by Jake Mactire
“In all seriousness, Mike, I want to be monogamous just because it makes sex special, an expression of love, carin’, bondin’, not just gettin’ off.”
“I agree with that.”
“I reckon when we have dudes, we’re both gonna get hit on by men and by women.”
“You think so?”
“I’m pretty sure, buddy.”
“On a different subject, I registered for classes to get my GED.”
“Good for you! I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. If ya need help with your homework, please let me know.”
“So what reward do I get for every A that I get?”
“I’ll have to think on that.” We cuddled together; Mike was drifting off. I told him my standard good night phrase.
“Let’s get some sleep, bud; we done used up this day.” He was soon breathing regularly and asleep. I couldn’t sleep though. Something was nagging me, hiding in the back of my mind, just outta reach. I kept going over in my mind the last few days. Finding out Mark was involved with the rustlers, and then his gettin’ killed, Smitty and Jeanette workin’ here, Tom and Ann and the kids coming up here for Halloween, Harrison running up to me and yelling out, “Uncle Jeff!”
That did it! I remembered his running out of the barn on Halloween night. Turning and waving at me and Mike, then running again and bumping into Wayne, who stepped off the walk into the mud to let Harrison run by.
The one track in the mud, the distinctive boots leaving tracks all over. Shit! Wayne was involved. I’d bet on it. But why? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. He hadn’t been around any time when there was an incident except for the time he and Mike got shot at. I told myself, Wayne got shot. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was not a serious shot, just in loose skin on his side. He could have used the gun on himself.
Other things began occurring to me; he’d seen the map of the national forest up on my laptop, and then Porky tried to steal it. Wayne didn’t know I’d had an alarm installed. He sure knew enough about cattle to mastermind the rustling. I kept coming back to why. Why would he do something like that? Wayne was enough of an outdoorsman to know that trashing my truck thirty-some miles from the road could be fatal. Pedro must’ve recognized him. When it looked like Porky or Mark was gonna get arrested, then they were killed. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why though. What motivation could Wayne have for all the killings and going after me and Mike? I’d known Wayne all my life. What could turn him into a monster? Mike was still sleeping. I slowly disentangled myself without waking him. I kissed his cheek. He hugged the pillow tighter and whispered, “Jeffy.”
I needed to call the sheriff. I fumbled around in the dark and grabbed a pair of underwear and socks and then some sweats. I headed downstairs. I called the sheriff’s phone, but it went into voicemail. I left a message telling him my thoughts on who was behind the rustlings and why I felt that way. There had to be more to it than that though. Why? Wayne had always been around. He knew he always had a place here, so why would he turn on me? I looked out the back door. His trailer was dark. I had to see if I could find proof. I felt like a traitor to even suspect Wayne, but the circumstantial evidence was strong. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that good old Wayne could be a murderer.
Since he was off in Idaho, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to look in his trailer. I was really hoping that there would be nothing for me to find. I pulled on my boots and walked past the bunkhouse. I could see Josh in the kitchen, his back was to me, and he was making a pot of coffee. I continued on to Wayne’s dark trailer. I knocked on the door. No answer. I looked back at the house. I’d turned off the alarm and left the back door open. I should go back and at least close the door and set the alarm. What the hell, I might only be a few minutes.
I tried the handle to the trailer door. Unlocked. Folks here don’t lock their doors, but with more and more city people, it’s getting more common. I turned on the light. Wayne kept his quarters pretty neat. On his coffee table was one of the first bronzes I’d ever made; I had given it to him. I started looking around. He had a little filing cabinet next to the couch. I opened it up. There was a folder labeled “Will”. I opened it to find a copy of my dad’s will. I hadn’t read the whole thing yet. I leafed through it. Highlighted in yellow marker was a clause saying if I predeceased my dad, Wayne became the heir. The why got a little clearer. I looked through the filing cabinet. There was a folder that was unmarked. I opened it up. There were receipts from the sale of organic, free range beef to various restaurants and natural markets in Seattle. I needed to get the sheriff. I stood up and turned around. Wayne was standing in the doorway holdin’ a pistol on me.
