“Next thing you know you’ll be writing that cowboy poetry,” Jeanette said, aiming the big truck with one gloved hand on the steering wheel.
“Oh, I could write some,” I replied, then fell silent, pretending to be lost in my thoughts although I was really thinking about her and the poem she was all by herself.
“Mike, I forgot about a meeting with the Independence Day organizers this morning in town,” she said. “I want you to go with me and pick up some fencing supplies while I’m talking to the committee. I’ve got a list for you.”
“I’m supposed to go out with Ray to look for the fossil hunter,” I reminded her.
“Well, I need you more than he does. Ray knows how to take care of himself.”
I chose not to argue. When we reached the gate, she braked, I sat, and she looked over at me. I was reminded of the old joke about three cowboys in a truck all dressed the same. Which one is the real cowboy? The answer is the one in the middle so he didn’t have to get out and open and close the gates. Well, I was a real cowboy but I was riding shotgun so I got out and opened the gate and Jeanette drove through while I doffed my hat to her. I closed the gate and took my time getting back into the truck. She looked over at me. “You were a little slow,” she said. “The big truck probably burned a quart of gasoline waiting for you.”
“Take it out of my pay,” I said.
“I just might,” she replied and I knew there was a fair chance she would. Bandying words with Jeanette was never a good idea, especially when it came to money.
When we got back to the turnaround, Ray was up and saddling Nick with an audience of one, that being Amelia Thomason. Her daddy’s truck sat nearby. Wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, cowgirl boots, and a hat with furled edges, she was a teenage cowboy’s dream. “Morning, Amelia,” I said and she looked over her shoulder and gave me a sweet smile.
“Morning, Mr. Wire. Ray won’t let me ride with him.”
“Why not, Ray?” I asked.
“Because she’ll talk my head off. That’s all she’s good for.”
I made an executive decision worthy of Dear Abby. “Take Dusty,” I said to Amelia, nodding toward a gray mare. Dusty was a gentle soul and I knew Amelia had ridden her before. Anyway, Dusty never minded a walk. She was one of those horses quietly curious about nearly everything. I’d seen her one time ponder a herd of antelope for nearly an hour without so much as dropping her head once to munch a blade of grass.
Ray frowned at me, a disappointment considering I’d just made a date between him and the prettiest girl in Fillmore County. “Well, get on in here,” he said, finally. “Dusty’s not gonna saddle herself.”
Since Ray didn’t seem prone to do so, I thought it best to fill Amelia in on what had happened the day before. “Whoever did it could still be out there,” I concluded.
She looked over at Ray who was fussing with Nick’s tack and pretending to ignore her. “I trust Ray to take care of me,” she said.
Ray proved it by going into the house and coming back with a pistol. It was a .38 Police Special. He handed it to Amelia who expertly checked it, then tucked it away in a saddle bag. Ranch kids.
“What’re you packing?” I asked Ray.
“Granddaddy’s forty-four,” he answered,
“That ought to do it.”
Amelia finished saddling Dusty, then climbed aboard. Ray got on Nick and I opened the pen gate for them, then the gate that led out to Blackie Butte and the BLM. “Take it slow, look around, you see someone you don’t know, don’t approach him. Observe only,” I said.
“What if he’s cutting our fence?”
“Pop off a round in the air. Try to chase him off. Then get out of there.”
Amelia said, “Daddy would shoot anybody cutting our fences.”
“Well, let’s not shoot anybody today, OK? I mean not unless you have to.”
“I thought you were going with me,” Ray said.
“I’ll be out a little later. Right now, your mom wants me to drive her into town.”
Jeanette came outside. “Mike, you ready?”
“Give me a second,” I said. I closed the gate behind Ray and Amelia, and watched as they made their way up the track, looking easy in the saddle, not surprising since both were practically born there.
“Mike,” Jeanette said.
“Yes ma’am, right away, ma’am,” I said, touching my hat to her.
A minute later, we were headed to town in Bob the pickup. “Road’s all dried out,” I said as I drove us off the Square C onto Ranchers Road.
“Yep,” Jeanette answered, then made a show of opening a folder to study the papers within. We didn’t share another word all the way to Jericho, which was nearly an hour away. Well, that’s kind of a Fillmore County thing, too. Shut up and drive.