couple burn holes in a blanket," Jake told Py, as the two of them bounced together on the seat of the pickup as they drove the field road. "You feelin' okay?"
"I feel good," Py assured.
"You look sick," Jake said. "You look like you got pink-eye."
Py looked insulted, figuring Jake was telling him he had an animal disease. The truth was actually even more embarrassing. He had a hangover.
Py had secret doubts about himself relative to his inability to hold his liquor. He secretly felt that if that battle were lost, then surely few others could be won, because in his retinue men routinely challenged themselves with alcohol just to demonstrate their mettle. Every man he had ever known had an assiduous devotion to heavy drink, which somehow in their minds excused all manner of subsequent boorish behavior. They may fall down, or become embroiled in a brawl, or cry in front of women like ordinary drunks, but it was always serious business with them, as if being an idiot was somehow an inesca
pable natural aspect of maleness, and Py had never really understood it. He worried for his own character, because the stuff that fueled "better" men simply wasted him. He'd make a public spectacle of himself, then get sick to his stomach, and then the next day, when everybody else was back to going about their business with some level of dignity, he would feel near death and have awful memories to live down. Pink-eye!
He'd already seen Jake and Pete ingest more liquor in two days than he could handle in a month. He wanted to be one of them, but how could he when a night on the nipple left him with pink-eye!
Constitutional worries weren't the only thoughts that weighed on his mind this morning. Foremost were his problems with Frank Walker, which he feared had been compounded by his having thrown his lot in so completely with Jake and Pete, two other guys against whom Walker held a grudge. Py's options hadn't been that many – he was thankful that the Parkers had been willing to take him in – but he didn't expect Frank Walker to care anything about that.
Py had lain awake much of the night mulling over other nagging thoughts around his situation. For one thing, working for room and board wasn't quite the same as working on a big spread like Walker Ranch, where he got all that plus cash money. It was like indentured servitude, and Py shuddered to think where that might take him.
What did he really know about Pete and Tory? What did he know for certain about Jake, for that matter? He was still thinking about what Walt had said about him: that there were things going on with Jake beyond what was apparent on the surface. Jake wasn't very forthcoming with information about himself, Py was pretty clear on that, and it was a little unsettling. If ever Py had known a time when he could have used some clarity about things in his life, and how they might affect the future, it was now. Jake didn't exactly represent a stable center. Of all the things Py admired about him, Jake's inscrutability around mapping out a clear path for himself was not among them. He was even worried about the relationship between Jake and Tory. It seemed pretty hot to Py. It seemed like the kind of thing that could flame out, and then where would he be? Py felt that he was at Parker Ranch on Jake's aegis. What if that was to be lost? As much as he wanted to believe that everything that was happening around him was "providence," like Pete had said, Py was developing his outside layers of cynicism and distrust. He had some questions he needed answered before he could begin to relax completely.
Py worked through the morning with these thoughts rolling around his mind, then around eleven o'clock he was saved by distraction in the form of a mechanical breakdown. A tooth broke off the fence stretcher he and Jake were using to string a new section of barbed wire, rendering the implement inoperable. Like everything old Pete owned, the puller was rusted and worn and needing replacement. There was no mending fence without it, so around noon Py and Jake drove into town for a new one.
"I need to go to the Sheriff's office and tell him where I'm staying," Py said. "That'll be fine," Jake said. "Why don't you run your errand and – would you mind picking up a fifth of Old Charter for Pete?" "I can't," Py said.
"Why?" Jake asked, shaking his head and smiling when Py explained that he wasn't old enough. Jake forgot how young Py was, just as he had where Lily Walker had been concerned. He made the same mistake with everybody his age or younger, always assuming that everyone's youth had been rushed the way his had been. "Well, okay, I'll pick up the whiskey then," he said. "I've also got to go over to the bus depot and pick up a ticket..."
"A bus ticket?" Py asked. "Where you goin'?"
"I've got to go to Denver on some personal business," Jake said. "I told Pete about it this morning. Won’t be gone more than two or three days."
Py looked out the front window of the pickup and at the worn track in the dirt road to Longmont. In his mind he was reconstructing the events that had led to Jake's split with the Walker Ranch. "I heard you asked Frank Walker for time off and that was part of why he canned you. Is this what that was about?" Py asked. "Well, yeah," Jake said. "That's when he blew up and told me that if I took this time off that I'd have no job waiting for me when I got back." Jake sighed resignedly. "I got no choice – I've got to go."
Py thought for a moment, then asked – "Why did you leave that night, without sayin' nothin' to anybody?"
"It wasn't exactly family in there," Jake said. "I told Walker I needed the time and he got mad..."
"But it didn't have nothin' to do with you takin' any money?" Py asked.
