Ghetto Cowboy

by G. Neri

  “Still can’t,” Tex pipes in.

  “Law was under the rule of the land barons. The sheriffs did what barons said and ignored the will of the people. So the cowboys had to take on their own brand of justice — cowboy justice. All that John Wayne stuff — you know, you can live outside the law as long as you’re honest and live by the code. Don’t steal nobody’s cattle or their women. Treat your horse like it was your best friend, because sometimes that’s all you got. Most important, trust and believe in your guys and always have their back when they need you.”

  The old-timers is nodding, saying Amen and You got that right.

  “The Cowboy Way is, no matter what, never ever give up fighting when the chips are down. Real cowboys never give up,” Harp says, staring me down like he wants me to believe that.

  I look around, and it’s like one big family, everyone helping out and watching out for each other. And it feels like Harp now wants me there too.

  “Ain’t nothing changed,” says Jamaica Bob. “Cowboys still fighting to protect their ways in land wars where the bosses are trying to run ’em out. Only difference now is, the Chisholm Trail is a freeway today. We got to stick to our ways so that the young people have a safe place in this world, a place where the old values still count.”

  He raises his bottle, and even the younger guys yell out in agreement. We all raise our bottles too, and looking around at all these cowboys makes me feel like we in the Old West still.

  Once we back in the house, I stare out the window, thinking what would it be like to stay here and live the Cowboy Way. Hanging out with all of them, that might be all right. I could learn to ride, maybe teach other kids how to work at the stables, and I wouldn’t have to worry about school no more. I could just be a cowboy ’cause if you a cowboy, you do as you feel, not as you’re told.

  “You don’t have to sleep in the closet if you don’t want to.”

  I turn and see Harper staring at me. He scratches his head and says, “If you want to, you can sleep in my bed.”

  “With you?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Yeah, with me. I ain’t sleeping in the closet!”

  I laugh. Anything is better than that closet.

  That night, though, I can’t sleep. I lay there listening to Harper snore. Off in the distance I hear a gunshot, thumpin’ car music, and choppers in the air. I keep thinking about Mama and when she gonna show up and take me back so I can start summer school. But she seem farther away than ever.

  I don’t remember falling asleep, but Boo musta still been on my mind ’cause I had this dream where I was riding him along the Chisholm Trail. We was heading up to Detroit, rustling cattle and all. Harp and Tex and Jamaica Bob was there too. There was no cities, no loud cars, no gunshots. Only wide-open forever, as far as I could see. We sat around a fire at night, eating beans and such and listening to a cowboy named John Coltrane play his sax (I said it was a dream). The last thing I remember was coming to the end of the trail and seeing a big city off in the distance. Harper says to me, “There it is. That’s where your mama’s at.” But I don’t remember riding off to it.

  When I wake up, it’s still early. The clock says five thirty, and Harper’s dead asleep. I get up and look out the window. The rain has finally stopped, but everything feels like it’s drenched to the bone. I can see the Ritz-Carlton from here. That blue tarp, which I almost killed myself over, blew loose and is drooping down into the hole in the roof.

  Dag. I think of Boo again and suddenly feel like going to see how he holding up. I find my boots and coat and sneak out without waking Harper. I shush Lightning as I walk past. He ignores me.

  Outside, the stoop leads right into a lake. The whole street is flooded. The water come up to the middle of my boots as I move slowly through it, so’s not to get mud down into my socks. Nobody’s out yet, and the place seem eerie quiet.

  Where there ain’t water, there’s mud, like it just washed everything from the vacant lots onto the streets. What a mess. I climb the fence over into the stables and immediately spot Boo. He musta been rolling around in muck and who knows what, ’cause his fur all ruffled up and covered in mud.

  Poor Boo. He look like a Skid Row horse or something awful. But he brightens up when he sees me. I pet him on the head, and he seem okay — same ol’ Boo. Just needs a bath is all. I grab some hay and feed him. I can see some of the other horses in the corral all muddy like Boo, but they don’t seem to mind. At least it looks like no more rain. Hopefully we can get this place all cleaned up soon enough.

