by JD Ruskin
I nodded. The sandwiches came. They were really good.
“I wonder who this cook is?” Sarah said.
“We’re going to have to ask,” Aunt Kate replied. “I really like the seasonings in this gravy. I want the recipe.”
I laughed, and she smiled. And then I heard Ray Hanson’s voice coming across the bar.
“Don’t you know faggots aren’t welcome in Montana, Brooks?” Again he was loud enough that half the place could hear him.
“Maybe we should help him out, boss,” one of his goons said. I recognized the man I’d tripped over in the fight.
Jesse and Uncle Karl rose in unison. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I got to my feet. I still couldn’t bring myself to look around the bar, but I didn’t really have to. I knew everyone was looking at us.
When Sarah moved to stand up with us, Jesse put a hand on her shoulder.
“Sarah, Aunt Kate,” he said, never moving his eyes off Hanson and his two hands as they advanced toward us. “Please move yourselves and your chairs behind Josh so Uncle Karl and I can stand next to him.”
They both did what he said without arguing.
“You need help leaving this bar, faggot?” Hanson asked as he stopped a few feet from the table. “Because we’d like nothing better than to help you outta here like we done before.”
“The word is ‘gay,’ Hanson,” my uncle said. “And my nephew doesn’t need any help because he’s not leaving. You might want to think about it, though.”
Hanson stared at my uncle without replying.
“Look,” Uncle Karl continued, his voice low so only Hanson would hear, “we all know your real beef has always been that Josh is a better horse trainer.”
“That faggot can’t best me at nothing, old man,” Hanson said, his voice even louder.
“Oh, he’s better than you at everything,” Uncle Karl replied, raising his voice at last. “Everybody in this bar knows what kind of man you are, Ray. Now why don’t you just leave real quietly and let everybody go back to having a good time?”
Hanson’s face turned red. “I don’t take orders from an old man.”
“You’ll take them from me, Hanson.” Billy Cunningham had emerged from the kitchen and was striding toward our table.
“I was wrong the last time you and Josh met here,” he said as he stopped about five feet off to Hanson’s right. “I should have tossed just you out then, not Josh. I’m doing the right thing this time. And if you don’t want to leave by yourself now, the sheriff will be here in a few minutes to help you out.”
Jesse spoke quietly. “You can’t win, Hanson. Why don’t you walk out on your own and save yourself the humiliation.”
Hanson glanced at each of us, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and then he looked around the bar. No one was coming to his defense. In fact, the men at the three tables immediately around ours had risen and taken a few steps toward Uncle Karl.
I thought I saw sweat break out on Hanson’s face. He glanced at his two hired hands, who were really only good at fighting if they got the jump on a man. A look like fear crossed his face before he raised his chin.
“We don’t want to stay in a bar that serves ‘gays,’ Cunningham,” he sneered. “Anybody who doesn’t like drinking with queers is welcome to leave with us.”
He turned around, and his men followed him out the door. Nobody else did.
“Well, now, that was something I didn’t think I’d be doing again at my age, boys,” Uncle Karl said to no one in particular. Then he helped Aunt Kate move back to the table. “I think I’m ready for another beer.”
A chuckle went round the room, and the men behind Uncle Karl returned to their seats. Jesse helped Sarah sit down again at the table.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Billy said. “I didn’t see him come in, or this wouldn’t have happened. He’s not welcome here anymore.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
“Thank you, Josh, for giving me another chance.”
I nodded, and Billy grinned and went off to get Uncle Karl’s beer.
Sarah turned to Jesse and then to Uncle Karl and me. “You guys sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
When we left the bar later, several folks stood up to talk to Uncle Karl or Jesse or me, and to shake my hand. Turned out I got a better surprise than I was expecting at Cunningham’s.
SEVEN LONG days later, again in the evening, the second phone call came.
Jesse answered, and I could tell right away it wasn’t Dane. I went numb.
