Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  “Asshole,” Shane said with a grin, bashing his shoulder against Pokey’s.

  “Cocksucker.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

  Their banter continued as they drove out of town and over a hillock, then turned onto a two-lane road leading east through fenced pastures. Jimmy’s brothers used to call him names too, but without the undercurrent of playfulness present between Shane and Pokey. And if Jimmy dared to call them names back, they ganged up and beat the crap out of him. He learned early that the best strategy was to get away from them if he could. But Shane obviously enjoyed this fraternal teasing and gave as good as he got.

  Jimmy looked out at the rolling green hills where black cows grazed lazily between scattered boulders. Where the ground began to rise, the open land and narrow washes gradually gave way to evergreen forest and then to the taller peaks beyond.

  “The views from that hill over there are real nice,” Shane said, pointing. “You can see all the way down to the Central Valley.”

  “When the air ain’t shitty,” Pokey added.

  Jimmy looked around. “Is part of this your land?”

  Shane waved his arm, nearly bashing Jimmy in the face. “All of this is our land. Lost River Ranch. It’s over nine hundred acres. Used to be just five hundred, but then Mom and Dad bought Hawk Ridge from Jesse’s father.”

  Pokey shot a worried look at Shane, which Shane didn’t seem to notice and Jimmy didn’t understand. Before Jimmy could decipher the reason, they turned onto a gravel lane, crested a hill, and dropped into a little round valley where a house and barn and other outbuildings clustered near a pond. Almost a dozen vehicles—most of them trucks or SUVs—filled the flat parking area where Pokey stopped the Chevy. “Go calm my women,” he ordered Shane, who laughed loudly. Pokey went to the back of the truck, probably to retrieve the pies Shane had bought.

  Jimmy would have hung back, but Shane put an arm around his shoulders and urged him forward. “I promise everybody’s gonna play nice. We take ranch hospitality seriously ’round here.”

  Shane had a little trouble maneuvering over the uneven ground. Jimmy probably wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t been touching. But as it was, Shane occasionally leaned some of his weight on Jimmy’s shoulders and his breath went uneven. They proceeded slowly, which was fine with Jimmy. He took in the big barn, weathered and picturesque as it nestled at the bottom of the hill. The house was ranch style, of course, parts of it looking quite old but with more recent additions. It wasn’t fancy, built more for utility than looks, he supposed, but beds of cheery flowers and young vegetables and a few rows of trellised grapevines livened it up.

  “You grew up here?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yep. We could swim here in the pond or in the creek over there.” He pointed. “We could fish in the creek too. And of course we rode horses and ATVs, and sometimes me and Charlie and Ty—that’s my other brother—would set up tents and sleep outside. Annie never wanted to ’cause of bugs, and Pokey was too old, but we had fun. We’d have a campfire and everything. Don’t get me wrong. A ranch is mighty hard work. We had to do chores before and after school, and we didn’t get days off or vacations. But I know this place, right? And it knows me. That’s a good feeling.”

  Jimmy wouldn’t know, but he nodded anyway.

  He smelled the delicious aroma of grilling meat and heard voices from behind the house even before he rounded the corner. As the entire clan came into view, he was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of men, women, and children. Several dogs wandering among the throng noticed the newcomers first and came running at Jimmy and Shane, barking madly. Jimmy braced himself for an attack, which proved unnecessary as the dogs were ridiculously affectionate. A big shepherd mix almost knocked him over when it planted its front legs on his chest and licked his face.

  “Bo, no!” Shane said, laughing as he tried to calm the beasts. But the dogs were clearly happy to have a visitor and ecstatic to see Shane, so it took a while before the animals ran off and Jimmy and Shane could move on.

  By then everyone was watching them, and some waved. Standing by a long, oilcloth-covered table, Charlie even smiled at Jimmy. Adam called out a welcome too. He was wearing a red apron and poking at the grill with a long fork. But before Jimmy could brace himself for meeting people, he and Shane were mobbed again, this time by a gang of children demanding to know who Uncle Shane’s friend was.

