by Jade Cary
It was dark as pitch, no moon, and the only light came from a fire down by the creek about two hundred yards from the calving barn. A long motor home had been set up, and the shimmering light from the flames danced over the silver Airstream like water rippling on a lake. I coaxed Mugs down the dirt road, not feeling good about it. A horse out at night could fall into a hole or any number of things and break a leg. I kept to the road. I wanted to be near the people to whom the ranch and its critters meant something. I wanted to commiserate with like-minded people; I wanted to get riled with someone.
I turned Mugs down a narrow road, their laughter guiding me in the quiet night. A glow sat on top of the Madison Range like a halogen bulb, the sun having fallen behind the purple mountains a good hour prior. Still, I knew that with the light of the fire, it was hard to see beyond it and into the dark, and the men could not see me coming. I didn’t want to startle them, but I also didn’t want to intrude at an inopportune moment. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. I hadn’t meant to spy, but when their laughter died down and voices got low, I stopped. And I listened.
“Sumbitches tried this shit over at the Lonesome Dove Ranch in Gallatin,” one said. “Started a fire that almost took the main house and barns.”
“Christ,” said another. “I know who’s behind this.”
“We all do; we just can’t prove it.” That was Collin. “Jed’s a lawyer, and he’s afraid of losing the ranch if we take action over something we can’t prove.”
“He ain’t wrong, Collin,” said a deep-throated man, whose voice I did not recognize.
“I know,” said Collin after a long pause. “What they do is set themselves up on parts of the ranch that aren’t tended to, and they watch, and they wait.”
“You think so?” said the same man.
“Shit yeah. Dev. I’d bet my life savings on it.”
Dev. I’d met him at the viewing, spoke to him briefly at the funeral, and not much since. I didn’t even know what he did on the ranch. I remembered the voice, like he’d had a life of too much whiskey and too many packs of Lucky Strikes.
“It’s how they got to our cattle,” said a man whose voice I could pick out of a crowd at a Slipknot concert. He was new to the ranch; I recognized the Texas drawl. He’d eyed me like a cat eyes a bowl of cream, and while he was handsome as sin, he made me nervous.
“They know the layout of the place.” Dev again. “Heard tell that’s how they started the fire at the Dove.”
“Who you hear that from?” asked Collin.
This Dev paused a long time before he spoke again. “Couple hands down at Sorry Joe’s was tallkin’. Maybe they know nothin’. I’m just repeatin’.”
“So, how you think they got to the feed?” Texas asked. “You think they just came on up in here and tossed some rat poison in the silo?”
“Nah. That feed came from the Culver,” Dev said.
“How the hell you know that?” Collin said. “We had so much left from the third cutting I know we kept a lot of that here at the Asher.” The Culver was Collin’s responsibility, and the venom in his words startled me. I’d never heard him speak like that. I didn’t like it.
“Well,” Texas said after a time. “They’ll slip up, and then we’ll have their asses.”
“Like you give a shit, Clay. You’re gone after next pay day.”
Texas Clay stood. “Don’t be too sure, boys. I kinda like it here.”
He walked my way and started to undo for a pee when Mugs snuffled and Texas Clay looked up into the dark and almost fell backwards.
“Sorry,” I said, coming into the light.
“Chandler, is it?” He didn’t bother to replace his parts.
“You know it is,” I said.
“What’s that?” Collin stood. “That you, Dutch? What are you doin’ out here in the dark? You know better’n to take a horse out here with no moon, young miss. Get that goddamn snake back in your pants, numbnuts. You got a lady here.”
“I was careful, and I’ve seen snakes more vicious than that in the toy section at the drug store, so do with it what you wish, Tex.” They all laughed and Texas Clay grumbled off behind the Airstream to do his thing. “Hi, boys. Didn’t want to interrupt. I was down at the calving barn checking on our heifer.”
“She’d been doin’ well. You see the same?” Collin asked. The men set their libations down and stood, nodding to me or tipping their Stetsons.
