Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Jake Mactire

  “That sounds about right to get the sculptures here. I might be able to make one more in that time too.”

  “I just had an idea! We get a great deal of tourist traffic from Thanksgiving through the New Year, and even afterwards due to all the cross-country skiers. We could do an exhibition on your work over the holidays. I seem to remember one Christmas you were home from college and went around town wearing a Santa hat on top of your cowboy hat. The tourists would love a picture of that!”

  “No problem. I could give you some pictures. What else would you need?”

  “We’d want to interview you, find out what your inspiration for your work is, how and when do you work, what got you interested, things like that.”

  “Okay and when do you want to do this?” I asked.

  “Ryan, one of our artists who does photography for us in exchange for dues will be in town tomorrow. Would it be okay if I brought him out to the ranch?”

  “Sure, Mary Grace, what time were you thinkin’?”

  “If it’s sunny tomorrow, about ten will be the best light. If it’s cloudy, we can come earlier; we’d call before though.”

  “That’s good by me, so I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Jeff, and thanks! I am really looking forward to having you as one of our artists.”

  I headed out onto the street. I thought another cup of coffee might be good before headin’ back to the ranch, so I stopped at the bakery, which doubled as an espresso stand and sandwich shop. Espresso in a one horse town may seem kinda funny, but we are in Washington state.

  “Hey, Rick!” I said as I walked in. Rick was the owner of the bakery. He’d baked for years in Seattle and came out to Winslett to open his own place. He was another of the aging hippies who seem to love to live near nature. His graying hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore a tie-dyed T-shirt under his open denim shirt. I noticed he had wool socks and Birkenstocks on too. I wondered if it was some sort of club, or uniform, or what, but thought it might not be too polite to ask. I noticed that there was a smattering of tourists around, including the group to which I had said hello earlier, and a family with two kids. The oldest of the kids looked to be about eight and was dressed in a little cowboy outfit.

  “Howdy there, buckaroo,” I said to the little guy.

  He eyed me with an incredulous look and asked me, “Are you a real cowboy mister? And what’s a buckaroo?”

  His mother looked at me apologetically and said, “Harrison, don’t be rude.”

  “He’s no bother at all, ma’am. Yep, Harrison, I am a real honest to goodness cowboy. I live on a ranch, I ride horses, and I wear my cowboy hat and boots every day. And a buckaroo is just another name for a cowboy. We cowboys, like you and me, use it for ourselves sometimes.”

  “Cool! What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Jeff. So are you out here visitin’ or you lookin’ to find a job cowboyin’?” I sat down at the table next to the family and said, “Howdy folks,” to the group I had greeted earlier.

  “Coffee, Jeff? I got some good apple pie, too, if you’d like some.” Rick was a good guy and made some great pies.

  “Sure, Rick, coffee, black and as strong as ya got it, and the pie sounds great.”

  “I want to find a job cowboyin’!” Little Harrison had scooted up close to me and was looking at me like I was Roy Rogers or Gene Autry or some famous movie cowboy.

  “Harrison, you’re never going to be a good cowboy if you don’t finish your sandwich.” Harrison’s mother pointed at his plate.

  “That’s right, son,” his dad said. “Cowboys have to be big and strong, don’t they?” he added looking at me.

  “They sure do, buckaroo. And you know what? We cowboys always eat everything on our plates, ’cause we never know when we’re gonna get more chuck. Sometimes on a long trail drive we go hungry.”

  “Can I sit by you, Jeff?” Harrison asked grabbing his plate.

  “If it’s okay with your folks, you sure can.” I extended my hand to the father.

  “Jeff Connelly, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “I’m Tom Sanders, and this is my wife, Ann. Our daughter is Lisa.”

  “Pleasure, ma’am,” I said as I tipped my hat. I also turned to the other table and introduced myself to the two retired couples and the single guy I’d said hello to earlier on the street. The couples were Gladys and Bill, and Helen and Walter. Jonathan was the single guy.

  Rick came around the counter with a mug of coffee and a big slice of pie.

  “I made you some of that cowboy coffee you guys seem to like so much.”

