The Brave

by Nicholas Evans

  "You're very quiet tonight," she said. "Are you okay?"

  "Just tired, I guess."

  She smiled down at him and stroked his hair.

  "Look at you. You've gone completely blond."

  "How much longer are we going to be here?"

  "Two more weeks. Then all we have left to do are the interiors, back at the studio. Why? Aren't you having a good time?"

  Tommy nodded.

  "I'm sleepy now."

  She kissed him on the cheek and told him she loved him and said goodnight.

  Not long after she'd gone downstairs, he heard Ray come in and call to Diane that he was going up to take a shower. He peeped into Tommy's room but Tommy pretended to be asleep. Later he heard the two of them laughing in the living room and later still, when they had come upstairs, he heard them in their bedroom, heard the thumping of the bed against the wall, heard Diane cry out and Ray telling her to hush. Just as he'd told Leanne. Tommy blocked his ears and when at last silence fell upon the house, he lay for a long time, staring at the ceiling, hating Ray and feeling foolish for ever having liked him.

  It had only lately occurred to Ray that the funny thing about power was that the ones who most flaunted it didn't always have it. These big-shot producers and directors wanted you to think you owed them everything, that you should be down on your knees kissing their goddamn boots for hiring you, that at a moment's notice they could fire you, just on a whim, and get some other sucker instead. But it was all bullshit, because they knew damn well that if they did fire you, they were basically admitting to the fat-assed suits back at the studio that they'd screwed up. And then the trades and the gossip vultures would get a whiff of it (nothing in Hollywood had such a pungent smell as failure) and they'd write it up and, lo and behold, the picture was dead on its feet and being flushed down the john before anybody even had a chance to see it.

  The truth was that if you stood up to them, the bastards didn't have any power at all. And, thank God, Ray had understood this just in time. For the first two weeks, he'd allowed that little schmuck Redfield to trample all over him, let him humiliate him in front of everyone, sat across the table from him and Herb Kanter (who was just as bad, but came on like some kind of friendly fucking uncle, making out to be all warm and supportive) and listened to them ripping him apart, basically telling him he was no good, couldn't act to save his life and should have stuck to TV where he belonged. Of course, that wasn't how they'd phrased it. No, it had all been couched in the usual bullshit about the character's motivation, the writer's intention, the subtext. Well, fuck all that. Fuck the lot of them. The subtext was that they couldn't fucking fire him or they'd fuck the whole fucking picture.

  As soon as he began to stand up for himself, they didn't know how to handle it. If Redfield asked for another take when Ray thought the last one was fine, he didn't let it get to him, just ignored the notes and did it again exactly the same until the little shit gave up. It worked fine. Soon the guy didn't bother. Oh sure, Ray saw him sigh, saw the little looks of resignation, but so what?

  He didn't bother to see the dailies anymore, which had no doubt come as a relief to Redfield, but he'd seen enough to know that what he was doing was okay on screen. Hell, it was more than okay. The fight scene with John Grayling was terrific. Ray had failed to pull his punch on the last take and the look of genuine shock on the little faggot's face was priceless. His jaw still showed the bruise. And the love scene in the hay with Diane had nearly set the goddamn barn on fire. He hadn't needed any lectures about motivation that day.

  How things stood between them in real life was another matter. The one thing he'd never have guessed about Diane was that she'd turn out to be frigid. Things in that department had always been electric. For more than a year they'd hardly been able to keep their hands off each other. She'd always wanted it just as much as he did, if not more. Even better, she wanted it in ways women generally didn't.

  The mistake, of course, was getting married. It was so damn predictable. Get hitched and in no time at all sex flew out the window. Oh sure, they still did it now and again. On those rare occasions when she wasn't too tired. But even then it wasn't how it used to be. All he could say was thank the Lord for that wicked little filly Leanne. There was a dark horse if ever there was one. Only eighteen and knew more tricks than a Vegas hooker.

