Twisted (29 page)

“You ever played in it before?”

“Yep, I sure have, just not for a few years.” We were tossing the ball back and forth. I tossed it a bit wide to Mike. He tried running toward it in his snowshoes. He caught the ball and looked at me.

“I never realized how much the snowshoes slow me down. I reckon that’s the fun and funny part of snowshoe softball.”

“Right you are, buddy.” He threw the ball back toward me, quite a bit wider than I had tossed it to him earlier. I ended up running for it. I caught it, but just barely.

“Turnabout’s fair play, bud!” I yelled and tossed the ball even more widely. He lumbered toward it on the snowshoes. I thought he was going to miss the catch, but he dove for it and ended up in a heap of snowshoes in a fair-size drift of snow.

“I caught it, Jeffy! You’re out!” Mike raised his voice in the singsong imitation of a sports broadcaster. “And the ball flies, will he catch it? It’s going, going, there it goes! And he’s running for it. Will he get it? It’s a catch! What a great catch! And the batter is out! Guidry saves the day!” I laughed as he threw the ball to me. I ended up trying to move backward on my snowshoes. I really didn’t do too well and ended up flat on my ass in a snowdrift. I didn’t catch the ball, either.

“If we’re catchin’ for points, I’m in the lead, Jeffy!” Mike was trying to do a victory dance on his snowshoes. He looked pretty funny, so I ended up laughing so hard I couldn’t get up for a minute or so. Then we spent another ten minutes looking for the ball in the snow.

“I got it here, Mike.” I held up the ball for him to see. “This ain’t as easy as it sounds, is it?”

“No, it ain’t. The ball moves the same speed, we don’t.” I laughed again at that. I threw the ball to him, not quite as wide as before, and he caught it. He immediately tossed it back to me. I had to run a bit for it, but this time I caught it.

“There ya go, Mike. Now that I lulled you into a false sense of security by missin’ the other catch, prepare to get your cute ass creamed.”

“That a promise?” He grinned at me. I threw the ball up in the air, mimicking a fly ball. He stomped over to where it was coming down and held up his glove. He tried moving backward and ended up falling just like I had. I had to laugh.

“That is a promise, buddy. If we are playin’ for points, looks like we’re tied.” He awkwardly got to his feet and dug in the snow next to where he fell for the ball. He stood up and threw it up in the air. I looked at it and judged the angle of its descent so I didn’t have to run backward. I turned around where I reckoned it would come down and looked up. I reached for it and caught it, although I fell face first in the snow.

“With all the snow in your beard, you look like Santa Claus.” I stood up and brushed off my face. There had been quite a bit of snow in my beard.

“Well, buddy, just like Santa, I know who’s been a good boy and who’s been bad.”

“I reckon I been one of the good boys, since you already told me I was gonna get a present later.”

“I reckon you’re right.” We continued to toss the ball around for another couple of hours. Snowshoeing uses a different set of muscles than cross-country skiing. I knew we were going to feel sore tomorrow when I felt a burn on the muscles on the inside of my thighs. We had a few days to the weekend, so I reckoned it might be a good idea to spend some time on snowshoes in the next few days, rather than on skis. We had some more dudes coming in Friday, and one of them mentioned he was interested in snowshoeing. We had plenty of places to go. I figured I could lead a snowshoe hike up the side of Lucky Jeff Bluff.

“Earth to Jeff, earth to Jeff.” Mike was looking at me.

“Sorry there, buddy. I was just thinkin’ we might wanna spend some time on snowshoes over the next few days to get ready for the game on Saturday.”

“I reckon that’s a good idea. I can tell I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“How about we call it a day and spend some time in the hot tub?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Great, I just wanna go and get the mail.” The mailbox was down at the end of the driveway by the road. I began trudging toward it when Mike stomped by me.

“Race ya!” I began to stomp after him. We were about pretty evenly matched on snowshoes. He got to the mailbox first, but I touched it and turned and began lumbering up the driveway.

“First one to the house wins!” He needed to take a minute to get the mail and close the box. We ended up running the best we could all the way to the ranch house. We were both pretty winded when we got there.

“Damn, Jeffy, goin’ around on these is really good exercise.”