  I’m brushing down Boo when I see three black vans pull up in front of the stable and come skidding to a halt. A chill shoots down my neck and I think, This ain’t right.

  Suddenly, about twenty guys in blue Windbreakers jump out and swarm the stables like ants, trekking through the mud and taking pictures and video of everything they see. What the heck is going on? One thing’s for sure — Harper’s not gonna be happy.

  I stand frozen to the ground, thinking, If I move, they’ll pounce on me too. They just pass by me like I’m invisible, whistling to each other every time they find something that’s broken down or beat up ’cause of the storm.

  Tex pokes his head out the clubhouse, his big ol’ glasses peering out as he ties his robe up. But he looks as confused as I am. Maybe he thinks he drank too much last night, ’cause he laughing for some reason. It all seem too crazy.

  A overweight white man in a dark suit comes over to him, waving a piece of paper and saying he got a court order to shut us down. Tex just stares at him, shaking his head. I don’t like this guy neither. Guys in suits make me feel all jumpy. I think they from the City ’cause all the other dudes got Dept. of License and Inspection on their jackets.

  But all Tex do is turn and walk away toward the street. He waving the guy off like he a fly or something. The guy follows him around the corner.

  I got no idea what to do. Them dudes seem all nervous, like they know a battle’s coming. Sure enough, I hear a commotion coming from the street. People is yelling and the other City dudes rush back to the front. Then I know — Harper’s here.

  When I get to the gate, I see Harper going face-to-face with the man in the suit. The suit is telling him the stables is unsanitary (he pointing at the huge pile of crap) and the horses is in danger and he never seen nothing like this and he gonna shut us down.

  I know what’s coming now, ’cause telling Harp he a danger to these animals is like insulting his mama. It’s a throwdown, and one he ain’t gonna stand for.

  Six or seven of the other riders come running from down the street. Tex, Jamaica Bob, and the Malcolm X cowboys all got Harper’s back — everyone’s yelling at the suit, and things is gettin’ crazy. I see some of the neighbors looking out their windows, some shaking their heads like they saying, ’Bout time, others just lookin’ sad. Some kids come out in their pajamas, looking all scared and confused.

  I gotta climb on the fence so I can see what’s happening. About six cops have showed up like they was expecting this, and they all crowd around Harper too. The yelling is intense, and the cops take out their clubs, ready for action. Our guys push back, and it looks like there’s gonna be a fight and I think, This is it!

  But then the suit with the paper yells out, “Just read it!”

  Harper grinds his teeth, then holds up his hand, and the yelling dies down. I can see his jaw clenching from here. He reading the court order, shaking his head. The other neighborhood guys is looking over his shoulder. I hear them mutter, It’s a setup. They framed us. They can’t do this!

  Then I spot one of them dudes in the Windbreakers coming from behind the corral where the giant pile of you-know-what is. He a white dude, but he looks super white now, like he seen a ghost. He starts talking to the suit and pointing back to the pile, which is steaming from all the rain and heat. And ’cause he so frantic and all, I’m pretty sure I know what they talking about.

  That white dude just found the body of the dead horse.

&nb
sp; Man. I see Harper bow his head and breathe slowly. When he gazes up at the sky, I see tears coming down his face, like he knows he ain’t got no chance now. Maybe he seen it one too many times. Tex said the white man always wins in the end. Maybe he’s right, ’cause even though it wasn’t their fault, a dead body, no matter what, won’t look good.

  But that’s not the worst thing. I move in closer, and I hear the suit say, “Due to the conditions of this facility, I’m going to have to confiscate the horses that look malnourished.”

  Harper mumbles, “What?”

  But the suit has more to say. “The other horses will have to be cleared out and stabled somewhere else in the next twenty-four hours.”

  Tex gets in the man’s face. “Why?”

  The suit don’t blink. “Because come eight o’clock tomorrow morning, our bulldozers will start to tear down these illegal facilities.”