  They'd had to be pretty damn careful though. There had been more than a few close shaves. Diane had nearly caught them a couple of times back at the house when he thought she was still on set or gone to a meeting. And then the other evening when Ray didn't know that Tommy and Cal were out with the horses and they rode right in and nearly caught him and Leanne rocking the trailer off its springs. Ray had stuffed a lot of dollars into the pocket of the old drunk who guarded the gate and later gave him a good bawling out for failing to warn him.

  As for Tommy's infatuation with Cal, Ray didn't know what to think. To begin with it had gotten on his nerves, even made him feel jealous. But then he only had himself to blame. He'd been so obsessed with his own problems with Redfield that he hadn't been able to pay the kid enough attention. But Cal was a decent enough guy, for a half-breed anyhow, and Tommy was enjoying himself and learning all kinds of new things. And of course the arrangement had the dividend of freeing up the lovely Leanne, so Ray wasn't going to make any kind of fuss about it. Anyhow, it was all soon going to be over. One more week and they'd be wrapping and heading home to LA to shoot the studio stuff.

  It was Sunday night and Ray's call wasn't until the following afternoon. Diane's was first thing in the morning and she was already in bed preparing the last scene she had to do with Grayling. Leanne was going to be down at the Hungry Horse and Ray had promised to meet her there. With luck and a little shrewd footwork, maybe they'd be able to slip away down to the trailer. He felt a twitch in his pants at the thought of her. He'd just showered and put on a new white shirt and his black jeans and was giving himself a final scan in the bathroom mirror. Hell, was he one handsome sonofabitch or what?

  He switched off the light and went to the bedroom door and stood watching Diane. She was in bed, propped up with pillows, wearing her little reading glasses and scribbling notes in the margins of her script. Like a fucking schoolmarm. She was so goddamn diligent, it was tiring. She looked up and saw him and smiled.

  "You're going out?"

  "Yeah, it's Denny's birthday. The boys are having a few beers down the double H. I said I'd drop by."

  He kissed her on the forehead.

  "I won't be late."

  He parked the car at the end of the street and walked along the sidewalk. He liked to do this because sometimes there were kids who knew him from Sliprock and they'd mob him and ask for his autograph. They all knew the little Red McGraw trademark, making guns of their fingers and blowing off the smoke. Tonight they didn't seem to be about. But everyone he passed recognized him and some of them smiled or nodded and he smiled back regally and tipped the brim of his hat.

  He was about halfway along the street when he saw the group of young Indian guys. They often hung around outside the double H and clearly thought they were the coolest dudes in town. And here they came, four of them, smoking and slouching along with their hangdog faces. Hell, didn't anyone ever teach these lazy punks how to smile?

  It was as if they heard him thinking, for, on cue, they started to smirk at him. They were directly in front of him and blocking the sidewalk and showed no intention of making space for him to pass. One of them muttered something and the others laughed and Ray knew he was the object of some snide joke. But he wasn't going to rise to the bait. He nodded at them and stepped aside and three of them pushed past him. The fourth, however, stood his ground.

  "Hey, Red," he said sarcastically.

  The others had stopped and turned to watch. One of them sniggered. Ray looked steadily at the one who'd spoken to him and nodded.

  "Evening," he said.

  The kid took a last puff of his cigarette and flicked it
away into the street. Looking Ray directly in the eye, he slowly lifted his hand and made the Red McGraw gun except that the barrel consisted of only one finger—the middle one. He blew a lungful of smoke at it and grinned. And Ray felled him with a straight left to the chin.

  Then it was mayhem, the other three were on him and one of them had a bottle and would have cracked it over Ray's head if he hadn't seen it coming and gotten in first with a good kick in the balls. The kid groaned and doubled up but the other two kept at him and one of them had some muscle and got him in a kind of bear hug from behind while his shitty little Injun friend got a couple of good punches in. Then Chico and Denny and some of the other construction guys came bursting through the swing doors of the double H and set about the little fucks and gave them a damn good hiding, maybe a little too good because when the dust settled one of them was out cold and the other had a broken jaw.

