by Dan Dowhal
“I did,” Shane replies. He gestures at the Ducati. “This wasn’t my doing.”
“Then how do you reckon it got here?”
“I guess the thieves had a change of heart.”
Tammy snorts. “Ain’t like any thief I ever heard of.”
Shane shrugs. “Maybe they were feeling too much heat from the law to hang on to it.”
“Then they would have just dumped it somewhere. Seems like they took an awful chance bringing it here … and pushing it all the way up to the house. I sure didn’t hear no engine, and I’m a pretty light sleeper. And, come to think of it, how did they know exactly where to bring it? Don’t like the thought of a bunch of criminals prowling around my property.”
Shane gives her a big smile, which has the desired effect, now that he is wearing his dentures again. “I’m sure Yolanda would have blasted anyone who tried to get into the house. Those guys obviously snuck over here to do right instead of wrong, so I say, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
He climbs aboard the Ducati and looks it over. Everything is clean and polished — even the scratches from his crash have been retouched. The key is in the ignition, and he starts the motorcycle up, listening with satisfaction to its healthy roar. He revs the throttle a couple of times, mostly to determine whether he can still operate the vehicle with one hand in a cast. He decides it would be technically possible to drive it, though tricky, but shuts the machine down.
“Not sure I can ride it yet with this busted arm,” he announces, studying Tammy for a reaction.
“So, you still figuring on staying some?” she answers.
“If you’ll have me.”
“Well, just as long as you pay your room and board like you promised and keep helping with the chores, I won’t kick you out just yet.” Tammy takes one last wary look at the Ducati and retreats to the ranch house.
Although rewiring the lights in the stable is the biggest job on his list, Shane wants to save that project to do alongside Vern. Instead, he opts to fulfill his promise to add corner targets and a low centre bull’s eye to the painted hockey net on the side of the stable. When he finds Vern’s hockey stick and puck stored against the wall, Shane attempts to take a couple of practice shots, but cannot properly grip the shaft of the stick with his casted left hand. He gives up on the exercise, but turns to see that Yolanda has snuck up and been watching the entire time.
“Typical man … work to be done, and he’d rather play games,” she comments.
“It’s for Vern,” he explains.
“Yeah, well, that little baboso needs to spend less time thinking about hockey and more time helping out around here.”
“From what I can see, the kid more than holds up his end, but you gals still ride him pretty hard.”
“He’s got hockey on the brain, that’s all. It’s a waste of time, but he don’t got no sense about it.”
“Like Gracie and her horses?”
“That’s different.”
“Why, because she’s a girl? Seems to me, Yolanda, that you pick on Vern just because he’s a guy. For that matter, you haven’t given me much of a chance, either. Aren’t I paying my way? Haven’t I been helping out around here?”
Yolanda gestures at the painting on the wall. “Si, some help.”
“Well, is there something specific you want me to do for you? Just say the word.”
Yolanda snorts and grabs her crotch. “Is this what you had in mind? Just try it!”
Shane lets out a belly laugh, and is amused to see a veil of confusion come over Yolanda’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, Yolanda, you’re an attractive woman, but between your knife and Doc Sanchez’s gun, there’s no way I’m going there.”
“Sanchez? What’s he got to do with anything?”
“Can’t you tell? He’s carrying a torch for you.”
Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but nothing comes out. Finally she spits on the ground and walks away. But then she stops in her tracks and turns to face him again. “There’s kindling needs cutting, if you think you can manage with one hand,” she tells him. There’s a twinkle in her eye — or maybe it’s just a trick of the sunlight.
Shane goes around the back of the house and finds Tammy swinging an axe at some thick chunks of firewood. Although her energy and enthusiasm are obvious, her technique is poor. Rather than aiming at the outer quadrants, where it’s easier to pare off a length, she is striking the logs in the middle, getting the axe lodged in the process, and having to use her foot to lever the head back out.
“Need some help?” Shane asks.
“I can manage,” Tammy replies, just as she gets the axe stuck again.