“I did, yes sir.” I swung off Mugsy. “May I join you fellas?”
“Hell yes, girl. Step on up here,” Jack Blue said. He was the only man who hadn’t spoken during the conversation I heard. Jack Blue was seventy-five if he was a day and, like Collin, was an old hand, a part of the Asher Ranch that was imbedded like untilled dirt. He was skinny, bow-legged and slightly stooped, but the man could rope a calf and lead a cattle drive better than anyone I’d ever met. He was an expert horseman, and he adored my father like a brother. They’d been a team for fifty years. I saw him cry at my father’s funeral, and guessed it was the first time since he’d been in short pants.
“Thanks, Jackie,” I said, taking a bottle of Ol’ Willies Whiskey from his gnarled hand and taking a swig. It was smooth, and I didn’t even wince. The men liked that.
“How much you hear of all this, young Miss Dutch?” said Jack.
“Enough.” I wasn’t going to lie. Most of these men had known me since before I could walk, and they deserved my respect. “Sorry again. I wanted to come in at a lull in the talk but it never came.” I took another pull and handed the bottle back. Texas Clay came out of the dark and handed me a beer from a cooler sitting up against the Airstream. It was ice cold.
“Wet your whistle, pretty lady.”
“You wash your hands before you handled this beer, cowboy?”
He smiled and wiped his hand on his jeans. “How’s that, sweet cheeks?”
“Hey!” Collin chastised.
“I’m teasing,” he said. “Sorry Miz Asher.”
“I’ll take pretty lady over Miz Asher any day.” I lifted the bottle of beer in his direction and took a pull. I’d either kill this man with kindness or I’d do it in his sleep.
“Set a spell, darlin’,” Jackie Blue said, doing it before I had the chance. I pulled the cooler close to the fire and sat.
“What do you know?” I asked. They looked at each other and then at their shoes. “Please, be honest.”
Dev, who’d barely acknowledged me, stood.
“I’m gonna turn in.” He lifted his greasy trucker’s hat. “Chandler.”
“Night, Dev.” He walked to the Airstream, opened the door and went inside. Voices lowered, since we had a soldier drop out who obviously wanted to go to bed.
“Y’all going to answer me?” I pressed.
“Not much,” Jackie Blue said. “Your daddy said they’d slip up sooner or later, and I do believe they will. The best approach is to sit right tight and let that happen.”
We made small talk for another half hour before someone kicked dirt over the fire and the rest made their way to their respective trucks.
“Hey, pretty lady. I’ll light your way. Come on.” Texas Clay fired up his Ford F-150, Mugs and I meandering at his side.
“Stay wise, SoHo,” he said out his window as we made our way up the two mile road to the house. “Don’t get any ideas that you’re gonna save the world here. These fools mean business. You get me?”
“You fish, Texas?”
Clay laughed and it reached his eyes under the guise of joy. I wasn’t buying it. “You bet.”
“Twilight is the best time.”
“Yeup.”
“Yeup,” I repeated. The man had his eye on me and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him. Most importantly, I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that he knew more than he was saying. Not only that, but I believed he bore some responsibility for what was happening to us.
I was determined to find out, using the only thing I had at my disposal: me.
Tip
ping My Hand
“I’m going into town. Need anything?”
“I have a list,” Maria said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Why are you going into town?” Jed asked from the doorway to my father’s—now his—study.
“I need ladies essentials at the pharmacy. Would you like me to break it down for you?”
“No thanks,” said he. “The pharmacy, huh?”
“No worries. Your charming ex bimbo is safe from me.”
“So you’ve met Brenda,” Maria chimed in.
“Indeed. She is lovely,” I said.
“That’ll do.” Jed sauntered across the living room and snatched me off my feet in a boorish bear hug. He kissed my neck until I squealed. “Hurry back.”
“Por que?”
“I will miss you. That’s enough for now.”
“Hmmm.” Maria handed me the list and arched a brow at my boyfriend, which I started referring to him as to anyone who would listen.
