Wounded

by Percival Everett

“I don’t know which is more insulting,” I said. “More or less.”

  I stood and tried to catch David’s attention, but my wave went unnoticed. A couple of men rapidly approached David and Robert from the other side of the street. One was rangy with a shock of dark hair and the other was tall but stout. They wore jeans, boots, T-shirts, and no jackets. I observed David’s body stiffen and in the young man’s face, for the first time, I could really see Howard.

  “What’s going on?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know.” I had already started to move off in their direction, trying to run without running.

  “John?” Morgan was frightened.

  I could see but not hear the exchange of words. The rangy redneck pushed Robert, of a sudden, two open hands to the chest. Robert fell back a step or two and regained his balance.

  The deputy, Hanks, was there before me, inserting his wide body into the middle of the trouble. By the time I got there, Hanks was shooing the rednecks away, roughly. He had his hands in the middle of their backs and had pushed them halfway across the street.

  The man who had pushed Robert shouted out, “Faggot!” and Hanks gave him an extra shove that sent him to his knees. He got up, then loaded with his friend into a rusting, mid-seventies BMW.

  I asked Robert if he was all right.

  Hanks came loping back. “Sorry about that,” he said. It was a sincere apology, though it wasn’t clear whether he was apologizing for the actions of the thugs or for our village.

  “Yeah, right,” Robert said sarcastically. His face was still red.

  Hanks pulled away from us, then walked again toward the BMW. The wiry man put the car in gear and peeled away.

  “Pigs,” Morgan said.

  David put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, but he jerked back, twisting his body at the waist. Then he paced off, looked up at the sky and just screamed. Everyone up and down the street and in front of the Town Hall turned to the noise. Deputy Hanks’s back had been turned and the scream gave him a start. He pivoted to run back, but stopped. I waved the deputy off, letting him know that everything was under control.

  David approached Robert again, stepped behind him, and put a hand on his back. Robert didn’t pull away this time.

  “What kind of fucking place is this?” Robert asked. He shot a look at me. “Tell me.”

  I felt embarrassed.

  Just then, snow began to fall.

  I looked at the sky, flat and gray, and a flake landed on my face and melted. When I looked back at Robert I saw that his eyes were moist. I turned away, afraid to make him self-conscious by noticing. The townspeople, what few had come, began to leave their seats. Others who had laid out blankets, folded up and started to depart as well. They had all been willing to brave the cold, but the snow was too much. The news crew was quickly disassembling their equipment while the reporter sat in the passenger side of the satellite truck having an animated conversation on his cellular phone.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Morgan said.

  I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the storm or the sudden and premature end to the rally. Whatever, I responded, “No, it doesn’t.” To David and Robert. “We’ve got to get you two something warmer to wear.”

  “We didn’t expect the weather to turn,” David said.

  “I’ve got extra jackets at my house,” I said. “Why don’t we just ride on out there now?”

  David turned to Robert, his body language asking for his feeling.

  “I don’t care,” Robert said. “You decide.”

  “Okay,” David said to me.

  Unfortunately, I’d forgotten how cold it was in the back of my Jeep. Morgan and I were roasting in the front while David and Robert huddled beneath the blanket I kept stowed under the seat. The snow had fallen heavily for about twenty minutes and was now tapering off. It was just beginning to stick on the light green leaves of the sage that grew along the highway.

  “So, what do you guys call this?” David asked.

  “September,” Morgan said.

  “Warming up at all back there?” I fiddled with the heat controls, not that I could push the lever any farther to the right.

  “Not really,” David said.

  I looked at the weather and then at Morgan. “I’ll drop you off. What do you think?”

  “You probably should. I’ll try to keep Mother from running out naked in the snow.”

  “Need anything done with your animals?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve got it covered. Anyway, there’s still plenty of light left.”

  I looked at the boys in the mirror. “You guys mind if dinner becomes lunch and I drive you back before it’s too late?”

  “Makes sense,” David said.

  I dropped off Morgan and let the two men stay in the back under the blanket. Soon, we were rolling down the trail to my place.

  “It’s beautiful,” David said.

  “It’s work is what it is,” I said. I looked at it. It was especially beautiful under the dusting of snow.

  I halted the Jeep in front of the house and watched the mule come walking out of the barn toward me. “Have mercy,” I said, shaking my head.

  “What is it?” David asked.

  “The devil himself,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Come on, let’s get you two warmed up. Gus said he’d have the heat cranked up today.” Gus must have forced Zoe out of the house for her daily business because she came trotting over to me. She sat at my feet and awaited her command. “This is Zoe,” I said. “Greet, Zoe.”

  Zoe went to the strangers and got a noseful.

  David patted her head. “She’s well trained.”

  “She’s smart,” I said. “She makes me look good.”

  Gus met us at the door. “Can you believe it,” the old man said. “Snow! I tell you weather has no respect.”

  “Gus, David and Robert.”

  “Howdy.” Gus shook Robert’s hand and then David’s. “Your hands are like ice. Where are your coats?”

  “Don’t have any,” David said.

