I gestured at the glossy truck that, if my estimation was right, cost at least twenty-five thousand dollars. “Who’d you steal the truck from?”
“It’s mine,” Olivia said, leaning against it. “I couldn’t resist.”
I nodded but couldn’t help wondering where she got the money to buy the truck. She was one of the more vocal complainers of poverty at the co-op. I scanned the large group of people milling around.
“Have you seen Shelby?” I asked. “We talked earlier this morning, but she’s disappeared. She’s supposed to be riding with us today.”
“I saw her and Kip at the bunkhouse about fifteen minutes ago,” Parker said. Her voice lowered. “They were having one horrendous fight.”
“She ought to tell that red-necked cretino to take a hike,” Olivia said. “I just hope if she’s putting out that she’s protecting herself ‘cause I’d bet fifty bucks he’s screwing around on her.”
Parker shrugged. “I think she’s a pretty sharp lady.”
I didn’t comment. I’d been, with great determination and only a modicum of success, trying not to get involved in the gossip that flew like swift little sparrows around the co-op and museum.
“Anything in particular either of you are looking to observe today?” I asked, trying to change the subject. Ignoring their tempting tidbit of gossip was almost physically painful for someone as nosy as me.
“I’m thinking about starting a new series of renderings,” Parker said. “I’m concentrating on the younger women today. I’ve been thinking about how the role of women has changed in agriculture in the last few years. The older women are back at the ranch house cooking our food, while you young women are out here gathering cattle. That’s liberation, for sure, but the question is, who’s going to feed everyone when this older generation passes away? Anyway, I’ve got my trusty old Minolta and a ton of black-and-white film. But you know me, I don’t really know what I want until I see it, so just act natural.”
“Oh, great,” I said. “In other words, you and Shelby both will be attempting to catch me in my most awkward, embarrassing moments.”
A quiet, understated laugh came from the back of her throat. Her watery brown eyes had lashes so pale they reminded me of a rabbit, as did her quick, tentative movements. Mimicking her watercolor paintings, Parker almost always dressed in browns, tans, or soft golds. Perfect camouflage for the honey-colored hills surrounding us.
“I’m concentrating on the men, as usual,” Olivia said with a wink. “I’ll be riding shotgun in the truck with Bobby all day.”
Olivia and my dad’s ranch hand had apparently established a close friendship in the last few months. It had been speculated among the artists that their relationship had become more than professional. The age difference between Bobby and Olivia was at least fifteen years, but no one bat-ted an eyelash among the artists. These days relationships between younger men and older women were almost a cliché.
“I’ll be interested in seeing what all of you come up with after today,” I said, mounting Badger.
By noon we had filled the pen next to the big barn with about fifty mama cows and their hundred-pound babies, some bearing Daddy’s brand, some mine. Not wanting to get any more sweaty and dusty before the barbecue, I sat up on the fence with Shelby, Parker, Olivia, and some of my girl cousins and let the men separate the nervous calves from their protective mamas. Passing a huge bag of peanuts between us, we hollered and rooted for the cows more than the cowboys. Gabe stayed on horseback and let Rebel do the one thing he did well once you could convince him to work——cutting. He was an experienced cow-pony and could almost do it without a rider, and the one thing that kept him working was he knew dinner always followed.
One particularly smart and stubborn mama took a half hour and seven men to separate her from her baby. We cheered her tenacity—“Go, cow. Go, mama”—until the sweating and cursing men on horseback and foot finally separated her from her calf. Her angry call could be heard above all the other cows crowding the fence separating them from their babies.
“That mama definitely deserves a ten,” Olivia said.
