The True Father

by Steven Anderson Law

“What makes you so sure?”

  “Well, if he don’t, then I can sure be better prepared for the sunfish.”

  He grinned and patted me on the shoulder. “That’s using your head, cowboy.”

  I glanced out into the arena and saw Jason fall to the ground. Buddy blew at his finger like blowing smoke from a gun and the crowd laughed. Denny looked back at me and I nodded, then he asked the crowd for a round of applause for Buddy Wells and company. They did, and then he asked them if they were ready for some good old-fashioned bull riding. This made them stand and cheer louder.

  Paul climbed down into the arena and stood at the end of the gate. Buddy and Jason positioned themselves and faced me. The crowd grew quiet again and I looked down upon the bull, watched it raise and lower its head and snort into the dust. I thought back to my first ride on the mechanical bull, and how I made myself believe it was just a Tilt-A-Whirl ride, and then to Big Banana, and Bloody Mary, and how I had learned their moves. But these reflections didn’t provide me with the strength I longed for. I searched for it in the crowd, from the people of Spiro, Jodie, my grandparents, but could only see their own confidence—a gift for me, I presumed, or maybe just their desire to be fulfilled by a spectacle that I had sold them on. Then I saw my mom, who could relay nothing but fear. Not so much for the physical dangers that lay ahead of me, but for all that the ride represented: a possible finale to years of unanswered dreams.

  The look from Bella was neither of fear or confidence, but possibly one of uncertainty, not knowing where to turn, wondering what answers the outcome of the ride might bring to her as well. This was the feeling I understood most.

  All I had left were the images of my summer in Oklahoma, of the family I’ve come to know and the father that never had his chance. From my images of him—the tiny house, old pickup, hats, boots, and belt buckles—I found the strength to look at Paul and give him the nod.

  Unlike his trademark name, Cyclone went straight out of the chute bucking high. I had prepared for a spin left but its backside went right, only slightly, causing me to overestimate my balance and slide off on the right side. My hat fell off and I hung there, my left leg stretched over the bull’s back and my hand caught in the rigging, but the bull sunfished to the left and the force pulled me back over to an almost upright position.

  During the near fall all I could hear was Cyclone’s hooves pounding into the dirt, when now my critical gift of luck had brought on a roar of applause that helped me realize I was still in the game. But my benefit was Cyclone’s loss, and what he couldn’t accomplish with a toss he tried with a swift spin. But I sat there, upright and perfect, free hand above me, spurs jabbing into the flanks, all in a spinning blur.

  The noise of the crowd suddenly muffled, as if something inside my head had turned them down, shut them out, and all I could hear was the sound of a whining, whistling wind. Though the spinning seemed to grow faster, my body felt locked and no more troubled, and the blistery air became more like a soft, pleasant whisper but still very surreal. I wasn’t sure what I was experiencing, whether it was just something in my head or whether the spirit of Jettie Hodge was casting itself around me. Whatever the case, there was no other desire within me other than to simply let it happen.

  The sound of the cheering crowd faded back in and then came the whistle. I let go of the handle and fell to my hands and feet and eventually to my side. I turned my head and watched Cyclone continue to buck, the rigging on the dusty ground below its feet, and Buddy and Tate scrambling to lure it out of the arena. But it stopped less than twenty feet away and turned its head toward me. I rose slowly to my feet as it lowered its head and blew into the dirt. I didn’t move.

  Buddy came around and yelled but the bull gave him only a short glance then looked back at me. Buddy yelled again and waved his arms but the bull stood firm. I don’t know why it stared in such a way, but it appeared to be in a state of defeat. One that seemed somewhat in wonder, or possibly out of respect. For whatever reason, it had stared enough, and along with Buddy’s waving arms turned and trotted through the gate and out of the arena. Now I felt I could breath, and let out a long relieving breath, then turned to face the cheering crowd.

  Thirty-eight

  I waved shyly to the crowd as they stood and applauded and was suddenly rushed by Buddy, who hugged me and laughed, and Denny who had dismounted and grabbed my hand and shook it firmly, and Jeremiah who also hugged me and lifted me off the ground.

  “I knew you’d do it!” he said.

  “You did?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Well, thanks for the confidence.”

  “No, Trevor, thank you for a great summer. Kid, you made Oklahoma smile.”

  He stood beside me and put his arm around my neck. Tate and Jason and Paul were the next ones to arrive and shake my hand and offer congratulations. Then Boyd, who stared for a moment and grinned then gave me my hat and extended his hand.

  I returned a firm shake.

  “You did good,” he said. “You should try for the finals. You’d have a good chance.”

  “That might be stretching it a bit.”

  He patted my shoulder and I looked back out into the crowd. Buddy grabbed one of my arms and held it up for me. Jeremiah did the same with the other. The crowd clapped above their heads and cheered louder and I could even see tears in some of their eyes. I looked all around me, and too familiar was the scene of everyone applauding. The clowns and the cowboys, all recognizable faces, smiling and cheering, only this time there was no disapproval. Everyone, including Boyd, seemed satisfied. And my mother, though her face was wet from tears, she had removed her sunglasses and applauded joyfully.

