Fourmile (4 page)

“Dax?” I heard Mother say.

I looked at the house and saw her standing in the front doorway, looking confused. Dax was still in the rain watching me. Then I saw Gary, seemingly out of nothing, standing silent and still on the other side of Dax’s truck.

“I warned him, Linda,” Dax said. “That mutt needs to be put down.”

“Did he bite you, Dax?”

Dax spit at the ground and turned to her. “He damn sure tried. Would have if I hadn’t’ve cranked one over him.”

Mother looked across the yard at me. “Foster, I thought we talked about this. You’re supposed to put him on the leash.”

“It’s my fault, ma’am,” Gary said.

Dax spun at the voice.

“I had him helping me in the barn,” Gary continued.

“Where the hell’d you come from?” Dax said.

No one seemed to notice the rain anymore. Gary motioned his chin at the blacktop. “I was walking up the road and they said I could sit out the storm.”

“Walkin’ up the road?” Dax said.

Gary nodded.

Dax looked at Mother.

“Come out of the rain, Dax,” she said. Then she looked at me. “Foster, is he okay?”

I didn’t answer her. I turned back to Joe and gathered him in my arms and struggled up with him. Then I carried him around the opposite side of the house toward the barn.

*   *   *

I laid Joe on his side in the hay. He was breathing fast and stared past me at the rain, his stomach rising and falling and a blankness in his eyes like something with no spirit. Gary knelt beside him and ran his hands lightly over his ribs, stopping just behind his foreleg. “Might have broken this one,” he said.

“What should I do?”

“Nothing,” he said.

I stared at him.

“Animals don’t feel pain like us,” he continued.

“Will he die?”

Gary shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that bad. If he punctured a lung he’d have blood coming out his mouth.”

“It doesn’t hurt him?”

“Not in the way you think.”

“He looks like he’s hurt.”

“His body knows to take it easy and rest. It’s instinctive. I’d call it more confusion than pain.”

“How do you know?”

“It happens to people too, but they have to be hurt a lot more than this. You go into shock and it overrides the pain.”

“Foster!” I heard Mother calling. I looked up and saw her watching us through the rain.

I turned away and didn’t answer.

“Is he okay, Foster?” she called.

Gary lifted his hand and nodded at her.

“Put him on the leash and come inside,” she called.

“So he’ll be better?” I asked Gary.

“He’ll be better. I’ll watch him for a while.”

“I don’t want to go inside.”

“You need to do what your mother says.”

I studied him. I couldn’t believe he was taking her side too. But I’d do anything for him. I didn’t know why, but I trusted him more than I’d trusted anyone in a long time.

9

Mother had made spaghetti for lunch. The pasta was steaming in a colander in the sink and a pot of sauce simmered on the stove. Dax stood shirtless in the kitchen wearing a pair of Daddy’s old jeans and rubbing his hair with a towel. I felt him watching me as I passed.

“Sorry about your dog,” he said.

I knew he didn’t mean it. I ran into Mother as she came out of the living room. She pulled me to her and hugged me. I remained stiff and stared at the wall.

“I’m sorry, Foster,” she said. “I told you to keep him tied.”

I didn’t answer her. She put her hand through my hair and I pulled away from her and went to my room to change.

*   *   *

I stared at my spaghetti. No one was saying anything. Dax had also put on one of Daddy’s old T-shirts and it made me sick to see it. He ate like nothing had happened.

“What’s with the guy in the barn, Linda?”

“Foster met him this morning,” she said. “He just wanted to sit out the rain.”

“You don’t need to be lettin’ strangers hang around like that.”

“I knew you’d be here,” she said. “He seemed nice enough.”

“What’s his name?”

Mother looked at me.

“Gary,” I said.

“What is he, a hitchhiker?”

“He’s walking to Texas,” she said.

“He’s a little off the track for Texas.”

“He said he likes to take the long way,” I said.

Dax studied me. “Maybe you ought to make some friends your own age.”

“Dax,” Mother said.

“What?”

“I’ve got the fence to paint,” I said. “I don’t have time for friends.”