Shane walks over so he can face her. “Aw, c’mon. I grew up feeding a wood stove. Let me give you a hand.”
Tammy pulls the axe out, then wipes her brow. “A hand is pretty much all you got, ain’t it,” she retorts.
“Bet I can do better with one hand than you’re doing with two. It’s not how hard you hit it, but where. Let me show you.”
Tammy relents, so Shane repositions the piece of wood on the chopping stump. He arcs the axe high above his head with his good hand, and lets the tool’s weight propel it downward, closer to the outer edge. A piece the width of a milk carton gets neatly lopped off, although the remaining section of log topples over in the process. He puts down the axe to prop up the fallen log again.
“Here — you chop, I’ll stand ’em up,” Tammy says. Shane realizes this is her way of admitting he was right. He likes the fact that she is flexible enough to concede a point. Together they tackle the stack of wood, then further reduce some of the lengths into smaller sticks of kindling.
Once they finish the chore, Tammy fetches some lemonade. As they sit side by side on the stump, admiring their handiwork, Shane again broaches the subject of getting a horse for Gracie.
“I told you I’d think about it!” she snaps back. “I don’t get why you’re so doggone hell-bent on tossing your money away on a kid that’s not even yours.”
“Excuse me for caring. I’m just trying to be nice to the poor kid.”
“Poor kid? We’re poor, all right, but that don’t mean my little girl don’t get everything she really needs. And that sure as hell don’t mean you can come waltzing in here flashing money around and tell me how to raise my own flesh and blood.”
“Aw, for fuck’s sake, that’s not what I meant. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“What you’re being is a real a-hole,” Tammy says, stabbing Shane hard in the sternum with her forefinger. “If I want anything from you, I’ll be sure to let you know. And if you’re offering to buy that horse because you think it’s going to make me all weak-kneed for you, forget about it — I ain’t easy like that one inside you got the hots for.”
From the direction of the house comes a whimper like that of a dog whose tail has just been stepped on. Shane turns to see that Maybelline has been standing on the porch listening to the entire exchange, unbeknownst to them. She turns and runs back into the house, slamming the screen door behind her.
“Aw, shit, now see what you’ve done,” Tammy sighs. It’s unclear whether she’s chiding Shane or herself. She collects the empty lemonade glasses and hurries into the house. Shane vacillates about following to help soothe Maybelline’s ruffled feathers, but decides to stay outside and stack firewood.
Eventually he ventures inside, carrying an armload of kindling as an excuse for his presence. There is no sign of Tammy, but Maybelline is sitting at the table, peeling potatoes and whistling merrily.
“You okay?” Shane inquires.
Maybelline smiles up at him. “Of course I am, silly. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, because of what Tammy said out there.”
She laughs. “That didn’t bother me.”
“You seemed pretty upset.”
“Naw, I know she didn’t really mean it. I just like screwing with her head from time to time, that’s all. I mean, don’
t get me wrong, I love Tammy, she’s great. But sometimes she can be a little bossy. So I keep her on her toes. Besides, she was starting to get pretty pissed with you … figured I’d better get her mind on something else before she smacked you across the side of the head with a chunk of firewood and sent you packing. Then we’d never get you two together.”
“I doubt that’s going to happen. I don’t think she likes me.”
“Oh, she likes you, even if she’s afraid to admit it to herself. We just need to give her a little more time, and she’ll come around. Meanwhile, though, you gotta stop acting like such a doofus. Be nice to her. Stop trying to tell her what to do. She don’t like that. Wouldn’t harm none to take your shirt off from time to time, neither.”
Shane finds himself blushing. “She thinks something’s going on between us.”
“Well, she ain’t wrong, now, is she?” Maybelline answers with a wink. “She just don’t know exactly what.”
“Maybe you should stop, you know, sneaking in at night and drinking behind her back.”
Maybelline’s pale face darkens. “Is that what you want?”