Over the bawling of the calves, the men threw jokes like horseshoes as a couple of them drove each calf down the wooden chute into the Teco cattle squeeze, locked them in the metal cage, and flipped it over to attach the plastic Y-Tex ear tags marked with either my or Daddy’s brand. At the same time other men would vaccinate, notch the ear, and castrate if called for, all in perfect synchronization. Cowboy ballet, Dove called it. Sam held the calves heads as they were being done, covering their eyes and talking to them in a low, soothing voice like I’d taught him. Just like Dove and Daddy had taught me. Anyone who worked the Ramsey Ranch was trained right off to treat our cattle with kindness and dignity. We were rewarded by having the calmest cattle in San Celina County.
“Looky this one, Ben,” Kip called to my dad. “He’s got real nice confirmation. Want to save him for stud?” He had the ring expander all poised and ready to snap the green rubber castrating ring around the calf’s testicles, which would cut off the blood supply and eventually turn the potential bull into a steer. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My dad gave the bull calf a ten-second consideration, then said, “Nah.”
It took a few minutes because this calf was determined to stay a bull. He kept retracting his left testicle, causing Kip, after breaking three latex rubber rings, to singe our ears with some colorful and earthy cowboy language.
“You gotta respect the little guy,” Kip said, sucking his bruised finger. “I wouldn’t give mine up without a fight either.” He grinned down the row of us women, making a point to ignore Shelby. “‘Course, they don’t make these rubber bands big enough for me.”
“Aw, don’t listen to him,” Bobby drawled as he notched the calf’s ear with one swift motion. “They’re only big when he’s standing up.” A roar of men’s laughter filled the corral.
“Up yours,” Kip answered, then crooned to the strunggling calf, “Sorry, little buddy,” and released the rubber band.
While we groaned and booed at the men’s joking, Shelby slipped down off the fence and started walking toward the house. Kip stopped for a moment and watched her, his sweating face tight with anger. I glanced over at Olivia, who just shrugged and rolled her eyes.
I hopped off the fence and followed Shelby through the backyard, where guests had already started arriving. The picnic tables were filled with foil-covered casserole dishes, and I waved at Elvia and her mother as I tried to catch up with Shelby.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Elvia.
“Keep him away from me,” she replied, setting the long pan of tamales down on a table. I glanced over to where she was looking. Emory hovered near the hot barbecues, watching Elvia with the expression of a lovesick coon hound. Uncle Luke and Uncle Arnie, the official family cooks, were sprinkling the top blocks and tri-tips of beef with their closely guarded secret mixture of salt and chili spices and turning over dozens of chicken breasts. The air smelled sweet and smoky, and my stomach growled in anticipation.
“I’ll get back to you,” I said, watching Shelby go around the side of the house.
“I mean it,” she called after me.
I caught up with Shelby on the front porch of the house. She was sitting on the wooden porch swing, arms crossed, swinging it with a violence that made me glad Daddy had attached it with heavy-duty hooks.
“Whoa, slow down,” I said, grabbing the swing. “I’d join you but I get seasick easily.”
She stopped the swing with her turquoise cowboy boot and gave me a weak smile. “Sorry, Benni. I guess I shouldn’t be taking out my hostilities on an innocent porch swing.”
“Better a swing than a human being,” I said, sitting down beside her. “Want to talk about it?”
She unfolded her arms and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. I patted her back, letting her cry. I’d forgotten how quickly emotions could turn w
hen a person was only twenty, though I shouldn’t have. My relationship with Gabe, middle-aged as it was, had often resembled this hot-cold encounter between Shelby and Kip.
After a few minutes she lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her expensive butter-gold flannel shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I let that jerk get to me like that.”
“Men have a way of doing that to us. But if it makes you feel any better, we do it to them, too.”
“It doesn’t.”
We didn’t talk for a moment. I stared out over the front yard to where cars and trucks were parked neatly along our narrow gravel driveway. One of my aunts barreled out the front door, took one look at Shelby’s stricken face, and said, “Oops, I’ll come back later.”
“Oh, great,” Shelby said. “Guess I’ll be the big topic of conversation now.”
