I took Felony back out into the field and thought through as many scary things as I could find. I thought about Gus getting sick, about getting thrown, about sex, about lunch with David and Robert, about bad snowstorms. I was confusing the hell out of the poor horse, but that was what I wanted. I’d clear my mind and he’d relax. I’d have to do this everyday for a while. My fear was, however, that all these things would cease to bother me. I gave Felony a rub on the neck, got off, loosened his girth, and walked him back to the barn.
FIVE
WEATHER WALLY on the radio called for periods of heavy rain, but it was the stiffness in Gus’s knees that had me believing it was coming. The breeze was bracing out of the northwest and I remembered seeing snow this early. I spent the morning getting the barns and paddocks ready for wet weather, digging trenches along the perimeters of shelters, filling in low spots, pretty much trying to forestall anything that nature was going to do anyway. The mule had gotten out again and spent the wee hours munching at the alfalfa bales. I put him in a stall in the barn and gave him a half feeding.
Back in the house, I found Gus sitting at the kitchen table, sewing a ripped shirt pocket. I absently studied the project over the old man’s shoulder. “You sew like I weld,” I said.
“Yeah, but I’m old.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride into town?” I asked. “I don’t plan to be there very long.”
“I’m sure. I’m gonna stay here and crank up the heat. Maybe that will make my knees feel better.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “Well, I’d better make myself presentable if I’m going to pick up a young lady.”
“Good luck,” Gus said. “With the getting-presentable part.”
The sky teased as I drove to Morgan’s. Emily was standing in her garden, surveying. She wore an apron that read Born to Be Old.
“Morning, Emily.”
Emily nodded.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Saying good-bye to everybody, my flowers,” she said. She looked at the sky. “Because as sure as dogs are smarter than people, it’s gonna snow.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It ain’t because of Weather Wally, I can tell you that. That idiot is calling for rain. That sky is full of snow.” She pointed up. “The hawks tell me. They’ve been circling all morning.”
Morgan came from the house and down the porch steps. “Don’t listen to her,” Morgan said. “Those hawks are always up there.”
“Yes and no,” Emily said. “So, where are you two off to?”
“We’re going to a rally in town,” I told her.
“What rally?”
“A gay and lesbian rally.”
Emily frowned. “What will they think up next? Well, have fun. Of course, that’s my general advice about everything.” She turned back to her garden. “Good-bye, gaillardia.”
In town, I parked my rig on a street off the main drag and we walked a short block to the square. Only a few people had begun to assemble. There were some blankets laid out on the lawn where box lunches waited. A couple of deputies stood near the entrance to the Town Hall, but they didn’t give the appearance of guarding the place. Deputy Hanks was strolling the sidewalk. The air had turned cold and most were wearing jackets. A podium was set on the landing halfway up the Hall steps. A television news crew from Casper was lazily putting together equipment, laying out cables and setting up tripods. Morgan and I were the first to sit on the thirty or so chairs that had been set up in uneven rows at the bottom of the steps.
“We’re early,” I said.
“We’re not that early,” Morgan said.
I shrugged. “This is really sad, isn’t it? For someone to get killed like that. To kill somebody any way is sad.”
Morgan looked around. “There are just few enough people to make this creepy. Maybe it’s the weather.”
“Maybe,” I said.
David and Robert came into view, turning onto the block.
I pointed with my eyes. “There’s David.”
Morgan turned to see. “Good-looking boys.”
The men were huddled together, in only light sweaters against the cold. They had come in September expecting the summer warmth to persist the way it might in other places.
“They must be freezing,” Morgan said.
“I suspect so.”
“Which one is David?”
“On the right.”
“Handsome,” she said.
“Well, he’s attached,” I said. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
“More or less.”
“I don’t know which is more insulting,” I said. “More or less.”
I stood and tried to catch David’s attention, but my wave went unnoticed. A couple of men rapidly approached David and Robert from the other side of the street. One was rangy with a shock of dark hair and the other was tall but stout. They wore jeans, boots, T-shirts, and no jackets. I observed David’s body stiffen and in the young man’s face, for the first time, I could really see Howard.
“What’s going on?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t know.” I had already started to move off in their direction, trying to run without running.
“John?” Morgan was frightened.
I could see but not hear the exchange of words. The rangy redneck pushed Robert, of a sudden, two open hands to the chest. Robert fell back a step or two and regained his balance.
The deputy, Hanks, was there before me, inserting his wide body into the middle of the trouble. By the time I got there, Hanks was shooing the rednecks away, roughly. He had his hands in the middle of their backs and had pushed them halfway across the street.
The man who had pushed Robert shouted out, “Faggot!” and Hanks gave him an extra shove that sent him to his knees. He got up, then loaded with his friend into a rusting, mid-seventies BMW.
I asked Robert if he was all right.
Hanks came loping back. “Sorry about that,” he said. It was a sincere apology, though it wasn’t clear whether he was apologizing for the actions of the thugs or for our village.
“Yeah, right,” Robert said sarcastically. His face was still red.
Hanks pulled away from us, then walked again toward the BMW. The wiry man put the car in gear and peeled away.
“Pigs,” Morgan said.
David put a hand on Robert’s shoulder, but he jerked back, twisting his body at the waist. Then he paced off, looked up at the sky and just screamed. Everyone up and down the street and in front of the Town Hall turned to the noise. Deputy Hanks’s back had been turned and the scream gave him a start. He pivoted to run back, but stopped. I waved the deputy off, letting him know that everything was under control.
David approached Robert again, stepped behind him, and put a hand on his back. Robert didn’t pull away this time.
“What kind of fucking place is this?” Robert asked. He shot a look at me. “Tell me.”
I felt embarrassed.
Just then, snow began to fall.
I looked at the sky, flat and gray, and a flake landed on my face and melted. When I looked back at Robert I saw that his eyes were moist. I turned away, afraid to make him self-conscious by noticing. The townspeople, what few had come, began to leave their seats. Others who had laid out blankets, folded up and started to depart as well. They had all been willing to brave the cold, but the snow was too much. The news crew was quickly disassembling their equipment while the reporter sat in the passenger side of the satellite truck having an animated conversation on his cellular phone.