Montana Hearts - 4. Chapter 4 - Rattlesnakes

-- Chapter Four --

Rip had heard the sound of vehicles arriving and stepped over to the door of the trailer to look out from the living quarters and investigate. He noticed Hank on his four-wheeler first, but the moment he spotted the old Ford on the road behind him, a slow smile spread across his face.

Then he seemed to remember something. Something he'd been waiting quite a while to do.

He disappeared back inside the trailer and pulled open a small drawer beneath the kitchen sink, as Beth watched him rummaging through it.

'What are you looking for?'

'Something.'

'That's helpful.'

Rip found what he wanted and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.

It was about six inches long, dry and slightly curled, with a distinctive cluster of rattles at one end.

He gave it a little shake.

The unmistakable buzzing sound filled the tiny room.

Beth stared at him. 'Oh, Jesus Christ.'

Rip grinned. 'Still works.'

'Rip!'

'What?'

'You're going to regret this.'

He shook the rattles again, looking altogether too pleased with himself.

'It's Teeter.'

'That's precisely why you're going to regret it.'

He slipped the tail into his shirt pocket.

'You just come a-running when you hear the commotion.'

Beth folded her arms. 'I'm not getting involved.'

'Suit yourself.'

But as Rip headed toward the door, she couldn't help but smile. Because she knew exactly what he was planning.

***

It had happened years earlier, during that miserable spell in Texas when the Yellowstone crew had been sent south with the cattle due to a disease outbreak on the ranch.

The crew had all been sleeping in tents on the 6666 Ranch. Unfortunately, Teeter had left the zipper open just enough for an unwelcome visitor to find its way inside.

A rattlesnake.

In fact, there were several rattlesnakes, all seeking some warmth. And apparently deciding that Teeter's blanket offered a particularly comfortable place to spend the night, the creature had slithered beneath it and settled down beside her.

Nobody knew how long it had been there. What they did find out, was that Teeter had woken to discover she was sharing her bed with something that could kill her.

And for once in her life, she'd been almost completely speechless.

When she failed to emerge the following morning, Rip had gone to investigate.

‘Teeter!’ he’d called out, as he slapped his hand on the canvas. ‘Why aren’t you out here already?’

When there was no answer he unzipped the doorway and pulled the flap back, and that’s when he'd found her lying perfectly still, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror.

'S-s-snake,' she'd whispered.

Rip carefully lifted the blanket with a branch he picked up from nearby, and there it was. Curled up quite comfortably.

As sweat dripped from Teeter’s forehead, Rip managed to enter the tent and position himself so that he could use the branch to flick the creature clear out the doorway and out of the tent, where it was promptly dispatched before it could cause any more trouble.

Teeter had never entirely forgiven him for the incident. Not because he'd saved her life. But because he’d made her search through every item in the tent to see if there were more rattlers – and there were two more that she found and had to despatch – and because every cowboy in the outfit had subsequently heard about it.

And now, years later, Rip Wheeler still had the rattlesnake's tail.

***

From behind the neighboring trailer, Rip watched and waited until Lloyd and Teeter had finished greeting Carter and were busy unloading their horses, then the pair led their animals toward the corrals.

Lloyd was talking to one of the J-Bar cowboys, who pointed out which pens were available.

Teeter, meanwhile, was complaining loudly about the drive.

'Ah swear t'God, Lloyd, that goddamn truck's gonna shake mah fuckin' teeth loose one o' these days.'

Lloyd merely grunted. 'Truck's fine.'

'Truck's a fuckin' antique!'

'Still got us here, didn’t it?'

'Baarly!'

Rip bit back a laugh.

He waited until they'd turned their horses loose and returned to the trailer to fetch their saddles.

Then he moved. Quietly.

For a man his size, Rip could be remarkably stealthy when he wanted to be. He slipped around the rear of the trailer and approached from behind.

Lloyd spotted him first and his eyes narrowed. Rip quickly raised one finger to his lips and gave the slightest shake of his head.

Lloyd looked from Rip to Teeter.

Then he saw what Rip was holding.

'Oh, shit,' he muttered.

Teeter, bent over beside the trailer, was reaching for her saddle.

'What?'

'Nothin'.'

'Well, quit standin' there like a fuckin' fence post an' gimme a hand!'

Rip stepped closer.

Waited.

Then, just as Teeter straightened with the saddle in her arms, he raised the rattlesnake tail and gave it an almighty shake.

BRRRRRRRRRR!

The effect was immediate.

Teeter let out a scream that could probably have been heard all the way to Bozeman.

The saddle hit the ground, then Teeter launched herself bodily toward the nearest available human being.

Unfortunately for Lloyd, that happened to be him.

'JAAAAAYZUS FUCKIN' CHRAYST!'

