The True Father (18 page)

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Authors: Steven Anderson Law

BOOK: The True Father
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Thirty-four
   The next day I woke with a splitting headache. I rose from the bed and the sun knifed through the window and shined on my face. I rolled away and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost one-thirty.
   I was still in my clothes and smelled badly of stale charcoal smoke and whiskey. I moved slowly to the living room and saw that Buddy was gone. I guess he was a lot more used to whiskey hangovers than I was.
   I stood under the hot shower streams longer than usual, and after the shower I put on a pair of old Levi jeans, T-shirt, work boots and a red and black cap that advertised Justin boots. For breakfast I fried some bacon and scrambled eggs and, rather than my usual orange juice, I drank a can of Pepsi and took three aspirin. After that I chewed and swallowed three desperately needed antacid tablets.
   Though it was pretty late in the day and I didn't feel much up to anything, I decided to drive out to the ranch and see what Jeremiah and Boyd were up to. But before I had a chance to shut and lock the front door, Bella appeared in front of it.
   “Hi,” I said.
   “Hi.”
   I invited her in. She was dressed in denim shorts, a red spaghetti strapped top and white sandals. A black purse hung over her shoulder, keys dangled in her hand, and she carried a white box under her arm. The box was made of thin cardboard, like a gift box from a department store only deeper, about the same dimensions as a boot box.
   “Surprised you're still here,” she said.
   “Just got up.”
   “Just now?”
   “Buddy and I got a little drunk last night.”
   She smirked. “Hung over?”
   “Severely.”
   “Let me guess, hot toddies?”
   “Now what made you say that?”
   “Oh, just a hunch. So where were you headed?”
   “I thought I'd go out to the ranch, see what the boys are up to.”
   “So how's Boyd's social rehab going?”
   “He worked great with the youngsters. Might make a man out of him yet.”
   She laughed and set the box on the davenport.
   “What's that?” I asked.
   “Oh, just a little something I want you to have.”
   “You bought me a present?”
   “No, it's something that used to belong to Jettie and I want you to have it for tomorrow night.”
   “So you know about my little rodeo?”
   “Everybody knows.”
   “Everybody?”
   “The whole town. Expect a full house.”
   “How'd they know? This isn't an official event.”
   “Trevor, this is Spiro, Oklahoma. Population 2,146. All you have to do is tell the lady down at the convenience store, or tell Barney down at the café, and like a swift wind the word gets around.”
   “I don't know what to say. It's more than I expected.”
   “Hey, you wanted to ride in a rodeo, didn't you?”
   “Well, yeah, but—”
   “Then don't complain, you got you're wish.”
   “Are you going to be there?”
   She paused and looked out the door and into the street. “I'm thinking about it.”
   “Well, it would mean a lot if you were there.”
   She nodded then looked down at the box. “Aren't you going to open it?”
   “Oh, yeah.”
   I sat down on the davenport and pulled off the top section of the box. I flipped back the tissue paper to reveal a black leather garment.
   I looked up at her. “What is this?”
   “Pull them out and look at them.”
   I did as she said then stood and let them unfold in front of me. They were a pair of chaps, glossy black with white leather fringe all down the sides, and royal blue letters outlined in white. They spelled   “JETTIE” on one leg and “HODGE” on the other.
   “These are amazing,” I said.
   “They were a gift to Jettie the year he quit riding. He would have worn them, but he retired before he had the chance.”
   “Who gave them to him?”
   “I did.”
   “You?”
   “Yeah, I had them custom made. And since they weren't going to get used I kept them at my place. They'd have just gathered dust here.”
   “These are very special. Why are you giving them to me?”
   “I bought them for a bull rider. I figured you'd like to wear them tomorrow night.”
   “I will.”
   “Great. Well I guess I'll get going.”
   She turned to go and I set the chaps back down in the box. “Wait.”
   She turned back to me and I stared at her like a lost child.
   She laughed. “Were you going to say something?”
   “I really don't know what to say. I just want to thank you, I guess.”
   “For the present? Hey, it's no big deal.”
   “No, not just the present. For everything.”
   “Everything?”
   “Yeah. It's been a crazy summer for me, and you've added so much life to it.”
   “Are you sure about that?”
   “I'm very sure.”
   She smiled slightly but it quickly vanished. “I have to go.”
   “All right.”
   “Good luck tomorrow.”
   “Thanks.”
   Just like every other time I watched her walk away, there was a certain part of me that ached and longed to go after her. But there was also a part of me that wallowed in fear, and from that I lacked confidence. So for those reasons alone, I refrained, knowing that she was someone I couldn't bear to let down.
 
