The Inquirer

by Jaclyn Dawn

  To: Concerned Citizen (concernedcitizen@freemail.com)

  Subject: RE: Update

  No problem. I will get them to you by the end of day Wednesday.

  The latest issue of the Inquirer had been out for only three days, and already Officer Petersen was demanding information. Nathan and I wanted to follow our Kingsley Inquirer Rules as closely as possible. Involving a police officer broke at least two of them. Rule two: stay neutral and anonymous. Rule six: don’t let others do what you can do yourself (avoid third parties whenever possible). Allowing Bobby to pick up the contributions box would have raised suspicions. While police involvement may intrigue readers and increase sales, contributors and advertisers would be scared off, breaking two more rules. Rule seven: keep informants comfortable. Rule eight: keep advertisers happy.

  All the deviations from our routine were worsening my anxiety, even if we were serving a good purpose. And I wasn’t the only anxious one. I was annoyed that Nathan had had himself delivered to Kingsley instead of calling me. I chewed on my nails as Nathan tried reassuring Sanjit on the phone.

  “I know you were contacted by a cop … We aren’t doing anything wrong. Freedom of speech is in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms … What ride? … I know what ride, Sanjit. I meant that I won’t say you gave me a ride … You don’t have to explain anything to me. I totally understand. I can barely feed myself, let alone five kids … So will you pick up the contributions box and send me a picture of the contributions before end of business day on Wednesday? We will pay you double the usual. It’s just very important that we get the pictures before the stores close … Thanks, Sanjit. You’re the best.”

  We received the pictures on Wednesday afternoon as planned. I wondered whether Mr. Wong found the early pickup peculiar and whether he had mentioned it to anyone. What if we still didn’t have whatever Bobby was looking for? Would we need to do another early exchange? The extra business expenses were adding up.

  Nathan and I sorted the scanned files Sanjit had sent as well as the new pictures. The latest issues definitely had the town buzzing. We had twice as many contributions as usual. When we were done, we had eleven emails, two scanned files, and three pictures to forward to Bobby, but nothing useful as far as we could tell. I was attaching them to an email to Concerned Citizen when Nathan said he had missed one. I could tell he was happy and I hoped it was the file, the one Bobby needed. But this one belonged in the IT’S AMIAH folder. It consisted of two lines scribbled on the back of a receipt, likely for groceries that had been paid for moments before the note had been written. The receipt was for bananas, eggs, milk, and a case of canned stew, which was 20 percent off with the coupon in the latest issue of the Inquirer.

  Mike should’ve ke t it in his ants. He’s luck his heart is the only thing Miah broke.

  The writing was familiar. I slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall. I was being quiet so I wouldn’t disrupt the meeting in the dining room. Travis had returned alone to sign papers. I rounded the corner and gasped when I nearly ran into him.

  “Sorry,” he said in a gruff voice. “See you Friday.”

  Mom followed him to the door like a good hostess. I poked my head into the dining room where Dad was still looking over the contracts.

  “All done?” I asked.

  “All done,” he said without looking up.

  I was surprised how quick a dispersal sale could be. Within a few days Mom and Dad had met with their accountant; with Max Gilbert, the lawyer who rented office space from the bottle depot on Monday and Wednesday afternoons; and now with Travis. All made special trips to the ranch house because of Dad’s leg. One of the perks to small-town living.

  I turned back toward the kitchen.

  “You’re always on that computer of yours,” Dad said, stopping me. “Can you do me a favour and write something for that Inquirer?”

  I froze. “Uh, write something for the Inquirer?”

  “Travis is buying the silage and vet supplies, but he doesn’t need the feeders and some other things. I want to put a couple ads in the paper.”

  “Oh. No problem,” I said. “Why don’t you post them on buy and sell websites, too?”

  He gave me a blank look.

  “Online. If anyone is interested, they can email me,” I said. His look didn’t change, and I laughed. “Just a minute. I’ll get my laptop and show you.”