  A police car came and hauled off the two still standing and an ambulance took the other two. They wanted to take Ray as well but he told them he was okay. He looked worse than he was. His new white shirt was covered in blood but his nose had stopped bleeding and didn't seem to be broken, just a little tender. The guys took him inside and Chico gave him a bottle of Jim Beam and a Hungry Horse T-shirt to wear and everybody gathered around to hear what had happened. Leanne, the little honey, fetched a bowl of warm water and a towel and cleaned him up.

  Someone must have called Herb Kanter because soon he was there too, clucking around like an old mother hen and asking questions everyone already knew the answer to. Ray made him sit down and have a drink and in no time at all everything was fine and calm and cool again. When Herb had gone, Denny and Ray slipped out the back and smoked a joint and by the time they came back inside Leanne had disappeared but so had Ray's inclination and his nose had begun to throb, so he said goodnight and walked unsteadily to his car and drove home.

  He was woken earlier than he would have chosen by Diane screaming like a banshee. He'd bled again in the night all over his pillow and she was standing there with Tommy gawping down at him.

  "What on earth happened?"

  He made light of it and tried to do so again when the young deputy arrived from the county sheriff's office to interview him, accompanied by Herb Kanter. The deputy was young and earnest and very nervous. He claimed to have evidence that Ray had struck the first blow, which Ray naturally denied. Eventually the poor kid seemed to run out of steam and just sat there looking a little sorry for himself. As he walked him out to his truck, Herb put an arm around the boy's shoulders and said something that seemed to cheer him up. He drove away with a smile and a wave. When Herb came back into the house, Ray asked him what he'd said.

  "Just promised him a pair of tickets to the premiere."

  Maybe there was something to be said for producers after all.

  Cal arrived just twenty minutes before Frank Dawson was due to pick them up and drive them out to the airstrip. Their bags stood ready in the hallway. While she was packing the last few things and tidying the house, Diane had kept looking out the window and wondering whether Cal had forgotten his promise to come say goodbye. Then she saw his truck approaching along the dirt road, a cloud of red dust drifting away behind it.

  "Tommy! Cal's here."

  They'd said most of their goodbyes last night at the wrap party. It had been a lot of fun. Even Ray had seemed to enjoy it. He'd danced with her and been kind to her, much more like his old self, though what had gone wrong between him and Tommy she still couldn't fathom. Tommy never spoke to him anymore unless he absolutely had to. Ray was as mystified as she was. But every time she asked Tommy what the matter was he just got moody or cross and said it was nothing, everything was fine.

  At the party Diane had handed out the gifts she'd bought for the crew and the other members of the cast and she was touched by how many she received in return. They all said how much they'd enjoyed working with her and how they would miss Tommy. He'd become a sort of mascot for the production. Herb Kanter presented him with a clapper board with T. Bedford, Wrangler written on it.

  Tommy had stayed up until after midnight with all the women on the movie vying with one another to dance with him. Where the boy had learned to do the twist like that Diane had no idea. It was a revelation. She'd never seen him so uninhibited. The downside was how hard it had been to get him out of bed this morning. Every time she went up to wake him he just groaned and rolled over. Now at last he was up and (she hoped) getting dressed. Ray had just gone into town saying he had to get some cigarettes. There was a full pack on the sideboard where he always kept them. Somehow he must have missed it.

  "Tommy! Did you hear me?"

  "Coming."

  Diane opened the front door and the two of them stood shielding their eyes from the glaring sun and watched Cal pull up and get out of the truck. He waved and started walking up the steep path toward the house. He'd been there at the party, of course, along with everybody else. Diane had kept hoping he might ask her to dance but he hadn't. She was going to ask him but the chance never arose. Tommy was going to miss him badly. And so was she.

  "Hi. I'm sorry I'm late."

  "We'd almost given up on you."

  He was standing in front of them now. He had a brown paper grocery sack under one arm. He took off his hat and smiled and Diane asked him if he'd like a cup of coffee and he followed them into the house, through the hallway and into the kitchen. He put his hat and the package on the table and sat down while Diane made some fresh coffee.