  I ventured to the outside of the arena and into a bombardment of laudatory handshakes and pats on the shoulder. Eileen worked her way through the crowd and kissed me firmly on the lips.

  “That was one of the sexiest thangs I ever saw,” she said, behind breath that smelled like a mix of peppermint and beer.

  Luckily, I was able to work away from her through the crowd. Grandpa found me and grabbed my hand. “That was some ride, Trev. Your pa would have been proud.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  Grandma hugged me, too, then Jodie stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek.

  “You’re a special young man, Trevor Hodge.”

  “Thanks, Jodie.”

  She handed me a package wrapped like a gift in brown kraft paper, and the paper felt dusty and smelled old.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Something your mom wanted me to bring to you.”

  “My mom?”

  I sought Mom out through the crowd, and when I saw her she smiled at me. I went to her and she clung to me as though I had just returned from a long journey.

  “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”

  “I know.”

  She pushed away and looked into my eyes. “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything to forgive.”

  “How about for being a bad mother?”

  “No, you were never that.”

  “Wasn’t I?”

  “Things happen, Mom. It’s behind us now.”

  “You know, I read all those letters. I don’t think they would have had the same impact then as they did now.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The years gone by have provided a lot more time to think.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

  “And I saw the copy of the will.”

  “Oh—yeah.”

  “That was real generous of him.”

  “Nothing like putting a little money back for your son’s education, right?”

  “You deserve it, Trevor.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You know, I called Jodie today and she invited me out to the ranch this afternoon. We sat on the deck and drank lemonade. I haven’t had lemonade that good in twenty-five years. We talked about the years past, and I shared w
ith her what I read in the letters. She said that spring Jettie came to her and gave her that package. He said that maybe her boys could get some use out of it.”

  I looked down at the package that Jodie had given me. “This package?”

  “She said she didn’t feel right about giving it to her boys so she put it in a box and put it in the attic. Said she’d forgot all about it until now.”

  I studied it closely, found a taped end, pulled it open then pulled the paper off. It was a replica of a red and gray Massy Ferguson tractor still in its original box and open in the front displaying its detailed features. It was just like Jettie’s and just like the letter had said.

  Tears filled my eyes until I could barely see.

  “So you got your Christmas present after all,” Mom said.

  I closed my eyes and held her again.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She squeezed me tighter. “No, Trevor, thank you.”

  My chin still on Mom’s shoulder, I opened my eyes and noticed Bella at the end of the arena, leaning against the passenger side of her car.

  “Mom, will you excuse me a minute?”

  She turned and followed my gaze. “Looks like I better.”

  I wove through the crowd toward the red Mustang. When the crowd ended, I stopped and looked at her. The setting sun put a special glow on her face and gleam in her eyes. I walked slowly toward her, absorbing every inch of her beauty along the way.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks.”

  She looked down at the tractor. “New toy?”

  “Yeah, well, kind of old, actually.”

  I looked in her eyes and searched for the right words. “I’m real glad you came.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So where are you headed now?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and down the road. “Thinking about going out to The Oasis. There’s a band playing out there tonight.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yeah, I do that sometimes.”

  “Oh.”

  “What about you? Where are you headed?”

  “Haven’t gave it much thought, really.”

  “Maybe you should travel the circuit. Try for the finals.”

  I laughed. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? You have the talent.”

  “Talent is one thing, but the love for it is another. Besides that, I’m a numbers man. I didn’t go to college four years for nothing.”

  This made her laugh. “Probably a good choice.”

  “I hope so.”

  We stared silently for a moment.

  “Well, good luck to you,” she said.

  “You, too.”

  She came to me and offered a short embrace then a kiss on the cheek. When she let go of me and stepped away a sudden lonely fear swept through me, and grew worse as she walked around to the driver side of her car.

  She grabbed the door handle then suddenly let go. When she looked up at me I wondered whether she could read the desire in my eyes.

  “You know,” she said, “if you don’t have any plans, you should come out to The Oasis. I hear it’s a really good band.”

  The relief inside of me was immeasurable, as was the way her eyes smiled at me.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? Get in, cowboy.”

  I couldn’t remember ever receiving such a grand invitation, nor a better reward after having finished something so essential to my future.

  I grabbed the handle to the car door, but before opening it I turned and looked again at the arena and the aftereffects of a special night, one that possibly would be remembered in Spiro for years to come, but more so, as a final mark on the formal education of Trevor Hodge. Well, maybe it wasn’t that formal, but at least I could walk away with a sense of accomplishment, or more importantly, a better understanding of who I really was. It made me think back to the college commencement, and how Ernie and I stood out in the lawn after the ceremony wearing the long blue commencement gowns and gold ropes, and how clean everything was. Wow, how different I looked now. Fancy chaps and boots with jingling spurs and a straw cowboy hat, all soiled by arena dirt. But it seemed only appropriate, because like the sharp contrast in apparel, so was the level of learning I had received here.

  I looked down at the straw cowboy hat in my hand then looked toward the sunset sky, and suddenly realized there was only one way to finalize such an event in my life. From the bottom of my vocal chords I found a perfect “yee-haa,” then tossed my hat into the air and celebrated the end of a perfect summer.