“It is. Now let’s get in the house, rinse off, and get in the hot tub.” Holder had left a few days ago, so Mike and I were the only ones in the house. It was gonna be nice having the place to ourselves for a couple of days. We took off our snowshoes on the porch and put them at the bottom of the ski rack. We shucked our jackets and hats in the mudroom. Mike left the mail in the kitchen, and we rinsed off in the bathroom off the mudroom. We grabbed a couple of towels and headed out to the hot tub. It was below freezing, and stepping outside, wet and naked, was a bit of a shocker. We didn’t waste any time hanging up our towels, getting the hot tub cover off, and getting into the water.

“Ahhh, that’s nice. The heat feels really good after bein’ outside almost all day.”

“It sure does. What do ya want for dinner, Jeff?”

“How ’bout we head into town and have dinner at One Eyed Jack’s?”

“That sounds like a plan. Sandy workin’ tonight?”

“Yeah, she is. So it’ll be nice to see her.”

“Wanna bet Smitty’ll be there too?” I had to laugh.

“No way in hell I’m takin’ that bet!”

M
IKE
and I were both duded up as we walked into One Eyed Jack’s Saloon several hours later. We both had on tight jeans, Western shirts, big rodeo belt buckles, and Stetsons. Cowboy boots completed our outfits. Sandy rushed up to us.

“Hey guys! I’m happy to see you.” She gave each one of us a hug. “Smitty’s in the back with Jason, José, and Maria at the big table in the corner.”

“Great. I reckon we’ll just sit with them. Okay by you, Mike?” He nodded and we headed over to the table. A chorus of, “Hi,” greeted us. Maria stood up and gave each one of us a hug.

“Jeff, Mike, it is so nice to see you. I thought between all your working with tourists, buying horses, and each other, you might have forgotten about your friends.” Her smile showed that she was just joking about feeling forgotten.

“Hell, Maria, our door is always open. You’re welcome anytime, right, Jeff?”

“That’s right, Maria. You gotta come out and see the new horses.”

“I would like that, Jeff. José and Smitty are telling me how beautiful they are.”

“They are beautiful, boss. I have never seen horses with a gold shine to their coats.” José was obviously smitten with the Akhal Teke horses.

I turned to Jason. “How you doin’ there, Jason?”

“I’m doin’ okay. When it warms up, will we put the horses out in the pasture?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Smitty, José, and Josh all said, since I’m the new guy, I gotta muck out the stalls. If the horses are out in the pasture, then the stalls will stay clean longer.” I looked at Smitty and José with a raised eyebrow.

“Interestin’. The new guy mucks out the stalls, eh?”

Smitty smiled back at me. “It’s only fair, right? We all have to put our dues in.”

“Hmmm, I don’t remember hearin’ about you doin’ all the stall muckin’ before Jason got here. I don’t seem to remember either of you tellin’ Jeanette that either.” Smitty turned bright red, and José looked away.

“José, I’d think as ranch foreman, you’d want to make certain that everyone”—I looked at Smitty—“puts in their dues. I’d reckon you’d even wanna help out to make sure the hands respect you, you know, that they know you can muck out stalls with the best of ’em.”

Jason was watching the conversation with interest. “You mean it’s not an old ranch tradition that the new guy mucks out the stalls?”

“Not as far as I know. You ever seen that at other ranches, Mike?”

“Can’t say as I have.”

“What about you, Maria? You came up on a ranch. Did they have that system on your ranch.”

“No, Jeff, they did not.” Just then Sandy walked up.

“What’ll you have, gentlemen?”

“Hey, darlin’, I’ll have a pint of pale ale.”

Mike nodded. “Make that two, Sandy. Oh by the way, did you ever hear of an old ranch custom of makin’ the newest hand muck out all the stalls?”

She looked at Smitty, slapped him on the shoulder, and laughed. “I told you that wasn’t gonna work for long.”

“Jason, I think you’re on the wrong end of a practical joke.” I looked from José to Smitty as I spoke.

He turned to Smitty and José. “You guys are real assholes.”

Maria and Mike laughed, and both Smitty and José looked pretty shamefaced.

“Jason, you just need to take a joke better,” Smitty said weakly. He didn’t make eye contact with Jason either.

I looked from Smitty to José and Jason. “Jason, just how many days in a row did you muck out the stalls?”

“The last eight days.” He was looking angry now.

Mike looked at him. “You mean you mucked out the stalls from the three new horses, mine and Jeffy’s horses, and José’s, Josh’s, Jeanette’s, and Smitty’s horses? On top of that the cavvy too?” Mike was referring to the horses we kept for fresh mounts for the dudes.