*      *     *
 
   I drove out to the ranch and, rather than working, I found Boyd and Jeremiah sitting in the horse barn drinking beer. Jezebel lay sleeping on her belly on the concrete with her chin between her front legs.    She opened her eyes and looked at me then closed them again. Boyd sat on the floor, his back against the barn wall and legs crossed and stretched out in front of him. Jeremiah sat on a bale of hay and greeted me enthusiastically then offered me a beer.
   “No thanks,” I said
   “Oh bullshit! Why not?”
   “A little hung over, that's why.”
   “Keep on drinking. That's my motto.”
   He and Boyd laughed.
   “So what's on the agenda today?” I asked.
   He held up his beer bottle. “What does it look like?”
   I sat down on an upside-down bucket.
   “No,” Jeremiah said, “not much to do around here. Just getting ready for your wing ding tomorrow night.” He nudged Jezebel with the toe of his boot. “Ain't that right Jezzie?”
   She lifted her head, perked her ears and looked back at him. Seemingly annoyed, she laid her head back down and closed her eyes.
   A voice from outside the barn called Jeremiah's name. It was Jodie. She said he had a telephone call.
   “Ah, hell!” he said. “Doesn't everybody know I took the afternoon off?”
   He left the barn and Jezebel followed him out, leaving Boyd and I in an awkward circumstance. There was a short period of silence then Boyd was the first to speak.
   “So you and Buddy get pretty wasted last night?”
   “I'd say. Been a long time since I've been that drunk.”
   “Yeah, the last big drunk I remember was down in Fort Worth.”
   His face remained fairly firm with a light smirk. I had no idea where he was going, but nonetheless, he made me nervous.
   He peeled a piece of label off his beer bottle and threw it on the concrete floor. “But I deserved every damned bit of it.”
   I didn't know what to say, but I was glad to hear him confess.
   “Now I don't want to kiss or hug or anything,” he said. “And you'll never hear me say it again.” 
   “Say what?”
   “That I'm sorry about what happened to Jettie. It was a stupid prank and I'll never do anything like it again.”
   I knew he was sincere but didn't really know how to respond, so I simply nodded and allowed his apology to penetrate the air.
   “So you ready for tomorrow night?” he asked.
   “Hell, I don't know. Ready as I'll ever be, I guess.”
   “You'll make a fine bull rider. Lots of talent—just like your pa.”
   “You really think so?”
   “I ain't lying, dude. You have the sand and the smarts. You'll do alright.”
   I didn't quite know how to respond to such a compliment. I never intended to let on that I wanted to be a pro bull rider. It was just something I wanted to learn. Something I had to do for me. But rather than negate the only kindness I'd ever received from Boyd, I decided to simply accept the compliment and go on to something else.
   “Looks like you'll make the finals this year,” I said.
   “Still a lot of season left. But this is the best year I've ever had.”
   “You know, Jeremiah says a lot of good things about your talents.”
   “Yeah, all accept my attitude, right?”
   “Never said anything about that.”
   He threw another piece of label onto the floor. “Yeah, well I know it's true.”
   “If you really feel that way, then you're the only one who can change it.”
   “Did you know my daddy is in prison?”
   “No, I didn't.”
   “He got caught stealing horses. Not one time, but five. He'd watch the rodeos for lame stock, steal them, then take them down to the dog food factory in Fort Worth.”
   “They bought stolen horses from him?”
   “They didn't care. They gave so much per pound and before long the evidence was gone.”
   “What a racket.”
   “Yeah, he just couldn't quit the habit.”
   “How long is he in for?”
   “Oh, he'll be out in a couple years. Been in for five, since I was in high school.”
   “If it's any consolation, I understand what it's like to not have a father around.”
   “The only father figure I had was my uncle. The lawman who helped my pa get away with stealing the horses.”
   “Well, maybe you should hang around Jeremiah more. Drinks a lot, but other than that he's a pretty good man.”
   “Yeah, I like Jeremiah.”
   “And he knows rodeo. A guy like that might come in handy.”
   Boyd just smiled and nodded.
   “So what are you gonna do after your big ride?” he asked.
   “I'm not sure. I figure after the ride I'll know.”
   He tipped his beer bottle high and drank the last of its contents. “Well,” he said, then licked his lips. “If you want to ride the circuit, you're welcome to ride along with me.”
   I laughed under my breath. “I'll consider that.”
   He tossed his beer bottle into a nearby trash container and it crashed among other bottles. 
   “I reckon Jeremiah will be back in a minute,” he said. “I better get back to work.”
   “Doing what?”
   “The cooler is behind you, amigo. Hand me another beer.”
Thirty-five
   After a good night's sleep I rose a little before nine to prepare for my big day. First was my workout. Sit-ups and curls and I ran my typical course around town, getting more smiles and “good mornings” than usual from the townsfolk.
   A little before noon I drove outside of town to the cemetery. The reddish brown dirt over Jettie's grave had settled somewhat, and grass was starting to grow. This was the first I'd seen the headstone, and the first I'd ever seen his real name, Jedidiah “Jettie” Franklin Hodge. On top of the headstone was an engraving of a cowboy riding a bronc. I guess the engraver didn't know how to carve out a bull.    And below his name were the traditional dates of birth and death, and at the base a silver vase holding wilted flowers. Inscribed above the base was a short epitaph.
 
