Last of the Summer Tomatoes (8 page)

T
HE
next morning was more of the same: he awoke to the smell of bacon, ate a plateful of food, then helped Walt out in the barn. Sam was nowhere to be seen, although his truck was still parked in the drive.

“Sam’s sleeping in. He drove straight for six hours last night to get home. Figured he needed the rest.” Walt walked around a cow to look at Kyle’s work.

“Ah. Okay.”

“You okay, son? You were very quiet last night.”

“I… I didn’t mean to be rude but… he’s your son. I’m a stranger, and I didn’t know what to say.”

Walt nodded. “It’s okay. You’ll get used to our craziness sooner or later. It was sure a surprise to see Sam, though.”

“He’s your only child?”

Walt cleared his throat. “We have a daughter, Kristina. She doesn’t come around very often.”

“Oh, um, okay. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Sometimes parents and children don’t see eye to eye. Glenda holds out hope she’ll come around.”

“And you?”

“I try not to think about it. She keeps in contact with Sam. He tells us what she’s doing. Seems she had a child not too long ago. We hope….” Walt took his cap off and rubbed his head. “We hope her having her own child will help heal the rift. Glenda… she’s heartbroken she hasn’t seen her first grandchild.”

“Well, if she keeps in touch with Sam, that’s a good sign, right?”

Walt pursed his lips and looked away. “I hope so.”

The barn door opened; Sam stepped in.

“’Bout time you woke up, sleepy head.” Walt gave him a big hug.

“Hey, transitioning from school time to farm time takes time, ya know?” Sam grinned and ran his hand along one of the cows’ back. “They look great, Pops.”

“I’ve got great help. Kyle here learned real quick. Had him working by himself on the first day.”

“Really? You been on a farm before?”

Kyle found himself tongue-tied once again. His heart beat faster, and he hung his head down pretending to check the connections. “Uh, no. First time.”

“You must have an affinity for the cows, then. They can usually spot a newbie. City folk usually give off a vibe that they don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I… I like them. They’re peaceful.”

“Kyle even helped with the expectants. Felt his first in utero calf.”

“How’s that bunch doing?” Sam moved over next to Kyle, petting the cow as the milking machine ran.

“Got one ready to drop. We’ll need to check on her every few hours. I went out about 2 a.m. so we should head out there soon.”

“Guess I made it back just in time.” He looked down at Kyle. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a cow give birth?”

“Uh, no.”

“It’s quite a sight. Bloody, yes, but there’s nothing else quite like it. As Pops says, circle of life.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that last night. We had steak.”

“And you haven’t turned vegetarian yet?”

Kyle actually had to grin. He looked up, and stunning green eyes stared back. He wondered,
could he be?
Then shook it off. Someone like Sam, smart, handsome, and tall with sandy blond hair and very defined muscles, someone like him would have girls hanging all over him. But the stare… the stare made him think…. Then the cow kicked, and he fell over.

“You all right there?” Sam helped him back up.

“Yeah, sorry, think I might have pinched some sensitive area on her.”

“It happens. Pops, you ready to go out?”

“Give me a moment. Gonna check the weather on the computer first.”

“Pops loves his new weather program. I swear, before he got that, he was glued to the weather channel.”

“I guess it pays to know when it’s going to storm, huh?” Kyle did his best to not make eye contact. He felt he could stare at Sam for days, memorizing each laugh line, each bit of stubble he’d missed that morning, hell, even the curves in his ears. His artist’s eye didn’t miss anything, and he wanted to be able to draw him again, this time from a real memory, not a dream. Even if Sam was just a person he worked with… his artwork would become his love.

“Yeah. We’re not known for tornados or such, but we can get damaging hail, winds, and severe lightning. The cows can panic, causing damage to themselves and the fences. And the pregnant ones can lose their calves if they panic enough.”

“Wow, I had no idea.”

Sam stroked one of the cows. “They can be very skittish creatures. So can the horses, but not to the same extent.”

“I saw two horses when we went out to the expectant cows yesterday.”

“They don’t need much care, a brushing now and then, some oats when it’s cold. You know how to ride?”

“No. I think I remember a pony ride in Central Park when I was real young, but I’m not sure if it was real or a dream.”
Not like the dream I had of you….

