The True Father

by Steven Anderson Law

Jeremiah exhaled a long stream of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, it wasn't a good night.”

  “Did you see it happen?”

  “No, I was asleep in my camper. Buddy Wells came and woke me and told me they took Jettie to the hospital.”

  “Did Bella see it?”

  “No, thank God. She was in her camper, too. Jodie and I went and got her and we all went to the hospital together. He was already dead.”

  I tried to absorb all the drama, along with a new taste of Jettie and his behavior. From what I had already learned about him, this almost seemed out of character. But then again, I could remember a few instances when alcohol challenged every bit of my good sense.

  “I'm sorry if this was difficult for you to talk about,” I said.

  “No, you needed to know.”

  “Suddenly there's a lot I feel like I need to know. And I still don't quite know how to handle the inheritance.”

  “Well, there's no hard feelings in this family.”

  “And that amazes me.”

  “Oh, why?”

  “Well, I heard you and Jettie were close. Why didn't he give you the money?”

  Jeremiah smirked a bit. “You're right, we were close, which is why he knew I didn't need the money. Plus, I understood why he did it. In a way, it made him feel like a real father.”

  “It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “Then just accept it as that. And if you're not sure what to do with the money, then don't do anything. It'll do nothing but grow where it's at.”

  “I also don't know what to tell you about my interest in this ranch. I kind of like it. It's sure a lot nicer to look at than a bank statement.”

  “You definitely have Hodge blood.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The land and the life have always been more important. But some folks have a rough go at making money on their ranches and end up losing them to foreclosure. The business is very volatile anymore.” He looked at me and grinned. “Which is why I'm glad I bought a little of that Wal-Mart stock, too.”

  “Cool. Did you fare as well as Jettie?”

  He continued to smile. “Let's put it this way. For every dollar of stock Jettie bought, I bought five.”

  All I could do was smile and Jeremiah eventually laughed out loud. It was apparent that this lost family of mine were either naturals at managing money, or just damned lucky. And from the modest way they lived, they didn't flaunt it in a way that would come across as offensive to others. All Jeremiah seemed to care about was his family, his livestock, and the peaceful scenery around him. Never before had I known such a man, and in an uncanny way, his humble nature made me feel right at home.

  Fifteen

  I spent the entire Sunday with Jeremiah on the ranch, observing how he inspected the livestock, logged the newborns into a ledger, and even documented those that needed special medical attention. I was impressed at how much he knew; especially that he performed his own veterinarian work. Later in the afternoon we saddled two horses out of several in a fenced pasture near the house. Jeremiah's was tall and tan colored with a black mane and tail. He said it was a buckskin, and a gelding, and that its name was Francisco.

  He pointed out several others that had belonged to Jettie, particularly three of his favorite geldings. He said that Jettie knew horses pretty well, and that they all served certain purposes. There was a sorrel he'd called Dancer because of the graceful manner in which it moved its feet, and which he used for cutting cattle. And there was a stout dapple-gray named Floyd that he used for fun riding, and his name came about when Jettie first saw it as a colt, and commented that it was such a “pretty boy”. Then there was a red roan named Jack, who from his versatility was deemed a “Jack of all trades” and was a backup for both horses. I also learned that the names were just everyday handles for the horses, that their registered names were much different, but too awkward to use on an everyday basis.

  Since we were going to sort and bring in a few cows and calves that needed medical attention, Jeremiah helped me saddle Dancer. He demonstrated to me how and where to lay the thick saddle blanket, position the saddle, and how to attach and tighten the cinch. It wasn't a lot to remember, but I could tell that getting it right would take some practice.

  I was amazed at how well I rode, even though it felt awkward at the start. But the point of view from horseback gave me a feeling of sovereignty, as if I now had some superlative control over everything around me. Then again, as I looked at the tall grasses waving in the breeze like a rippling blanket, at the colorful birds in the air and in the trees, and at the livestock and swarms of flies and gnats that swirled around them, I realized that I was very much like them—a mere electron in the great atom of life.

