“You’re not smoking in here, asshole! I said this is a company truck!”
“Like I said before… I don’t give a fuck.”
“Then at least roll down the window. You hungry?”
“Starvin’,” said Jim.
“The usual place okay with you?”
“Yeah. They have good chicken.”
“I didn’t figure you liked it for the mac and cheese.”
Jim puffed away at his smoke as he pulled out the shirt his short, pudgy older brother brought him. Even though his brother was a full six inches shorter, Jim knew the shirt would work for now. “You fucker!” Jim sputtered as he looked down and inspected the logo on his chest.
“What?” said Jim’s brother.
“UCLA? What a fuckin’ joke,” said Jim, disgusted.
“The whole year you spent at USC makes it better than UCLA?” asked Jim’s brother.
“UCLA doesn’t even have a polo team.”
“Like you would have made the cut… even if they had a team,” Jim’s brother said condescendingly.
“Fuck you!”
They sat in silence for a minute while Jim flicked ashes on the floor. It was his way of getting back at his brother for hitting below the belt by bringing up USC.
“So what’s the plan?” Jim’s brother asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I figured you could drop me off at the police station on Madera. I’ll waltz in and tell them that I’m the one who beat the shit out of the little fucker that parked in the handicapped spot,” Jim said in a devious tone.
“Cute… real cute,” said Jim’s brother. “You’ll be back to eatin’ turkey surprise with a spork in no time.”
“Better than where I’m at now,” Jim said.
“What’s wrong with where you’re at now?” asked Jim’s brother.
“That place is a shithole. Let me bunk with you for a day or two.”
“No can do, little brother,” said the portly man as he shook his head. “Dawn would shit if she knew I was anywhere near you.”
“Fuck her,” said Jim.
“Watch your mouth, you fuckin’ prick!” Jim’s brother shouted.
Jim knew he crossed the line when he blasted his brother’s girlfriend. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just go back to hot dogs on a stick for a few days.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Jim’s brother.
Jim flicked his cigarette out the window of the pickup and blew smoke out his nostrils. His brother shifted in his seat and drove with one hand as he pulled his billfold from his back pocket, opened it and fished around inside for some cash.
“Here,” he said. “This should get you into a motel for a few days.” He closed his billfold, handed Jim all of the cash he had, and then tossed the billfold on the dash.
“Thanks, man,” said Jim. He counted the money. In all, he had one hundred and thirty-seven dollars in varying denominations.
“I know, little brother… I still owe you.”
“Yeah… you do,” Jim said as he stuffed the cash into his pocket. “And you’re still buyin’ supper.”
†
Joan and Colleen chatted quietly as Augie and Doctor Nguyen exchanged pleasantries on the other side of the curtain.
“I’m gonna go crazy just sitting here,” said Colleen.
“I’m sorry, honey,” said Joan. “You need to rest as much as possible, though. Hopefully you can come home in a few days.”
“I’m so tired.”
“Punch the pain thing again,” said Joan.
“It doesn’t help my headache.”
“Well, out of everything that happened, I reckon the headache is a self-inflicted wound, is it not?” asked Joan.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh… I’ll bet you don’t,” said Joan.
“Besides… tequila is good for you.”
“Uh huh…” Joan repeated.
Colleen tried to listen in on the conversation between Augie and the doctor. She could only hear whispers back and forth, but heard Augie say something about how she fell down some stairs and that her ribs hurt.
“So how did Carlos manage to get the filly under control?” Colleen asked Joan.
“He had some help,” said Joan. “Don’t you remember the cowboy?”
Colleen tilted her head and frowned. “What cowboy?”
“You didn’t see him? Well, no… I guess you probably didn’t. Big guy. Looked like he knew what he was doing.”
“Where did he come from?” Colleen asked, slurring a little.
“I have no idea. I was in the kitchen and heard the ruckus, so I came outside. Camorrista was going crazy and this cowboy dude was trying to get her under control.”
“That’s right. Los said he named the filly Camorrista.”
“I think it fits. Don’t you?” asked Joan.
“Yeah… Camorrista hasn’t heard the last of me,” Colleen said with a frown.
“You should get rid of her.”
“Fuck that!” Colleen blurted. “I will train that glue factory reject if it kills me.”
“It almost did kill you, Colleen,” Joan replied in a more serious tone.
“Shit… if that’s all she’s got, I’ll be disappointed,” Colleen said. “She caught me by surprise this time. I shoulda never worked ’er with a hangover.”
“Hangover my ass,” said Joan. “You were still drunk when you got up this morning.”
“Bullshit,” Colleen said with a yawn. “What time is it?”
Joan looked at her watch. “Quarter to six. You hungry?”
“No. Just sleepy.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Joan said tenderly as she straightened Colleen’s hair. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
“I will,” said Colleen. “But first I have to pee.”
“Punch the call button thing,” said Joan.
“The call button’s gonna help me pee?” Colleen asked with a snicker.
“Very funny.”
Augie giggled from the other side of the curtain again. Doctor Nguyen had already left the room. “Bedpan time!” she announced like she was calling ranch workers to supper.
