hesitated. “Whatever it was, I don’t remember anymore.”
But as I pushed out into the sunshine of the day I remembered all too well. My dad hadn’t always been an asshole, at least, he didn’t seem that way when I was a little kid. He’d taught me how to fish and use a rifle. How to spot a good horse and keep an old truck running. He’d grown disappointed in life. In me. At a certain point, I just didn’t measure up to his expectations anymore, and after that, most other stuff he wanted me to learn backfired on him.
I’d tuned him out when he went on his infamous tirades, whether they were about women or taxes or immigration. I’d turned a blind eye to the things I couldn’t change because arguing brought me nothing but pain.
If I took anything away from a childhood under his thumb, it was the determination to hide any weakness behind a thick veneer of indifference. To hide what I wanted, or what I loved, so he couldn’t take it away.
That
was a skill I was having trouble finding now, because I wanted something right then. The job. The man. I wasn’t indifferent, and if Lucho found out, he’d only use it against me.
When I returned to the barn Lucho still sat there, pale as paper.
His gaze met mine. “You ever go with your dad on one of his raids?”
“No. Never,” I lied. Heart pounding, mouth dry as corn starch, I left him sitting there to begin the next of my chores.
Chapter Eight
That night, it was already dark when I got home. Every muscle in my body ached. I’d worked in the barn and groomed the horses, fed both the sheep and the alpacas, ridden out with Eddie Molina to take a look at the herd, and finished up with a few things on the J-Bar honey-do list, including building a fancy-ass new chicken coop with Crispin.
Crispin had a lot of ideas. He wanted to look into other livestock like pigs and goats, which sounded bad enough, but then he started talking about ostriches too, for God’s sake. As if he was planning on building Noah’s ark right there in the middle of the desert.
I talked to him for a while. After that, I never doubted he could do anything he wanted to do.
It seemed like Malloy was going to indulge him too. That man just looked like a love-struck kid while Crispin talked and talked. He was game for most of Crispin’s outlandish ideas, but I guess I understood that, because when Crispin explained things, he had a way of making a believer out of you. At one point, he went off about honeybees and how they’re dying off all over the world, and how someone ought to do something about
that
instead of inventing coffeemakers that make a single cup at a time and fast-food tacos with snack-chip skins.
I wasn’t at all surprised when he asked me if I was allergic to bees
.
I’m not, that I know of.
“You were gone such a long time,” Ma said as soon as I passed through the door. “Did you see Speed Malloy? Did you get the job?”
“I wormed my way into a trial period at the J-Bar, yeah. Nothing’s definite yet.”
“I knew it. I knew that if anyone could look past—” She clasped her hands over her chest. “I knew Emma’s boy would be fair with you.”
“Don’t look too excited. I don’t have the job. I’m not even getting paid. I told them I’d work a couple days and then they could decide if I’m worth keeping on.”
“So you’ve been there all day? Have you eaten anything?”
“They fed me lunch.” All I wanted was a shower and my bed, but Ma pulled a covered dish out of the oven.
“Lucky I kept this warm for you, just in case.” The minute she lifted the cover my stomach tried to turn inside out. I’d been hungry before, but at the smell of my ma’s smothered steak and biscuits, I almost blacked out from longing.
“Smells good.”
“Of course it does. I made it special, because I know it’s one of your favorites.”
“Thank you.” I managed to lift fork to mouth enough times to clean my plate. I’m still not sure how. I kissed Ma’s
But as I pushed out into the sunshine of the day I remembered all too well. My dad hadn’t always been an asshole, at least, he didn’t seem that way when I was a little kid. He’d taught me how to fish and use a rifle. How to spot a good horse and keep an old truck running. He’d grown disappointed in life. In me. At a certain point, I just didn’t measure up to his expectations anymore, and after that, most other stuff he wanted me to learn backfired on him.
I’d tuned him out when he went on his infamous tirades, whether they were about women or taxes or immigration. I’d turned a blind eye to the things I couldn’t change because arguing brought me nothing but pain.
If I took anything away from a childhood under his thumb, it was the determination to hide any weakness behind a thick veneer of indifference. To hide what I wanted, or what I loved, so he couldn’t take it away.
That
was a skill I was having trouble finding now, because I wanted something right then. The job. The man. I wasn’t indifferent, and if Lucho found out, he’d only use it against me.
When I returned to the barn Lucho still sat there, pale as paper.
His gaze met mine. “You ever go with your dad on one of his raids?”
“No. Never,” I lied. Heart pounding, mouth dry as corn starch, I left him sitting there to begin the next of my chores.
Chapter Eight
That night, it was already dark when I got home. Every muscle in my body ached. I’d worked in the barn and groomed the horses, fed both the sheep and the alpacas, ridden out with Eddie Molina to take a look at the herd, and finished up with a few things on the J-Bar honey-do list, including building a fancy-ass new chicken coop with Crispin.
Crispin had a lot of ideas. He wanted to look into other livestock like pigs and goats, which sounded bad enough, but then he started talking about ostriches too, for God’s sake. As if he was planning on building Noah’s ark right there in the middle of the desert.
I talked to him for a while. After that, I never doubted he could do anything he wanted to do.
It seemed like Malloy was going to indulge him too. That man just looked like a love-struck kid while Crispin talked and talked. He was game for most of Crispin’s outlandish ideas, but I guess I understood that, because when Crispin explained things, he had a way of making a believer out of you. At one point, he went off about honeybees and how they’re dying off all over the world, and how someone ought to do something about
that
instead of inventing coffeemakers that make a single cup at a time and fast-food tacos with snack-chip skins.
I wasn’t at all surprised when he asked me if I was allergic to bees
.
I’m not, that I know of.
“You were gone such a long time,” Ma said as soon as I passed through the door. “Did you see Speed Malloy? Did you get the job?”
“I wormed my way into a trial period at the J-Bar, yeah. Nothing’s definite yet.”
“I knew it. I knew that if anyone could look past—” She clasped her hands over her chest. “I knew Emma’s boy would be fair with you.”
“Don’t look too excited. I don’t have the job. I’m not even getting paid. I told them I’d work a couple days and then they could decide if I’m worth keeping on.”
“So you’ve been there all day? Have you eaten anything?”
“They fed me lunch.” All I wanted was a shower and my bed, but Ma pulled a covered dish out of the oven.
“Lucky I kept this warm for you, just in case.” The minute she lifted the cover my stomach tried to turn inside out. I’d been hungry before, but at the smell of my ma’s smothered steak and biscuits, I almost blacked out from longing.
“Smells good.”
“Of course it does. I made it special, because I know it’s one of your favorites.”
“Thank you.” I managed to lift fork to mouth enough times to clean my plate. I’m still not sure how. I kissed Ma’s
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