  The sorrel that carried me was a beautiful animal, with a blonde mane and tail and a sure-footed gentleness about him. I developed an instant fondness for him and wondered if all horses gave their riders such a rare sense of security.

  Jezebel came along and I was able to experience her at work for the first time. I had never seen an animal so intense and serious. Somehow, she knew exactly which animal Jeremiah wanted to cut out of the herd. She ran swiftly to whichever side of the animal was necessary, and by barking at its feet forced it to head the proper direction.

  Not having a clue what to do, I did only what Jeremiah instructed me to do, which for the most part was stay back and out of the way. But when the work was done Jeremiah and I rode on each side of our small sorted herd while Jezebel made sure none ran astray. For the most part, the cattle seemed to know where to go, and eventually we ended up in a rectangular corral near the machine shop.

  At one corner of the corral was a red metal contraption, what Jeremiah called a squeeze chute. My job was to send a cow or calf, one at a time into the device, and when it was far enough in, Jeremiah pulled a large lever that closed around the animal's neck and restrained them. Some of the cattle fought the contraption like hell, kicking and bawling, while others seemed to be very good patients.

  A couple of the cows each had one bad eye that, unlike the good one, was clouded over by a pink or purplish film. Jeremiah said it was pinkeye, naturally, and that the cows needed to be injected with an antibiotic. I thought I would fall off my horse in a dizzy awe when I watched him grab a large syringe and stick the needle under the cows eyelid. But from her bawling reaction, I'm sure the old girl was much more uncomfortable with the method than I was. In fact, by the way she raised her tail and emptied her bowels, I believed in her own way she told Jeremiah exactly how she felt about his doctoral methods.

  And when the little calves went into the chute, Jeremiah tagged their ears with a plastic yellow tag printed with large black numbers, and also, using a needled device, he tagged the back of the same ear with what he called a hormone implant. He said it was kind of like Miracle Grow for cattle.

  When we were all done the cattle remained in a small fenced area on the other side of the corral, an area Jeremiah called the “sick pen”. This is where the cattle remained so he could keep a close watch on their eyes to make sure they healed properly, then once healed he would release them back into the herd.

  We took the horses back to the horse barn, removed the saddles and bridles and returned them to the tack area, then released the horses back to the pasture.

  Jeremiah opened a small cabinet in the tack area and removed a pint bottle of his homemade potion, removed the cap and took a drink. As he puckered his lips and held the liquid inside his mouth, he handed the bottle to me. Though the idea of taking another drink of that awful stuff scared the hell out of me, I at least knew what I was up against and that sipping would be less likely to cause any physical trauma. So I accepted the bottle and took a small sip. Though still very bitter this round was much easier to handle.

  I handed the bottle back to him and he retired to a square bale of hay. He leaned back against the barn wall, removed his hat and set it beside him on the hay bale. His hair was sweaty and i
ndented where the hat had been, and his face looked hot and tired. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit one.

  “It's been an interesting afternoon,” I said. “Thank you for including me.”

  “Your welcome,” he said. “But there's really no including you in something that's part yours in the first place.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that part hasn't totally soaked in yet.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. I sensed that something bothered Jeremiah, but then again we had been working so I figured he was just tired.

  “I spent yesterday with Bella,” I said.

  He nodded as smoke streamed from his nostrils. “Fine gal, that Bella.”

  “Yeah, I like her.”

  “She didn't try to sell you on that Wrangler jean bullshit, did she?”

  I grunted slightly. “Yeah, she tried.”

  “Besides being a little misguided about things, Bella would have made Jettie a fine wife.”

  “You really think she's misguided?”

  “Oh, I don't know. It may just be that she's from a younger generation. Nothing bothers me more than to hear some greenhorn flap their jaws like they know more than people with experience do. They need to open their ears and shut their mouths.”

  “I don't recall Bella being that way.”