“At least until my Uncle Arnie starts sneaking the beer he’s smuggled in and Dove finds out. Have you ever seen a grown man get chased by his seventy-six-year-old mother swinging a hand-braided quirt? If he’s had more than two beers, she can catch him, too. That should make a great picture.”
She laughed at the image and sniffed wetly.
“Shelby, what’s really going on with you and Kip?”
“Same old story you’ve probably heard a million times. I went out with my friends last nignt to have a few drinks and listen to some band out at the Frio Saloon. It was one of the few places open on Thanksgiving. Kip told me he was tired, that he was coming back out here to the ranch to go to bed early. He went to bed early all right, but I bet he didn’t get much sleep.”
I made a sympathetic noise in my throat, and she continued.
“After we went to the Frio Saloon, we decided to go to that all-night cafe over on Apple Street. You know, the one attached to the Best Western Motel. They’ve got great chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes. Anyway, we were sitting at a window table at about two in the morning, and guess who comes waltzing out of Room Twelve with some girl with bleached blond hair out to here.” She held her hands about six inches from her head. “And a skirt up to her ass. He saw me in the window, but I ran into the bathroom, and my friends got rid of him before I came back out.”
“Shelby, I’m so sony.” It was an old story, but that didn’t make the pain of it happening any less acute when it happened to you.
“He tried to weasel out of it, but what does he think I am, an idiot? Why are men so incomprehensible? Never mind. It doesn’t matter, ‘cause he and I are through. Now if I could just convince my heart of that, I’ll be fine.” Her eyes teared up again. “It’s so pathetic. I sound like a country-western song, don’t I?”
I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze. “That’s exactly why so many of them are sold. Let’s go get some food before the men scarf it all up. You’ll feel better if you eat something. As for why men behave the way they do, I don’t have any wise advice in that area ‘cause my own husband is snorting like a crazy bull on steroids around my former brother-in-law.”
“At least he cares enough to be jealous,” she said.
“A mixed blessing sometimes.”
I stood up, and she caught my arm. “Benni, there’s something else.”
I turned and waited. When I saw the serious look on her face, I sat back down on the swing. “What is it?”
“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“If...” She paused, cleared her throat, and shifted in the swing. “If a friend of yours was doing something that might be illegal ...”
I held my hand up. “Stop right there. Don’t forget I’m married to a police officer. Anything you tell me, I’ll have to pass on to him.”
Her face fell, and my heart went out to her. She was so far away from her family and any emotional support system she’d managed to build up back home. Knowing I probably shouldn’t, I relented and said, “Look, if a friend of yours is doing something that’s against the law, stay away from them. I don’t know much about the law, but I do know that being an accessory is not something to mess around with. You’re young and very talented. Don’t wreck your life because of someone else’s stupidity.”
She twirled a piece of her long black hair around a finger. “Have you ever been in a situation like that?”
I hesitated, not wanting to lie, but sensing that I was getting in deeper than I should. “Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Shelby, I don’t want to give you advice on this other than get out of it.”
She stubbornly persisted. “I’m not asking for advice. I just want to know what you did.”
I exhaled sharply. “You have to realize, I wasn’t married to Gabe at the time, but I confronted my friend.”
“Before you went to the police?”
“I didn’t go to the police. My friend did after I talked to him. But that was my experience. Don’t take it for yours.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “Thanks for listening to me. I think I know what to do now.”
Feeling troubled, helpless, and a bit annoyed, I watched her go down the porch steps and turn the corner. I was really trying to take my position as a police chief’s wife seriously, but people just kept getting in the way with their problems. Had I done the right thing? Did I give her the right advice? Was I being mean to cut her off? I felt distinctly uncomfortable about telling her about my experience. In my case, he’d been a friend since childhood and a local, well-loved minister—the situation had been complicated. Who was this friend of Shelby’s and what had he or she done?
Not your business, a little voice inside my head scolded.
Amen, I replied and let it go.
