Cody in Wyoming - 7. Chapter 7

I woke with a start after hearing a thud and muffled “Shit” from down the hall followed eventually by the sound of a guy peeing in the toilet. My neck was stiff from sleeping sitting up. My arm was numb where Rence was slouched against my side. He started and sat up suddenly, looked around, uncertain of his bearings. He directed a “Mmph!” at me and then lurched towards the wood stove. He fiddled a bit, opened the door and threw in a couple logs and then fiddled some more. When done, he reached to me and drew me off the couch and into a hug.

 

“C’mon… I’ll show you your room.”

 

I may have answered with a monosyllabic sound… or not… but I followed him into the hall. The toilet flushed.

 

In the dark hall, I saw Alain’s pale, muscled back and a full butt covered in droopy white Fruit-of-the-Looms before he disappeared into his room. Damn, but they built ‘em hunky out here! Rence pulled me into another room across the hall from Alain’s. He indicated my towels, showed me my bed, gave me a sweet kiss, then stumbled out and further down the hall to his bedroom. Even in my bleary state, I would have liked a full bodied hug and passionate kiss. Instead, I retrieved my bags from the kitchen, then stepped into the bathroom to perform my bedtime ritual. Within minutes, I stripped down to my boxers and slipped between the cool sheets, kicking about a bit to try to warm them. I began my preparations for sleep, thinking calming, pleasant thoughts to elicit the alpha brain waves that would lull me to sleep. I remember the fleeting thought: do shepherds count sheep to put themselves to sleep? I don’t remember any resolution to that question.

 

 

 

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

 

 

 

I returned to consciousness slowly. My first awareness: the warmth of the bed and the cool, almost cold, air. I was cozy but my nose was cold. I thought back to the previous day, all the troubles getting to the ranch and the pleasure of arrival and the satisfaction of drowsing with Rence in the living room. With Rence nearby, the coming day promised to be better: more pleasurable, more comfortable, more companionable. With my eyes still closed, I heard plenty of sounds outside: the bleats of sheep, people calling back and forth, motors revving and machinery running, an occasional distant gunshot, the bark of a dog. I heard no movement in the house. I supposed Rence was getting some work out of the way so we could spend the balance of the day together. Alain had probably already left to return home. I opened my eyes and took in the room. It was bright. I figured the sun was shining. It saw a generic guest room: without the lived-in look of a private bedroom, but more personal than a hotel. The bookcase held the only personal items: a few 4-H trophies, some family photos (including one of a teenaged, grinning Rence and his equally happy father holding up strings of meaty trout) and books: on photography, on animal husbandry, on range development, on fly fishing and others on needlework and gardening and a gem from the 60’s entitled “How to Date: a Guide For Today’s Teenager”. It looked like no one had gone through the books since Rence’s parents’ deaths. I coaxed myself into getting up, pulled on the previous day’s clothes and wandered to the kitchen by way of the bathroom.

 

On the kitchen table, I found a note from Rence.

 

6:45

 

Karl,

 

I’m getting the crew started and taking care of a few chores. I’ll be back and will give you the nickel tour. We’ll have a light lunch and then head over to the CSR for dinner. Save your appetite!

 

XOX R

 

I looked at the clock. 9:15 Hmm… Rence would probably be showing up soon. It didn’t take long to orient myself in the kitchen: coffee maker on the counter, bread in the breadbox, toaster next to the coffee maker, butter and jam on the kitchen table. I poured myself a coffee and enjoyed the bitter black beverage. Nice and strong. Would put hair on your chest… well, not mine. I’m follicley challenged. If Rence had been drinking coffee like that since his youth, it was no wonder he had a tuft of hair curling over the collar of his shirt. It looked good on him. Holding that thought, I headed back into the house for a shower and change of clothes.

 

By quarter to 10, I was enjoying toast with my second cup of coffee. Still no Rence. I peered out the windows of the house, first checking the weather (bright and sunny) and then, the surrounding land. The ranch was on the side of a lightly wooded valley. To the south, fenced pasture lay on both sides of a stream before the valley walls rose to the densely wooded north facing slope. I crisscrossed the house, looking out windows in different directions. I took in views of dry, rocky slopes, open woodland (with the winding road we had arrived on the night before) and the ranch yard, backed by a stunning vista of the rocky, snow covered high country.