“Gonna take you two months to finish that thing. And I don’t remember you havin’ any friends before.”

“That’s enough, Dax!” Mother said.

Dax put down his fork and sat back in his chair and chewed. “Well, this is loads of fun, ain’t it?”

Mother looked at her plate and didn’t argue.

Dax pushed himself away from the table. “Look, I got some stuff I need to do this afternoon anyway.”

“That might be best,” she said.

He studied her for a second like he didn’t like her answer. Then he took one last gulp of beer and stood. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call you later. Spaghetti was good.”

She made a weak smile at him and let him go. When I heard the door shut behind him, I looked at her. “I don’t like him wearing Daddy’s clothes.”

She dropped her fork and stared at me. “Foster, I’m trying hard. I’m trying really hard.”

“He wants to kill Joe.”

“He didn’t want to kill him.”

“He would have.”

“He tried to bite him, Foster.”

I looked down and didn’t answer her. Neither of us ate or said anything for a minute.

“I can’t replace your dad,” she finally said. “Nobody can do that.”

“Then don’t try,” I mumbled.

I heard her sniffle and knew she was crying. I felt sick about it, but there was nothing to take back. I wasn’t sorry about anything I’d said.

I tried to think of something to make her feel better. I looked at her. “Gary fixed the barn roof,” I said.

It took her a moment to remember who Gary was. Then she wiped her eyes with her napkin and composed herself. “He did what?”

“He fixed the roof. I helped him.”

She seemed surprised. “Well, that was nice of him.”

There was a knock behind me. I suddenly realized the rain had stopped and turned to see Gary stepping back from the door and waiting patiently. At first, just the sight of him put me at ease. Then I realized he had probably come to say goodbye and my spirit sank.

“Get the door, Foster,” Mother said.

Kabo stood beside Gary, and behind them I could just see Joe lying in the barn where I’d left him.

“I wanted to say thanks for letting me get out of the rain,” he said. “Joe’s going to be fine, Foster. Let him rest for a while. He may be a little slow for a few days, but he’ll come around.”

I nodded.

Mother came up behind me and put her arm around my chest. “I’m sorry about all the drama,” she said to him.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Foster told me you fixed the barn roof.”

“He helped me. Took us about five minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been— That was nice of you to do that.”

Gary studied her for a moment, reading something in her. “Ma’am,” he said, “I realize—”

“Please don’t call me ma’am. It’s just Linda.”

“Okay. I just wanted to throw this out. Foster told me you’re trying to sell the place. It’s a nice spread, but you could get a lot more for it if you did a few things to shore it up. I could use the work.”

I turned and looked up at her, but she avoided my stare. She knew what I was thinking.

“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “It’s not possible for me right now.”

“If it’s the money you’re worried about, I’ll work for minimum wage. I don’t need much.”

Mother hesitated. “What sort of work can you do?”

“I used to work for a general contractor. Pretty much whatever. Engines and electrical too.”

“Engines?” she said.

I looked back at Gary.

“You could get five thousand dollars for that farm truck if you got it running,” he said.

“That’s a lot of money,” she said.

“Replace this roof and you could tack eight to ten thousand dollars on the value of the house. But I’d start with the things people see right off. Help Foster finish the fence, mow the pasture, haul off and sell the equipment you don’t need.”

Mother’s hand slid off me. I turned to her and saw her finger her hair behind her ear and take a deep breath.

“It’s going to take me forever to finish the fence by myself,” I said.

She thought about it. “That sounds like a lot of work,” she said. “How long do you think all that will take?”

“Three weeks. Maybe a month. I’ll move on whenever you want.”

“But—”

“I’ll need a place to stay,” he interrupted. “If you’ll rent your barn to me I can pay you thirty dollars a week. And I won’t charge you my labor to fix the truck if I can use it while I’m here.”

Mother shook her head. “That’s a very generous offer, but I’ll need to check with Dax about it.”

“Dax?” I said.

Mother looked at me for the first time. “Foster, you stay out of this.”

“I understand,” Gary replied.