Back at the huge steel barbecue, lines had already started forming. Dove was flitting from one place to another shouting orders like a general. I considered offering to help, but with all her daughters and daughters-in-law present, I’d probably get in the way of their precisely timed cowgirl chacha, so I grabbed a plastic plate and fell in line behind Shelby, who was doing her best to avoid looking at Kip. From behind the barn came the sounds of men horsing around as they cleaned up at the outside sink.
Emory sidled up and grumbled into my ear, “You said you told Elvia. She won’t even talk to me.”
I reached up and patted my cousin’s smooth cheek. “I did tell her, Emory, honey. That’s why she’s ignoring you.”
Wade strolled up, bumped my hip with his, then pushed in front of me. ‘You don’t care if I butt in, do you, blondie? Hey, Emory, long time no see. You had glasses the size of Coke bottles the last time I saw you.“ I could smell the liquor on Wade’s breath and felt myself stiffen. Wade had always been a nasty drunk, and the only person who’d ever been able to calm him down when he was drinking was Jack.
Shelby giggled. I frowned a warning at her, but her eyes weren’t on me. She was mesmerized by Wade. I looked back at him to see what she was staring at, and it suddenly dawned on me that Wade was indeed an attractive man in that rugged, western way that was obviously Shelby’s weakness.
Emory stared at him without blinking. “Isn’t it amazing what prodigious strides have been accomplished by our fine medical establishment in the treatment of the plebeian and provincial dilemma of acute myopia?”
Wade snorted and winked at Shelby. “Looks like Cousin Emory here is trying to tell us he went to college or something.”
“Wade, shut up,” I said.
He just laughed and turned to Shelby. “And what did you say your name was, darlin‘?”
“Sorry,” I said to Emory in a low voice.
He slipped an arm around my shoulder. “No problem, sweetcakes. You know I’ve been razzed by more macho men than Wade. He always did have a brain whose nearest DNA match was a peach pit.”
I hugged him back. “Forget him. Let’s tie on the feed-bag.”
After we filled our plates with the juicy medium-rare beef, smoky chicken, potato salad,
thick spicy tamales, garlic bread, corn on the cob, Santa-Maria-style salsa, and pink pinquito beans, we found a table as far away from Wade and Shelby as possible so I wouldn’t have to watch Wade make a fool of himself over a girl half his age. But my nosiness got the best of me, and I slipped surreptitious glances at them, watching her feed him a piece of beef, then wipe the salsa off the tip of his mustache with her finger. It wasn’t hard to see why Sandra had gotten fed up and left for good.
The next moment I felt my hair lift up and warm lips nibble at my neck. “Hey, save it for later. My husband’s around here somewhere.” I turned to face my scroungy-looking husband and grinned. “Oh, it’s you. Better get in line, Friday, before all the tamales are gone.”
“I’m not worried. Señora Aragon hid some for me,” he said, grabbing a piece of my garlic bread. He smirked at Emory and straddled the bench next to me. “She loves me. All women do. And who can blame them? I’m irresistible.”
Emory gave an amused chuckle. To my amazement, Gabe and Emory had hit it off the first moment they met last night. But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. As an experienced cop and a quiet observer of human nature, Gabe was adept at seeing through people’s manufactured personas to their true characters.
I groaned dramatically. “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met. She probably saved them because she felt such overwhelming pity for someone so incredibly delusional.” I reached for my garlic bread. “Get your own food.”
“She adores me,” he insisted, popping the rest of my garlic bread in his mouth and standing up. “Save me a seat, mi corazon, since you’re making me fix my own plate.”
He was halfway to the food line when the argument broke out. The loud voices could be heard even over the noisy crowd, and everyone in the yard turned and looked toward the commotion. Closing my eyes briefly, I made a fist, wanting to rush across the yard and use it. When Wade and Shelby started fawning over each other, I suspected something like this would happen.
Dove in the Window Page 6