Lloyd staggered backward as Teeter threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off his feet.

'GODDAMMIT, RIP!' he roared. 'YOU TRYIN' TO KILL ME OR HER?'

Rip doubled over laughing.

Carter, who'd been walking back from the corrals, stopped dead in his tracks.

For a moment he stared at the spectacle. Then he started laughing as well.

Teeter, meanwhile, had finally realized what had happened. And she was not amused.

'YOU MUTHAFARKIN', LOW-DOWN, SNAKE-ASS SONUVABITCH!'

Rip could barely breathe, he was laughing so hard. 'Jesus, Teeter—'

'DON' YOU FUCKIN' JESUS ME! AH ORRTA PULL MAH KNIFE AN'—'

She struggled out of Lloyd's arms and landed back on her feet, allowing Lloyd to straighten his hat.

'Christ Almighty,' he muttered. 'Nearly broke my damn back.'

As curious faces appeared from all corners, Teeter rounded on Rip.

'YOU THINK THAT'S FUCKIN' FUNNY?'

Rip nodded, still laughing. 'Yeah. Kinda do.'

She punched him squarely in the chest. Hard.

'Ow! Goddammit!'

'THAT'S FER THE FUCKIN' SNAKE!'

She hit him again.

'AND THAT'S FER SCAREN' THE SHIT OUTTA ME!'

Rip caught her wrist before she could deliver a third blow.

'Alright, alright! Jesus!'

For a moment she glared at him, but then her expression changed.

The anger faded. And suddenly she threw her arms around him.

'Ah missed ya, ya big ugly bastard.'

Rip laughed and hugged her back. 'Missed you too, Teeter.'

It was at that precise moment that Beth appeared around the end of the trailer.

She stopped. Folded her arms. And stared.

Teeter froze.

Her arms were still around Rip. She looked at Beth. Then at Rip. Then back at Beth.

'Oh, shit.'

Beth said nothing, but tapped her foot on the gravel.

Teeter released Rip as though he'd suddenly caught fire.

'Now, Beth, honey, this ain't what it looks like . . .'

Beth raised an eyebrow.

'Oh?'

'Ah was jus'— well, see, this muthafarker scared the livin' shit outta me, an'—'

'And?'

'An' ah was jus' givin' him a hug, that's all! Ain't nothin' else!'

Beth took a step closer. Teeter took one backward.

'Ah swear t'God, Beth, ah ain't tryin' t' steal yer man!'

Behind her, Lloyd made a strange choking sound. Carter turned away, shoulders shaking. Rip simply stood there, grinning like an idiot.

Beth looked Teeter up and down. Then she smiled.

'Oh, for God's sake, Teeter. Get over here.'

Before Teeter could react, Beth stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. For a moment the pink-haired cowgirl stood frozen to the spot, but then she gradually raised her arms and hugged Beth back.

'Well, shit,' she muttered.

Beth burst out laughing. 'God, I've missed you, you crazy bitch!'

'Missed you too, honey!'

They held one another for a moment before Beth stepped back, still smiling.

Then she turned toward Rip.

'And you.'

Rip's grin faltered slightly.

'What?'

'You are a complete asshole.'

'Yeah,' Lloyd agreed. 'I'll second that.'

Beth shook her head. 'But I have to admit . . .'

She looked at Teeter, then at the saddle lying in the dirt, then back at Rip.

'. . . that was pretty fucking funny.'

At that remark, Rip gave the snake tail another shake, then the laughter started all over again. And just like that, for a few wonderful minutes, it felt as though the old Yellowstone bunkhouse had come back to life.

Not the building. Not the ranch. But the people. The laughter. The insults.

The friendships that had survived everything life had thrown at them.

Carter looked around at the familiar faces, listening to Lloyd grumble about his back while Teeter threatened to find a live snake and put it in Rip's bed.

He couldn't stop smiling.

God, it was good to be back in Montana.

***

By the time the sun began to disappear behind the western mountains, the Lazy D had taken on the appearance of a small, temporary settlement.

Horse trailers stood in a broad arc beyond the bunkhouse, their doors open and equipment scattered around them. Saddles rested on stands or over the rails of nearby fences, while ropes, bridles and assorted pieces of tack hung wherever their owners had found somewhere convenient to put them. A few horses stood quietly in the corrals, heads lowered as they worked through their evening feed.

The day's arrivals had settled in, and the steady rumble of diesel engines had finally given way to the quieter sounds of horses shifting in the dirt, cowboys talking, and the occasional burst of laughter.

Hank Dunbar had been busy.

The old rancher had arranged for a large fire to be built in the open space between the trailers and the bunkhouse, while beside the building stood a long makeshift table laden with enough food to feed a small army.