“No, no, I really enjoy partying with you. It’s just, Tammy —”
“Never mind Tammy. I saw you first, and I figure I coulda had you anytime I wanted. Just because I’m going to let Tammy have you don’t mean I’m gonna give you up altogether.”
Shane has encountered this kind of talk from women before, and it has always irked him to be treated as if he has no will of his own in these matters.
“Just like I’m some kind of dog you lead around by the leash?”
She laughs. “Oh, Shane, you men are all dogs. And it ain’t a leash we lead you by. But don’t go frettin’, now. We ain’t gonna go breakin’ Tammy’s heart, but that don’t mean we can’t have some fun. I’ll see you tonight. Now, howdy doody, do yer duty. Go show Tammy what a big, handy he-man you are.”
Shane exhales irritably, but can’t think of a retort, so he leaves to tackle some more outdoor chores. He even goes so far as to take Maybelline’s advice and work shirtless in the hopes that Tammy will catch a glimpse.
When it’s time to meet the school bus, Tammy comes out back and invites Shane to join her, stealing glimpses of his musculature with little coyness. After Shane dresses, they head down to the road. He tries to initiate small talk as they walk, carefully avoiding the subject of horses. Tammy, however, adds little to the conversation. When prompted, she answers questions about the kids’ grades, the garden’s prospects, and the minutiae of rattlesnake ranching, but she seems otherwise withdrawn. If she is crushing on him in any way, she is doing a top-notch job of hiding it. Shane is disheartened by the time they reach the highway.
Gracie explodes from the school bus with a laugh of delight, offering Shane some solace in the fact that her happiness does not only stem from seeing her mother. In fact, the hug she gives Tammy seems short and perfunctory compared to the intense wraparound affair she bestows on Shane. When the hug goes into overtime, Shane looks up at Tammy to see if she resents her daughter’s overt affection, but Tammy’s look is cryptic.
After Gracie lets go, Shane makes a point of approaching Vern.
“Hey,” he greets the boy.
“Hey.”
“How was school?” Vern shrugs. “Play any sports today?” Shane persists.
“Baseball again, during gym class.”
“How’d that go?”
“I don’t care about baseball. It’s not my game.”
“You should care. It’s great practice. A lot of college hockey players play baseball in the off-season.”
Vern perks up. “They do?”
“Sure. Reacting to a baseball is a lot like reacting to a puck. And hitting a ball is all about timing … just like one-timing a shot. You’ve seen guys bat a puck out of mid-air, haven’t you?”
Vern nods. “Uh-huh. I’ve done that, too.”
“Well, there you go. Timing and reflexes. If you can hit a puck, you can hit a baseball. You just have to give it a chance.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Oh yeah, there’s lots of stuff you can do to improve your game off the ice … and your conditioning, too.”
Gracie has been walking alongside Shane. She has one hand in her mother’s and the other in Shane’s, but her gaze is directed squarely at him. Knowing what she wants, he stops and squats down to her eye level.
“You want a ride, don’t you?”
“Yes, please.”
“You know, riding me is like riding Opie, that big ol’ workhorse I told you about. Wouldn’t you rather ride a mustang?”
Gracie looks confused, and Tammy shoots him a dirty look. He gives Tammy a wink to calm any concerns.
“How about Vern gives you a ride? He’s more your size.”
No one seems enthused by the suggestion.
“It’ll be great for building up the legs … and it’ll help your cardio, too,” he tells Vern.
“Well, okay,” the boy assents, and he squats down to be mounted.
“Give him a try. It’ll be like a riding a pony,” Shane urges Gracie. She climbs aboard with Shane’s help, and Vern takes off in a sprint, showing excellent speed. Judging from Gracie’s shrieks of delight in the distance, her new mount is proving an adequate replacement. Vern has his head down and is working hard, having evidently taken Shane’s coaching to heart.
“It’s a pity you never had kids of your own,” Tammy comments. “You got a way with them.” Shane meets her gaze. The earlier hostility seems to have dissipated.
“Yeah. You’re lucky,” he answers.