 

10:30, the morning half over and still no Rence, and I was beginning to feel neglected. I went back to my room and paged through the dating manual from the 60’s. I would have liked to have enjoyed it, but the irony was lost on me. My mood was souring by the minute. To pass the time, I pulled my airport novel out of my luggage and settled into a living room armchair to pass the time until Rence found time to return to the house and play host to his guest – me! It was hard to focus, but I had gotten through a chapter when I heard a vehicle drive into the yard. I marked my place and left the living room to peer out the kitchen window, but by the time I got there all I saw was a white pickup banging up the rough road that passed beyond the older house at the back of the ranch yard.

 

I returned to the armchair, but gave up the pretense of reading. I was steamed. Steamed and stuck. I couldn’t leave without asking for a ride or borrowing one of the ranch trucks. But I didn’t have any idea of how to get back to the gas station, so I really was well and truly stuck. I thought about calling the station and arranging for someone to pick me up, but held that option as a last resort. After pacing, I returned to the bedroom and packed my belongings so I could leave at the first opportunity and with the minimum of drama. I didn’t want to castigate Rence, I just wanted out and wanted to be gone when I finally was given the option. The entire trip was turning out to be a star-crossed affair. My bad… I remembered the old aphorism, “Don’t assume, it only makes an ass out of u and me.” I’d made an assumption and it had certainly made an ass out of me. Rence… well, Rence seemed to be doing a good job of being an ass without the assistance of my assumptions.

 

No, I couldn’t really blame him… I hadn’t given him the option of graciously turning down my visit. Though he wasn’t treating me as a proper host would, either.

 

I went back to the kitchen to reread the note he had left. I figured I might have misread it or missed something.

 

6:45

 

Karl,

 

I’m getting the crew started and taking care of a few chores. I’ll be back and will give you the nickel tour. We’ll have a light lunch and then head over to the CSR for dinner. Save your appetite!

 

XOX R

 

I hadn’t missed anything and there really wasn’t much to misunderstand. It was pretty straightforward. There was no indication he didn’t plan to return soon. I looked at the clock: 11:25, nearly five hours since he wrote the note. He had planned to show me the ranch. He had planned to eat lunch with me. He had planned to include me in his family’s dinner and celebration. He had felt a degree of enthusiasm; after all, what else would warrant the exclamation point? He had added the hugs and kisses. So, he had planned to spend much of the day with me. Then what the hell went wrong? Something had bollixed his plans. Damn! Typical of me to feel aggrieved and assume the worst!

 

I had no idea what to do, but figured some fresh coffee wouldn’t hurt, so I poured out the morning’s brew and set about making a fresh pot. I found a thermos on a pantry shelf, so, while the water heated, I pulled out the overclothes I had packed away and got ready to look for Rence. After filling the thermos, I grabbed some styrofoam cups and headed out the back door. Wherever the crew was, they could probably use some hot coffee, I figured.

 

The first step outside took my breath away. Cold… it was god-awfully cold! And dry! My breath caught in my throat. I coughed in the dry air. I had to swallow to keep my tongue from sticking to my palate. My eyes slitted against the glare, I headed towards the barn, taking shallow breaths, hoping to find someone who could give me an idea of Rence’s location. The barn was empty, so I headed to the old house behind it. As I climbed the steps, the front door opened. A slight, Hispanic woman looked me over and gestured for me to enter.

 

“Pasale, pasale.”

 

Once I was inside, she removed her shawl, the rebozo that had framed her face. She looked flustered.

 

“Busca a señor Renzo? Ay!” Then she continued too quickly for me to follow speaking as much with her hands as her mother tongue. I picked up a few words and phrases: “coyotes… seis o siete muertas… embras, bebes tambien… tragedia…” Then she seemed to realize she wasn’t communicating. She began again. “Look… Renzo? Renzo in milk shed.”

 

I’m certain I looked confused. “Milk shed?”

 

“Si, si, la lechería. Está atras de la casa, en el edificio siguente. Behind…” She gestured to the room where we stood.