  "Well, Tom, did you enjoy the party? Sure looked that way."

  "It was okay."

  "Okay for you maybe. You were the only guy the gals wanted to dance with."

  "Oh, you didn't seem to be doing so badly yourself," Diane said. "Some of us couldn't get a look in."

  "Wranglers don't get to dance with the belle of the ball."

  "Seemed more like the other way around."

  He looked at her and smiled. And for a moment there was a connection between them. In his eyes, a kind of tender sadness that she hadn't before seen. She turned away and busied herself with the coffee.

  "So, where's Ray?"

  "Gone to get some cigarettes. He'll be back in a minute."

  Tommy asked how long it would take to trailer all the horses back to LA and Cal said they were going to take it easy, over a few days, because of the heat.

  "How soon can we start riding up at your place again?"

  Cal didn't answer right away and when Diane looked at him she could see something was wrong.

  "Cal? What is it?"

  "I was going to tell you before. But a couple of days ago I had a phone call from Don Maxwell. He's selling up. He had three people bidding for the land and the price went so high he said only a fool would turn it down. So... that's the end of the ranch."

  "He can't do that!" Tommy said.

  "Unfortunately he can, Tom. He owns the whole thing. It was going to happen sometime, we always knew."

  "What will you do?" Diane said. "Can you find some other place? There are other ranches where they shoot movies, aren't there?"

  "Oh, sure. Iverson's, Disney. Thing is, Diane, I'm not sure I want to do this kind of work anymore."

  "What will you do instead?"

  "Go back up to Montana. Give my daddy a hand. He and my mom are getting on a little. They could do with the help. And there's a place for me there and plenty of space for the horses."

  Tommy just sat there staring at him. He looked stunned.

  "When?"

  "When what, son?"

  "When will you go away?"

  "Oh, I don't know. It'll take a month or so to sort things out. The bulldozers'll be moving in come early fall. I want to be out by then. Not too keen on seeing that happen."

  He smiled at Diane.

  "Any danger of that coffee?"

  As she poured it they heard Ray's car arrive and a few moments later in he came, all bright and loud and chirpy, slapping Cal on the back and ruffli
ng Tommy's hair. Tommy didn't even acknowledge him.

  "Hey, what's up?" Ray said, looking at them all. "Somebody die?"

  "Did you know about Cal's ranch being sold?" Diane said.

  "Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Terrible, ain't it? Still, there's other places—"

  "He's going back to Montana."

  Ray looked at Cal.

  "Really? You didn't tell me that. You mean you're giving up the stunt work and all?"

  Cal nodded.

  "Who the hell's going to be my stunt double?"

  Before he left, Cal gave them what was in the grocery bag. There was a gift for each of them, wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with red string. Tommy asked if he could open his right there and then and Diane said of course. For Ray he'd bought a belt buckle with Medicine Springs on it and for Tommy a Navajo pipe carved from an antler and decorated with fur and feathers and turquoise beads. They both thanked him. Cal said the pipe had been carved by the old man who'd told him how to find the rock paintings.

  "Don't you go smoking it, mind, until your mom says you can."

  Diane's gift was a polished red rock with two silhouettes painted on it in a deeper red, exactly like those they had seen on the mountain.

  "It's beautiful," she said simply, turning it in her hands.

  She felt foolish tears welling so she put it down on the table and swiftly left the room, calling over her shoulder that they had something for him too. She'd left it with the bags in the hallway and she stood there a moment, rubbing her eyes and telling herself sternly to get a grip.

  Diane had taken the photograph herself on one of their late-afternoon rides then had it printed in town and found a frame of gnarled pinon that fit perfectly. The picture showed Tommy and Cal sitting side by side on their horses with the mountains behind them and their faces aglow with the evening sun. They were smiling at the camera and Cal had his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

  "It's from us all," Ray said.

  It wasn't true but Diane didn't bother to say so. Cal knew. He stared at it for a long moment then nodded and looked only at her.