by Marin Thomas
Conway deserved more say in the decision than a simple vote.
“Good luck this afternoon.” Will got in his truck and drove off.
After Conway started the tractor he decided he was more determined than ever to show his siblings he could bring in the harvest by himself. He steered the tractor into the second row of trees, where the vibrating robotic arms shook trunk after trunk until it rained pecans.
After the fifteenth tree he noticed Miguel and Javier waving their arms at the end of the row. He turned off the tractor and shouted, “What’s the matter?”
Miguel spoke but Conway was too far away to make out the words. He hopped off the machine and walked toward the boy. “What’s wrong?”
“We don’t want to color anymore,” Miguel said.
Swallowing his irritation, Conway said, “You can watch TV in the bunkhouse.” Isi had told him that she didn’t allow the boys to watch TV very often, but he was running out of ideas to entertain them. Inside the bunkhouse he turned on the big-screen TV mounted against the wall across from the row of single beds. “What channel?” Will had installed a satellite dish behind the shed and they got over a hundred different television programs.
“Disney,” Javier said.
While Conway flipped through the directory, he noticed Miguel studying the posters of rodeo cowboys above the beds. “Do you like rodeo?”
Miguel shrugged.
“Have you ever been to a rodeo?”
The boys shook their heads no. Shoot, Conway had competed in his first mutton bustin’ contest when he’d turned five. He positioned the sofa toward the TV. “Sit down.” After they crawled onto the cushions, he said, “Don’t get into any trouble.”
“Is it my turn for a ride?” Javier asked.
“Not yet.” The way things were going Conway would be lucky to drive the shaker machine through five rows before dark. “I’ll come get you in a while.”
A half hour later, Conway had made it to the end of the row and was about to head down another when Miguel dashed across the yard. The kid couldn’t sit still for a minute. He raced up the porch steps, gathered an armful of snacks and attempted to carry them to the bunkhouse. He made it halfway, before he lost his load.
Conway considered helping Miguel, but he didn’t have time. An hour later he shut down the machine and went into the bunkhouse. “You guys ready for a ride?” He gaped at the table covered in candy wrappers. “Did you eat all Porter’s candy?”
“He lets us eat his candy,” Miguel said.
“You didn’t ask him.”
“Can we ask him when he gets back?” Javier said.
“Forget it. You want a ride on the tractor or not?” He hated losing his patience, but he’d yet to make decent progress and half the afternoon was gone. When they reached the tractor, Conway sat Miguel next to him on the seat and Javier in his lap. He wasn’t wasting time giving separate rides.
When they pleaded for Conway to show them how the shaker machine worked, he gave in and allowed the twins to remain on the tractor as he drove down the row, shaking tree after tree. Javier appeared fascinated by the process, Miguel not so much—he grew antsy and wanted to get off the tractor. When Conway reached the end of the row, he sent the boys back to the bunkhouse with the promise to check on them in an hour.
Time flew by and Conway shut down the tractor and shaker machine and made his way through the orchard. He got to within fifteen yards of the bunkhouse and heard shouting.
“You’re in big trouble!” Miguel’s voice carried through an open window.
“No, I’m not, you are!” Javier said.
Conway opened the door and stepped inside.
Both boys looked at each other and said, “He did it.”
Conway stared in disbelief at the large-screen TV resting facedown on the cement floor. “Don’t move.” He crossed the room, grasped both boys by the seat of their pants and lifted them away from the broken glass, then carried them outside. “What the heck were you doing in there?” He didn’t give the boys a chance to answer. “That TV cost over a thousand dollars.”
The boys’ eyes widened.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to harvest the pecans if you two won’t stay out of trouble?”
“We didn’t mean to break the TV,” Miguel said.
“Stay here.” Conway retrieved a broom and dustpan from the storage closet then spent the next twenty minutes sweeping up glass. When he returned outside, the boys were lying on their backs in the dirt staring up at the sky.
“How much is a thousand dollars?” Miguel asked, crawling to his knees.
“A lot of money.”
Miguel kicked Javier’s leg. “It’s your fault.” Miguel faced Conway. “Javi threw his pillow at me, but I ducked and it hit the TV.”
“Are you gonna be mad at us forever?” Javier asked, getting to his feet.
“No, but I need time to cool off.” He walked the boys back to the porch.
“Are you gonna tell our mom we broke your TV?”
“I haven’t decided.” Conway’s anger was dying a fast death at the scared expressions on the boys’ faces. He’d broken his share of things as a kid and Grandma Ada hadn’t punished him harshly.
“We’re gonna be grounded forever.” Miguel sighed.
The boys walked to the end of the porch and sat on the swing.
“We won’t leave the porch,” Javier said.
Conway trusted them to keep their word. No doubt they were more than a little worried about what their mother would say when she found out what they’d done.
Chapter Nine
Isi reread the first paragraph of her term paper, satisfied she’d nailed the opening. Three sentences later, her mind wandered. The boys should be awake by now. Rarely did they sleep in and she worried they were coming down with colds.