“We’ve got a real tame one, ol’ Bess. If you want to learn, she’d be your horse.”

“Maybe. I know there’s a lot of work to be done.”

Walt came out of the office. “Storm system coming up from the southwest. Doesn’t look too bad, but I want the moms-to-be in the barn just in case. Help me round them up?”

“Sure. The dogs are out back?”

“Yep, haven’t let them out of the pen yet.”

Kyle stood up from the cow he’d attached to the machine. “You pen your dogs up? Thought they were supposed to be guard dogs as well.”

“They are, to an extent. We’ve had an explosion of coyotes; a pack killed two of Hotch’s herders last week. Figured I’d lock ’em up at night and install some motion-detection security lights. I’ve seen the lights pop on a couple of times when I first installed them. That made the dogs bark, hopefully scaring them off. Seems to work; haven’t seen much of them since, but better be safe than sorry. I also secured the chicken coop a bit better too. Watch the extra barbed wire when you go out to feed ’em, okay?”

“Will do, Pops. Does Hotch want to put together a hunting party?”

“He’s been making noises about it. I don’t blame him. He had two of the best herders out there. If we hear of another attack, we’ll probably go. You game?”

“Sure. How about you, Kyle? You ever hunt?”

“You mean like with guns?”

“How else do you hunt? Unless you’re a crossbow type.”

Kyle kept his attention to the next cow in line. “No, there’s no hunting in Manhattan.”

“Yeah, sorry, I keep forgetting. You seem… at home right now. Like you’ve been doing this for a while.”

Kyle shrugged. “I like this job, like the cows. They seem to like me.”

Walt looked over Kyle’s shoulder. “You have a good, light touch. They don’t like to be manhandled. You okay here while we go round up the five?”

“I guess so.”

“Just yell if there’s a problem. You know where the kill switch is. Glenda can help too. Remember, dial zero one on the phone.”

“Okay. I hope the cows are okay.”

“We get them in before the first round of thunder, we’ll be just fine.”

Walt and Sam headed out toward the large pen where the dogs were barking. A whistle later and the dogs were bounding toward the cows in the outer pasture.

Kyle went back to his thoughts as he processed each cow. Sam had seemed personable, nice, friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly. He shook his head. He knew he was looking for any sign of “gayness,” any little hint. He was desperate for it. After having that face in his dream, after experiencing that face and body touching him, loving him, he craved for that little blip on the gaydar. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t going to find it. Sam was the stereotypical all-American, hot-blooded cowboy, with a girl on each arm for the weekend. He was sure of it.

Before he knew it, clouds had blown in, and the wind picked up. He heard Walt and Sam yelling at the cows, herding them into the other barn. He looked out the window and saw Sam on a horse, he and the dogs working in a flawless tandem to move the cows into safety. It was a sight to behold, Sam atop that muscled beast, his thighs clenching, holding him upright as he maneuvered back and forth, keeping the cows in a group to the barn. He drew his attention away and back to the cows, lest he get out of sequence. He figured he probably needed to finish up quickly if there was a storm coming up.

Fifteen minutes later both Walt and Sam walked into the milking barn. Kyle was finishing up with the last cycle of cows.

“Good job, Kyle. We’ve got the main herd in the small pasture near the barn. If it gets too bad, they can be funneled in as well.” Walt headed into his office.

“The expectant ones okay?”

“Yep. I think we’ll have a new calf by the end of the day.” Sam brushed the dirt off his jeans.

Kyle’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“She seems to be in labor. Pops thinks the drop in barometric pressure has precipitated her labor.”

“That really happens?”

“Sure. The drop in pressure can affect everything, even your own blood pressure. Although it’s negligible.”

“Is that why my grandma gets cranky when it storms?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it can affect arthritis.”

“Interesting.”

“Hey, you want to help me secure the chicken coop? Make sure that new wire is holding?”

“Sure. Let me finish up this last one. She’s about done.”

Once the machine sounded, Kyle unhooked the cow and herded her out to be with the rest. Sam nodded toward the side door.

“Grab the pliers there on the wall, in case we need to fix a piece.”

Kyle looked over at the wall, not exactly sure which piece Sam wanted.