There were beans, potatoes, bread rolls, several enormous dishes of salad and a considerable quantity of brisket that had been slow cooking in a smoker for most of the afternoon.

One of Hank's young ranch hands was tending the meat over a large grill, while another was hauling a cooler into position beside the table.

Hank stood nearby, directing proceedings with the confidence of a man who had spent most of his life telling other people what to do.

'That cooler goes over there, Billy. No, not there. Over there, where folks can get at it without trippin' over the damn thing.'

The young cowboy moved it.

'That better?'

'Much.'

Hank looked around at the gathering crowd.

'Alright, you miserable bastards! Food's about ready. Get yourselves a plate before these young fellas eat the whole damn lot.'

There was a murmur amongst the visitors, and a little laughter, followed by some general movement toward the table.

Rip, who had been sitting in a camper chair beside their trailer and talking with Beth and Lloyd beside their trailer, looked across at the food.

'Well, that sounds like an invitation.'

Lloyd nodded.

'Been smelling that brisket for the last hour. About ready to eat my hat.'

'Wouldn't be the first time,' Rip muttered.

'What was that?'

'Nothin'.'

***

Hank Dunbar was one of those men who seemed to have been born old.

His face was deeply lined by years of sun and wind, his hands were broad and rough, and the battered felt hat he wore had probably seen more Montana winters than most of the cowboys gathered around him.

He had known John Dutton for decades.

They had traded cattle, argued over the price of everything, borrowed equipment and helped one another through more than a few difficult seasons. Hank had never worked for Yellowstone, but there had always been a mutual respect between the two men.

When John died, Hank had been disappointed that he couldn’t attend the funeral, but was respectful of the family’s wishes. When the Yellowstone was finally broken up, he'd watched with a sadness he rarely spoke about.

And now, looking around at the familiar faces gathered on his ranch, he was quietly pleased to see so many of the old crew together again.

He spotted Rip approaching and raised a hand.

'Wheeler!'

'Hank.'

'You boys get settled in alright?'

'Yeah. Horses are fed, gear's squared away. We're good.'

'Good. Good.' Hank nodded toward the table. 'Well, get some food into you. Plenty of work comin' up, and I don't want anybody tellin' me they're too damn hungry to ride.'

Rip grinned. 'Wouldn't dream of it.'

Hank looked past him.

'And where's that wife of yours?'

'Right behind you.'

Hank turned.

Beth stood there holding a plate in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

'Jesus, Hank. You still look like something they dug up out of the prairie.'

The old rancher burst out laughing.

'Well, hell, Beth Dutton! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes.'

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug.

'Careful,' Beth warned. 'You'll wrinkle my shirt.'

'Still got that mouth on you, I see.'

'And you still haven't learned to mind your own business.'

Hank laughed again.

'Goddamn, it's good to see you.'

For just a moment, Beth's expression softened.

'You too, Hank.'

Then she stepped back and looked toward the grill.

'Now, tell me you've got something decent to eat. I've been living on truck-stop food for two days.'

'Best beef in Montana.'

'That's a fairly bold claim, but I guess seein’ as the Yellowstone’s no longer around, you might just be able to back it up.’

'Come back tomorrow and tell me I'm wrong.'

***

As darkness settled over the valley, the fire grew brighter.

Cowboys gathered around it in a loose circle, sitting on folding chairs, overturned buckets, logs and whatever else they could find. Others remained standing, leaning against trailers or resting their boots on the lower rails of the nearby fence.

Someone passed around a bottle of whiskey.

Someone else produced another.

Hank, who had claimed a chair close to the fire, looked at the growing gathering and shook his head.

'Just remember, boys, we've got cattle to work. I don't want a bunch of sorry-ass drunks fallin' outta their saddles tomorrow when we start bringing in the close herds, to be ready for Monday.'

'Tomorrow?' Lloyd called. 'Hell, Hank, half these boys won't even know what day it is.'

'Then they'd better learn quick.'

That earned a round of laughter.

Carter sat on a log near Rip, balancing a plate on his knees as he finished the last of his meal.

Across the fire, Teeter was explaining something to Clint Holloway in her usual rapid-fire manner.

Clint listened politely, nodding occasionally, although from the expression on his face Carter suspected he understood perhaps one word in five.

Wade, sitting beside him, leaned across.

'Don't worry,' he told Clint. 'I haven't understood a damn thing she's said either.'

Teeter stopped talking.

Her eyes narrowed.

'Whatchu say, pretty boy?'

Wade blinked. 'Uh . . . nothing.'

'Yah. That's whut ah thought.'

Beth laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

***

It wasn't long before the stories started.

One cowboy recalled a particularly stubborn bull that had managed to put three men over a fence before anybody got a rope on him. Another told of a horse that had bucked its rider into a stock tank, then stood patiently beside it as though waiting for the man to climb back aboard.