Last night when she’d arrived home from the bar, she’d been surprised to find Conway’s truck parked in front of her trailer, because they’d agreed that the boys would sleep at the farm while he harvested the pecans. When she’d asked why he’d brought them home, he’d said he thought it was best that they sleep in their own beds.
She shut down the computer and left the kitchen. When she opened her sons’ door, she discovered them dressed and sitting on their beds, wearing glum expressions. “Hey, you two, what’s the big secret?” Their eyes widened—not a good sign.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.
They hopped off their beds and filed past her, shoes dragging across the carpet. Oh, dear. They sat at the kitchen table and she felt their foreheads—no fever. “What’s going on?”
“Conway’s mad at us,” Miguel said.
“Why?” When neither of them explained, she pulled out a chair and sat. “What happened at the farm yesterday?”
Javier refused to make eye contact with her, so she swung her gaze to Miguel. “I’m waiting...”
“We broke Conway’s TV.”
Isi gasped. “How?”
Miguel stamped his foot. “It was Javi’s fault!”
“Was not!”
“Was so!”
“Stop.” She slapped her hand against the table, startling her sons. “Javi, how did the TV break?”
“We had a pillow fight ’cause we were bored.”
“Where was the TV?” she asked.
“In the bunkhouse,” Miguel said.
Why had the boys been in the bunkhouse by themselves? Conway had promised to keep them close by while he worked.
“How big was the TV?” Isi mentally calculated the meager amount she’d saved for the boys’ Christmas presents.
“This big.” Javier spread his arms wide.
“It cost a thousand dollars,” Miguel said.
A thousand
dollars?
Why hadn’t Conway told her about the TV last night?
Because he knows you don’t have the money to replace it.
Isi rubbed her brow. Conway had done so much to help her—more than he should have, and the boys breaking his TV made her feel horrible. “We’re going to have to pay for a new TV.”
As she cooked breakfast, she worried over how she’d come up with the money to replace the TV. Maybe Conway would allow her to make monthly payments. Poor Conway—he needed a break from her sons. She could skip class but not work—she couldn’t afford to lose any hours when she lived paycheck to paycheck. There had been many times when she’d almost given in and confronted Tyler Smith, demanding he pay child support but pride had stopped her. If she’d had to choose between her pride and feeding the boys she would have pursued Tyler with relentless determination, but things had never gotten that bad.
A half hour later Conway’s truck pulled in front of the trailer and Isi’s heart pounded with dread. “Conway’s here.” She turned from the window and caught her sons fleeing to their bedroom. Chickens.
She met a sober-faced Conway at the door. “The boys told me about the TV. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged off her apology. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have left them alone in the bunkhouse.”
“The boys knew better than to have a pillow fight when they were a guest in someone else’s home.” She squeezed his hand. “I want to cover the cost of the TV, but I’ll have to make monthly payments.”
“You’re not paying for the TV,” he said.
When the boys’ bedroom door banged open, Isi realized she still held Conway’s hand. She released her grip as her sons walked into the living room with their ceramic piggy banks.
“You can have our money to pay for a new TV.” Miguel held out his pig to Conway.
“Mine, too,” Javier said.
Isi was so proud of her sons.
“And you can smash ’em ’cause we smashed your TV,” Miguel said.
“I have an idea on how you can make up for breaking the TV,” Conway said.
“How?” Miguel asked.
“You’re both going to collect the branches and twigs that fall from the trees after the shaker machine knocks the nuts loose.”
“How many sticks do we gotta collect?” Javier asked.
“All of them.” Conway kept a straight face, and Isi bit her lip to keep from laughing at her sons’ astonished expressions.
“Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Conway held open the door and waited for the boys to put their banks away.
“Be good.” Isi watched them walk off as if marching to the gallows. Once they were out of earshot, she said, “Please let me make payments on the TV.”
“Forget about it, Isi. It was an accident. Porter and Buck are shopping for a new TV right now.” He stepped onto the porch. “See you tonight.”
“You’re bringing the boys back here to sleep then?”
“I think it’s best for all three of us to have a break from each other at night.”
“Would you mind staying a bit longer then? Will and I are going to a late movie at the mall after I get off work.”
“You’re going out with Will again?”
“You sound surprised,” she said.
“Will never said anything to me.”
“Is it okay if we go to the movies?”
“I guess.”
He didn’t sound too enthusiastic. Maybe Conway was jealous of his brother.
She could only hope.
* * *
“HOW COME WE gotta get boots?” Miguel asked, following Conway through Boot Barn with Javier.
“’Cause that’s what rodeo cowboys wear. Jeans, a long-sleeve shirt and boots.” Conway had felt guilty the past week while he’d harvested the nuts. Since breaking the TV, the boys had been on their best behavior and hadn’t stepped off the porch—not once—unless Conway said it was okay. He’d finished most of the harvesting and was ahead of schedule, that’s why he decided to surprise the twins and take them to a rodeo, where they could enter a mutton bustin’ competition.
“Can I help you, sir?” An older gentleman approached them.
“These wranglers need a pair of boots,” Conway said.