  It felt good to be useful, and this time in a way that my parents wouldn’t have thought of themselves. On my way to get my laptop, I remembered why I had emerged from my bedroom to begin with. I scanned the kitchen and snatched the grocery list off the refrigerator. I was right. My mom’s writing matched that of the two-line message on the back of the receipt from the contributions box.

  CHAPTER 36

  “YOU’RE IN FOR A TRULY AUTHENTIC RANCHING EXPERIENCE TODAY,” Dad said. Nathan gave him a skeptical look. We were all eating breakfast at the kitchen table at six a.m. The Hayeses—I wasn’t sure which or how many—were due to arrive within the hour. It was Friday and we needed to prepare the herd to be moved, which meant dehorning, vaccinating, and branding.

  Dad was in a great mood. Yesterday the doctor had put an ultra-light air cast on his leg. The infection hadn’t returned, the cows were sold, and he was mobile for the first time in almost two months.

  Breakfast consisted of bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, and toast. A big breakfast meant a big day on the farm. I still didn’t like mornings, but after a month of morning chores, I was used to waking up ridiculously early, unlike Nathan. Nathan’s blond curls were matted on one side of his head and sticking out on the other. He wore pajamas and thick-rimmed glasses instead of his contacts. His chewing slowed and his bites grew further and further apart as he listened to Dad explain what had to be done. I think Dad had woken him up for entertainment.

  “Castrating was the easy part. That’s done in the spring when the calves are born,” Dad said. “You take the bull calf, hold him down real tight because he ain’t going to like this, and wrap a rubber band tight around his testicles. It cuts the circulation off, you see. Then, eventually, they just drop right off. Voilà, a steer!”

  Nathan set down his toast and pushed his plate away. Dad burst out laughing, and even Mom giggled. Apparently, the cure for Nathan’s nervous rambling was early mornings and ranching stories.

  The morning air was still cool. Mike and Austin pulled up in Mike’s pickup truck. Travis followed in his own truck, pulling an enclosed trailer. A lot of handshaking took place. Nathan and I hung back, shivering and quiet. I avoided looking at Mike. Inside the house I had been ready to help, but his presence made me feel foolish. Who was I to help with branding? I had never helped with branding in all the years I had lived on the farm, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Austin winked in my direction. Nathan winked back. Austin’s eyes got big and he turned away quickly, red-faced.

  Dad wasn’t well enough to be of any real use. I tried to compensate where I could. When asked, I ran for tools, water, food, or whoever or whatever else was needed. I wasn’t good for much else, and I wondered if at times like these Dad would have preferred a son like Mike.

  The Hayeses rounded up the herd with ATVs and separated the cows from the calves. Dad, Nathan, and I set up everything the Hayeses would need to vaccinate and brand the cows with their registered brand, a 2♥ on the left rear flank chosen by Peter and Edith when they first started out together. Before going back to the house to wait for the new homecare nurse, Dad gave me the wolf list. A dozen more items were crossed off. All were things that no longer needed to be done because of the dispersal sale. But at the end of the list were a couple new entries because of the dispersal sale.

  Sell shoots, feeders, stock trailer, etc.

  Convert pasture

  The list was never-ending, but I understood it now and it no longer scared me. There was a new list in the notebook, an inventory of supplies included in the sale that needed to be loaded into the enclosed trailer.
Nathan actually helped me this time. Loading the trailer was time-consuming. Only Dad understood his organized chaos. Maybe it made some sense to Mike after almost a year of working for Dad, but I wasn’t about to ask.

  Around noon, Travis hollered “Lunch time” as he and Mike passed the barn. Nathan and I followed, grateful for the break. Austin was limping, and his side was covered in dirt. Travis and Mike were teasing him about something. I was curious but didn’t ask.

  I wasn’t surprised to see Peter sitting beside Dad at the dining room table. He wouldn’t pass up a free meal. I waited until the Hayes men chose seats and then picked one as far from Mike as possible. The smell of burnt hair from branding clung to their clothes and lingered in the room. I breathed through my mouth as much as possible. With work still to be done, conversation was limited to requests for condiments and brief updates on the day’s progress. The update included Austin’s incident with a disgruntled cow. I would have liked to see him being spooked and running himself into the fence. Apparently, he was never in any real danger.