“Shit,” said Colleen. “You think that’s funny, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” Augie replied.
Colleen suddenly remembered that she and Joan were discussing the cowboy, but got sidetracked. “So who do you think this cowboy is?”
“John Wayne?” Augie interrupted aloud.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Miss Graceful,” Colleen said playfully.
“Ha!” Augie blurted.
“Carlos said that Jesus thinks he’s a ghost,” said Joan.
“Jesus believes in that shit?”
“Yeah,” replied Joan. “He’s into all kinds of crap like that.”
“Interesting. Well… not interesting… but… you know what I mean.” Colleen said.
“I believe in ghosts,” said Augie quietly.
Joan and Colleen looked at each other. Colleen thought that maybe she hurt Augie’s feelings when she asked whether Jesus believed in that shit.
“I’m sorry, Augie,” Colleen said in a consoling tone. “I didn’t know.”
Augie giggled again, and then laughed out loud. Colleen frowned as she realized that Augie was pulling her leg.
“You piss me off.”
“Ha!” Augie blurted again.
“Well, the last thing I remember is getting stepped on. A lot,” said Colleen, getting back to the conversation.
“So you didn’t see him?” asked Joan.
“No… well maybe,” Colleen said. “Was he wearing something blue?”
“A blue shirt at first,” Joan said. “Flannel.”
Colleen yawned. “At first?”
“He must have taken it off, because when the ambulance got there, you had strips of it wrapped around your leg.
“I don’t remember any of that,” Colleen said. “I just remember seeing something blue, and I couldn
’t breathe worth a damn.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up again,” said Joan. “The paramedic said whoever bandaged your leg knew what he was doing.”
Colleen grunted as she tried to shift her weight in the bed. She was getting tired again, but the growing pressure in her bladder became a higher priority than sleep.
“Hit the call bell thing, would ya Ma?”
“This thing?” asked Joan.
“I guess so.”
†
Three of The Four Musketeers sat in the red vinyl booth of the restaurant Colleen often referred to as “the feed trough.” Sheila Jones, Karen Phillips, and Jesse Troutdale settled in as their waitress approached the table and greeted them.
“Hello,” said the young chubby Hispanic woman of about twenty. “Can I bring you some hot bread rolls?”
“Yes, please,” said Sheila.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you,” Sheila said as the waitress turned and walked toward the kitchen.
“So what did Colleen say when you talked to her?” asked Jesse.
“Not much,” said Sheila. “She was pretty drugged up. She said a few words here and there, but that’s about it.”
“How bad is she?” asked Karen “K.P.” Phillips.
“She has a broken leg with all of these gross pins sticking out,” said Sheila.
“Ewww!” Jesse and K.P. sang in unison.
“And she has a sling on her arm,” Sheila continued. “She has a broken collarbone and probably bruised ribs from the sound of it.”
“That sucks,” said K.P.
“Yeah, but you know her,” said Sheila. “She’ll be up before the doctor says it’s okay for her to be up.”
“She’ll be pole dancin’ before you know it,” said K.P.
“Hey!” Jesse interrupted loudly.
Sheila and K.P. chuckled and put their right hand over their mouth to hide a snicker. They looked like synchronized swimmers in the off season as they both hissed through their fingers.
“I forgot, Jezebel… that’s your job,” Sheila said smartly.
“I only do that when I’m drunk,” said Jesse.
“How much did you get from that fat guy in the black shirt?” Sheila asked.
“That’s… so not funny,” said Jesse. “Ugh. He was soooo gross.”
“What was it he called you?” asked K.P. “Marmalade or Camel Toe or some shit like that?”
“For your information, he called me… Mamacita. I don’t think he spoke English.”
“Ya think?” piped Sheila. “I’m gonna go get some chicken.”
“You always get chicken,” Jesse chided.
“Better than that bunny food shit you eat.”
“I like cucumbers,” said Jesse defensively.
“We know you like cucumbers,” said K.P. “I’ll bet the fat guy would have given you one of his last night… Mamacita.”
The couple at the table across from the booth suddenly laughed hysterically. The girls didn’t realize that others were listening in on their conversation. Jesse’s face turned several shades of red as Sheila and K.P. slid out of the booth and headed toward the salad bar.
“Some friends you are,” said Jesse. “I can’t take them anywhere,” she said aloud as she slid out of the booth.
†
“Can I help you?” asked the female’s voice from the call box.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Colleen said loudly.
“Okay, I’ll let your nurse know and she’ll be right in.”
“I’m already here,” Leah said as she stepped through the doorway and into the room.
“I’m already here!” Augie said, mocking Leah’s voice.
“My my my! Aren’t we feeling spry today?” Leah asked Augie rhetorically.
“Ha!” Augie blurted for the third time.
“Jesus, what a pain in the ass,” said Colleen.
“I came to see if you need anything,” said Leah.
“She has to pee,” Joan answered for Colleen.
“Thanks, Ma… but I’m a big girl. I’ll take it from here.”
“No problem,” said Leah. “Let me just get a pan for you. They’re pretty easy to use.”
“What if she has to… you know… what if she has to go number two?” asked Joan.