“Have a seat.” The salesman pulled up a bench. “Be right back.” He brought two boot boxes from the storeroom and knelt before the twins. He slid a brown pair on Javier’s feet and a black pair on Miguel’s. “Walk in them and tell me if they fit.”
The boys shuffled up and down the aisle.
“What do you think?” Conway asked.
“I want the black ones,” Javier said.
“I want the brown ones,” Miguel said.
The salesman shook his head. “Thought for sure I had the right colors picked out for them.”
“Okay, switch boots,” Conway said.
Once the boys traded pairs, they raced to the end of the aisle. “Can we wear ’em now?” Javier asked.
“You bet.” The salesman placed the boys’ sneakers into the boot boxes then escorted them to the register and Conway got out his credit card.
After they left the store, he drove to Somerton, a small town twelve miles south of Yuma, where the Tamale Festival was in full swing. The annual event was sponsored by an Arizona State University Alumni chapter and the proceeds benefited local students attending ASU. Mutton bustin’ happened to be one of the moneymakers at the festival and Conway hoped the boys would have fun.
“Where are we going?” Miguel spoke from the backseat.
“The Tamale Festival.”
“My mom makes tamales,” Javier said.
“What are we gonna do at the festival?”
Conway glanced at Miguel in the rearview mirror. The kid never stopped talking. “Wait and see.” Fifteen minutes later, he parked in a gravel lot next to a small outdoor arena then opened the back door and helped the boys out of the truck. As soon as their boots hit the ground, Conway said, “Wait here.” He rummaged through the truck toolbox and removed a pair of straw cowboy hats then set them on the twins’ heads. “Now you’re ready to rodeo.”
After paying for their admission, he bought hot dogs then they sat in the stands and ate, while watching rodeo helpers set up the arena for the mutton bustin’ contest.
“Ladies and gents, welcome to the twenty-first annual Tamale Festival and Rodeo. Hold on to your hats, we’re about to kick off the mutton bustin’ races.” After the announcer spoke, one of the chute doors opened across the arena and a sheep ran out with a young boy clinging to its back.
Both Javier and Miguel watched the sheep race through the arena. The kid finally fell off then he got to his feet and waved to his parents in the stands.
“Well, folks, Billy Baker will have to keep working on his technique. Better luck next time, buckaroo!”
“What do you guys think? Would you like to ride a sheep?” Conway asked.
“Can we?” Miguel’s eyes shone with excitement. Javier inched closer to Conway.
“You don’t have to ride, Javi. Only if you want to.”
Javi poked Miguel in the shoulder. “You go first.”
“Let’s sign you up, Miguel.” Conway guided the boys through the throng of rodeo fans to a table next to the chutes. While they waited in line, he studied a man and his daughter a few feet ahead of them. The cowboy looked familiar. He turned and Conway recognized him. Tyler Smith’s gaze clashed with Conway’s then he spotted the twins and stiffened. Even though Isi had told Conway that Smith had rejected his sons, the cowboy had probably seen her and the boys around town.
“Smith,” Conway said.
“Cash.” There were questions in Smith’s eyes, but damned if Conway would answer them. “Is your da
ughter entering the contest?”
“Yes.” Smith’s gaze strayed back to the boys.
“We gotta move up.” Miguel tugged on Conway’s hand.
“Hold on, Miguel,” Conway said.
“Are you gonna ride a sheep?” Javier asked the young girl standing with Smith.
She smiled shyly and nodded.
“Me, too,” Javier said.
Hell, the boys had no clue the little girl was their half sister. Talk about ironic—Tyler Smith’s kids all chatting together as if they were best friends. Smith’s face paled as he took his daughter’s hand and pulled her out of line. “Let’s go.”
“But, Daddy...”
Conway didn’t catch the rest of the girl’s words as her father walked off with her.
“How come they left?” Javi asked.
“I don’t think her father was feeling well.” Served Smith right to see what he’d tossed aside. They moved up in line and Conway paid Miguel’s entry fee then pinned his contestant number to the back of his shirt.
Next they stood behind the sheep chute, waiting their turn. The boys took in all the action, watching the rodeo helpers put helmets on the kids before setting them on the sheep.
“Ready, cowboy?” a rodeo worker asked when Miguel arrived at the front of the line. Once he sat on the sheep, Conway said, “Wait a second. I want to take a picture.” He removed the camera he’d purchased at the drugstore earlier in the week after he’d decided to take the boys to the rodeo. Isi was always snapping photos of the boys, and he figured she’d be upset if she didn’t have pictures of them mutton bustin’.
“Done,” he said.
The gate opened and the sheep trotted into the arena.
He climbed the rails to take a second picture. “Go get ’em, Miguel!”
Miguel had no trouble hanging on until the sheep switched gears and ran hard. Conway thought for sure the boy would fall, but he clung to the sheep’s fur. The cheering crowd rose to their feet.
Hang on, Mig. Hang on, buddy.
Miguel made it all the way across the arena before the rodeo helpers caught up with the sheep and cornered it.
“Folks, I think you witnessed a future National Finals Rodeo bronc rider!”