I got into my new SUV, purchased shortly after I returned. It was pretty when I bought it—pearl white with burnt umber leather interior and a great stereo system. After a month of driving over dirt roads and along highways, it was filthy and had two chips in the front windshield.
I tore into town and parked in front of Big Sky Realtors, a block and a half from the pharmacy.
You will not, under any circumstances, confront these people, Chandler. Do you understand me?
I, of course, wasn’t confronting anyone. I was looking for a house for…someone.
An unassuming woman sat at the very front desk, and looked up when the doorbell chimed and I walked in. She greeted me, I greeted back, and she said to let her know if I had any questions. When five minutes passed and I had none, she came over to me and looked over my shoulder at the wall full of pictures of houses and land.
“Looking for anyplace special. That one there’s a beaut.” She pointed to a log home on a lake.
“It is. Are you an agent?”
“No.” Perfect. “The two that are in today are…” She snickered at herself. “…out at the moment.” She shrugged and snickered again as if that was the funniest bit of irony she’d ever heard.
“Well, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m just killing some time.”
“Well,” she said, “Go right ahead.” She waddled back to her desk.
“A guy I met…somewhere here in town mentioned you folks as being pretty knowledgeable about the area. How long have you been here in town?” I asked.
“Oh, about two years. Yeah, it’s a big place, the Madison Valley, but we’re learnin’.”
I studied the wall. At least two properties that showed as SOLD were owned by people I knew, and I knew they hadn’t sold a damn thing. Big Sky Realtor was trying to look legitimate, and was counting on people from out of town coming in here and not knowing any better.
“Do you have a book of listings?” I asked. This prompted her to get up again and come over to me.
“You know, with such a busy week here—oh, my yes, it was insane here in town—we ran out. Should get some by Monday. You here that long?”
It was November, hunting season over. It was as quiet as church on a Thursday here in town. This felt surreal. I grimaced and put on my best oh, no face. “Gosh, I’m not sure. As long as I can’t get listings, would you mind if I took a picture of your wall here? I’d love for my husband to see some of these properties when he comes in to town in a few days.”
“Well,” she said, “I don’t see why not, right?”
I shrugged and whipped out my camera phone and snapped away. In three shots, I had the whole wall. Now I could show Jed the obvious, that…oh, shit, no I couldn’t. My hind end would be laid out flat on Main Street for all to see if he found out I was in here. Well, I’d find someone to show these pictures to. And a quick check of all the online markets would show houses for sale and I could compare Big Sky’s listings to the actual truth. I should get the Sheriff and maybe the FBI interested. To be truthful, I had no idea who was in charge of what. I stared at a lovely piece of land that looked familiar to me, and then it hit me: it was the piece of land Jed talked about by Poppy Creek, on my land; the place these people approached my father about. The land with oil—or so Jed thought.
“This piece of land here, by this creek,” I began. “My, that’s pretty.” Jed’s voice clanged in my head.
You never want to tip your hand. You lay low and wait for them to make the mistake, which they always do.
What the hell was I doing?
“Yes. A hundred acres, I do believe. No price on that sheet but I can get it for you. Would you like to leave your name?”
“I’ll have my husband drop in. One more thing: is a man named Clay Seneca with your company—Texas fellow, I believe?” I turned toward the woman and standing in the doorway toward the back of the office was a man I had seen before, I just didn’t know where.
“Now, that’s a name I don’t recognize,” he said. “Jim Jarel.” He walked through the office, past desks and out a swinging half-door to shake my hand. “And you are?”
“Elizabeth Taylor.”
Jim Jarel laughed. “I can believe that, I suppose.”
“This lady…” my helpful companion began, but I stopped her cold. “I’ve got an appointment down the street but I’ll be back. Thanks so much.”
My heart didn’t stop thumping until I got to the pharmacy, and then started up again at the sight of the lovely Brenda. I looked forlornly across the street to the Long Branch and thoughts of tequila and a beer got me giddy. That ended immediately as a single hot line drifted across my ass, and then the whole thing went up in flames. Damn, Jed. He was right. I’d never be able to go in a bar again.