  
He came out of the chute like a jet, and rode with the pride of twenty spirited cowboys.
 
   I imagine to most people that probably said it all. But to me I knew that there was more in his heart and his mind than just staying on that bull.
   I squatted and removed my hat. “I'm not sure whether or not you can hear me. The preacher at your funeral said that your spirit would always be shining down upon us from heaven. Well, if that's true then I hope your spirit is listening.
   “Things may or may not have been different for you and me if we'd have known each other. Amazing how a boy can grow up so oblivious to the idea of knowing or even having a father. Well, I sure did.   But I'm grateful for this summer here in Oklahoma, because now I've learned the best part of you. You were a good man, Jettie Hodge.”
   I stood and put my hat back on then hung the golden tassel from my commencement cap around the flowers in the vase. Though it represented an educational accomplishment elsewhere, I figured there was no touching the higher order of learning I had received here this summer.
   I turned to walk away, but quickly stopped.
   “Oh, and one more thing. If there is any chance that you can be there tonight, there's a rodeo going on at the Spiro arena. Yeah, I know I won't be able to see you, but it would sure be nice to feel your presence.”
 
*     *     *
 
   I looked through all of Jettie's old clothing and accessories to pick out an outfit for the big event. I knew it didn't have to be anything fancy, but I wanted to look good for the crowd, in a way Jettie would have looked.
   For boots I chose a pair of black ropers that appeared to be broke in well and very durable. They were a bit dusty so I wiped them off with a damp cloth then set them aside. I chose the best pair of Levi's I could find, which were not as faded as the others but still a lighter blue. And for a shirt I chose a red denim western shirt. It was slightly faded but very comfortable, but also it went excellent with the fancy chaps. When I laid the outfit on the bed and looked it over, I was impressed with the appeal.
   For a hat I chose the best straw he had, which was a Stetson Bella said he'd only worn on special occasions. Well, to me this was a special occasion. 
   I chose a black belt with silver conchos all around, and after looking though the buckles there was only one that stood out among the rest. It was the Bud Light Cup buckle with the red, white and blue triangular logo in the center. It was handsome and went well with all the other apparel.
   I set everything aside and heard a knock on the door then a voice. It was a female voice and I figured it was Bella visiting again. But when I walked into the living room it was not Bella that stood inside my door, but the last person on earth I would expect to see.
   She crossed her arms and delivered a wry smile, looking no different than usual, her hair short and styled, wearing an olive colored sleeveless blouse, off-white slacks and matching heeled shoes. A taupe colored purse hung from a strap around her shoulder. And suddenly I smelled her perfume, which I'm sure was a brand I'd never heard of and an expensive gift from a past boyfriend.
   “Mom—what are you doing here?”
   She continued with her stale look and gazed around the room. “I haven't seen this place in years.”
   I looked around with her. “I guess it hasn't changed much.”
   She shook her head. “No, not really.”
   “So why this surprise visit?”
   “Oh, I got a call from your grandmother, who heard from your grandfather, who heard from Jeremiah that you were riding a bull in a rodeo tonight.”
   “Jeremiah told Grandpa?”
   “I guess he thought he'd like to come and watch.”
   “I guess so.”
   “So I called Jeremiah yesterday to find out what was going on, and he filled me in.”
   Now she stared scornfully at me.
   “What's going on, Trevor?”
   “You don't understand—”
   “No, I don't. Please explain it to me.”
   “You haven't been here, Mom. You haven't seen things from my point of view.”
   “What have they done? Brainwashed you?”
   “Come on, Mom. You know me better than that.”
   She laughed sarcastically. “Do I?” She let the purse strap fall down her arm then set the purse on the floor and walked around the living room looking at things. Her footsteps on the hardwood floor were the only sound in the room. “I thought I knew you before you quit your job.”
   “Things change, Mom. And I'm glad I did it.”
   She looked squarely at me now, her arms crossed again. “I can accept the fact that you needed to learn who your father was, but why this bull ride? Please explain the purpose of that?”