  Shane noogied a little redheaded girl and tickled a dark-haired boy. “This is Jimmy. You all be nice to him, you hear?” Then he turned to Jimmy, smiling. “Do you want to know their names?”

  “I’ll never remember them. Are they all your nieces and nephews?”

  “Most of ’em. A few are cousins. C’mon. I want you to meet Mom.” He steered Jimmy through the crowd of youngsters, past the barbecue and table, and to a woman who had just carried an enormous salad bowl out of the house. She looked a lot like Shane, tall and attractive, with the same bright blue eyes and pointed chin. Unlike Shane, however, she wasn’t thin, but rather solidly built. And her hair was more deeply auburn than his, although the color might have come from a bottle.

  Shane took the bowl from her and leaned over to give a peck on the cheek. “Mom, this is Jimmy Dorsett. Jimmy, meet Valerie Little.”

  “Val,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you from my sister.”

  Jimmy wasn’t used to detangling family connections, and it took him a moment to work out who her sister was. “Thank you. It was nice of Belinda to give me a chance. And thanks for letting me join you today. I don’t want to be any—”

  Val smiled warmly and shook her head. “We’re glad to have you.” She looked around with a look of clear satisfaction. “This is what I used to dream of when I was a girl. A big family, big meals where everyone comes together. Friends to share with.” The contented smile was comfortable on her face, as if she wore it often.

  It was a sharp contrast to Jimmy’s memories of his mother. Although she’d been only thirty-seven when she died—several years younger than he was now—she’d already looked wrinkled and dried up. She’d been tough and hard, and although Jimmy knew she must have smiled occasionally, he couldn’t remember it. Back when he was very young, so young he hadn’t yet accepted the folly of dreaming, he’d had fantasies of his mother finding a good man, one who loved her and the boys, one who treated Jimmy like the fathers on TV shows, with good humor and good advice. One who would make them a happy family.

  Yeah, wishing was stupid. Only… Shane’s mother got what she wanted, didn’t she?

  “I’m glad to be here,” Jimmy said to her.

  She gave Shane a mock frown. “Are you going to stand there with that salad all day or are you going to get Jimmy some food?”

  “Maybe he’s a vegetarian.”

  “Vegetarian? You know we don’t take kindly to those people ’round these parts.” She couldn’t quite pull off faux outrage.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am. There’s no way I’m going to say no to whatever Mr. Little has going on that grill.”

  “Glad to hear it. And I’m Val and he’s Adam. We don’t much stand on ceremony at the ranch.” With another warm smile, she turned back to the house.

  “She’s the best,” said Shane as he and Jimmy walked to the table. “You think the rest of my relatives are protective, but that woman would dance through hell itself to save any of us. She can castrate a bull calf, sew a kid’s costume on two hours’ notice, and finish the New York Times Sunday crossword.”

  “She seems really nice.”

  “She taught all us kids compassion. Not that Adam’s not a kind man, because he is. But he’s a true rancher, sparing with his words and never too keen on discussing anything touchy-feely. Mom’s the one who told all of us never to judge anyone else ’til you’ve walked in his shoes, because every one of us has a burden. And just ’cause you can’t see another person’s burden don’t mean it a
in’t heavy.” He placed the salad on the table between a platter of garlic bread and a pot of baked beans. Then he grinned at Jimmy. “She taught us lots of other things too. Mom’s real enthusiastic about lessons. And don’t think you’re immune just because you ain’t related. Give her half a chance and she’ll be fixing your grammar or giving you wardrobe advice.”

  Jimmy looked down at himself. Clean jeans and a clean gray sweatshirt. “Am I not dressed right?”

  “Hell if I know. Mom says I’m hopeless at picking out clothes. I guess the cowboy genes outweigh the gay ones.” He picked up two plastic plates and handed one to Jimmy. “Hungry?”

  Jimmy was. Under Shane’s guidance, he piled his plate high with a half-dozen different foods in a configuration that left room for a hefty serving of Adam’s grilled steak. Shane had just as much on his plate, and although he clearly had to concentrate hard to get back over the uneven ground to the table without spilling, nobody offered to help him. And it wasn’t because they didn’t care. Jimmy noticed that even the little kids were gentle when they hugged their uncle Shane, and they made an effort not to jostle him too hard. Jimmy understood. These people loved Shane enough to know he didn’t want coddling.