Jake looked at him, exasperated. "What is this, Py? I told you that I didn't take any money that wasn't my own. That probably had something to do with Walker's attitude, why he got so pissed off and all... But it wasn't an issue. He wasn't ever gonna press charges on me or anything like that." Jake looked away for a moment. "He was probably a little pissed about Lily, too."
"She sure is a looker," Py said, sincere as the Pope. "Yeah, she's a good lookin' young girl," Jake said.
* * * * *
The plan was for Py and Jake to split-up: for Py to stop by the dry goods to get some things for Tory, then to go check-in with the Sheriff's department. Jake was going to pick up a new fence stretcher, get his bus ticket and Pete's whiskey, and then meet Py outside of the county building.
Jake had just picked up his ticket and was leaving the depot when he heard someone speak his name and turned to see Lily Walker, seated on the passenger side of a Cadillac parked at the curb. "Hi Jake," she said enthusiastically, leaning out the window.
Jake grinned and walked over to her, leaning in against the side of the car. "Well hello there, Miss Walker," he said. "Aren't you lookin' pretty today."
Lily beamed. "I thought you'd never come out of there. My father's across the street at his lawyer's office. I was afraid he was going to come out before you did and that you wouldn't get a chance to see me."
Jake grinned. "Well, I see you fine," he said.
Lily strained to see out the back window of the car, looking over toward the place where Herb Leeber's law office was located. Then she opened the door to the car and got out. "Come here," she said, taking Jake by the hand and leading him around the side of the bus depot, out of sight from Frank Walker. Once there, Lily leaped into Jake's arms and locked her lips on his. After a long kiss she slid down his body and out of his grasp. "He is really pissed at you," she said, pulling away. "I never seen him as upset as you got him." Lily stopped talking for a moment and grinned naughtily. "I don't know what it is about you..."
"Well, I've been known to provoke strong emotions in people," Jake said, humbly.
"You sure do," Lily said, again launching herself up against Jake and kissing him passionately on the lips.
Jake accepted the kiss as he had the first, though to him it seemed more of an enthusiasm of youth than an adult seduction. Lily was just playful.
When she finished, Lily looked at him and said, "I think you're the reason he's being so hard on that poor Py Mulvane. I think he just hates anyone who is the slightest bit interested in you."
Jake leaned forward enough that he could see around the corner of the building, checking to see if Frank Walker was anywhere in sight. "So what about you?" Jake asked, turning his attention back to the girl. "How are you getting along with him? Is he treatin' you okay?"
Lily laughed. "He doesn't blame me for you. He just figures that you took advantage of me."
The notion was so far from the truth that it made Jake gasp. "Well I wish you'd make it clear to him that wasn't the way it happened," he said. "I don't want him to go loco and shoot me or something."
"He doesn't think that way," Lily said. "He'd be more likely to confront you directly, but I think you're safe. I think you kind of scare him."
"Is that right?" Jake said, a little surprised.
Lily smiled like a siren. "Yeah, I think you do. I think my father thinks you are big trouble." And she added – "It's the very thing I like about you."
"Well, I guess it's a good thing I ain't around to work-up his blood pressure," Jake said.
/> "Not for me," Lily said.
Jake grinned. "Well, there's plenty’ve boys around – and cowboys. Must be someone who gets you goin'. Maybe Jarvis Lang?" he teased.
Lily beamed widely. "There's a few that aren't so bad," she said. "That might include Jarvis Lang."
Something about the thought of beautiful young Lily with that damned Jarvis made Jake's dick grow hard in his pants. This time he was the one who grabbed Lily as the two locked in another long kiss, this more impassioned than the previous two. Lily pulled back after a moment, playing the situation more skillfully than her years should have allowed. "I miss you, Jake," she said. "I miss you real bad."
* * * * *
"So are you working for Pete?" asked Sheriff Miller. "I didn't realize he was doing that much ranching these days."
"He's tryin' to get started up again," Py said. "I hired on as a hand."
"You staying on the property?" asked the Sheriff, and Py answered "Yes sir." "Well, good then. Congratulations on finding yourself a new job. That should take a little pressure off."
Py took a deep breath and stared down at the floor for a moment before asking, "Has Frank Walker said anything to you about what he's gonna do?"
Sheriff Miller shook his head. "No, he hasn't said anything more to me, but typically he wouldn't. I do know he's been talking with his lawyer."
"It was an accident," Py said, contrite.
Before the Sheriff could respond the door to the office burst open and in barged Frank Walker, moving in his usual deliberate way. "Hi Frank," said a surprised Sheriff Miller. Walker gave a quick nod of acknowledgment then looked hard at Py Mulvane. "What's he doing here?" he asked the Sheriff.
"He was just doing what I asked him to do, Frank," Miller said. "He was checking in, letting me know where he was staying in case we need to get in touch."
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