Jesse waved his hand wildly to get my attention. “He’s alive,” he mouthed. Then he listened and repeated “Uh-huh” so many times, I thought I’d lose my mind before he hung up.
“What?”
“They’re back. With all the aid workers too. It wasn’t easy. One of their translators was working for al-Qaeda, but Dane caught on early. He hadn’t let on that he understood Pashto too. One of his team members didn’t make it. It’ll be on the news in the next few hours.”
“What about Dane?” My voice shook, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was sure Jesse was leaving out something important.
“He killed the guy, but he was stabbed three times.”
I must have turned white, because Jesse rushed over and forced me to sit down. He even tried to push my head toward my knees.
“Don’t worry, Josh. He’s not gonna die—”
I popped my head up fast. “You’re sure?”
“He won’t,” Jesse repeated. “But he’s left the hospital in Okinawa against doctor’s orders, and they don’t know where he is.”
“They don’t know where he is? They’ve got an injured American wandering around on an island full of Japanese, and they can’t find him?” I was furious.
“Calm down, Josh. Really. He’s okay and he can take care of himself. Remember that. The security company thinks he’s gotten himself on a commercial flight and he’s headed this way.”
Jesse paused and looked me in the eye. “He named you as his next of kin, Josh, on his paperwork. I think he’s headed here too.”
Me, his next of kin? The news barely registered. It sure wasn’t enough to make me happy, or even calm. Where the hell was he?
“When will he get here?”
“I don’t know. If he’s smart, he won’t drive many hours a day. But if he was smart, he would have stayed in the hospital longer. Damn idiot. And we have that big snowstorm coming in. That’ll slow him down.” Jesse wiped his face in exasperation. “It could be days before he gets here, Josh.”
“Maybe he’ll call?”
“Let’s hope.” But he didn’t sound confident either.
BY LATE afternoon two days later, the storm was seriously blowing in. Jesse, Uncle Karl, and I had spent hours securing things around the ranch and our houses. We’d brought the horses and cattle into protected meadows and fed them over-well. It was freezing cold, and the wind howled and blew nonstop, sending the snow sideways. By nightfall, it was going to be impossible to see.
School let out early, and Sarah came straight to the ranch. Once my brother and I knew Uncle Karl and Aunt Kate were set at the big house, we joined her at Jesse’s around sunset.
And still Dane didn’t call. I was going crazy. All day I’d worried. Would he get here before the storm? What if he got stuck? Could he hole up somewhere and stay safe with the injuries he had? Was he coming here at all? And if he wasn’t, where the hell was he? I wanted to kill him myself, I was so mad at him.
The three of us had just sat down to supper when a light knock sounded. I thought it was the wind. But Jesse flew out of his chair and headed for the front door. Sarah grabbed my hand.
I sat still listening for any noise from the living room, but all I heard was the kitchen clock ticking. I watched the second hand sweep along the face. The wind rattled the kitchen window, and I shivered with it.
Was Jesse moving in slow motion or what? I heard the front door open and shut,
then Jesse talked to someone, but not loud enough that I could make out the words. Had one of the hands come by?
I waited some more, my free hand gripping my knee under the table, my mouth dry. What should I say if it was Dane? I’d been thinking up lines for two days, but I couldn’t remember any of them now.
And what if it wasn’t him?
“Come on in and eat.” Jesse’s words floated into the kitchen.
Then Dane was there, hunched in the doorway, letting the woodwork hold him up, with Jesse right behind him.
I glanced at him and looked away as quickly, afraid to meet his eyes in case I’d see something I couldn’t bear. What I saw was enough. He looked worn-out and smaller.
I freed my hand from Sarah’s and pushed up from the table. I still couldn’t look in his face, or figure out if I wanted to apologize for calling him a coward or yell at him for scaring me like he had. I went to the cupboard and got him a plate and a glass and silverware.
“What do you want to drink?” I had meant to sound conversational, but my words came out angry and demanding.
“Hey to you too, cowboy. You look good.”