Colleen turned her head toward Joan. “Don’t you have stuff to do at home?”
“No,” said Joan. “I thought I would stay here tonight and sleep in the recliner.”
“That’s okay, Ma. What are you gonna do? Watch me sleep?” Colleen asked.
Leah grabbed a pair of gloves and put them on. She removed a pink plastic bedpan from a low shelf near the head of Colleen’s bed and approached her left side.
“Did you want me to stay in the room, or do you want some privacy?” Leah asked.
“Ma,” Colleen said in a stern tone.
“Yes, pumpkin?” Joan said as she stared at the pan in Leah’s hand.
“You don’t have to be here for this,” Colleen instructed. “Go home. Come back in the morning.”
“Okay, sweetheart. You sure you’re all right by yourself?”
“I’m not alone,” Colleen said. “I haven’t been alone all day.”
“You’re right. I do have some stuff… to do.”
Augie put in her two cents and blurted, “Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Grandma’s beatin’ off the Indians.”
Leah and Colleen started giggling. Joan frowned at Augie’s joke, her eyes transfixed on the pink bedpan.
“I need to order feed for the critters,” Joan said.
“Don’t order anything from Purina,” said Colleen, remembering her thoughts from earlier in the day.
“Why not?” Joan asked.
“Because. I’m not ordering from that asshole until he learns some manners.”
“What are we gonna feed George?”
“Feed him dog shit for all I care. Right now I have to pee,” Colleen said sternly.
“Crab-by!” said Joan.
“Good night, Ma,” Colleen said as she mirrored Joan’s tone.
Joan leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She had a look on her face that was a combination of concern and annoyance.
“Good night, Ma,” Augie said, mocking Colleen.
“Good night, sweetheart,” Joan said. “Good night, Augie.”
Augie giggled again. Joan walked toward the foot of the bed and paused at the recliner to gather her purse.
“Bring my iPod in the morning, will ya, Ma? Please?” Colleen said as she tried to shift her position again.
“Oh, now it’s please,” Joan said mockingly.
“Thanks, Mom,” said Colleen. “I love you.”
Joan stopped in her tracks. She felt guilty for mocking Colleen. “I love you too, pumpkin. Sleep well,” she said as she started for the door.
“I will.”
Leah pulled the curtain across the foot of the bed. She helped Colleen with the bedpan and jotted down the volume of her urinary output for the medical chart. The gray box on the IV pole beeped as Colleen pressed the button for another dose of Morphine, and August Riley followed suit. As Leah removed her gloves and washed her hands, the two tenants of room 258 drifted off to sleep once again.
†
Carlos pulled into the driveway of the Triple C and thought about all that happened in the scorching heat of this August Sunday. He thought about the many tasks ahead of him without Colleen. He pulled up to the concrete pad at the edge of the show ring and sat with the engine running. He felt unworthy of the shiny silver Toyota PreRunner given him by Chase and Colleen the previous year.
When Chase presented him with the keys, he was taken completely by surprise. It was time for their annual crew appreciation cookout, and Chase made a speech in front of his fellow workmen that brought a sense of pride he had never felt before.
“For the hard work and dedication you have shown the Caldwell family over the last thirty-five years, Colleen,
my mother and I would like to present you with a little token of our appreciation,” Chase announced.
Carlos thought that after all that transpired on what should have been an easy Sunday, even the personalized license plates that read “THXLOS” seemed more like a mockery than a tribute.
He pulled a small spiral notepad from the glove box and flipped it open. There was one note written in pencil, half in Spanish and half in English.
No mas Goat Chow.
The entry was double-underlined. He found himself wishing that Goat Chow was still the most important order of business for the day. He flipped the page in his notebook and took a pencil from his shirt pocket. He thought of the priest and the comforting words of wisdom he offered in the chapel.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Carlos transcribed the words and double-underlined them as well. The words echoed in the sixty-four-year-old ranch foreman’s head like a long thunderstorm on a warm Southern California day. He had a feeling that a different kind of storm was coming, the likes of which he had never seen before.
CHAPTER 4
Carlos Guzman was up and out of the bunkhouse earlier than most mornings, taking inventory of feed for the family stock and the paying boarders. Camorrista’s stall was eerily quiet for seven o’clock in the morning, and Carlos figured she was tired and sore from the day before. She stood quietly in her stall, blinking sleepily with her weight distributed evenly on only three of her hooves. When she was brought home from the sale and settled in for the first time, Jesus speculated that she was a touch lame in her left rear leg.
Closer inspection at the time revealed a condition known as “high heels” and a split hoof wall that was healing improperly due to rocks between the parts of the hooves called “frogs and bars.” Carlos knew it would take time to correct the problem, and had dealt with similar situations in his vast experience. Colleen was confident that Carlos could restore the horse to complete soundness. This was essential if she hoped to train her for acceptable performance, even at the lowest levels of competition.
When Colleen raised her paddle to bid on the filly at the auction, Carlos was surprised. The fact that she considered buying Camorrista excited Carlos since she passed on so many other well-mannered culls over the last year.
Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga) Page 9