  Jimmy sat at the table with Shane on one side and Pokey on the other. Pokey’s wife, Paula, was across from Jimmy, but his daughter was already gone. “Prob’ly off texting her friends,” Pokey said. “I swear that girl would die if she lost cell service for more than a day.”

  Shane introduced Jimmy to a bunch of other people, but Jimmy couldn’t possibly keep track of them all. He concentrated on eating his meal, which was delicious. He doubted he’d ever had better steak.

  “You look like you’re enjoying,” Paula said. She was lean and blonde and pretty and looked more like she belonged in a corporate boardroom than married to a rancher.

  “The food’s amazing,” Jimmy answered. “Is the meat from the ranch?”

  “Of course. Adam would almost rather starve before he’d serve someone else’s beef. But I hear that you’ve traveled extensively. I’ll bet you’ve eaten all sorts of interesting things.”

  Her take on his life made him sound a lot more exciting than he was. “Most of the time, I’m happy for whatever food I can get. But I’ve had a few surprises over the years.”

  “Like what?” She seemed like she truly wanted to know.

  “Well, this one time— Uh, this might not be the best dinner-table story.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry. We all have strong stomachs around here. Ranch life is not for the fainthearted.”

  “Okay then.” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and took a sip of water from a plastic cup. He’d been offered beer, which a lot of others were drinking, but he’d passed. “I’ve eaten a few parts of animals folks don’t usually eat, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t faze you at all.”

  “Nope. We don’t believe in waste. If it’s part of a steer and it can be eaten, we probably do.”

  “I suspected as much. Okay. One time I was working a carnival in Texas. It was a small one, real hardscrabble. My job was to help out wherever anyone needed a hand. Setting up the booths and rides, carrying supplies, cleaning up trash. It was harder work than it sounds, and man, it was hot. And just when you’d figured out all the quirks of a particular town—where to do your laundry, how tolerant the local cops were—you’d pack everything up and move on. The pay was okay, though, and I had a place to sleep, a trailer I shared with a couple of other guys.

  “One of those guys was named Buddy. He was pretty much the perfect stereotype of a biker dude, Harley and all, and he worked security for the carnival. He wasn’t a bad guy, though, as long as you followed the rules. A little… odd, maybe. He claimed he saw ghosts. But he was decent to me.”

  By now his audience had spread to Pokey, Shane, and the twentysomething cousin whose name Jimmy couldn’t recall. A couple of little kids were hanging close too, so Jimmy tried to watch his language.

  “One evening we’d arrived outside some Podunk town and set up, but we weren’t going to open until the next day. Some people had picked up pizza and fried chicken, and a few were grilling burgers, but none of that appealed to me. I’d been eating like that for months. I didn’t have my own car, though, and the town was too far to walk—and it was just so hot. Buddy caught me moping around and asked what my problem was.

  “‘Just hungry,’ I said.

  “‘Big Rick’ll feed ya.’ That was one of the guys with a grill.

  “But I told Buddy I was tired of the usual. He gave me a sort of scary-looking smile and told me to follow him. Just past the carnival was nothing but desert scrub. Buddy took me so far I began to worry. Maybe he thought I was too much trouble or something. If I died in that desert, nobody but the coyotes and vultures would have noticed. When he pulled a pistol out of his vest, I almost piss—um, almost had an accident.”

  Everyone laughed, especially the kids. Everyone except Shane. He’d frowned over the vultures comment and still looked a little upset. Jimmy decided to continue anyway. “Buddy told me to stay still, and you better believe I listened. By then I was just hoping he was a good, clean shot. Then he cocked his head real funny, like he was listening to something, turned a little, and shot at a bush. I must’ve jumped a mile into the air. And I gotta tell you, I wasn’t much calmer when he reached under that bush and brought out the thing he’d shot.”

  “What was it?” demanded one of the youngest kids, wide-eyed and leaning in close.