“You look like shit.” The words banged off the kitchen walls and rang in my ears. I made myself lower my voice. “Sit down and eat, and then you’re going to bed.”
I wanted to be kind to him. I really wanted to hug him. But my fear was leaking out all over the place. Suddenly I was yelling.
“Fuck al-Qaeda. I feel like killing you myself. What were you thinking going back there? And what did you think you were doing leaving that damn hospital early and then driving through a snowstorm?”
Sarah sat stunned and silent. Even Jesse didn’t say anything.
Dane cocked his head and studied me, his face revealing nothing. I decided he hadn’t given a lot of thought to how we’d left things. He hadn’t wondered what I was thinking, what I was afraid of, the whole time he was gone. I could feel my anger climbing up my throat, burning like bile, choking me, as I stared right back at him.
Sarah broke the silence at last. “What Josh means, Dane, is we’re all so glad you’re back.” She jumped out of her chair and headed for the living room. “I’ve got to call Kate and Karl right away and tell them.”
She touched his cheek as she moved around him in the doorway, and he smiled at her. At her, not me.
She disappeared into the living room, and Jesse came into the kitchen finally. He went straight for the table and pulled out a chair. Dane sat down in it. Then Jesse sat down. He had a stupid big grin on his face.
I put the plate and silverware in front of Dane. He wore the tiniest hint of a grin too. If he was laughing at me, I was going to hurt him.
“So, you’ve learned to swear in the short time I’ve been gone?”
“Shut up.”
I grabbed the plastic milk jug and filled his glass. But I had to pour slowly. My hands shook. I took a deep breath, watched them still, and put the glass down in front of Dane. That’s when I saw the three big blotches, dull, dried red, on the back of his shirt. My stomach flipped, and my voice lost its edge.
“Dane, your back.”
Jesse didn’t say anything. So he’d seen them. But why wasn’t he doing something?
Dane just shifted in his chair to look up at me. “Shh, cowboy. They stopped bleeding a couple hours after I left the hospital, and they don’t hurt much. Sit down and let’s eat. I’ve been hoping it would be stew night for two days now. You made it today, right?”
He passed his plate to Jesse. “Not too heavy to start,” he instructed.
Jesse filled the plate and started making a plan.
“That’s right, Dane. We’ll eat and get you settled in for the night, then see tomorrow what’s up with the storm.” He picked up speed as he talked.
“You and Josh can sleep upstairs—”
“No.” My voice was like a whip crack, too loud and too sharp. The two of them looked at me with surprise, and I felt my face redden. But I had things I needed to say to Dane. Things I needed to hear him say, and they weren’t anything about the rescue mission and the conversation Jesse would start. “Dane and I are going home.”
Jesse looked from me to Dane, who was smiling a big, satisfied smile now. I sat down.
“Okay,” Jesse said, starting to spin in a new direction. “That’s a good idea, Josh. You guys go back to the cabin. We’ll see how things are in the morning. That’s a plan.”
Sarah practically skipped back into the room. “Karl and Kate are thrilled you’re back safe, Dane. They hope they can see you tomorrow, and we can all celebrate together.”
After that, nobody talked much through the meal except to ask for something to be passed. Once, Sarah asked Dane how he felt, and he said something about having had worse injuries. But I noticed he sat through the whole meal with his body hunched forward over the table. He never once leaned back in his chair.
I barely ate, my mind chewing through one thought after another. What if Dane didn’t want to spend the night at my cabin after we ate? What if his going there was really only about kicking me good-bye, and he was here to stay with Jesse while he healed up?
Fifteen minutes later, Sarah kissed Dane and me good night. Jesse handed me his first aid kit and walked us out to Dane’s truck. We all bent over against the wind, snow crystals flying at us. They felt like little knives slicing my face.
Dane got in on the passenger side. I hopped into the driver’s seat. The truck felt cold as the grave. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the dash, never touching his back to the seat. But he seemed to have more energy now that he’d eaten.