“You figured it all out?”
“Yeah, I did. I called the sheriff before I headed out here, so he knows what I know.”
“You didn’t listen to the radio, did you? There was a pileup of six or seven cars east of town, with some serious injuries. The sheriff will be there for a few more hours, and you’ll be dead.”
“Why, Wayne? I never did nothin’ to you. I woulda made sure you were comfortable for the rest of your life. Now that the will’s probated, why kill me?”
“I worked here for over ten years before you were born. I put my life into this place. You know I started it with your dad. I was the first foreman here.”
“Yeah, he told me that.”
“Then you come along, and you turn out to be a fag,” Wayne said.
“You never seemed to have a problem with that before.”
“I seen the light. I started goin’ to Reverend Spencer’s church in Pateros. He showed me how God hates sin. You don’t even try to change, Jeff. You’re proud to be what you are. God will judge you. You’re a filthy sodomite, and everything you want falls in your lap. I reckon the devil himself is payin’ you off. I work my ass off for almost thirty-five years for everything I’ve done to enrich some cocksucking sodomite.” I was thinking I needed to keep him talking. Maybe Josh would see the open door on the house, or Mike would miss me, or the sheriff would come.
“Is your mother in Idaho really dyin’?”
“You’ve always been way too naïve, Jeff. If you like someone, you trust them. My old lady’s been dead for years. I’ve been stayin’ around here, just lookin’ for a way to send you off to God’s judgment and then to hell,” Wayne spat. “You wanted to believe in me, and you did.”
“How does the rustlin’ fit in with all this?” I asked.
“If I couldn’t kill you before the will was probated, it was my insurance. It was easy enough to recruit folks. I met Mark at church. When he heard about you bein’ a homo, he agreed it was wrong and helped me with the rustlin’. Maybe we could drive you away. The bible says that if a man lies with a man as with a woman he shall surely be put to death. You’re lookin’ at your executioner, Jeff. The wages of sin is death, and it’s caught up with you. I’m gonna kill that blond asshole you love stickin’ your dick in so much. Maybe I’ll tie you up and tie him up and make him watch me cut off your dick and balls and shove ’em down his throat to choke ’em. Faggot oughta die happy then.
“You both deserve to die, fuckin’ queers. You act like it’s normal. You make me sick, you and that little fuck toy of yours. God hates fags, Jeff, and he’s gonna let me get away with the whole thing for killin’ you and your plaything. Maybe as you’re bleedin’ out from havin’ your dick and nuts cut off, I’ll carve ‘The wages of sin is death’ on your chest. A warning to fags. Reverend Spencer knows your plan. You work so hard makin’ people think you’re normal, workin’ behind the scenes to take over the country and make it a haven for filthy perverts, and discriminate against good God fearing Christians. You’re dead, you scumbag, fucking, filthy homo.”
I hadn’t even been able to get a word in edgewise. His voice was going up and down, and his eyes had a wild and crazy look in them.
“You know what, fag? I am gonna cut your dick and balls off and use ’em to stuff dow
n your little pervert friend’s throat. Then I’m gonna light this place on fire. Burn you. It’ll be preparation for hell!”
“And just how does your stealin’ cattle and comittin’ murder align with your God’s plan? Did Spencer tell you that was okay too?”
“You disgust God, Jeff. I’m doin’ His work in killin’ you and that trash you defile yourself with. God is the one who told me I had to kill Mort, the one you called Porky, since he kept messin’ up. When Mark let you know he was in on it, he failed God and had to die too.”
His eyes had this insane look to them. I could tell he’d gone insane. If he had started foaming at the mouth, I wouldn’t have been surprised. He laughed, a high-pitched eerie cackle that sent a chill up and down my spine.
“That’s what I’ll do; I’ll tie you and that blond faggot you sodomize all the time together and start this place on fire. I’ll burn the two of you to death, after I cut off your dicks and balls and put them in each other’s mouths.”