   “No, Mom, first you need to explain some things to me.”
   “Like what?”
   “I know there's a lot of broken marriages in this world. One moment they feel they can't live without each other and then all of the sudden they can't stand each other. And by that time a kid has come along and behold, we have a broken family. Why? Because of selfishness.”
   “There's probably a lot of truth to that.”
   “But how could anybody do that? How could you, my mother, go to the length of marrying a man, committing to him for life, give him a child, then take all of it away?”
   “You don't know what it was like, Trevor.”
   “Maybe I do.”
   “How could you? All Jettie wanted was the goddamn rodeo. He didn't care about me. And he certainly didn't care about you.”
   “Oh really?” I went into the bedroom and retrieved the shoebox full of letters, which now also obtained the photograph I had found between the mattresses. I took the box out and handed it to her. I took off the lid and threw it on the floor and held the picture in front of her. My eyes were now glazed with tears. “Does this look like a man who didn't love his son? Does it look like a man who wasn't proud of his family?”
   She took the photo gingerly and I could tell it was difficult for her to look at. A single tear ran down her cheek and after she looked at it for a short moment she closed her eyes.
   “If you would have read those letters, Mom, and not returned them, you would have known just how much Jettie needed his family. You would have known that you could have come back and worked things out.”
   She took the box over to the davenport, sat down and started shuffling through the letters. After she had looked at all of them, she looked up at me. “I've never seen these before.”
   “What are you talking about?”
    “It must have been Darrin. He must have returned them.”
   “Darrin?”
   “He always got the mail before I did. And he hated Jettie.”
   “But you saw the one that Jeremiah brought to the graduation. Why didn't you say something then?”
   “I guess I was so shocked to see him that I didn't pay that much attention to it. I just wanted him to leave.”
   “But in one of those letters he talks about coming up to see you and you calling the cops. What was that all about?”
   “Yes, I remember that night. Jettie came to talk to me. He said that he wanted to see you and Darrin wouldn't let him. Jettie persisted so Darrin called the police.”
   “Well forget Darrin. What did you want?”
   “I don't know, Trevor.”
   She buried her face in the palm of her hands and wept. I went over to the davenport and sat beside her, eventually putting my arm around her.
    It was obvious that at one time her entire life had slipped away from her. Maybe it was prompted by selfishness, but at this point I honestly believed she was unaware of Jettie's feelings. She didn't know the reasons he never made it as a rodeo champion. She didn't know it was because of a huge empty hole in his heart. He had lost his wife and his child, the most important part of his life, gone and not likely to never return. So it was doubtful he had much motivation to be the best. Who would he have to share the victory with? Who could he pass that legacy on to? No one. All he could do was get out there and ride. 
   My only wish is that I could have been there for him, so he could have looked up in the stands before every ride and smiled and waved at his wife and little boy, and maybe that would have been all the encouragement he needed to make that ride and be the best there ever was. But all I had was this summer, and now today.
   Mom leaned her head against my shoulder. “I'm so sorry, Trevor.”
   “Me, too.”
   She looked up at me with red, tear-filled eyes. Her mascara ran and her wet lashes stuck together. “Is there anything I can do?”
   “Just give me the benefit of the doubt and don't question what I have to do tonight.”
   “What if you get seriously hurt? Worse yet, what if you get killed?”
   “That won't happen.”
   “How can you be so sure?”
   “I just know and you have to trust me on that.”
   “Can't you please tell me what it's all for?”
   “For my satisfaction. One ride for all the years missed.” 
   She wiped at her tears and sniffled. “You really think that will make a difference?”
   “If I stay on that bull tonight then I can go on and live the rest of my life knowing I gave something back to my father. Just one ride, Mom. That's all I need.”

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