“We’ll be there in a minute, and we’ll get you in a hot shower,” I said, revving the engine.
“I’m good, cowboy. Really, I’m good.”
I hit the gas and the truck lurched forward, swerved, and gained traction. I couldn’t see much, but I didn’t need to. We covered the distance quickly.
I parked alongside the porch and walked Dane right into the bedroom, sat him on the edge of the bed along with the first aid kit, and headed into the bathroom to get the shower going. He didn’t say a word.
When I returned, he hadn’t moved. I wanted to tell him how glad I was to see him. But I was too afraid he wasn’t moving because he was going to push me away once and for all now. I couldn’t let it come to that.
I knelt down and went to work getting his boots and socks off. This close, I could smell him. Stale hospital and perspiration. I could make that go away. But what about what had happened between us? What had happened to him? He’d lost a member of his team. How would he handle that? What would he say? I felt like a rodeo bull waiting for a chute to spring me into an unknown arena.
Dane settled his hand on my head and moved it lightly through my hair, fluffing it up and smoothing it back down. Even when I finished with his boots, he kept doing it. It felt good and I didn’t move to get up.
“I was so scared I wouldn’t make it back here,” he whispered. “Or if I did, that you’d be here with Guy or someone else.”
“Shhh.” I closed my eyes and lifted my face into his hand, rubbing my cheek against the calluses on his palm. His fingers were shaking.
“Cowboy, I was so stupid.”
“No. Don’t you ever say that to me. To anyone.”
I regretted my words immediately. They were too intense. I was blowing this. Dane was still as cattle during the hottest part of the sweatiest day of summer, like he was backing up and reconsidering everything.
“I think you’re going to have to help me,” he whispered at last.
“Yeah.” I stood and took off his shirt slowly so as not to hurt him. The bandages wrapped all around his torso front and back. They’d slipped some, revealing angry red-puffed skin around way too many stitches. And I was seeing just the smallest part of his injuries. I choked on a breath.
“They’re all knife wounds, and they’re stitched,” he said matter-of-factly, heaving himself up from the bed. “They haven’t
bled again since that first day. I think the bandages will come off on their own in the shower.”
He headed for the bathroom, and I followed. It was steamy in there now. Dane began removing his pants, and I concentrated on getting my own clothes off. When I looked up, he was naked and hard and watching me like a starved man.
Could he still want me? My face got hot. My eyes didn’t leave his cock even as I moved to gently push him toward the shower and followed him in.
He ducked his head under the spray but kept his back away from the water and from me, like he didn’t want me to see it. I lathered up his hair first. He made a little humming sound that told me he liked it, so I rubbed his head a long time with my fingertips before guiding him back under the water, being careful to keep the soap out of his eyes and off his back.
I turned his back toward me at last, soaped up a washcloth and started in on his arms and shoulders. I gave his butt a cursory swipe and moved down one leg and up the other. Next, I moved him away from the water and went to work unwrapping the bandages. He held his arms up out of the way. He didn’t make a sound or a grimace, though I must have hurt him at least once. With the washcloth, I dribbled warm, soapy water over the scary number of stitches but didn’t touch them directly.
I made myself quit counting them and watched pink swirls disappear down the shower drain instead.
The wounds looked to be deep, and one was much longer than the others. They looked like they were healing okay. All of them were on his right side, like someone had surprised him when his back was turned. I remembered he’d killed the traitor who’d done this to him, and I was glad.
Then I couldn’t help myself. I bent my head and started to kiss the skin along the stitches. Light and feathery, nothing that would hurt, I kissed beside each cut. I wanted to make the wounds and the pain go away, to maybe make us both forget what I’d said before he left.
When his back trembled beneath my lips, I stopped. He turned to face me, his eyes clenched shut and water running down his cheeks. I couldn’t tell if it was tears. They couldn’t be tears. I raised a hand and smoothed them away with my thumb, and he kissed it.