Rattlesnake (18 page)

Jimmy wasn’t used to detangling family connections, and it took him a moment to work out who her sister was. “Thank you. It was nice of Belinda to give me a chance. And thanks for letting me join you today. I don’t want to be any—”

Val smiled warmly and shook her head. “We’re glad to have you.” She looked around with a look of clear satisfaction. “This is what I used to dream of when I was a girl. A big family, big meals where everyone comes together. Friends to share with.” The contented smile was comfortable on her face, as if she wore it often.

It was a sharp contrast to Jimmy’s memories of his mother. Although she’d been only thirty-seven when she died—several years younger than he was now—she’d already looked wrinkled and dried up. She’d been tough and hard, and although Jimmy knew she must have smiled occasionally, he couldn’t remember it. Back when he was very young, so young he hadn’t yet accepted the folly of dreaming, he’d had fantasies of his mother finding a
good
man, one who loved her and the boys, one who treated Jimmy like the fathers on TV shows, with good humor and good advice. One who would make them a happy family.

Yeah, wishing was stupid. Only… Shane’s mother got what she wanted, didn’t she?

“I’m glad to be here,” Jimmy said to her.

She gave Shane a mock frown. “Are you going to stand there with that salad all day or are you going to get Jimmy some food?”

“Maybe he’s a vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian? You know we don’t take kindly to
those
people ’round these parts.” She couldn’t quite pull off faux outrage.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. There’s no way I’m going to say no to whatever Mr. Little has going on that grill.”

“Glad to hear it. And I’m Val and he’s Adam. We don’t much stand on ceremony at the ranch.” With another warm smile, she turned back to the house.

“She’s the best,” said Shane as he and Jimmy walked to the table. “You think the rest of my relatives are protective, but that woman would dance through hell itself to save any of us. She can castrate a bull calf, sew a kid’s costume on two hours’ notice, and finish the
New York Times
Sunday crossword.”

“She seems really nice.”

“She taught all us kids compassion. Not that Adam’s not a kind man, because he is. But he’s a true rancher, sparing with his words and never too keen on discussing anything touchy-feely. Mom’s the one who told all of us never to judge anyone else ’til you’ve walked in his shoes, because every one of us has a burden. And just ’cause you can’t see another person’s burden don’t mean it ain’t heavy.” He placed the salad on the table between a platter of garlic bread and a pot of baked beans. Then he grinned at Jimmy. “She taught us lots of other things too. Mom’s real enthusiastic about lessons. And don’t think you’re immune just because you ain’t related. Give her half a chance and she’ll be fixing your grammar or giving you wardrobe advice.”

Jimmy looked down at himself. Clean jeans and a clean gray sweatshirt. “Am I not dressed right?”

“Hell if I know. Mom says I’m hopeless at picking out clothes. I guess the cowboy genes outweigh the gay ones.” He picked up two plastic plates and handed one to Jimmy. “Hungry?”

Jimmy was. Under Shane’s guidance, he piled his plate high with a half-dozen different foods in a configuration that left room for a hefty serving of Adam’s grilled steak. Shane had just as much on his plate, and although he clearly had to concentrate hard to get back over the uneven ground to the table without spilling, nobody offered to help him. And it wasn’t because they didn’t care. Jimmy noticed that even the little kids were gentle when they hugged their uncle Shane, and they made an effort not to jostle him too hard. Jimmy understood. These people loved Shane enough to know he didn’t want coddling.

Jimmy sat at the table with Shane on one side and Pokey on the other. Pokey’s wife, Paula, was across from Jimmy, but his daughter was already gone. “Prob’ly off texting her friends,” Pokey said. “I swear that girl would die if she lost cell service for more than a day.”

Shane introduced Jimmy to a bunch of other people, but Jimmy couldn’t possibly keep track of them all. He concentrated on eating his meal, which was delicious. He doubted he’d ever had better steak.

“You look like you’re enjoying,” Paula said. She was lean and blonde and pretty and looked more like she belonged in a corporate boardroom than married to a rancher.

“The food’s amazing,” Jimmy answered. “Is the meat from the ranch?”

“Of course. Adam would almost rather starve before he’d serve someone else’s beef. But I hear that you’ve traveled extensively. I’ll bet you’ve eaten all sorts of interesting things.”