  After lunch, Nathan and I finished loading the trailer with a pallet’s worth of twenty-five-pound sacks of minerals and oats. Neither of us wanted to join the others at the shoots where the calves were bawling for their mamas and Mike was muttering about city boys and fairies. At least he had figured out that Nathan and I were just friends.

  “Nathan, you’re good at that computer stuff,” Dad said. “If I showed you what needs to be sold, would you mind taking some pictures and posting some ads on that internet?” The obvious relief on Nathan’s face made Dad chuckle.

  “We didn’t have these fancy electric branders in my day,” Peter prattled as he followed. I was so grateful on Nathan’s behalf that for a moment I didn’t notice I was being left alone with Travis, Mike, and Austin.

  Mike and Austin held the calves while Travis applied a paste that cauterized tissue and stopped the growth of the horns. If the horns were already too big, Travis used dehorners—which looked like giant nutcrackers—before applying the paste. Then he injected three different needles in the calves’ necks or hips, depending on how the a calf was squirming around. Last, he pressed the electric brand to each calf’s left rear flank. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi. The calves kicked and struggled, and sometimes branding took a couple of tries. Bruises for all those involved were inevitable. As devastating as it all seemed to an amateur, the calves scrambled to their feet and joined the cows as if nothing had happened. My job was to pass Travis tools as he needed them and to fill syringes.

  “What are the pigs doing here?” Austin asked, interrupting our rhythm.

  A police cruiser creeped through the bumpy field and parked in front of Mike’s truck, which was backed toward the shoots. Cursing a particularly jumpy calf that got away due to the distraction, Travis pulled a hankie from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  “You two round up the next calf,” Travis said to Mike and Austin. “Miah, I’m going to need more syringes.”

  I hesitated as Officer Peterson got out of the police cruiser, but he didn’t give me more than a passing glance. I forced my feet to take me to the lowered tailgate of Mike’s truck where the syringes and other supplies were. With my head bent over the syringes, I peeked up through my lashes. I saw Bobby and Travis shake hands in front of the police cruiser. After a few long minutes, Travis put his fingers in his mouth and pierced the air with a loud whistle, which made me fumble and drop a needle in the grass. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to end up vaccinating myself. We all looked toward Travis, who waved Mike over. A couple minutes later, Travis returned to the shoots while Mike left with Officer Peterson. He sat in the front seat, not the back like the criminal he was.

  “You’re up, Miah,” Travis said without looking at me. He grabbed another calf.

  “What’s going on?” Austin asked. Travis told him to help me hold the calf.

  Eventually, Mike returned on foot, but not before I got my fair share of bruises. When the work was done and the sun hung low in the sky, we enjoyed Mom’s three roasted chickens and the only tofu option she could find in town for Nathan. It was a sweet gesture. I smiled despite my aches and pains as Travis told Dad how well I had done. Nothing was said about Bobby’s visit.

  That night I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. I was exhausted but checked the Inquirer email inbox out of habit.

  From: Concerned Citizen (concernedcitizen@freemail.com)

  Sent: July 24, 2015 6:43:47 p.m.

  To: Kingsley Inquirer (theinquirer@freemail.com)

  Subject: RE: Update

  Meet me tomorrow at 11:00 a.m., same place. Bring your partner.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE NEXT MORNING, I DIDN’T NEED TO GO OUT FOR MORNING CHORES since the cows were being hauled to the Hayes farm that day, but I was feeling sentimental. The toes of my borrowed rubber boots were wet from the dew and the air was cool, but I could already tell it was going to be a hot day. I lingered outside after counting fifty-nine 2♥s. The clocks weren’t so loud out there. I sat on the fence and looked over the fields starting to turn gold.