  Jimmy smiled at her. “Rattlesnake. What was left of one, anyway.”

  “Just like our town!” He could tell this pleased her.

  “Just like. And Buddy told me if I was so darn fed up with regular food, then I could eat this instead. He got down on his knees and skinned that thing—of course he kept a knife in his boot—and then hacked off a hunk of it. He handed it to me.”

  The little girl scrunched up her face. “He didn’t cooked it?”

  “Nope. We didn’t have a fire or anything. It was slimy and… yuck. But Buddy was still holding that knife and waiting, and I had a feeling that if I refused I might be next. So I ate it.”

  Everyone winced, but the little girl asked, “What did it tasted like?”

  “Awful. Really, really awful. I had to chew it for a long time, and after I swallowed it, I didn’t think it was going to stay down.”

  The girl patted his arm soothingly. “I throwed up once. I ate too much Halloween candy.”

  “Then you know how I felt. Only I bet that candy tasted a lot better than raw snake. I was really glad I didn’t puke. But then Buddy looked at that snake like he was going to give me the rest of it. And there was no way I was going to get any more of that stuff in me. I was afraid to open my mouth, so I just shook my head. I was considering dropping to my knees.”

  “What happened?”

  “Buddy laughed and tossed that poor snake away. Then he wiped his knife on a bandana, tucked it back in his boot, and threw his arm over my shoulders. ‘C’mon, Jimmy. Let’s go get us some dinner.’ He walked me back through the desert to his bike and rode me into town to this fantastic Chinese place. He even paid for my meal.”

  Jimmy’s audience laughed and Shane—very briefly—cupped his hand against the back of Jimmy’s neck. Nobody else commented on it or acted as if they were upset. The little girl grabbed a stick off the ground and started chasing the little boy, shouting, “This here’s a snake and you’re gonna eat it!”

  “Sorry about that,” Jimmy said to nobody in particular.

  But Paula only chuckled. “Don’t be. That’ll probably keep them busy for half an hour.”

  When their plates were empty, Shane looked at Jimmy. “You want some pie?”

  “I seriously cannot eat another bite.”

  “How about a ranch tour, then?”

  Jimmy would have refused, but Shane looked hopeful. And after such nice hospitality from the whole clan, Jimmy owed at least a little politeness. “I’d love one.�
�

  They began near the house. Shane pointed out the small orchard before taking him down to the pond, where a few ducks paddled and some geese watched them aggressively. Then they walked to a fenced pasture and goats came running to greet them. As Shane had promised, there were kids. He pulled a few weeds and stuck them through the fence. They must have been tasty, because the goats gobbled them up.

  “We’ve kept sheep too, but not lately,” Shane said. “Mom and Dad prefer cattle.”

  “I guess cows are easier to round up on horseback. You need a border collie for sheep, right?”

  “Hmm.” Shane leaned against a fencepost and toed the ground. “Mind if we skip the barn and horses? I don’t like….” He bit his lip and stared at his boots.

  “No problem. I like goats.”

  Shane’s gaze shifted to the sky, which was baby blue, flocked with a few puffy white clouds. The sunshine brought out the red highlights in his hair, and Jimmy longed to touch the soft waves. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead.

  “Do you want to see one of my favorite spots on the ranch? I haven’t been there in a long time.” Shane sounded unusually subdued.

  “I’d love to.”

  “The walk’s a little rough.” He sighed. “We should probably take a four-wheeler.”

  They went inside one of the larger outbuildings, apparently used both as a workshop and for housing a pair of black ATVs. “You can drive,” Shane said.

  “You can’t?”

  Shane gave him a long look. “Technically, yeah, since we’re on private property. But if I have a seizure….”

  “When was the last one?”

  “Um….” He closed his eyes as he calculated. “Four months, almost.”

  “Then I’ll take my chances. I trust you not to kill us.”

  Shane’s face filled with such pain that Jimmy immediately regretted his words. But Shane looked away, and when he looked back, there was something deeper in his eyes. A decision, Jimmy thought. “All right,” Shane said and handed Jimmy a helmet.