“It’s never too late for a feller. Hell, some of them old coots at Holy Waters are still fathering kids into their sixties.”
“Fathering’s the easy part. Kids need a mother, too. How about you, Tammy … ever consider having more children?”
She shrugs. “Kind of got my hands full as it is.” She gestures across the landscape. “Guys ain’t exactly lining up for a piece of this life, neither.”
“I find that hard to believe. A beautiful woman like you has a lot to offer.”
A blush paints Tammy’s cheeks. “Oh, there’s no shortage of guys looking to get under my skirt, if that’s what you mean. But finding a man with a heart as well as a hard-on who’ll stick around and treat you right, well, that’s something altogether different. So no thanks. The dogs that come sniffing around I send a-packin’.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“Mister, the loneliest I ever been was when I was married.”
Up ahead, Vern, zigzagging, loses his footing and goes tumbling to the ground. Tammy gasps, and she and Shane sprint over. It is clear, at least to Shane, that no damage has been done. Both kids are lying there laughing, Gracie bouncing up and down on top of her cousin. Tammy, nonetheless, immediately tears into her nephew.
“You stupid idiot, Vern, why don’t you watch what you’re doing!”
“Sorry, Aunt Tammy. I got tangled up.”
“Sorry don’t cut it, boy. You mighta hurt Gracie.”
“No, I was careful, I made sure she landed on top of me.”
“You was lucky, that’s all. Clumsy galoot. I got a mind to take my belt to you.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Gracie tries to intervene. “I’m okay, Mama. Vern made sure I didn’t get hurt.”
“What are you talking about, child? It’s Vern that done sent you tumbling.”
As Shane helps the children up, he sees a chance to play peacemaker. “Nobody’s hurt, and that’s the important thing, right, kids?” They both nod. He wraps an arm around Vern’s shoulders. “Hey, you looked good out there, bud. You’re pretty darned fast. Felt that in your legs, though, didn’t you?”
“Sure did.”
“Well, keep it up and you’ll build up the ol’ quads and glutes in no time.” He sees Tammy about to say something and hastens to intercept. “But you heard your aunt — you have to be extra ca
reful whenever you’re carrying Gracie. She’s precious cargo.”
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, really I wouldn’t.”
He squats down to meet Gracie eye to eye. “That was fun, huh?”
“Uh-huh. He was fast, almost like a real pony.”
“See, what did I tell you? Well, maybe you can do it again … but only if your mom doesn’t object.”
All eyes are on Tammy. She knows when she’s outgunned. “Oh, heck, I guess it weren’t no big thing, but for land’s sake, children, be careful.”
Gracie remounts, and Vern gallops off again, albeit more slowly. The adults resume their stroll, but their words have dried up, and they walk the rest of the way in silence.
In the handful of hours before supper, Shane and Vern make excellent progress on the electrical upgrade of the stable. The exposed posts and beams of the building make stringing new wires easy, and the duo manage to get new fluorescent lights hung overhead and connected to a regulation replacement light switch. Shane watches with amusement and a little pride himself as Vern repeatedly flips the light switch on and off, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
After dinner, Shane coaxes the women out to the stable for the big reveal. He gives Vern the honour of switching on the lights, adding a “Ta-dah!” for emphasis. When Shane turns to read the reaction on Tammy’s face, he is disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm.
“Isn’t it great?” he asks. “Nice and bright. Vern did practically all the work himself.”
“Aw, heck, that ain’t true,” the boy demurs, but his grin runs ear to ear.
“I dunno. It’s awful bright,” Tammy answers. Shane actually sees Vern’s shoulders slump.
“That’s the idea,” Shane replies.
“Might disturb the critters.”
“They don’t seem any more riled up than normal to me.” He turns to Yolanda. “What do you think?”
The Chicana shrugs, which at least is not a condemnation of the idea.
“Don’t know what was wrong with the old ones,” Tammy persists. “They worked just fine. Don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m the one’s gonna have to pay the extra electricity costs.”