  “Much obliged, Rick.” I smiled up at him.

  “What’s cowboy coffee?” The little guy was full of questions.

  “It’s good strong coffee we boil up in a pot, and then add some cold water to settle the grounds, so we ain’t drinkin’ crunchy coffee.”

  Gladys laughed and said, “That’s how we made coffee when I was just a girl.”

  I winked at her. “So I’m guessin’ you had some just this mornin’.” She giggled and the whole group laughed. Suddenly I became aware that Sandy was standing in the door.

  “Harrison, you asked if I was a real cowboy. Well, let me introduce you to a real cowgirl.” I stood up and grabbed Sandy’s hand, pulling her gently to my table.

  “Harrison Sanders, I’d like ya to meet my good friend Sandy Johnston.”

  “How do?” Sandy extended her hand, and Harrison shook it solemnly.

  “So I hear you got a big photo shoot and interview out at the ranch.” I’d love to know just where Sandy got her information. She seemed to know stuff almost before it happened. I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the artists’ co-op, my art, and ranch life in general to the folks gathered around.

  “Are you two a couple?” Helen asked.

  I turned red, and Sandy spoke up. “Naw, we’re just real good friends. We went to school together, and Jeff’s always been like a brother to me. Besides, I think his heart is taken; he just doesn’t know it yet.” I’d been takin’ a sip of coffee, and it went right down the wrong pipe at Sandy’s statement.

  “Say what?” I managed to cough out.

  “Remember what ya said Saturday when ya had a bit too much to drink?”

  Harrison looked at me solemnly and asked, “You had too much to drink, Jeff?”

  “Iced tea, buckaroo, it’ll get you every time.” There was lots of laughter at this.

  “What ya doin’ Saturday, Sandy?”

  “Well, darlin’, why ya askin’?” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I was figurin’ on askin’ you to help me with some cookin’. I wanted to invite these folks out to the ranch. I bet you never seen a workin’ cattle ranch, did ya, buckaroo?”

  “Dad, Mom, can we go, please, please?” Harrison’s little sister, who had been quiet until then, joined the chorus of pleases.

  Jonathan and Tom asked if it was any trouble, and insisted on bringing something, putting in orders for pies, bread, cookies, and rolls with Rick. Unfortunately, Gladys, Bill, Helen, and Walter were heading back to Seattle tomorrow. We settled on two in the afternoon on Saturday, and I gave directions and my phone number to Tom and Jonathan. I excused myself, and tried to pay Rick, but he said given all the business I was bringin’ him, my coffee and pie was on him. I turned to Sandy.

  “C’mon, we got a dinner to plan.” She followed me as I headed out to the street.

  Night was comin’ on quick, and we were now in that beautiful northern twilight, which lasts so long. The sun had set over the Cascades, streaking the sky with orange and purple. It was quiet and still in Winslett, and I could smell wood smoke as wood stoves were fired up.

  “That was awful nice of you, Jeff. You probably made that little guy’s vacation, as well as the rest of the tourists.”

  “Just a wild hair, Sandy, just a wild hair.” We headed into One Eyed Jack’s to plan the meal. It went fairly quickly, and we settled on steaks, ba
ked potatoes, corn salad, cowboy beans, and iced tea or coffee. I remembered her comment in the bakery.

  “Just what in the hell did you mean by my heart’s taken, but I don’t know it yet?”

  “The way you and Mike look at each other, it’s only a matter of time before you end up together.”

  “Sandy, I don’t even really know the guy. Once we talked, he seems nice enough, and he sure is real easy on the eyes and all that, but I ain’t ready to date anyone. Hell, I just broke up with Robert, and bein’ alone a while sounds pretty good.”

  “You know, you, me, and your dad are the only folks Mike has ever told about his family life. He looks up to you quite a bit. You’re out and proud of who you are, and to him that is amazing.”

  “That’s another thing. He’s in the closet so far he’s under the linoleum and behind the woodwork. If I get together with someone, I want someone who will go with me to gay rodeos, compete, and not be hidin’ all the time.”