“The pincher looking one, top left. The red one.”

Kyle nodded and grabbed the appropriate tool. He followed Sam out the door. Sam was kneeling down next to the coop’s door.

“Damn, Pops was right. Look, here, these scratches. Coyotes.”

Kyle looked at the marks in the dirt. “How can you tell?”

“The paw prints over there? These nail marks? Too narrow to be a dog, so it’s either coyotes or fox, and since we’ve had the report of the coyotes, I’m going with them. Plus, they’re more brave around dogs; fox would be scared off by the barking, even if the dogs were caged.”

“Is the coop safe?”

Sam looked down one rail, then the next. “There’s one weak spot where it connects with the house. Help me secure it, will ya?”

Kyle handed the pliers to him.

“Okay, hold the two pieces together, let me twist them.”

Kyle did as he was told, and Sam twisted the wire. It was right then it started to rain, and the wire slipped, slicing a nasty cut across Kyle’s thumb. “Ow!”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Mom always said to carry one around. Now I know why.” He wrapped Kyle’s thumb. “Keep some pressure on it while I finish repairing this hole.” Sam gave the wire one more twist, then led Kyle into the other barn.

This barn was a more typical barn, one that Kyle had seen while doing his research. Stalls and hay, the five expectant cows, two of the dogs lying down near the door. A barn cat jumped up onto one of the bales of hay.

“Here, sit on the bale. Let me get the first aid kit.” Sam reached for the blue box on the wall. “You had a tetanus shot recently?”

“What’s a tetanus shot?”

“Damn. Sounds like we’ll be taking you to see the doc as soon as the storm passes.” Sam kneeled down in front of Kyle and took Kyle’s hand in his. He gently unwrapped the handkerchief. “Doesn’t look too deep, but as I said, you’ll need a tetanus shot.”

“Why? What is tetanus?”

“It’s an infection you can get from rusty metal. You should get one every ten years, well, that is if you’re going to be around rusty metal, I guess. But heck, you can step on a nail in the city, right? Preventative medicine.”

“But if I haven’t had one, will getting one now help?”

“Yeah, it will. It’ll knock it right out if it’s in there, and if it’s not, the shot prevents the next time.” Sam wiped the blood away and squirted some antibiotic ointment on it. He tenderly wrapped a bandage around it, careful not to jostle it too much, careful to make sure it stopped bleeding. Kyle flashed back to his mother, back BH, before Hank, back to when someone cared for him.

He had just turned seven; he had gotten a big boy bike for his birthday, and today was the day the training wheels came off. He remembered his dad there, swearing he’d hold on as Kyle pedaled, faster and faster, and soon he was flying, his dad yelling to be careful. It was freedom, total freedom for the first time, and the world was his—that is until he hit a pothole and flew over the handlebars, scraping both knees and elbows. In a flash both Mom and Dad were there, holding him and brushing his tears away as Band-Aids were applied. That was the last time he could remember anyone caring if he was hurt. Until now.

Sam finished with the bandage and was packing up the box. Kyle craved Sam’s hand on his for just a few more moments, but it didn’t come.

“You okay there? You look a little spacey. Don’t like the sight of blood? You may want to stay away from the birth, then; we can’t have you passing out.”

“No… it’s okay, blood doesn’t bother me. I was just… remembering.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a memory. You looked like you weren’t even here.” Sam placed the first aid box back on the wall just as a crack of thunder roared through the barn. “Gonna be a doozy. Hope Pops’ radar is still working. We might as well hunker down here until it’s over.” Sam plopped down next to Kyle. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Kyle shrugged. “Just remembering my mom and dad.”

“They probably miss you. Have you been able to call them since you got here?”

Kyle looked away. “Dad’s dead. Mom has her life now.”

“That’s cryptic. But hey, you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. We all have our secrets.” Sam rubbed his hands on his jeans. “So, you still in high school?”

“Just graduated. Heading to art school in the fall.”

“Art school, huh? My uncle was an artist.”

“I saw the paintings. He was good. What… what happened, if you don’t mind telling?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I was only fourteen, but it affected the whole family. Uncle Doug was an artist for the government. He did paintings of local landscapes that hung in the rest stops and government buildings.”