  Tex is ready to kill the suit as he starts pointing out horses that they’re gonna take. He walking around with some kinda horse “expert,” acting like he picking out stuff to throw away for garbage pickup! One of the older kids in his pj’s starts screaming when he takes his horse, Daisy.

  Five or six of the other old heads in the ’hood come outta their houses, like they sensed a change in the wind or something. Even though it’s early, they dressed with their cowboy hats and big belt buckles and boots. They make their way through the crowd and lay their hands on Harper’s shoulders. They whisper in his ear. He pleading to the suit now, the fight all gone from him, the old heads holding him up. They all crying too, and they pretty tough guys.

  I feel like taking out the suit right now, and I walk straight at him like I’m gonna do it too. But then I see him point at Boo, and my heart stops. I can’t think straight. I see Boo looking all scared and alone, and suddenly, I know I got to do something before it’s too late.

  I run over and grab his rope, and a couple City guys come over and try to take him from me. They say things like, It’s all right. We’re going to take care of him — make him all better.

  I say, “He ain’t sick!” but it’s like they can’t hear me. “He just look scruffy ’cause of the storm!” I yell, but they act like he been starving and living on the street. Another guy who looks like a vet is checking him out, looking in Boo’s mouth, but Boo don’t like it and tries to bite him.

  I see a horse truck back up, and then I get a bad feeling in my gut. Like if I let Boo go, he ain’t never gonna come back. He’ll disappear and won’t ever see his friends again, won’t ever get back home again. He’ll end up in a strange place where nobody cares about him, and then when he turns his back, they’ll kill him and make him into dog food. Or worse, he’ll end up like that horse out back — dead and forgotten.

  And that’s when I freak. I kick one of the guys in the leg, rip the rope outta his hands, and try to climb up on Boo so I can make a break for it. Problem is, Boo ain’t wearing a saddle, and he buggin’ out for sure. He jumping around, and the guys try to pull me off. Boo starts kicking, and I go flying off into the mud, smack on my back, the wind knocked outta me.

  I fight to get my breath back, but when I look up, my heart stops — Boo is on his back legs, towering over me. He look like a giant, his hoofs scrambling in the air in slow motion right above me, and suddenly I know it’s all over. Boo gonna stomp me into the mud, and that’ll be it. I cover my eyes and wait for it, everyone yelling and Boo crying out —

  Then I feel a hand grab me and pull me out the way. I open one eye and see it’s Harper.

  He standing between me and Boo, raising his arms up and doing that horse-whisper stuff I seen him do before. Boo backs up, and Harper with him like they in a dance. Then he lowers his hands and Boo slowly comes down and Harper reaches for the rope and he comes in and hugs Boo ’round the neck.

  Boo looks at me, maybe wondering why I’m lying in the mud. Jamaica Bob helps me up as the City guys try to take Boo again. But Harper says to them, “Hold on, hold on.” And he starts walking Boo past them.

  At that moment, I think Harper’s gonna save Boo and everything’s gonna be all right. But then he turns toward the truck and pulls Boo right into the trailer!

  He gonna give in? Just like that?

  I get up and start running over, but Bob grabs me and whispers in my ear, “Let him go, son.” Has everyone gone crazy? They load up maybe eight horses, and Harper just stands there, his back to me, holding that piece of paper. Bob got a iron grip and won’t let go.

  We watch the City guys finish up and in a few more minutes, they all gone, like it never happened.

  Nobody talks. Nobody moves. The neighbors disappear from their windows. I look down in the mud and see Mama’s bracelet that was tied to Boo’s mane. I run over to pick it up and hold it tight.

  I can’t see straight no more. My ears is ringing, my throat is all tight, and my stomach is on fire — it’s like a volcano erupts in my head. When I see Harper, all my anger comes pouring out at him.

  I charge, words coming out my mouth, but I can’t hear what I’m saying. I charge him like I’m gonna take him out for letting Boo go. For not coming after me and Mama when I was a baby. For thinking I’m just some gangbanging fool. For just giving up on all these horses and the stables and the Cowboy Way.

