by Watt Key
“Just don’t do it again.”
“It’s about to rain on them.”
“That’s not our problem.”
“He could stay in the barn until it stops raining.”
“Foster, I told you that I don’t want strange men around here when I’m by myself. Now, this conversation is over.”
“Dax’ll be here. Just until it stops raining.”
She stared at me. “Foster.”
“Come on.”
She looked up at the kitchen clock.
“He won’t even come inside,” I said.
She sighed and shook her head. “Okay, fine. He can sit in the barn until the storm passes. Then he gets on his way again.”
I smiled and bolted out the door.
“You still have to get cleaned up!” she called after me.
* * *
By the time we got back to the barn, the sky had grown dark and it was sprinkling rain. Gary set his pack against one of the hay bales and worked his shoulders in a circle. There was tenseness about him, but it wasn’t half-cocked like what I sensed in Dax. It was buried and controlled.
“Joe’ll stay out here with you,” I said.
Gary looked at the two dogs, side by side in the hay. “I think Joe was ready to hit the road with us today.”
“He would have come back,” I said.
Gary cracked a strange half smile at the edge of his mouth. “I know he would have.”
He felt raindrops hit his face and looked up at the hole in the roof. He stepped aside and studied it. “Might want to put that project ahead of the fence,” he said.
“Mother won’t let me climb up there.”
“Where’s your father?”
“He’s dead,” I said bluntly.
Gary nodded to himself, creating a moment of distance, but no shock and no pity. I waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t.
“Mother’s boyfriend’s coming over,” I continued.
He didn’t seem to hear me. He was backing up, studying the hole in the roof. “You got some sheet tin lying around?” he finally asked.
“Yes, sir. There’s four pieces leaning against the back wall.”
“Gary, remember?”
“Sorry.”
“Got a hammer and some nails?”
I pointed to the back of the barn at the equipment room. “In that room. There’s a ladder hanging outside too.”
He looked at me. “Let’s go get it before this rain starts coming down too hard.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He looked out the barn door toward the road. He did a lot of stopping and looking around. It was like there were two sides of him going on at all times, the side I was involved in, and something else I didn’t know anything about.
“I know,” he said. “Come on.”
8
I slid the sections of sheet tin up the ladder, careful that the gusts of wind didn’t get under them and peel them away. Gary grabbed them from his perch on the roof. I waited until he’d nailed the missing pieces in place, then held the ladder for him as he came back down. By then the rain was starting to hit hard.
“That ought to hold for a while,” he said. “Let’s get out of this.”
I followed him back into the barn, where it was dry and warm and darker, and the rain hammered on the tin like something we’d rudely locked out. Gary went to his pack and opened it and got another T-shirt. He pulled his wet shirt off and wiped himself with it. His movements were quick and efficient and rehearsed. He was all muscle, but lean like a skinned rabbit. I’d never seen someone so strong close-up. Finally he turned and draped the old shirt over the pack. Across his back was a giant tattoo of a skull wearing a beret. I had a brief instant to study it before he swiped his new shirt on and faced me. He knew I’d seen it. He knew I wanted to ask him about it. But something in his expression told me he was sorry he’d shown it to me.
“Looks like you got a lot of little projects around here,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“How big is this place?”
“Not as big as most farms. Two hundred acres.”
“Big enough to stay ahead of you.”
“Yeah. Mother’s trying to sell it.”
He nodded. I stood there, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. I just wanted to hear him talk. Gary sat down and leaned against his pack. He made a clicking noise with his mouth and Kabo rose from his bed in the straw and came to lie next to him. Gary stroked the dog and watched it and seemed to be thinking of something long ago and far away.
“We can’t afford to fix it all up,” I said.
Gary continued to stroke the dog and I didn’t know if he was listening to me or not. Suddenly Joe woofed deep in his throat and stood. I felt a bolt of panic race up my back as I remembered about Dax coming to watch some ball game. I eyed the leash hanging on the wall.
“Come here, boy,” I said.
Joe took a step toward the house.
“Joe!” I said.
He woofed again. I moved toward him, but it was too late. He bolted out into the rain.
“No, Joe!” I yelled.
I ran after him. Before I got around the side of the house I heard shouting and then a yelp that turned my stomach. I rounded the corner to see Dax standing in the rain, holding a tire iron. Joe was limping across the yard.
“What’d you do!” I yelled.
Dax threw the tool into the back of his truck, where it landed with a clang. Then he turned to me. “I was ready for him that time,” he said.
I ran after Joe and caught up to him just as he reached the shelter of the big pecan tree. He turned and crabbed sideways before me and lay down with his feet in the air, rolling his eyes to the whites. I collapsed beside him and rubbed his stomach.
“Dax?” I heard Mother say.
I looked at the house and saw her standing in the front doorway, looking confused. Dax was still in the rain watching me. Then I saw Gary, seemingly out of nothing, standing silent and still on the other side of Dax’s truck.