I understood the phrases “so mad I can’t see straight” and “seeing red.” I was so angry, a red haze was clouding my vision. I could feel adrenaline rushing through my system. His threatening Mike made me angrier than I’d ever been.
“Whatever happened to ‘God is Love’ and ‘Judge not lest thou be judged’?” I was surprised I sounded so calm.
“God hates sin! He hates it. That don’t apply to filth like you. God is a just God, and the wages of sin is death. You’re so proud of bein’ sinful, you parade it around.”
I was tryin’ to think of some way to get the gun away from him. I could hear the wind coming up. I was about to get killed, and I noticed the weather. I tried to keep my eyes on him, but scan with my peripheral vision to see if there was anything to help me. I backed up half a step, and my left hand touched the bronze. I had an idea.
I was gonna yell out, “Josh, in here!” in hopes he would look behind him. Before I could speak, a gust of wind shook the trailer. The back door of the house slammed loudly. Wayne turned his head a bit, taking his eyes off me. I grabbed the bronze and started swinging it forward in an overhead arc. I leapt at Wayne. He turned faster than I would have thought possible, and pulled the trigger on the gun. Suddenly, my shoulder felt on fire. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt. I was dizzy from the pain. The bullet hadn’t stopped my momentum. Before he could aim and fire again, I was on him. The bronze swung down and knocked into his forehead and nose. I slammed into him, and we both fell the four or so feet from the door of the trailer to the ground. The forward momentum carried us past the steps; Wayne’s gun went flying. He landed on his back, and I landed on top of him. I felt something in him snap. I still held on to the bronze. I lifted it up. It seemed a lot heaver than it did when I first picked it up. I slammed it as hard as I was able right in Wayne’s face. I think he was unconscious, but I was too messed up with the shot, the adrenaline, and the anger to care.
His nose flattened and blood began spurting. I picked up the bronze and saw half his lip was torn off and his front teeth were all broken. I picked it up again. It made me tired to do so. I slammed it down as hard as I could. It hit Wayne’s jaw, and I heard a satisfying snapping sound. I tried to pick it up again, but couldn’t. The world was starting to spin faster. A gray-black film was closing in from the corners of my vision. I swayed and then fell over Wayne. As I fell, I thought I heard steps running near me. I hoped the bastard hadn’t gotten up and wasn’t getting away. Then everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I FELT like I was swimming up through real murky water. It was holding me back and weighing everything down. Everything around me was blurry. Slowly, everything seemed to come into focus. My shoulder was sore, and it throbbed. I had a bad headache too. I felt like a horse ready for the glue factory. I could barely lift my head to look around. Mike was draped over a chair next to the bed. There were monitors and tubes hooked up to me. He looked like he was asleep. His clothes were rumpled, and he hadn’t shaved his neck or cheeks in a bit. He looked like hell. Slowly, it came back to me. I must be in the hospital.
“Buddy.” It came out a dry, raspy, croak, too soft to wake him. “Buddy.” He stirred and looked over at me. “Hey, buddy.” He jumped up and pressed a button. He grabbed my hand.
“Jeffy! You’re awake. We were so worried.” He put his head down so it was against my hand and started crying.
“Ssss okay, bullet wasn’t kryptonite.” I heard footsteps, but was too sore and dizzy to turn my head.
Mike looked up and over me and said, “He’s awake. He knows what’s goin’ on. He told me he’s alive because the bullet wasn’t kryptonite.” He started cryin’ again. Maria was there. She moved into my field of vision. I smiled at her. I suddenly felt exhausted. The gray murky water seemed to envelop me. This time, it was warmer and welcoming. I felt Maria lift my arm and do something; maybe she was taking my blood pressure? The tiredness overwhelmed me; I closed my eyes and slept.
When I opened my eyes again, Mike was there. He looked like he’d cleaned up a bit. I didn’t feel quite so dizzy or so disoriented.
“Hey, Jeff, you’re awake again?”
“Yep, you’re nice to wake up to, Mike. How long have I been here?” My voice didn’t sound like me. It was rough. It hurt to talk.
“This is day three. You woke up for a minute or so yesterday.”