Lloyd contributed a story about a young hand for whom Yellowstone had been a last resort – Jimmy Hurdstrom. He had tried learning to ride, but fell off every time, so John Dutton and Rip had tied him to the saddle and slapped the horse on the bum.

The horse bucked and galloped around the yard, but Jimmy stuck to it – not that he really had any choice in the matter – and he finally came out of the ordeal with enough balance to be able to stay upright on a horse.

The laughter rolled around the fire.

Carter listened, smiling.

He remembered those days.

The bunkhouse. The endless teasing. The stories that grew a little taller every time somebody told them.

There had been plenty of hard times at Yellowstone, and more than a few moments he'd rather forget. But there had been good times too.

His favorite recollection was when, as a fifteen-year-old, he had fleeced the whole bunkhouse of their cash in a game of poker. And sitting here now, listening to all these familiar voices, he realized just how much he'd missed them.

After a while, one of the younger cowboys disappeared into his trailer and returned carrying an old acoustic guitar.

'Anybody mind a little music?'

'Depends,' Beth replied. 'You any good?'

The cowboy grinned. 'Good enough.'

'That's what they all say.'

He settled onto an overturned bucket, adjusted the guitar across his knee and began picking out an old country tune that everybody seemed to know; ‘Ghost Riders in the Sky’.

A few voices joined in when he reached the chorus.

Others simply listened.

The music drifted across the yard, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the soft sounds of the horses beyond the fence.

For a little while, nobody seemed particularly interested in going anywhere.

***

Later, Hank moved his chair closer to where Rip, Beth and Lloyd were sitting.

'You hear anything from Kayce?' he asked.

Rip nodded. 'Talked to him before we left Texas. Said he and Tate will be here tomorrow.'

'Good. Good. Been a while since I've seen those boys.'

'He's doin' alright,' Rip said. Hank studied him for a moment.

'Heard about Monica.'

Rip's expression changed.

'Yeah.'

'Damn shame.'

'It was.'

Hank looked into the fire.

'John always did say that boy had more heart than sense. Reckon he's had a rough go of it.'

At the mention of her father’s name, Beth had to look away for a moment.

Rip nodded. 'He's had his share.'

There was a brief silence.

Then Lloyd spoke. 'You say Tate was comin' with him?'

'Yeah. Both of 'em’ll be here.'

'Well, hell. Haven’t seen that kid, since we buried John.'

Rip nodded slowly. ‘Think you'll find he's grown some.'

'They all do,' Hank said.

He looked across the fire toward Carter, who was laughing at something one of the J-Bar boys had said.

'That one sure as hell has.'

Rip followed his gaze.

'Yeah,' he said. 'He has.'

For a moment, the three men watched the young cowboy.

Then Hank leaned back in his chair.

'John would've liked to see that.'

Nobody answered immediately.

The fire cracked and shifted. A small shower of sparks rose into the darkness.

Finally, Rip nodded.

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'Reckon he would.'

***

The evening wore on.

The guitar changed hands twice, although the quality of the music varied considerably depending on who happened to be playing it.

Beth and Teeter spent much of the night catching up, their conversation punctuated by laughter, insults, and the occasional remark that caused nearby cowboys to pretend they hadn't heard a thing.

Rip found himself enjoying the company more than he'd expected.

He'd missed these people.

Not that he was likely to admit it out loud.

But as he looked around the fire, seeing Lloyd, Teeter, Carter and the others, he felt something he hadn't experienced for quite some time.

A sense of belonging.

Not to a ranch. Not to a place. But to the people.

Eventually, the crowd began to thin. One by one, cowboys drifted toward their trailers and bedrolls. The guitar was packed away, the empty plates collected, and Hank reminded everyone that breakfast would be served early.

Carter remained beside the fire a little longer. He watched the flames settle, the larger logs collapsing slowly into glowing embers.

Every so often a gust of wind stirred the coals, sending sparks spiralling upward toward the stars.

Beyond the trailers, the mountains were dark silhouettes against the night sky. He leaned back and looked up. The stars seemed brighter here than they ever did in Texas.

Or perhaps he'd simply forgotten how beautiful Montana could be.

'You comin', kiddo?'

Rip stood a few yards away.

Carter looked over.

'Yeah. In a minute.'

Rip nodded.

'Don't stay up all damn night. Hank'll have you workin' soon enough.'

'Got it.'

Rip turned and headed toward the trailer.

Carter watched the last of the sparks disappear into the darkness. Then he stood, stretched and made his way toward his bedroll.

Tomorrow, Kayce and Tate would arrive.

And the old Yellowstone family would be just a little more complete.

To be continued . . .