“I warned him, Linda,” Dax said. “That mutt needs to be put down.”
“Did he bite you, Dax?”
Dax spit at the ground and turned to her. “He damn sure tried. Would have if I hadn’t’ve cranked one over him.”
Mother looked across the yard at me. “Foster, I thought we talked about this. You’re supposed to put him on the leash.”
“It’s my fault, ma’am,” Gary said.
Dax spun at the voice.
“I had him helping me in the barn,” Gary continued.
“Where the hell’d you come from?” Dax said.
No one seemed to notice the rain anymore. Gary motioned his chin at the blacktop. “I was walking up the road and they said I could sit out the storm.”
“Walkin’ up the road?” Dax said.
Gary nodded.
Dax looked at Mother.
“Come out of the rain, Dax,” she said. Then she looked at me. “Foster, is he okay?”
I didn’t answer her. I turned back to Joe and gathered him in my arms and struggled up with him. Then I carried him around the opposite side of the house toward the barn.
* * *
I laid Joe on his side in the hay. He was breathing fast and stared past me at the rain, his stomach rising and falling and a blankness in his eyes like something with no spirit. Gary knelt beside him and ran his hands lightly over his ribs, stopping just behind his foreleg. “Might have broken this one,” he said.
“What should I do?”
“Nothing,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Animals don’t feel pain like us,” he continued.
“Will he die?”
Gary shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that bad. If he punctured a lung he’d have blood coming out his mouth.”
“It doesn’t hurt him?”
“Not in the way you think.”
“He looks like he’s hurt.”
/>
“His body knows to take it easy and rest. It’s instinctive. I’d call it more confusion than pain.”
“How do you know?”
“It happens to people too, but they have to be hurt a lot more than this. You go into shock and it overrides the pain.”
“Foster!” I heard Mother calling. I looked up and saw her watching us through the rain.
I turned away and didn’t answer.
“Is he okay, Foster?” she called.
Gary lifted his hand and nodded at her.
“Put him on the leash and come inside,” she called.
“So he’ll be better?” I asked Gary.
“He’ll be better. I’ll watch him for a while.”
“I don’t want to go inside.”
“You need to do what your mother says.”
I studied him. I couldn’t believe he was taking her side too. But I’d do anything for him. I didn’t know why, but I trusted him more than I’d trusted anyone in a long time.
9
Mother had made spaghetti for lunch. The pasta was steaming in a colander in the sink and a pot of sauce simmered on the stove. Dax stood shirtless in the kitchen wearing a pair of Daddy’s old jeans and rubbing his hair with a towel. I felt him watching me as I passed.
“Sorry about your dog,” he said.
I knew he didn’t mean it. I ran into Mother as she came out of the living room. She pulled me to her and hugged me. I remained stiff and stared at the wall.
“I’m sorry, Foster,” she said. “I told you to keep him tied.”
I didn’t answer her. She put her hand through my hair and I pulled away from her and went to my room to change.
* * *
I stared at my spaghetti. No one was saying anything. Dax had also put on one of Daddy’s old T-shirts and it made me sick to see it. He ate like nothing had happened.
“What’s with the guy in the barn, Linda?”
“Foster met him this morning,” she said. “He just wanted to sit out the rain.”
“You don’t need to be lettin’ strangers hang around like that.”
“I knew you’d be here,” she said. “He seemed nice enough.”
“What’s his name?”
Mother looked at me.
“Gary,” I said.
“What is he, a hitchhiker?”
“He’s walking to Texas,” she said.
“He’s a little off the track for Texas.”
“He said he likes to take the long way,” I said.
Dax studied me. “Maybe you ought to make some friends your own age.”
“Dax,” Mother said.
“What?”
“I’ve got the fence to paint,” I said. “I don’t have time for friends.”
“Gonna take you two months to finish that thing. And I don’t remember you havin’ any friends before.”
“That’s enough, Dax!” Mother said.
Dax put down his fork and sat back in his chair and chewed. “Well, this is loads of fun, ain’t it?”
Mother looked at her plate and didn’t argue.
Dax pushed himself away from the table. “Look, I got some stuff I need to do this afternoon anyway.”
“That might be best,” she said.
He studied her for a second like he didn’t like her answer. Then he took one last gulp of beer and stood. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call you later. Spaghetti was good.”
She made a weak smile at him and let him go. When I heard the door shut behind him, I looked at her. “I don’t like him wearing Daddy’s clothes.”
She dropped her fork and stared at me. “Foster, I’m trying hard. I’m trying really hard.”
“He wants to kill Joe.”
“He didn’t want to kill him.”
“He would have.”
“He tried to bite him, Foster.”
I looked down and didn’t answer her. Neither of us ate or said anything for a minute.
“I can’t replace your dad,” she finally said. “Nobody can do that.”
“Then don’t try,” I mumbled.