 

“Ah! Behind this house.”

 

She nodded energetically. “Si! Behind house. Esperase un momento, por favor. Wait. I show.”

 

She wrapped the rebozo tightly around her head once again and then motioned towards the door. After we stepped off the porch, she scurried behind the house and then up the road while I followed her to a sharp bend in the road.

 

“Allá, allá. Está, Renzo, en la bodega, la lechería. Allá!” She gestured energetically towards a building I hadn’t seen before. “Sigue el camino. Renzo está. Renzo in… in… está en la bodega.”

 

“Uh… Gracias, Señora.”

 

I followed her directions and walked to the building - the milk shed. The white pickup was parked out front. Before entering, I looked back and saw the silhouette of the little woman, her breath a fog around her head, backlit by the low, cold winter sun.

 

She nodded quickly and then scurried back in the direction of her home.

 

I turned and hesitantly opened the door. I was worried and uncertain how to interpret her florid explanations: Coyotes? Six or seven dead? Ewes and lambs too? Tragedy? I had no idea what I would be finding inside the milk shed. It turned out my worst, wildest imaginings wouldn’t have prepared me for what I saw after I found my way to the back of the building.

 

I have worked on horror movie sets. I’ve seen lots of horrific makeup and special effects: severed limbs, demolished faces, eviscerated corpses. They make me uncomfortable. I’ve never enjoyed them as some people do. But I have never come face to face with real horror, with carcasses that had met a violent death. When I turned the corner, I saw the milking room on my right. Looking at the clean, concrete floored room, I couldn’t fathom the source of the odor that assaulted me when I entered. It was the odor of shit and blood and dead meat. When I turned to the left, I found the source of the horrific stench, a pile of sheep carcasses and various sheep parts just outside the milking room door, their white wool smeared in filth and blood, the underbellies ripped open, ribs exposed to the cold air, entrails drooping to the frozen ground. I saw throats torn open leaving heads dangling at un-natural angles. I saw white wool that looked soft and inviting covering detached fore and rear legs. I even saw part of a lamb fetus still in its torn amniotic sack, hanging from one of the carcasses. I’m embarrassed to say I actually stumbled at the sights. Suddenly, my esophagus was too tight. I could feel saliva pooling in the back of my throat. At the feeling of my gorge rising, I forced myself to look away before I vomited.

 

I looked around the milking room again and realized I could hear voices coming from the back of the building. I followed the voices to a small room, where, through the door’s window, I saw Rence and a couple strangers, deep in discussion, only… they were in blood spattered clothing, surgical masks and gloves. I turned the knob and opened the door, only to hear an aggravated Rence shout, “No entras! Esperate afuera!”

 

“Sorry!” I quickly stepped back and closed the door, feeling puzzled and put out again, as I had been back at the house.

 

Through the window, I saw Rence look up, then sigh and check with the two men. He then crossed the room and stepped into the milking room.

 

“Karl, I’m so sorry. It’s been a fucking hell of a morning. A totally shitty morning of a completely fucked day!”

 

“Coffee?” was my lame response.

 

Rence looked at the thermos in my hand and reached up to scratch his nose, only to stop when he saw his surgical gloves.

 

“Not now. The vet’s almost done stitching up Aiala.” He looked back into the room, where I saw a black and white haired body lying on a stainless steel table behind the other two men.

 

“Is she alright?” Immediately, I realized the stupidity of my question. “Is she going to be alright?

 

“Yeah, she got torn up but she saved the rest of the flock from the fucking coyotes.” He nearly spat the last of the sentence. Rence’s intensity scared me.

 

“She’ll be alright. I gotta get back in there to help finish up. Uh… thanks for the coffee. That was considerate. We’ll want some when we’re done. Listen, come in out of the cold but wait by the door. We’ll be done soon. And Karl, I’m just… I’m really sorry. Let us finish up and we can head back to the house.”

 

We entered the room. Rence performed cursory introductions. “Dave, Manny… Karl,” to which they grunted a greeting. Rence changed his surgical gloves and the three of them went back to their operations on Aiala. I perched on the edge of another stainless steel table, the cold metal leaching the warmth from my butt.