  I was no longer nervous turning my back on the cows. They were simply there, a fixture on the farm like when I was a kid. I wasn’t feeling sentimental because ranching had grown on me, though I liked the firmer muscles I had noticed in my legs and arms even if I was a bit too skinny. Dad was healing; the cattle were sold, which was one less thing Mike could hold against me; and I felt like I had, for the most part, my friends and family back. I had more than survived my stay in Kingsley. I decided to drive back to Vancouver with Nathan the next day.

  An eighteen-wheel semi-trailer truck lumbered up the driveway. I could see both Mike and Travis in the cab. They could take the whole herd at once with that size of cattle liner. The truck stopped in front of the house. Maybe Travis needed to talk to Dad or maybe it was only polite to stop in before loading up another man’s cattle. I hopped off the fence and started toward the house. I was surprised when Travis headed in my direction.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. I realized he hadn’t expected to see me out there.

  “Everything is great,” I said. “Came out for morning chores out of habit, I guess.”

  He nodded, satisfied. Mike was digging in the toolbox of the semi, making a bunch of noise.

  “Are you going back?” Travis asked.

  “To the house? Yeah,” I said. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “No, back to Vancouver or wherever it was that you went.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling that sting again. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t screw with Mike. He’s still hooked on you.”

  “He has an odd way of showing it.”

  “I don’t mean hooked on you in a good way.” Travis was so serious. I knew then that he would never joke with me like he used to, but at least he was talking to me. I watched Mom round the truck and exchange a few words with Mike. There wasn’t any friendly banter between them as there had been in June, either. They were polite but not friendly. Just like Travis and me.

  Travis followed my eyes. “She’ll be fine. Your parents are proud of you. We all are, so get out of here.”

  Travis and Mike moved the cattle liner, and Mom and I went inside to see what was delaying Dad when there were farm-related things to oversee. Yesterday, the new homecare nurse wasn’t happy that Dad had been on his feet as much as he had been, but we didn’t expect that to stop him today. The least we could do was drive him to the shoots.

  “Hey, Dad, you’re missing all the action,” I called from the front door.

  “Miah, can you come in here, please?”

  I didn’t like his tone and hoped that he hadn’t hurt his leg again. Mom and I kicked off our boots and joined him in the living room. Nathan stood against the far wall looking at me with a sorry expression on his face. Dad was sitting on the couch with his eyes on my open laptop. I must have left it on the coffee t
able that morning. I couldn’t see what was on the screen.

  “What’s going on?” Mom asked.

  “I got a call about the old stock trailer,” he said. It was one of the items Nathan had posted online for Dad.

  “Oh, good,” I said. Nathan shook his head slightly. Not good?

  “The guy on the phone said that he had sent an email, so I went on your computer to check.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Need help?”

  “Your email was already open.”

  I instantly felt sick. My laptop was in the living room because I had been rereading Concerned Citizen’s email while eating my oatmeal. I couldn’t remember whether I had closed the email inbox. Even if I had, choosing the email icon would have automatically reopened the last account I had logged onto, which was for the Inquirer. Dad spun my laptop around so that Mom and I could see the screen. He was no longer looking at an email inbox but a working copy of the Inquirer. I was too stunned to look for my mom’s reaction right away.

  “What is that?” she asked, stepping closer for a better look.

  “It appears our daughter and her friend here have taken up writing in their spare time,” Dad said.

  “You can’t figure out a baby monitor or the TV remote, but you figured out how to find files on my laptop?” I blurted. Nathan shook his head a little more vigorously this time. I ignored him.

  “I’m not stupid, Miah,” Dad said, raising his voice. “Then again, I didn’t know my own daughter was capable of this, so maybe I am.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “You implied it,” he said, getting to his feet. He put too much weight on his injured leg and stumbled.

  “Dad, you’re going to hurt yourself.” My eyes blurred with tears.

  “I’m not worried about my leg. You have hurt me way more than my leg ever hurt. Me and almost everyone in this town!”

  Tears started to roll down my cheeks. Nathan stared at the floor.