I heard her sniffle and knew she was crying. I felt sick about it, but there was nothing to take back. I wasn’t sorry about anything I’d said.
I tried to think of something to make her feel better. I looked at her. “Gary fixed the barn roof,” I said.
It took her a moment to remember who Gary was. Then she wiped her eyes with her napkin and composed herself. “He did what?”
“He fixed the roof. I helped him.”
She seemed surprised. “Well, that was nice of him.”
There was a knock behind me. I suddenly realized the rain had stopped and turned to see Gary stepping back from the door and waiting patiently. At first, just the sight of him put me at ease. Then I realized he had probably come to say goodbye and my spirit sank.
“Get the door, Foster,” Mother said.
Kabo stood beside Gary, and behind them I could just see Joe lying in the barn where I’d left him.
“I wanted to say thanks for letting me get out of the rain,” he said. “Joe’s going to be fine, Foster. Let him rest for a while. He may be a little slow for a few days, but he’ll come around.”
I nodded.
Mother came up behind me and put her arm around my chest. “I’m sorry about all the drama,” she said to him.
“It’s no problem, ma’am.”
“Foster told me you fixed the barn roof.”
“He helped me. Took us about five minutes.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been— That was nice of you to do that.”
Gary studied her for a moment, reading something in her. “Ma’am,” he said, “I realize—”
“Please don’t call me ma’am. It’s just Linda.”
“Okay. I just wanted to throw this out. Foster told me you’re trying to sell the place. It’s a nice spread, but you could get a lot more for it if you did a few things to shore it up. I could use the work.”
I turned and looked up at her, but she avoided my stare. She knew what I was thinking.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “It’s not possible for me right now.”
“If it’s the money you’re worried about, I’ll work for minimum wage. I don’t need much.”
Mother hesitated. “What sort of work can you do?”
“I used to work for a general contractor. Pretty much whatever. Engines and electrical too.”
“Engines?” she said.
I looked back at Gary.
“You could get five thousand dollars for that farm truck if you got it running,” he said.
“That’s a lot of money,” she said.
“Replace this roof and you could tack eight to ten thousand dollars on the value of the house. But I’d start with the things people see right off. Help Foster finish the fence, mow the pasture, haul off and sell the equipment you don’t need.”
Mother’s hand slid off me. I turned to her and saw her finger her hair behind her ear and take a deep breath.
“It’s going to take me forever to finish the fence by myself,” I said.
She thought about it. “That sounds like a lot of work,” she said. “How long do you think all that will take?”
“Three weeks. Maybe a month. I’ll move on whenever you want.”
“But—”
“I’ll need a place to stay,” he interrupted. “If you’ll rent your barn to me I can pay you thirty dollars a week. And I won’t charge you my labor to fix the truck if I can use it while I’m here.”
Mother shook her head. “That’s a very generous offer, but I’ll need to check with Dax about it.”
“Dax?” I said.
Mother looked at me for the first time. “Foster, you stay out of this.”
“I understand,” Gary replied.
There was an awkward moment while all of us stood there and no one said anything. “Foster, go check on Joe,” she said at last. “And—I’m sorry, what was your name?”
“Gary.”
“Gary, let me call Dax and see what he says about it.”
I stepped out the door and stood beside him, swelling with hope.
“I’ll be in the barn with Foster,” Gary said.
* * *
When Mother came back out to the barn, she was carrying two blankets and a pillow. I couldn’t contain my smile and looked up at Gary. He glanced at me and the hardness in his eyes went soft for just an instant.
She stood before us and held the bedding out to him. The look on her face told me she’d made up her mind about something. Once Mother decided on a thing, there was no arguing against it.
“Okay,” she said. “I can’t say I’m completely comfortable with the arrangement, but I need the help and that’s all there is to it. Get the truck running and you can use it to pick up supplies and groceries and whatever else you need. You’re responsible for your own meals. I don’t want any drinking on the property and I don’t want you bringing any friends over.”
Gary nodded. “I don’t expect you to cook for me. I don’t drink and I don’t know anyone to bring over.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I know. There won’t be any surprises.”
She took a deep breath. “Good,” she finally said. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”
10
The clouds moved away that afternoon and the sun beat down on the farm. Gary said he thought we should start with the truck so that we’d be able to use it for runs into town. We left Joe and crossed the yard with Kabo following. We approached the covered shed where Daddy’s old truck and tractor were parked. I’d not been so close to them since Granddaddy had parked them there a year ago. As we came near, I looked at the driver’s-side window and an image of Daddy sitting there with his hand flopped over the steering wheel made me draw a sharp breath. Gary slowed and studied me for a moment, but I didn’t look at him and kept walking.
He stopped just under the shed roof and turned to me. “When’s the last time either of these things ran?”
“About a year ago.”
“Is that when your dad died?”
I nodded. “He had an accident in the woods out back.” Please don’t ask me anything more, I thought.
“Key’s in it?”
“It should be,” I said. “Should be a key in both of them.”