 

I let out my breath, only then realizing I had been holding it since… since stepping into the milking room and seeing the pile of eviscerated corpses. I glanced back at them through the window, but quickly averted my gaze when I felt my throat tighten again. I turned my attention to the activity in the room.

 

The three men attended to Aiala. They mumbled to one another, unintelligible from my position across the room. The older man, Dave, was stitching Aiala’s flank. Rence was holding spare suture and gauze while Manny was acting as Dave’s assistant. I saw the steady rise and fall of Aiala’s ribcage, though she was completely still aside from her breathing. Under the operating table was a pile of black and white fur, matted with mud and coagulated blood. They must have shaved a good bit of her body before sewing her up.

 

I broadened my focus to take in the room. White tile floors and walls, stainless steel tables and vats. It was the cheese room, a clean room. No wonder they had stitched up Aiala here. It was the closest they could come to an operating room within miles of the ranch.

 

I waited.

 

Before long, I heard a collective exhalation. The men stepped back and began to clean up. Soon, they joined me, smiling their thanks between sips of coffee.

 

“I could use something stiffer in this.”

 

Rence’s comment elicited a nod of agreement from the vet. “Some whisky would sure hit the spot. Or tequila.” He nodded to Manny.

 

“Listen Dave, once we get Aiala squared away, come on back to the house and join us for lunch and an Irish coffee.”

 

“It may have to take a sandwich to-go and a raincheck on the Irish coffee. I’ll check with my service, but I’m certain I’ll have other visits this afternoon. Karl, thanks for the coffee. It’s just what I needed.”

 

The three of them conferred on preparing a recovery space for Aiala and then moving the anesthetized Aiala to Rence’s house. Manny, who turned out to be the ranch foreman, took on the management of burying the dead sheep and cleaning the milk shed. I collected the cups and thermos.

 

“Karl, how ‘bout I meet you at the house in fifteen minutes. Can you clean the hall bathroom so Aiala can stay there until she’s recuperated? You can use the master bath till you leave. I’ll be there in a few and I‘ll show you what to do.”

 

 

 

 

------------- ~ o ~ -------------

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t until the sun had passed behind the peaks to the west and the long twilight had begun that Rence and I were able to settle back and relax.

 

“Karl, thanks for mopping down the bathroom and getting it ready for Aiala. It surprised me to find it all prepped when we came in. I have no idea how you got that done and found the fixin’s for sandwiches and put together Irish coffees for us in that short time. You sure you don’t need a job as a ranch hand?”

 

“Uh… I’ve already got a job and you couldn’t afford my rates anyway. Really, the hardest part was simply finding the ammonia and the sandwich fixings and the whisky. And then not confusing the whisky for the ammonia! I don’t know what you’d call that version of coffee… clean coffee? sanitized coffee?”

 

Rence looked at me without compression.

 

“You know… ammonia instead of whiskey? Oh, never mind. It wasn’t funny.”

 

Rence snickered politely.

 

“What’s up with your niece’s homecoming?”

 

“Fuck! Jesus, I completely forgot!” He shoved himself up off the couch. “I’ve gotta call Paula. I’ll be right back.”

 

“You’re not planning on going still, are you?”

 

“No, there’s no way. We’ll just stay with Aiala and you and I can get to know each other better. That’ll be alright with you, won’t it?”

 

“Tell you the truth, I’m relieved not to be doing the ‘introduction-to-the-family’ thing. At least not on this visit. There’s gotta be a heart warming screenplay in there somewhere. You know: introduction, growing familiarity, developing discord, crisis, resolution… but I’m not up for doing it right now… meeting the family, not writing the screenplay.”

 

“Yeah, this’ll be better. You can meet them another time and then we can work up a ‘treatment’ for the screenplay.” Rence disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

 

‘Another time’… ‘You can meet them another time’… I got distracted thinking about the implications. ‘Another time’… I kind of liked the idea. He expected me to be back another time so he could introduce me to his family…

 

I listened to the sounds of the phone conversation in the other room. Rence must have been describing the events of the morning. I pushed off of the couch and went to lean against the kitchen doorway to listen to Rence’s half of the conversation.