  “Get your asses in there by the fire,” he barked. “No coats. What the Sam Hill is that all about?”

  “We’re doing lunch instead of dinner,” I said. “That all right?”

  “That’s fine. No coats.”

  “How’s our patient?”

  “She’s dragging herself around pretty good, now. I had to push Zoe outside. I’ve been giving the little girl warm milk from a rubber glove. I pierced a finger and she really goes after it.”

  “That’s great, Gus.” I made a move toward the door.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “I’m going out there and I’m going to tie that mule’s legs together. How the hell did he get out?”

  “He was out as soon as you left. I caught him and stuck him in a paddock, but there he is. He’s a spooky one.”

  “Well, I’m sticking that son of a bitch back in a stall and I’m going to weld the damn gate shut. If he gets out again, then he’s just going to have roam around loose. I can’t be worrying about him all the goddamn time.”

  Gus had started away in the middle of my rant and was asking David and Robert if they wanted coffee.

  “Yeah, go ahead and walk away from me while I’m talking,” I said. I liked that Gus didn’t have time for anyone’s carryings on.

  I was pleased to find myself outdoors and alone. The snowflakes were swirling, the cold front getting confused by the wall of heat offered by the Red Desert. I took this as a sign that the storm wouldn’t amount to much. Unfortunately, my taking it as a sign meant that we were in for a dumping, my guesses about weather were almost always misguided. The mule was waiting for me about halfway to the barn and he heeled to me like a dog and ambled agreeably into a stall when I swung open the door. “Okay, you candidate for the glue factory,” I said. I had to be impressed by the animal. I secured the gate with a nose chain, then tied a rag in a hard knot around the chain�
�s clasp. “You get out of that and you can sleep in the house.” I realized my light jacket was becoming inadequate for the weather, another indication that my perceived sign had been characteristically wrong. I walked quickly through the barn and checked everybody’s water before heading back inside.

  Gus had pulled a load of coats from the closet and put them in a pile on the floor. He and the guests were picking through them.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked.

  “Trying to find these boys some proper outerwear,” Gus said. “Something toasty for the remainder of summer.”

  “Outerwear?”

  “That’s what they call it in the stores and the catalogs. You ought to know that—jacket man.”

  David laughed.

  That fed Gus. “This man loves jackets. He’s a pathetic addict. He can’t pass one up.”

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  Gus gestured to the pile on the floor. “None of these are mine.” The old man paused for effect. “I rest my case.”

  “It gets cold around here,” I said.

  “Take your pick,” Gus said to David and Robert. “The man’s got no favorites. One’s the same as the next.”

  The younger men looked to me. I waved them on. “Have at it,” I said. “He’s right. I need help, a twelve-sleeve program or something. Find something warm, though. You’re going to need it.”

  “Bad out there?” Gus asked.

  “Could be,” I said.

  “Hey, I wanted to ask you about the painting on the wall,” Robert said.

  “What about it?”

  “Is it a Klee?”

  “It is.”

  “A real Klee?”

  “Yep. A real little Klee.” I walked over to the small canvas. “And on that other wall is a Kandinsky watercolor. But that’s the extent of my art collection.”

  “How much is the Klee worth?” Robert asked.

  I bristled, but not noticeably. “I never think about it. I’m sure its value goes up and down. Why? You want to buy it?”

  “No, I was just wondering.” Robert laughed nervously. He turned back to the pile of jackets.

  Gus watched the men try on the coats. “Did you know the boy who was killed?” he asked.

  Robert shook his head.

  “Terrible thing,” Gus said.

  “We had some truck with the boy they arrested,” Gus said.

  David stood. He was swallowed by a yellow slicker. He looked at Gus and then at me.

  “I think I’m a little wider than you, son,” I said. “Besides, that will keep you dry, but not warm.”

  “You met the guy?” David asked, peeling off the garment.

  “He actually did a little work for me around here,” I said, embarrassed by the association.

  “Little is the operative word,” Gus said. “Showed up out of nowhere. He wasn’t so much weird as he was slow.”

  “He was dumber than a bucket of hair,” I said. “Still, I can’t imagine his doing such a thing. Hell, I can’t imagine anybody doing it.”

  “We put up with people like that all the time.” Robert’s tone was only slightly strident.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Then it was as if Robert realized for the first time or again that Gus and I were black. He fell back into himself.

  “Don’t worry about it, Robert,” I said. “Nobody’s got the hate market cornered in this country.”

  “Yeah,” said Gus. “There’s plenty of hate for everybody. Rally round the flag, boys.”

  Robert smiled weakly, then turned his attention to a down-filled parka with purple pockets.

  “Now that will keep you warm,” I said.

  “It had better,” Gus sneered. “As ugly as that thing is.”

  I walked to the window and peered out. Just as I had predicted, counter to my prediction the wind was really blowing and the snow was really falling. “It’s an official mess out there,” I said. “I hope you boys don’t mind staying the night. I’d rather not risk your lives and mine on that road in this storm in the dark.”

  Robert gave David an uneasy look, but David didn’t notice or simply didn’t respond.