“Yeah, I have been.”

“Just how long does it take you each day?”

“Most of the morning and afternoon. They’ve been giving me crap, too, since I don’t get done in time to currycomb the horses, brush their tails and manes, and clean the tack.” Mike stifled a laugh. Sandy had come back with our beers just as he’d started talking about how much he was doing and how long it was taking him.

“I reckon they told you the new guy grooms the horses and cleans the tack?”

“Yeah, they did.” He was glaring at Smitty and José now.

Maria smiled at him. “Jason, have you ever had to groom Jeff’s or Mike’s horses after they’ve ridden? Or have you had to clean their tack?”

“No, they always do it themselves.”

Mike nodded. “Every rider is supposed to take care of his own horse. We’ll do it for the dudes, but that’s different.”

Sandy spoke to Jason, but looked from Smitty to José with her “no nonsense” expression. “Jason, a joke can be funny, but it seems to me some folks just don’t know when to quit.” Mike smiled at Jason and then gave Smitty a real hard look.

Maria nodded. “That is very true, Jason. It seems to me they owe you for the amount of work you were doing for them.”

José looked at me and had kind of a plaintive note in his voice. “Boss, we were just joking with Jason, you know, treating him like a real hand.”

Smitty jumped in. “That’s right, Jeff. Jason’s done a great job too. You should see how fast he can muck out the stalls now.”

Mike laughed out loud. “Smitty, I don’t think that’s the best excuse you ever came up with.”

Sandy gave him a really stern look. “No, Bert, it isn’t.”

Jason continued to glare at Smitty and José. “You guys are real assholes. You owe me big.”

“Jason, amigo, it is just a joke.”

“Ha, ha, ha, José, funny joke. Do you joke with all your friends like that to get out of work?”

“Don’t worry, Jason, we’ll get ’em back.”

“Really, Jeff?”

“Jeffy’s right, Jason, we will get ’em back.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder.

Sandy put her hand on his other shoulder. “Maria and I’ll put our heads together with ya too. I reckon with the five of us, we should be able to get ’em back good.”

“Now just wait a minute. Everyone here is ganging up on me and José.”

Sandy glared at Smitty. “Bert, just how is that different than you and José ganging up on Jason? I don’t understand.” Smitty didn’t look at her, but mumbled under his breath. “Pardon?”

“It’s no different.”

She continued to glare. “Okay, now that we got that settled, who wants what to eat?” We all ordered dinner.

A few minutes later, José got tired of Maria pointedly ignoring him, and sheepishly looked at Jason. “Jason, amigo, how about if I muck out the stalls for the next eight days? Maybe we went just a little too far in joking with you.”

Before Jason could answer, Smitty offered to muck out stalls too. “Jason, I’ll be happy to muck out stalls for eight days, too, then we’ll all be even.” Of course Sandy was bringing refills on the beer, so he must’ve reckoned he was doing double duty, getting right with Jason and Sandy.

Jason looked at me. “What do you think, Jeff? Would that put us all even?”

“I reckon it would, but what’s the plan for muckin’ out stalls after that?” I looked at José.

“We can all take turns like we always have.”

Maria smiled at José and then at Smitty. “I think it is very good that you two are being good sports.”

Just then Sandy brought our dinners. We were awash in the smells of burgers and fries. We dug in. After a minute or two, José decided to change the subject away from practical jokes.

“Boss, Mike, are you two still going to the rodeo in Arizona?”

“We are. I reckon Mike and me have a pretty good chance at gettin’ a couple of buckles apiece.”

“What events are you two competing in?”

Mike answered this time. “We’re gonna do the rough stock events, bronc ridin’, bull ridin’, steer wrestlin’, and team calf ropin’. Jeffy’s got me talked into doin’ a couple of the camp events.”

“Camp events, what are those?” Smitty gave us a quizzical look.

“They’re events that are special in the gay rodeo. One’s called the ‘wild drag race’. In it, ya got a cowboy, cowgirl, and a person in drag. Idea is for the cowboy to wrestle the steer, the cowgirl to help, and the person in drag to ride it for a while.”

“You’re kiddin’ me!”

“No, Smitty, I ain’t.”

Jason piped up. “That’s right. I saw the Bay Area Gay Rodeo, and they do that all right.”

“So, boss, who is going to go in drag? You or Miguel?” José laughed.

“I reckon you’ll have to find that out if you’re lucky enough to see any pictures.”