 

“… it’ll put a serious dent in the milk production and cheese making. Yeah, we found seven ewes that they got. I hope it’s not more!

 

“Yup… you know our customers better than me. You’ll be better at deciding who to short when we’ve got cheese again.

 

“Nope… they won’t be happy, but without the ewes, we won’t have milk and without the milk we won’t have cheese. They’ll just have to understand.

 

“Why am I arguing with you about this? Sorry, Sis. I’m cranky. It’s been a hell of a day.

 

“Yeah, put ‘er on.

 

“Hey Maarrieta! How’s my favorite niece?

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re my only niece, but you’re still my favorite! Listen, Mary, I can’t talk long, Karl’s here and… Oh, he’s listening…”

 

Rence had turned to lean against the wall and caught sight of me at the door. He gave me an apologetic look and then rolled is eyes at something Mary said.

 

“Really, you want to talk to him? OK, OK, but don’t be… Oh, never mind. Here he is.”

 

He put his hand over the receiver and said, “Sorry! Don’t let her take too much of your time.”

 

“Hello, Mary. Hello and welcome home! I’m sorry I won’t get to meet you. How’s your visit going?”

 

“Oh, Mr. Ackermann, it’s great to talk to you. I’m sorry we won’t get to meet, too. I’ve heard so much about you… “

 

The conversation proceeded from there. Ten minutes later, I passed the phone back to Rence after speaking briefly with his sister, Paula, as well. Another ten minutes and he ended the call.

 

“Thanks for talking to Mary. You probably made her day.

 

“Well, Karl, what say we put together some dinner? I’ve got some porrusalda in the fridge. You up for some? There’s some rolls in the freezer I can defrost. It’ll be simple. I can’t handle much more tonight.”

 

“If you tell me what porrusalda is, I can give an educated opinion. How’s about it?”

 

“Sorry, it’s like a… a vichyssoise with cod. It’s traditional Basque comfort food. You’ll like it if you like vichyssoise. You do like vichyssoise, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I do. Vichyssoise and I get along just fine. Rence, it sounds perfect for a night like tonight. Family recipe?”

 

Rence started pulling containers from the refrigerator and the freezer.

 

“Actually, no. It’s from when I was a teacher. I got the recipe from one of the San Inazio Festivals in Boise. It must have been years ago, seven at least. It’s good.”

 

While dinner was heating, we checked on Aiala in the hall bathroom. There she was, stretched on her blanket, complacent, drugged. She looked up at Rence. Her feet scrabbled weakly against the tile floor but she didn’t get up. Her tail thwapped a couple times. Rence crouched down to scratch behind her ears. He whispered assurances while her tongue flicked against his hand in reply.

 

I shuddered at the sight of her. The skin on her side carried a seam that ran from her spine down to her chest and another from her thigh to her soft belly. Her throat had a number of puncture wounds as well. Again, the thought of horror movie makeup came to mind. A makeup artist’s enthusiasm for grim imagery seemed so cynical when seeing the reality of the massive surgery after the attack she had survived that morning.

 

Rence looked up at me with wet eyes. I unrolled some toilet paper and handed it to him. He wiped his face and blew his nose.

 

“I just couldn’t put her down. Maybe I’m sentimental in my old age. She’s been my companion since I got back to the ranch. She’ll probably never work again, but I just couldn’t… She’s way too young to retire, but… well, she’s been my confidante since I’ve been alone. I only hope she can handle being a pet and not working. I don’ know… We’ll see…”

 

“Rence, it’s alright. I get it. My Butch, he’s just a pet, but he’s my companion. On my blackest days, caring for him is what pulls me through. Don’t worry, man, I get it.”

 

Rence sniffed, gave her a final scratch and stood.

 

“You be a good girl, Aiala. I’ll be back.”

 

He checked her water and we returned to the kitchen.

 

Rence indicated where I would find bowls, plates and silverware and we prepared for dinner: soup, bread, cheese and a sausage he sliced for us. While we ate, he asked about me.

 

“Karl, how’d you get started in the work you do? There’s gotta be a story there.”