Her take on his life made him sound a lot more exciting than he was. “Most of the time, I’m happy for whatever food I can get. But I’ve had a few surprises over the years.”

“Like what?” She seemed like she truly wanted to know.

“Well, this one time— Uh, this might not be the best dinner-table story.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. We all have strong stomachs around here. Ranch life is not for the fainthearted.”

“Okay then.” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and took a sip of water from a plastic cup. He’d been offered beer, which a lot of others were drinking, but he’d passed. “I’ve eaten a few parts of animals folks don’t usually eat, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t faze you at all.”

“Nope. We don’t believe in waste. If it’s part of a steer and it can be eaten, we probably do.”

“I suspected as much. Okay. One time I was working a carnival in Texas. It was a small one, real hardscrabble. My job was to help out wherever anyone needed a hand. Setting up the booths and rides, carrying supplies, cleaning up trash. It was harder work than it sounds, and man, it was
hot
. And just when you’d figured out all the quirks of a particular town—where to do your laundry, how tolerant the local cops were—you’d pack everything up and move on. The pay was okay, though, and I had a place to sleep, a trailer I shared with a couple of other guys.

“One of those guys was named Buddy. He was pretty much the perfect stereotype of a biker dude, Harley and all, and he worked security for the carnival. He wasn’t a bad guy, though, as long as you followed the rules. A little… odd, maybe. He claimed he saw ghosts. But he was decent to me.”

By now his audience had spread to Pokey, Shane, and the twentysomething cousin whose name Jimmy couldn’t recall. A couple of little kids were hanging close too, so Jimmy tried to watch his language.

“One evening we’d arrived outside some Podunk town and set up, but we weren’t going to open until the next day. Some people had picked up pizza and fried chicken, and a few were grilling burgers, but none of that appealed to me. I’d been eating like that for months. I didn’t have my own car, though, and the town was too far to walk—and it was just so hot. Buddy caught me moping around and asked what my problem was.

“‘Just hungry,’ I said.

“‘Big Rick’ll feed ya.’ That was one of the guys with a grill.

“But I told Buddy I was tired of the usual. He gave me a sort of scary-looking smile and told me to follow him. Just past the carnival was nothing but desert scrub. Buddy took me so far I began to worry. Maybe he thought I was too much trouble or something. If I died in that desert, nobody but the coyotes and vultures would have noticed. When he pulled a pistol out of his vest, I almost piss—um, almost had an accident.”

Everyone laughed, especially the kids. Everyone except Shane. He’d frowned over the vultures comment and still looked a little upset. Jimmy decided to continue anyway. “Buddy told me to stay still, and you better believe I listened. By then I was just hoping he was a good, clean shot. Then he cocked his head real funny, like he was listening to something, turned a little, and shot at a bush. I must’ve jumped a mile into the air. And I gotta tell you, I wasn’t much calmer when he reached under that bush and brought out the thing he’d shot.”

“What was it?” demanded one of the youngest kids, wide-eyed and leaning in close.

Jimmy smiled at her. “Rattlesnake. What was left of one, anyway.”

“Just like our town!” He could tell this pleased her.

“Just like. And Buddy told me if I was so darn fed up with regular food, then I could eat this instead. He got down on his knees and skinned that thing—of course he kept a knife in his boot—and then hacked off a hunk of it. He handed it to me.”

The little girl scrunched up her face. “He didn’t cooked it?”

“Nope. We didn’t have a fire or anything. It was slimy and… yuck. But Buddy was still holding that knife and waiting, and I had a feeling that if I refused I might be next. So I ate it.”

Everyone winced, but the little girl asked, “What did it tasted like?”

“Awful. Really, really awful. I had to chew it for a long time, and after I swallowed it, I didn’t think it was going to stay down.”

The girl patted his arm soothingly. “I throwed up once. I ate too much Halloween candy.”

“Then you know how I felt. Only I bet that candy tasted a lot better than raw snake. I was really glad I didn’t puke. But then Buddy looked at that snake like he was going to give me the rest of it. And there was no way I was going to get any more of that stuff in me. I was afraid to open my mouth, so I just shook my head. I was considering dropping to my knees.”

“What happened?”

“Buddy laughed and tossed that poor snake away. Then he wiped his knife on a bandana, tucked it back in his boot, and threw his arm over my shoulders. ‘C’mon, Jimmy. Let’s go get us some dinner.’ He walked me back through the desert to his bike and rode me into town to this fantastic Chinese place. He even paid for my meal.”

