believe I didn’t ask you about your ranch. Or guess. Or look you up online. I can’t believe Will didn’t either. I just assumed …”
“You just assumed . An’ that’s it, isn’t it? Ol’ Leroy can’t be nothing if he looks like that. Or talks like that. Like what , Doug?
“You gave me a lecture on how people were gonna cut me because of my skin. How about you? And color blind Will? You’re the only ones hurt my feelings so far.”
Leroy stomped away from Doug, stopped, and stomped back. “If you’d have looked online, you’d ‘a’ found a lot more. You ever heard of cowboy poetry? My dad’s been writing it since my mom died.” Leroy’s face ran through a half dozen feelings: sadness, pain, pride. “He wrote about everything that happened. Mama dyin’, him beatin’ me, and my grandpa taking me. All of it. And about rodeo. It’s got all his feelin’s in it. Rodeo isn’t just a fun show. It’s rough. And it hurts.
“He started reading at the rodeos. Almost every rodeo has a cowboy reading, an’ he went to all of them. An’ then the poetry competitions. My dad’s a star! He sells his books on our site too. I should a brought you one.”
“You raise Kosher beef and beef for yuppies. Your dad’s a rodeo star and a cowboy poet.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you ask? Anyone else, you would have investigated before you met ‘em. You, know,” Leroy scratched his nose, “I think I’m lookin’ at a situation of cultural and racial discrimination.”
Leroy stood in the empty hall. Doug had gone home. He was alone in a terrifying world with massive expectations that meant his whole life piled on his head. He came from nothing. He didn’t want to embarrass himself with the Sirs and Lords and Dowagers. He went back into the living room. The Watches Ranch website still covered the wall, clock hands moving reassuringly. The clock ticked, a nice sound.
Out the window, life pulsated on the street below. He had never had time off. Some animal always needed tending, or their hay crop was having a crisis. Or the house, tractor, truck. His father. Now all he had to do was go to dinner at palaces. The space of not having any real work felt almost too open.
And then it didn’t. He’d do some things, and he wouldn’t do others. He’d be true to Cass and he wouldn’t drink. He’d be honorable. He was a spirit warrior. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a good time.
Mr. Duane had given him a whole closet of beautiful clothes.
Leroy slipped on a pair of slacks and sweater, grabbed his leather jacket and wallet and split. He was out on the town.
10
A Call from Daddy
W ill sat in his study, staring at the phone. A week had passed since Leroy and Doug had deposited Cass in the hospital. He’d talked to her doctors; he’d talked to her nurses. They knew her; she’d been in there before.
“She’s different this time,” her doctor had said. “She’s very ill, but she’s more positive than I’ve seen her. I think she’ll work with us and we’ll have a chance to make some real progress. Let us have a bit more time. I’ll have someone call you every day. I think you may be surprised.”
He sat in front of the phone in his office, pondering. They’d told him Cass could talk to him briefly. He’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times. Cass would be somewhere safe, getting healthy. They’d talk. She’d say she was sorry for what she’d said to him at Christmas, and so many other times. He’d say he was sorry he’d let Enzo Donatore get her and her mother. He was sorry about everything.
Will knew he couldn’t do all of that at once, it would take time. Skill. Patience. But maybe this time it would work. He would reach toward her—carefully, sensitively—and she would extend herself to him.
“Can you forgive me, Cass? Can we be friends? Can you love me?”
That’s what sat on his chest at night, grabbed his throat during the
“You just assumed . An’ that’s it, isn’t it? Ol’ Leroy can’t be nothing if he looks like that. Or talks like that. Like what , Doug?
“You gave me a lecture on how people were gonna cut me because of my skin. How about you? And color blind Will? You’re the only ones hurt my feelings so far.”
Leroy stomped away from Doug, stopped, and stomped back. “If you’d have looked online, you’d ‘a’ found a lot more. You ever heard of cowboy poetry? My dad’s been writing it since my mom died.” Leroy’s face ran through a half dozen feelings: sadness, pain, pride. “He wrote about everything that happened. Mama dyin’, him beatin’ me, and my grandpa taking me. All of it. And about rodeo. It’s got all his feelin’s in it. Rodeo isn’t just a fun show. It’s rough. And it hurts.
“He started reading at the rodeos. Almost every rodeo has a cowboy reading, an’ he went to all of them. An’ then the poetry competitions. My dad’s a star! He sells his books on our site too. I should a brought you one.”
“You raise Kosher beef and beef for yuppies. Your dad’s a rodeo star and a cowboy poet.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you ask? Anyone else, you would have investigated before you met ‘em. You, know,” Leroy scratched his nose, “I think I’m lookin’ at a situation of cultural and racial discrimination.”
Leroy stood in the empty hall. Doug had gone home. He was alone in a terrifying world with massive expectations that meant his whole life piled on his head. He came from nothing. He didn’t want to embarrass himself with the Sirs and Lords and Dowagers. He went back into the living room. The Watches Ranch website still covered the wall, clock hands moving reassuringly. The clock ticked, a nice sound.
Out the window, life pulsated on the street below. He had never had time off. Some animal always needed tending, or their hay crop was having a crisis. Or the house, tractor, truck. His father. Now all he had to do was go to dinner at palaces. The space of not having any real work felt almost too open.
And then it didn’t. He’d do some things, and he wouldn’t do others. He’d be true to Cass and he wouldn’t drink. He’d be honorable. He was a spirit warrior. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a good time.
Mr. Duane had given him a whole closet of beautiful clothes.
Leroy slipped on a pair of slacks and sweater, grabbed his leather jacket and wallet and split. He was out on the town.
10
A Call from Daddy
W ill sat in his study, staring at the phone. A week had passed since Leroy and Doug had deposited Cass in the hospital. He’d talked to her doctors; he’d talked to her nurses. They knew her; she’d been in there before.
“She’s different this time,” her doctor had said. “She’s very ill, but she’s more positive than I’ve seen her. I think she’ll work with us and we’ll have a chance to make some real progress. Let us have a bit more time. I’ll have someone call you every day. I think you may be surprised.”
He sat in front of the phone in his office, pondering. They’d told him Cass could talk to him briefly. He’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times. Cass would be somewhere safe, getting healthy. They’d talk. She’d say she was sorry for what she’d said to him at Christmas, and so many other times. He’d say he was sorry he’d let Enzo Donatore get her and her mother. He was sorry about everything.
Will knew he couldn’t do all of that at once, it would take time. Skill. Patience. But maybe this time it would work. He would reach toward her—carefully, sensitively—and she would extend herself to him.
“Can you forgive me, Cass? Can we be friends? Can you love me?”
That’s what sat on his chest at night, grabbed his throat during the
Similar Books