  “She's not as bad as most. But so many times she'd come around, crying to me and Jodie because Jettie won't commit. 'What can I do! What can I do!' she'd say. We tried to tell her that she was digging for gold in a mine that had already seen too much dynamite. But she wouldn't listen, and I got tired of hearing her weep.”

  “She's had a pretty rough life. Maybe her search for peace is wearing her out.”

  “Yeah, you're probably right. And like all of us, it hurt like hell to see Jettie crumble.”

  “Crumble?”

  He glanced at me with his tired eyes, as if he regretted getting started. He took another drink from the pint and looked out into the daylight. “I've seen a lot of bull riders in my life, but I never seen one better than my own brother. And I ain't biased, neither.

  “I remember the first time he made it to the National Finals. I swear that Jodie and I were more excited than he was. He did well until he got to the last ride. He drew a bull that was very predictable, and that bull came out of the chute exactly like he knew it would.”

  “What happened?”

  “He fell off in the first spin—as if there was grease in his goddamn saddle.”

  “Do you know why?”

  His face reddened and he glared back at me. “Hell no! And that wasn't the first time. He'd go to NFR five more times, only to repeat that same embarrassing ride as if it were some canned performance!”

  “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

  “He'd just as soon have a knife fight than talk about it. And before he ever had a chance to figure it out, he got too old and out of shape to compete.”

  “Bella said that he worked out and stayed in shape.”

  This made him laugh a bit. “Trevor, when you reach forty, you can lift and run all you want, but none of that is going to fool Mother Nature.”

  “I see. Well, hopefully the answer is out there some-where.”

  He looked sternly at me. “What good would that do now?”

  “Are you saying you wouldn't like to know?”

  We stared in silence for a moment, then he looked back toward the pasture. “Hell, I don't know. There's times I'd just as soon forget all of it.”

  “Well, Jeremiah, I can keep it all to myself if you want, but I came down here to learn who my father was. And I can't leave until I know.”

  He looked back at me and I held my candor. And from the way he relaxed his expression, I was sure he understood, or at least respected my commitment.

  He stood and patted me on the shoulder and didn't say another word about it. He invited me in for supper and for the rest of the evening I enjoyed a fine meal and a quiet time with him and Jodie. She too was pleased to know I decided to stay the summer, and insisted that I ride along to all the rodeos where they were providing livestock. The idea fit in very well with my reason for being here, so I accepted.

  I returned to Jettie's house after dark, took a hot shower and changed into a pair of cotton boxer shorts and a clean T-shirt. My body was tired from riding, especially my crotch, groin, and lower back. The hot shower had felt very soothing to my aching muscles and joints, and since Bella was coming over in the morning to start our workout routine, I figured it was best to get some rest.

  When my head hit the pillow, I stared at the white textured ceiling now shadowed by the sheer drapes that filtered the streetlight, and my mind wandered into a recap of the weekend. I saw myself riding Dancer in the pasture, Bella rounding the barrels in the arena, and her and I dancing at The Oasis. I closed my eyes and smiled and couldn't remember a bed feeling so good.

  Sixteen

  I spent most of the week helping Jeremiah prepare for the Hugo Rodeo in Hugo, Oklahoma, and occasionally a little time with Bella at the Spiro arena while she ran time trials. Our daily, alternating workout routine proved to be helpful in both settings since my physical endurance was put to a test each day. If it wasn't unloading, positioning or reloading steel barrels into the back of a pickup truck, it was sorting calves and bulls on the ranch. I don't think my body had ever been in such great shape, nor had it ever been so fatigued at the end of a workday.

  The Hugo Rodeo was an important event for Jeremiah and Bella. Jeremiah contracted to provide both bulls and roping calves and Bella needed badly to acquire more points for the futurity.