Jimmy’s audience laughed and Shane—very briefly—cupped his hand against the back of Jimmy’s neck. Nobody else commented on it or acted as if they were upset. The little girl grabbed a stick off the ground and started chasing the little boy, shouting, “This here’s a snake and you’re gonna eat it!”

“Sorry about that,” Jimmy said to nobody in particular.

But Paula only chuckled. “Don’t be. That’ll probably keep them busy for half an hour.”

When their plates were empty, Shane looked at Jimmy. “You want some pie?”

“I seriously cannot eat another bite.”

“How about a ranch tour, then?”

Jimmy would have refused, but Shane looked hopeful. And after such nice hospitality from the whole clan, Jimmy owed at least a little politeness. “I’d love one.”

They began near the house. Shane pointed out the small orchard before taking him down to the pond, where a few ducks paddled and some geese watched them aggressively. Then they walked to a fenced pasture and goats came running to greet them. As Shane had promised, there were kids. He pulled a few weeds and stuck them through the fence. They must have been tasty, because the goats gobbled them up.

“We’ve kept sheep too, but not lately,” Shane said. “Mom and Dad prefer cattle.”

“I guess cows are easier to round up on horseback. You need a border collie for sheep, right?”

“Hmm.” Shane leaned against a fencepost and toed the ground. “Mind if we skip the barn and horses? I don’t like….” He bit his lip and stared at his boots.

“No problem. I like goats.”

Shane’s gaze shifted to the sky, which was baby blue, flocked with a few puffy white clouds. The sunshine brought out the red highlights in his hair, and Jimmy longed to touch the soft waves. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead.

“Do you want to see one of my favorite spots on the ranch? I haven’t been there in a long time.” Shane sounded unusually subdued.

“I’d love to.”

“The walk’s a little rough.” He sighed. “We should probably take a four-wheeler.”

They went inside one of the larger outbuildings, apparently used both as a workshop and for housing a pair of black ATVs. “You can drive,” Shane said.

“You can’t?”

Shane gave him a long look. “Technically, yeah, since we’re on private property. But if I have a seizure….”

“When was the last one?”

“Um….” He closed his eyes as he calculated. “Four months, almost.”

“Then I’ll take my chances. I trust you not to kill us.”

Shane’s face filled with such pain that Jimmy immediately regretted his words. But Shane looked away, and when he looked back, there was something deeper in his eyes. A decision, Jimmy thought. “All right,” Shane said and handed Jimmy a helmet.

It was really nice to sit behind him, leaning up against his warm back with arms wrapped firmly around his middle. Shane wore a helmet too—“Can’t risk another cracked skull.”

They rode away from the house, over the hill, and then down a wash. At one point, Jimmy scrambled off to open a gate and then closed it behind them. Cattle watched curiously from afar as the vehicle followed the curve of the land. Atop a tall, grassy rise, an enormous tree stretched its crooked branches, an ancient sentinel. Shane drove them to the top of the hill and stopped just outside the tree’s spring-green canopy. When he and Jimmy dismounted, they hung their helmets from the handlebars, and Shane shook out his hair. He walked slowly beneath the tree until he reached the trunk. He caressed it slowly, like a blind man trying to feel its shape.

Jimmy followed him through the grass as birds flitted noisily among the higher branches. The bark looked heavily ridged, like alligator hide.

“It’s beautiful,” Jimmy said when he caught up to Shane.

“Valley oak. I used to know the botanical name, but I forget. Dad thinks this one could be five hundred years old.”

“Wow.” It was Jimmy’s turn to stroke the trunk. “So back when Shakespeare was writing his plays, this tree had already been feeding squirrels for decades. I can see why it’s your favorite spot.”

“It’s not. I mean, I like it well enough. But I like down there better.” He pointed down the other side of the hill, which was steep and covered by brush. Another hill pushed up close, and the foliage obscured what lay between them.

“Will you go down there with me?” Shane asked. He set his jaw. “I might need some help.”

Jimmy didn’t see the point of tromping over difficult ground, and he didn’t understand why Shane was intent on sharing this experience with him. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to visit a special place with someone he cared about instead of with the drifter he’d known only a few days? Surely any one of Shane’s many relatives would happily help him out.