  “I think the way he looks up to you, that closet door is gonna bust open pretty quick.” Sandy had a knowing look on her face.

  “We’re just friends.”

  “That’s a great basis for a relationship.”

  “Okay, matchmaker Sandy, I heard ya. Now, enough please.”

  We’d been walking along Main Street and came upon my truck. I was about to head back to the ranch.

  “Can I drop ya anywheres?”

  “If you don’t mind dropping me at home, I’d be grateful.”

  “No problem at all.”

  I had dropped Sandy off at home and began heading up the highway toward the ranch. A couple of miles outside Winslett, an ambulance passed me, sirens blaring and lights flashing. We’re pretty far out in the sticks, so an ambulance wasn’t a normal occurrence. I wondered where it could be going, but didn’t pay it too much mind. A herd of deer by the side of the road caught my attention, and I slowed way down. We’re on a deer migration route, and it’s not uncommon to see over a hundred in a day of driving around. I sure didn’t need a deer running right out in front of the truck. I got caught up in the radio. Taylor Swift’s “Tim McGraw” was playing. I really like the song, although it’s a bit sad, unrequited teenage love. It’s a wonder we ever get through our teen years. I started up the turn off which went up to the ranch. As I drove to the top and came over the last rise, I was shocked to notice the ambulance which had passed me was parked in the front yard with its lights still flashing. The sheriff’s car was parked over to the side. A group of paramedics was gathered around a prone figure on the ground. I looked around and saw José and Josh. Where was Mike? Where was Wayne? What the hell happened? I pulled over to the side, put the truck in gear, and pulled the parking break. I ran toward Josh and José.

  “Guys, what happened?”

  “Josh took a long look at me and answered in a flat voice.

  “Mike and Wayne were up herdin’ the beeves away from the areas which have roads near ’em outside the fence. They had separated, and all of a sudden there were shots. Looks like more ’n one shooter since they were both set up as target practice.” I noticed it was Wayne on the ground with the paramedics. He was conscious and grimacing with pain.

  “Wayne got shot, but it’s not too serious. Must hurt like hell though.”

  “Where’s Mike? What happened to Mike?” I could hear my voice rising in panic.

  “He’s okay, boss. He didn’t get shot or hurt, and now he’s talkin’ to the sheriff.”

  “So Wayne’s gonna be okay?”

  “From what the paramedics say, yep, but he’ll be outta commission for a couple of days. It’s a shot clean through his side, but didn’t hit anything important. Still, they plan on keepin’ him in the hospital in Wenatchee for a day or so.” Josh had answered this time.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “I’m really happy he’s okay.” I was also ecstatic Mike was okay, and was feeling just a bit guilty that I seemed to be so much more worried about him than Wayne. By this time, they had Wayne on a gurney and were about to put him in the back of the ambulance. I walked over to him.

  “Hey, Wayne, you want me to come with ya?”

  “No, I’m a tough old bastard, and it’ll take more than this to stop me. Just wish I could get my hands on the son of a bitch that did it though.”

  “You’ll be okay, Wayne, I know ya will.” The paramedics lifted the gurney up and rolled him into the back of the ambulance.

  “I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow,” I called out to him.

  “You do that. But not too early, I plan on gettin’ a good night’s sleep tonight.”

  “You got it, Wayne.” The paramedics closed the door and jumped into the front. In a moment the ambulance was gone. No sirens or flashers, which was a good sign. I noticed the sheriff standing right behind me.

  “You get the stuff I asked for?” he asked the last of the search and rescue guys who were getting in their truck. The answer came back positive, and one of the guys handed Sheriff Johnston some bags.

  “What happened, Sheriff?”

  “Damn rustlers are getting’ awful ballsy. Wayne and Mike musta got too close, so they started tryin’ to shoot them. Hate to tell you this, Jeff, but you lost a few more head of cattle.”

  “Shit! At least no one got killed, though.”

  “I got a few thoughts on this and some stuff for the crime lab to look at, so let’s keep our fingers crossed we finally have a clue. I’m gonna head back into town now. You might want to take care of your friend. He’s pretty shook up.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff, I will. See ya.”

