above his eyes and under his nose. Then he drew it across his lips and put it back in the box.
Ragged chains of silent lightning ripped the dark dense night to the east. Dead ahead, a tall truck studded with colored lights like a dreadful giant Christmas tree loomed out of the darkness and rumbled by, shuddering Jesseâs rig.
Eventually, day broke upon a smoking reach of rolling grassland with a long red sunrise pouring its syrup over the golden hills at the edge of the world. He thought how easy it would be to call Larry and get the Bassettsâ phone number. He even let his hand touch the phone. Then what? Ask her if she misses you? Git a holt of yerself, boy. She ainât even on the same planet you are. Think about the colt, The Futurity. In a few hours, youâll have him under you.
21
Home Again
B lizzard and Dozer escorted the rig to its place near the barn. Abbieâs hair was covered with a red pirateâs bandanna tied tight under a green ball cap from Cullenâs Feed Store. Beaming, she looked down at him from the horse she sat on. âGood afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?â
âWell, maâam, how about a job?â
âWell, sir, the only job we have available is mucking stalls and hauling manure.â
âFine. Just what I need. Some shit in my life.â
âThen youâve come to the right place.â
âDonât I know it.â
The sorrel colt stood gleaming, burnished copper in the dusty sun shafts. He snuffled as Jesse placed his arm along his neck and stroked between his ears. He slipped off the halter, bridled him, and stepped into the saddle. He walked the colt off on a loose rein. The horse stretched his neck long and low then tossed his mane and hisspirit set his feet to dancing. Jesse just let him go. He broke into a trot, kicked his hind feet in the air, and shook his head as he moved into a canter. Abbie liked to watch Jesseâs every move on a horse. He never seemed at odds with a horse, even a rank, uncooperative son of a bitch. Sheâd seen him ride plenty of them. He was constantly trying to let them know that heâd go along with them or at least meet them halfway, and that it really wasnât a big deal.
Jesse pushed ten head out of the herd and sat facing them, deciding which one he would cut as he allowed the rest to drift back to the bunch. A black and white Angus cross was face-to-face with Buckshot. The reins dangled loosely as Jesse squeezed his legs as a signal and the colt transformed into a brewing storm in hide and hair. He pinned his ears and all but spit in the cowâs face. The cow made a quick move. The colt squatted and dove to counter. The cow moved again with more determination, but Buckshot was there splattered out, blowing in her face saying, âNow what?â It was the same with three more cows as Buckshot mirrored their every move, conquering them one by one. It was somewhere between a thought and a thing, an ephemeral display of magic and myth, man and beast as art. Abbie was giggling, âMan, if he ainât something.â
Jesse grinned. âHeâd rather die than let a cow get past him.â He stepped down and loosened the cinches. He walked to the coltâs head and slipped the bridle while flared nostrils gulped in air. He stood in front of the horse and softly placed his fingers between the horseâs eyes and circled them lightly, whispering, âYouâre a good boy. Yes, sir, you are a good boy.â
Abbie watching wished he didnât see her as a kid, or worse, his daughter. Then she drove the thought away. She helped him carry his stuff from the truck into the house. Climbing the stone steps, she was talking back over her shoulder, âYou gotta be dead. Three hours sleep. Thatâs nuts. Couldnât wait to see me, huh?â
âThatâs right.â
He walked her back out to the porch. âThanks for not burning the place down.â He put
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