An Enemy Among Us
About a hundred head wandered over Shelling’s Pass, a grassy swath through Taylor Mountain where fire ripped through a section twenty years prior. It looked like a groomed ski slope in the winter and a large scar on the mountain by August. We’d had flurries the night before and a light dust kissed the north face. Jed, Maria, Carlos, myself and five hands packed enough gear to keep us warm at night and still allow us to wrangle cattle. On a cold morning the second week of November, we set off to fetch the herd, ten miles over the range. Depending on the depth of the snow we’d either run them down the other side to the Madison Valley and straight home once we found them, or down to highway 20 and several cattle haulers.
By now Charlie was comfortable on a horse as if he’d been riding in the womb, and Maria coming along on almost daily rides got him there in half the time than had she sat at home and baked. Maria had always been an accomplished horsewoman, and I learned after Charlie’s story not to judge the wisdom of a mother. I knew I’d be one someday and would appreciate that favor being returned.
I knew three of the five hands who accompanied us: Collin, Jackie Blue and Texas Clay.
“You sure that horse ain’t too much for you, SoHo?” Clay drawled as I got up on Wind Dancer. I wanted to see what the horse could do out on the range. I wanted to see how he’d handle. Mugsy, while obedient and smart, was not a range horse, a worker.
“Oh, shoot! I forgot my come-fuck-me pumps. Let me go grab them quick.”
“You got a mouth, girl,” Clay said, not smiling.
“Uh huh.”
“What was that all about?” Jed said, coming up along side me on Paul. We’d gone three or four miles across rangeland dusted with snow. We crossed Sheep Creek and a shallow part of the Madison before I even saw Jed, so focused was I on getting used to Wind Dancer and getting my bearings. So when he spoke, I had no idea what he was talking about. “Clay,” he said. “And your rather uncouth language.”
“I don’t like him.” It was out of my mouth before I checked to see if he was about. No reason to tip my hand just yet, as Jed seemed to suggest a time or two about a thing or two.
“Why not?”
“Just a feeling. I’ll know
more later.”
“He’s a good guy, Chan.” I nodded but I wasn’t convinced.
Charlie, atop Doolittle, looked longingly at me, then at the horse he’d petted, talked to and named. I didn’t need to ask how he was feeling; I knew.
“Let me see how he handles, honey, and then you can give him a try. Okay?”
He shrugged. “Think he’ll do okay?”
“’Course I do. He’s a special fellow, this one. You keep your eye out now. You ever been on one of these with Dad?”
“No.”
“Then you stick close to one of the fellas—Jackie Blue or Collin.”
He nodded and went up ahead, trotting alongside Jack.
As the sun set on the first day, we made camp. Fires were lit, tents were erected, and guns were loaded. We were in bear country and mountain lions were not unheard of either. We sat around a fire, ate, drank a little, told tall tales, and then turned in after the sun disappeared. I didn’t sleep well, despite Jed’s reassuring arms and extremely warm hands. I lay awake listening to the coyotes and the cadence of men’s snores until right before sunup, when I finally fell asleep for an hour.
We came upon our first batch of twenty early the next morning about half a mile through Clement’s Gulch. We got busy, and while I rode behind reluctant cows to bring them together, I watched my brother follow the lead of the men who would now be his teachers. Jed and the other five took turns riding along side Charlie, coaxing and correcting, until they sat back like crows on a fence and watched him round a herd of angus into a tight circle and push them out of the gulch and back onto the range. They cheered and clapped each other on the back as if they’d given birth to the boy themselves. Charlie grinned like he’d been born to it. He had. So had I.
By that night, we had all but fifteen head, and Jed, Texas Clay and I decided we’d send the rest home with the herd while we looked for the stragglers in the morning. Charlie begged to stay with us. He had school the next day so his mother was reluctant, but the men scoffed, reminding her that he’d not remember ninth grade but he’d always remember this.