  The next thing I know, I’m hitting him. He sinks to his knees like he got no strength left, but I don’t stop. I know everyone looking at me, but I can’t keep it in no more. I don’t care what nobody thinks of me. I just gotta hit somebody or I’m gonna bust.

  Somehow, he gets his arms around me, and I try to fight him off, but he don’t let go. He holds on like I’m a storm in his arms, and I give it all I got till he slowly smothers that anger and all the fight goes out of me too.

  I’m breathing hard, my heart racing. He holds me close, and I let him. Tears is coming down my face, but it don’t matter now. I don’t care if everybody sees me crying. I got nothing left.

  I can feel the other guys around us, talking all quiet, but I can’t make it out. Finally, I hear Bob whisper in his ear, “Harper, what are we gonna do?”

  Harper takes a deep breath and says quietly, “I don’t know.”

  He looks around at everyone standing there, like they all waiting for his command. “I got to think,” he says, and he gets up and walks off toward the Ritz-Carlton.

  The other guys look at each other and scowl. The suit said they had twenty-four hours to move their horses out, but no one seem to know where to take ’em. Tex says all the stables that woulda taken them is full up or been closed up by the City already. Everything else is too expensive or over in Jersey.

  Somebody jokes that they could take all the horses up the Appalachian Trail and hide ’em. Another guy says maybe the Federation of Black Cowboys in Brooklyn will take ’em. I look at him and imagine a cavalry of black cowboys coming to save the day. He shrugs. “We aren’t the only black cowboys out there, you know.”

  Most of ’em look like they got their hearts ripped out of their chests. Some of the kids is off crying or standing around looking like somebody ran over their dog. They look totally lost. Some of the guys is angry, kicking at a trash can or yelling at each other. But nobody is talking about how they gonna save the horses and the stables. They all thinking about themselves.

  Me, I just look where Boo was standing and make a promise: I will get you back, Boo. No matter what, I will get you back.

  I look around for Harper and find him in the Ritz, glaring up at that big ol’ hole in the roof. The blue tarp is hanging down inside, and he grabs it, trying to pull it down. The more it gets stuck, the more he starts pulling on that thing like if it’s the last thing he do, he gonna pull it down. I can see the anger in him building up, and for a second, I think he gonna pull the roof down on top of him.

  Then I hear some music — sounds like that Coltrane guy. Harper ignores it, but it keeps going until he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He flips it open, and the music stops. He stares at
the caller ID and sees me almost at the same time.

  He don’t talk to the phone, just holds it out for me. “It’s for you.”

  There’s only one person I can think of who would call me.

  I grab the phone and I listen. I can hear someone breathing on the other end. “Mama?” I ask.

  I hear her exhale. “Baby,” she says, barely a whisper.

  I stand there for a long time, just listening to her breathe. Harper looks at me, then leaves. Finally, Mama asks, “How you doing, Cole?”

  It’s what she used to say to me when I woke up in the morning and wandered into the kitchen. How you doing, Cole?

  I stare at the hole in the roof, and it feels like the hole in my stomach. Everything that’s happened since she left me here is running through my head. I don’t know how to answer that question.

  “Baby?” she asks.

  I got nothing to say.

  She starts talking. “I been thinking . . . maybe —”

  “Maybe what?”

  She sighs. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

  Maybe.

  I’m looking out the barn door, seeing all the guys arguing. Harper’s just staring off into space like he lost. A couple days ago, I woulda just said come get me. Now, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but with everything going on here, I don’t feel like talking to her right now.

  “Baby —” she says as I close the phone.

  I stand there looking at the crushed stall where Boo was. It might be easier to go back to Mama instead of dealing with all a this. But I start getting this weird feeling in my gut. The only thing I can think of is the promise I made to Boo. I know I gotta go find him. I got to get him back. I see the guys giving up, but that don’t seem like the Cowboy Way, not like Harp told it. What happened to never giving up, to having everyone’s back, and treating your horse like your best friend? What happened to banding together like cowboys and standing up to the Man?