I looked at him and tried to smile. I realized that part of the dopiness I was feeling was due to the medication. Although I was better than yesterday, I still felt drained.
“You lost a lot of blood. Bullet didn’t do too much damage. It went through your shoulder and just missed the shoulder blade; it did nick an artery, which accounts for the blood loss. You hit your head pretty hard, too, when you fell out the door on top of Wayne.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s pretty busted up. He broke an arm, a leg, and when you fell on him, you broke four of his ribs. You really did a number on his face too. His nose is broke and his cheekbones too. His skull is cracked in the ridge under his eyebrows, and you broke his jaw, and knocked out seven of his teeth.”
“He said he was gonna hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.” I could see tears in Mike’s eyes. He took a few deep breaths before continuing.
“Sheriff got your message and was on his way. He got there a couple of minutes after you and Wayne flew out the door. I heard the door slam and came down, and Josh heard voices. Everyone heard the shot.” I squeezed his hand.
“Although he’s real broken up, Wayne is stable. He admitted the rustlin’ and killin’ Pedro, Porky, and Mark.”
“Who else is involved?”
“Some guy from down in Pateros. It seems, though, Wayne was the one that did the killin’.”
“I feel like somethin’ the cat drug in. When can I go home?”
“Doctor says a day or so. They want to keep you under observation since you were out so long. They wanna make sure you’re stable too. We were pretty worried for a while.”
“Am I in trouble for bashin’ Wayne’s face in?”
“Sheriff Johnston was afraid you would be at first. County prosecutor wouldn’t prosecute. It was self-defense. You were pretty out of it after getting shot, so they reckoned you didn’t know when to stop. Diminished capacity or somethin’ like that.”
“I reckon the sheriff wants to talk to me.”
“You reckon right. He was pretty upset. He was one of the people we had sittin’ with you.”
“People sat here with me?”
“I was here all the time; Sandy was here most of the time, and Josh, Renee, José, and Smitty took turns. Mary Grace and Rick have been in here several times, and Maria has been here at least half of every day. Jeanette has been here for hours at a time, and Tom and Ann want to bring Harrison and Lisa to visit when you’re up to it.”
“Mike, thanks.”
“For what?”
“Givin’ me somethin’ beautiful to wake up to.” He took my
hand. I lay back and closed my eyes. It was amazing, just that short conversation tired me all out. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, but just holding Mike’s hand was a chore. I felt myself drifting off to sleep.
When I woke up again, Mike was still there. He had a different shirt on, so I reckoned that he had gone home for a little while. Sheriff Johnston was also there.
“Jeff, it’s nice to see you wake up. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty out of it. My shoulder hurts, but I don’t seem to care. I feel all loopy when I’m awake, too, as if I’m floatin’ or flyin’ or somethin’.”
“I hear you got a few weeks of physical therapy ahead of you.”
“I reckon that’s better than not bein’ around for physical therapy. So the rustlers are all taken care of?”
“Wayne sang like a caged canary after we brought him in. I reckon he’s making a plea bargain to avoid the death penalty.”
“Mike told me the other guy was someone from Pateros.”
“He, Mark, and Wayne all went to Reverend Spencer’s church. Course now the good reverend claims that they misunderstood him. Although he’s still convinced of God’s hatred, he’s changed his tune about judgment being God’s, not man’s.”
“Fuckin’ hypocritical coward.”
“I sure won’t argue about that. Are you up to giving a statement?”
“Sure. First of all, is there some way to charge Spencer with incitin’ hatred or somethin’ like that?”
“Unfortunately not. He never told his congregation that gays should be killed. How did you figure out it was Wayne, Jeff? Nobody ever would have thought of him. He’s always been close to you and your father. I’d thought of him as a good man. It’s hard to believe that he could be so corrupted by hate.”
“When I realized it was him, I didn’t want to believe it. That’s why I went into his trailer, with the hope of findin’ nothin’ incriminatin’.”
“Do I need to give you another lecture about how stupid it was for you to go into his trailer and not let anyone know what you were doing?”