  David said, “That’s fine.” When David did look at Robert, Robert looked away. “Robert?”

  “Sounds okay. Thanks, John.”

  “You bet.”

  While Gus prepared the meal, I took David and Robert, in their new coats, out to see the barns and horses. We wandered through the long barn and out the other end. The friendly horses shoved their heads out into the alley, looking for treats or just a rub on the nose.

  “How many do you have?” David asked.

  “Twenty-five,” I said. “A nice even odd number. But they’re not all mine. Several I’m training for other people. When winter comes, I’ll take the shoes off most of my guys and turn them out.”

  “When winter comes?” Robert laughed.

  “Son, this ain’t winter,” I said in my cowboy voice. “This here is sun-bathing weather.”

  “This must be a lot of work,” David said. We were in the small barn now. The wind was spinning the vents above us.

  “Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat,” I said. I led them to the end of the middle barn. “And this is Felony.” The horse pushed out his head. I was a little surprised by it. I stroked his nose. “He belongs to a neighbor.”

  “Felon?” David asked.

  “Felony,” I said. “Which of course is a much nicer name than Felon. The man’s daughter named him. He’s been a bit of a problem for them. He’s a looker though. And he’s coming along.”

  “That’s what you do, train horses?” Robert asked.

  There was a coolness between Robert and me that I didn’t like. But also, I didn’t much care, so I let it stand. “Now and again,” I said.

  “What’s Felony’s problem?” David asked. He reached out and rubbed the horse’s nose.

  “Basically, he’s a nut. It’s not so much that he thinks he’s a person as he doesn’t know that people aren’t horses. That’s a bad thing. Like I said, he’s making progress. Or I’m making progress, I should say.”

  “You and Gus take care of this whole place?” David asked.

  “Mostly. I hire a hand from time to time. They come and go. How’d you like a job?”

  Robert laughed.

  “I’m afraid you wouldn’t want me,” David said. “I don’t know how to do anything.”

  “You can learn,” I said. “Are you boys cold?”

  “I’m fine,” David said.

  “Well, I’m cold,” I said. “Let’s get inside and grab some grub. How’s that for authentic regional yak?”

  In the kitchen, Gus had the table set. I could smell the chili. Zoe was in the corner lying on her bed, curled around the coyote pup. The pup pushed and whined, trying to get purchase on one of Zoe’s dry teats.

  “I see you moved our little patient,” I said, stomping my boots clean in the mud room.

  “More light in here,” Gus said. He looked out the window over the sink. “The snow’s not going to be all that bad. It’s tapering off a little already.”

  “All I know is it’s cold out there,” I said.

  Gus turned to David and Robert who were sitting at the table. “The coldest I’ve ever been was thirty-three in Phoenix. Not even a freeze and I thought I might cry, I was so cold.” He pulled a ladle from the drawer and dropped it in the pot. “Come and sit down, ugly.” This was to me.

  “That coyote is really cute,” David said as I sat.

  “She’s something, all right.”

  “How did you find her?” David watched Zoe with the pup.

  “Some idiot torched her den and killed her mother,” I said. “Her little brother didn’t make it.”

  “Beautiful people,” Robert said.

  I nodded.

  Robert put his hand on top of David’s on the table.

  “I didn’t make the chili super hot,” Gus said. “I didn’t want to hurt anyo
ne. There’s Tabasco if anyone needs it.”

  “It smells great,” David said.

  “Gus can actually cook,” I said.

  “What do you mean by that?” Gus said.

  “Well, to look at you, one wouldn’t, well, never mind.”

  “You’re lucky you’re getting to eat at all,” the old man said. Gus didn’t take chili, but filled his bowl with salad.

  “Aren’t you having any chili?” David asked.

  “Stuff gives me heartburn,” Gus said.

  “Since when?” I asked.

  “Everybody eat up,” he said. “I’m happy with leaves and bread. The bread’s not great. I’m still working on that.”

  We ate for a while in silence. I tore off a piece of the crusty bread and studied the sleeping puppy. “You know, Gus, I think you’re right. That little girl is going to pull through.”

  “Tough,” Gus said.

  “Did you want to call either of your parents?” I asked David.

  “Certainly not my father,” he said. “My mother’s away on business.”

  “These things happen,” Gus said. “People live, people die, people split up, people stay together and make each other miserable. Me, I’ve got ugly and he gets to live with me.”

  Robert laughed.

  “Your mother’s a special person,” I said to David.

  “Not special enough, I guess,” David said. He poked at his chili with his spoon. “Why does my father hate me? He hates homosexuals. I’m a homosexual. It follows that he hates me. That’s logic, right?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I think the leg is going to fall off,” Gus said.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “The coyote. I was looking at it and I think it has to fall off. Do you think we should cut it off?”

  “Maybe, but not in the middle of a meal,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean right now.”

  “All right, let’s take a look at it later tonight. We might have to perform a little surgery.”

  We ate for a while.

  “So, your being a homosexual’s not a problem for your mother?” Gus asked, slapping butter on his bread. Gus had a way of cutting right to the chase.

  “She’s cool with it,” David said.