There was an awkward moment while all of us stood there and no one said anything. “Foster, go check on Joe,” she said at last. “And—I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Gary.”

“Gary, let me call Dax and see what he says about it.”

I stepped out the door and stood beside him, swelling with hope.

“I’ll be in the barn with Foster,” Gary said.

*   *   *

When Mother came back out to the barn, she was carrying two blankets and a pillow. I couldn’t contain my smile and looked up at Gary. He glanced at me and the hardness in his eyes went soft for just an instant.

She stood before us and held the bedding out to him. The look on her face told me she’d made up her mind about something. Once Mother decided on a thing, there was no arguing against it.

“Okay,” she said. “I can’t say I’m completely comfortable with the arrangement, but I need the help and that’s all there is to it. Get the truck running and you can use it to pick up supplies and groceries and whatever else you need. You’re responsible for your own meals. I don’t want any drinking on the property and I don’t want you bringing any friends over.”

Gary nodded. “I don’t expect you to cook for me. I don’t drink and I don’t know anyone to bring over.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I know. There won’t be any surprises.”

She took a deep breath. “Good,” she finally said. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

10

The clouds moved away that afternoon and the sun beat down on the farm. Gary said he thought we should start with the truck so that we’d be able to use it for runs into town. We left Joe and crossed the yard with Kabo following. We approached the covered shed where Daddy’s old truck and tractor were parked. I’d not been so close to them since Granddaddy had parked them there a year ago. As we came near, I looked at the driver’s-side window and an image of Daddy sitting there with his hand flopped over the steering wheel made me draw a sharp breath. Gary slowed and studied me for a moment, but I didn’t look at him and kept walking.

He stopped just under the shed roof and turned to me. “When’s the last time either of these things ran?”

“About a year ago.”

“Is that when your dad died?”

I nodded. “He had an accident in the woods out back.”
Please don’t ask me anything more,
I thought.

“Key’s in it?”

“It should be,” I said. “Should be a key in both of them.”

“Go stand by the hood while I pop it,” he said.

I walked around to the front of the truck and waited while he stepped to the driver’s door. It creaked open and an image of exactly what lay scattered across the bench seat flashed through my head. Three red 12-gauge shotgun shells, a copy of
Game & Fish
magazine, a crescent wrench, and a manual to our portable generator. On the passenger-side floor were two empty Sunkist soda cans. I knew what Gary smelled inside. Diesel and wet rubber. Suddenly I heard a clunk and saw the hood pop up about an inch. I took another deep breath and made myself step forward. I slipped my fingers under the lip of the hood and lifted it. Gary appeared beside me and studied the engine. “Let’s check the fluids before we try to crank it. I doubt the battery’s good anyway.”

I knew how to do it myself but stood back while Gary checked the oil and transmission fluid. He seemed satisfied with both. After a quick inspection of the belts he walked back to the cab. “See how she feels,” he said.

I heard the ignition buzzing as he turned the key, then the engine began to drag. Gary leaned over and turned off the heater and the engine suddenly roared to life, white exhaust pouring from the rear. He stared at the instrument panel as he pumped the gas pedal and raced the motor. After a second he let off and looked at me through the glass. “I’d say that’s a pretty good start,” he said.

I nodded.

He left it running and got out. “We’ll let the battery charge for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” I said.

“The oil level’s good, but we better change it. Pretty old.”

I heard him, but I was looking through the windshield at the empty cab.

“You all right?” he asked me.

I turned to him. “I’m all right,” I said.

His eyes studied me like he knew everything. “What do you say we look at the tractor while we’re out here?” he said.

“Okay,” I said.

We weren’t as lucky with the tractor. I had to get the jumper cables from the barn and we hooked them to the truck and jumped it off. Once it cranked, a squealing sound came from beneath the cowling. I showed Gary where the spare belts were hanging on the barn wall and we replaced them and greased the fittings on the Bush Hog. When we were done he stood back and looked around.

“That fence is still too wet to paint,” he said. “And I need to make a list of supplies before we go into town. What do you say we use what daylight we’ve got left to knock some of that grass down in the field? It’s probably dry enough now.”