  Thursday afternoon and evening Jodie packed the camper with enough living necessities for three days, while Jeremiah, Bella and I loaded the storage compartments on the stock trailers with hay, feed, tack and medical supplies. Wednesday we had worked the stock into their own special pens for easy loading, and come Friday morning that was the last of our tasks before heading down the road to Hugo.

  Besides the gooseneck camper that was to be our home for the weekend, six other trailers were utilized to haul the stock. Jeremiah owned two of them, regular stock trailers that he pulled with pickups, and the others were owned by local ranchers or trucking companies hired for transport. Two were trailers like Jeremiah’s, and the others, long and two-tiered, pulled by semi trucks. One of Jeremiah’s trailers, which he said was his pride and joy, was a thirty-three-foot-long Sundowner, and unlike any piece of equipment I had ever seen before. It was white with red and silver graphic striping and tinted windows near the top. On one side, a large door opened from the top and hinged at the bottom, making a ramp for horses to go inside. And inside were stalls for five horses, with feedbags and rubber looking mats on the floors and walls. Near the front of the trailer was a single door for human beings and a small area equipped like a penthouse suite, which included a mini refrigerator filled mostly with alcoholic beverages. After touring that section, I quickly realized why it was Jeremiah's pride and joy.

  The Sundowner carried all of our personal horses. Bella's horse, a bay she called Freedom Run, was tied in the back next to Francisco. I decided to take Floyd since I'd be riding mostly for fun. And Jodie took her own horse, Chantilly, a Palomino mare that she said reminded her of a porcelain figurine she once had from Chantilly, France.

  Once all the stock was loaded, the caravan of trucks and trailers headed south toward Poteau. From Jeremiah and Bella's efficient methods of organization and concentration, I could almost feel the excitement and adrenaline circulate through the air. Jeremiah pulled the Sundowner with a Ford diesel-powered truck with dual tires. The truck matched the trailer in color and striping and created a remarkable presence on the highway. I rode with Bella as she drove the white GMC that pulled the stock trailer of bulls and calves, and Jodie drove another Ford pickup that pulled the Coach-men camper.

  We drove through the Talihina Mountains and Bella pointed out the little town where she was raised. The mountain
s reminded me of the Boston Mountains in Arkansas, only a smaller range with mostly pine trees rather than oaks.

  Other than the short stop Jeremiah made to replenish his homemade liquor supply, we drove straight through to Hugo and arrived at the arena before sunset. We unloaded all the stock and moved them to their assigned pens and parked the camper and other trailers in their designated spots behind the arena. Tired from our busy day, Jeremiah and Jodie decided to retire early, but Bella and I still had enough energy to find one of Hugo's local honkytonks.

  A cowboy at the arena directed us to a joint called The Crossing, which sat near the north bank of the Red River. The Red River marked the boundaries of southern Oklahoma and northeast Texas, which caused The Crossing to pull a mixed crowd of residents from both states. The cowboy at the arena warned us that because of the mixed crowd, The Crossing got pretty rowdy at times, but Bella and I saw no reason for trouble to come our way.

  The Crossing was three times the size of The Oasis, with a large square dance floor in the center, two large bars on each end, six pool tables, several waitresses in short denim skirts, cowboy hats and white boots, and a DJ that played the latest in country music. But like The Oasis, it had a single mechanical bull near the dance floor that was already spinning and throwing wannabe cowboys onto the cushioned mats below.

  The waitress brought us a pitcher of beer and I picked up the tab while Bella poured. A clamor of hollers erupted near the mechanical bull and I immediately recognized Boyd jiggling and positioning himself on the seat.

  “You know, I just figured out who he reminds me of.”

  “Boyd?”

  “He looks like a skinny John Elway.”

  “Trevor, that is a huge insult to John Elway.”

  “It would be if we were comparing personalities, but I’m talking about looks.”

  “Still, Boyd is no charm.”

  Reminiscent of The Oasis, Boyd rode the simulated device for the full eight seconds without even a hint that he was struggling to hold on. The crowd of cowboys cheered and high-fived him as he stepped off.