  “See ya Sunday, Jeff.” He got in his car, turned around, and began heading back to town. I looked over to see Mike, José, and Josh standing together. Mike glanced at me, and said something to the guys. José clapped him on the shoulder as he headed toward me. He looked pretty shocked, and there was quite a bit of blood on his clothes.

  “Hey, Jeff, you remember you said you wanted to be my friend?”

  “Remember it and I meant it.”

  “Good, cause I need a friend now.”

  “Come on in, buddy,” I said, turning toward the ranch house. I could hear Mike following me as I headed up the steps and through the door.

  Chapter Five

  WE GOT into the house. I turned and looked at Mike. He looked like he’d been through a wringer. He had a shocked and confused look on his face. His clothes were filthy, and he was covered in mud, blood, and horseshit. I pointed him toward the bathroom off the mudroom.

  “Why don’t you take a nice hot bath? I’ll get you something to wear. Just throw your dirty clothes on the floor, and I’ll take care of ’em. Towels in there are clean.”

  “Thanks, Jeff. Much obliged.” He started to strip off, and I headed upstairs to my room. I grabbed a clean pair of gray long handles, some socks, and a set of sweats. I headed downstairs. Mike was already in the bathtub sighing with pleasure. I set the clothes down on the toilet seat and turned to leave. Mike’s laugh stopped me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You tryin’ to turn me into you?” I looked down, the socks were on top and the long handles next. They covered the sweats. I laughed with him.

  “Relax cowboy, there’s a pair of sweats there too. What in the hell is with everyone talkin’ about me walkin’ around in my underwear?”

  “Let’s just say you walk around without your pants on a lot and the view is pretty nice.”

  “Whatever, I’ll be in the living room. You look like you could use a drink. Whiskey all right?”

  “I sure as hell ain’t gonna turn down good whiskey tonight.” I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked out. I grinned, knowing he was looking.

  I headed into the kitchen, got a bottle of Maker’s Mark, and a couple of glasses. I then went into the living room and started a fire in the big river rock fireplace. After a few minutes Mike appeared.

  “Thanks for the clothes, bud. We’re about the same size.”
>
  “No worries. Want that drink now?”

  “Hell yes!” I poured out two generous glasses and raised mine.

  “To friends.”

  “Cheers. And thanks a lot for askin’ me in, Jeff. I didn’t want to be by myself tonight. It was one fuckin’ hell of a day.”

  “You wanna tell me what happened? If you don’t, that’s okay too.” Mike emptied his glass in one gulp and drew a ragged breath. I refilled his glass for him.

  “We headed up to the back of the property where the forest service roads come fairly close to the property line. We got there and it was pretty obvious there’d been some more rustlin’. The fence was cut, and there were cattle tracks goin’ out and tracks of horses herdin’ ’em. I got off my horse and began to look at the tracks. Wayne suggested we split up and look to see if we could find any sign of the rustlers. The tracks we saw were fresh.”

  “Why would he suggest something like that? Rustlin’ is a pretty serious crime and these guys are murderers.” Mike gulped his second whiskey and looked at me.

  “I asked the same thing. He said if we was real quiet and kept our heads down, we just might see ’em or maybe their trucks and be able to get a license number. I didn’t think it was too smart, but he took off on his own. He’s really worried about the ranch and about you. I hadn’t gotten too far when I decided to tie my horse to one of the trees. I did that and was creepin’ along real quiet like when I stepped on some loose scree. I lost my balance and slid to the side. All of a sudden the tree right about where my head would have been splintered, and I heard the sound of a gunshot. If I hadn’t of slipped, my head would be splattered all over the place. I figured the best way to save my ass was to get behind somethin’ like one of the big boulders in the area there. I was lucky because there was one only about fifteen, twenty feet away. I think I made it in one jump. Whoever it was shot at me a few more times, but then the shots stopped. I wouldn’t mind another shot of whiskey, if it’s okay.” I poured a shot into his glass. This time he drank only half before he continued. I was still sipping my first shot.