 

“I suppose there is, but it’s not a dramatic one.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Tell me.”

 

“Well, when I was a little kid, I got involved in church dramatics. You know, ‘living nativity scenes’, sing-alongs and the like. I took to it. We lived in Los Angeles (I’m a native Angelino, by the way. You don’t meet many.) and we had a neighbor who worked at Universal Studios. He kind of greased the skids to get me some walk ons. Bit parts followed and by the time I was a teenager, I had a resume. Really, I just fell into it.

 

“It was kind of a lot for my mother to keep up with – my dad died when I was eight and she worked, but she was supportive and she made it work, what with my rehearsals, acting classes, filming, agent’s meetings. Too, my earnings meant she didn’t have to save for me for college like she did for my brothers.

 

“So, that’s the nutshell. Not very exciting, huh?”

 

“No, that’s cool. So, you knew you wanted to perform when you were a kid? I mean, as a career?”

 

“No, I just liked it and I’ve continued to like it. And, I’m good at it. Good enough, at least. I’m at home in the industry. It’s more than my avocation. To some people, it’s a dream, it’s special, it’s glamorous, but I grew up in LA. There, it’s just a trade. And, I’ve done it most of my life. It pays the bills. For most in the profession, that’s the reality of it.

 

“As much as I try to make it sound like any trade, I’ve gotta admit, it has its perks. But it’s got its detriments too. I’m lucky. I’m not famous. Like, when I attend the Oscars, there’s no hoopla when I cross the red carpet. I’m fine with that; I’m able to lead my own life. It’d be great to make the big bucks, but, trust me, the trade-offs are severe. Not worth the pain! No thank you very much!

 

“Were you ever ambitious, Rence? I suppose I was to an extent when I was young – but not now. I’m just happy to work and get my pay and the residuals. I’m more into comfort now. Let the young battle it out. Let them maneuver for position. I just want good scripts and professional colleagues. Even that’s asking too much sometimes!”

 

I realized I was monopolizing the conversation. Truth is, I can get off on talking about myself. I’m vain enough to enjoy sketching out my life and philosophy. Fortunately, before I could bore Rence further, we heard a knock on the back door and Manny stepped through the service porch and into the kitchen. He gave me a curt nod and then gave Rence a meaningful and expectant look.

 

“Karl, Manny and I have to go over tomorrow’s schedule. Excuse us, would you?”

 

The two of them headed down the hall to the office. I cleaned up the dishes and straightened the kitchen and then found my book and settled on the couch in the living room. I began reading where I had left off that morning, but found I needed to reread that morning’s chapter from when I had been peeved at Rence. I remembered nothing from the earlier reading.

 

After a half hour, Rence bid Manny a good night and showed him to the door. He then looked in on me.

 

“Karl, I know it’s antisocial, but I gotta call it a night. I’m wiped. I’m sorry. I’ll drive you to I-80 tomorrow and we can talk on the way. But thanks for telling me more about yourself. It helps me see you as an individual instead of a screen character from one of your movies. I’m turning in. You OK with that?”

 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I’ll take Aiala for a final walk so you don’t have to worry about her. I’ve got an afternoon flight, so I need to be up around 6 tomorrow morning and leave around 7.”

 

“I’ll get you up after I get the crew started. Goodnight.”

 

Rence turned to head down the hall to his bedroom but then turned again and approached me on the couch where I had been reading. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. He followed the tentative kiss with another, leaning further into me, pressing his lips against mine, deepening the intimacy. He had a way of keeping his lips relaxed that was exceptionally sensual. They were soft pillows of Rence against which I was pressing. I tested those lips with the tip of my tongue. He responded to my inquiries with the light touch of his own tongue. He cupped the back of my head to add yet more pressure to our kiss and he slipped his tongue into my mouth to explore our growing intimacy orally. I placed my hand on his sternum and I felt him, beneath the contours of his pectorals, humming his pleasure, rumbling like a tomcat.

 

I was getting into the pleasure of the contact when he stood back up and took a deep breath.

 

“Holy moly! You are so good! Damn it, Karl! You’ve been so kind and tolerant while I’ve been completely wrapped up in the ranch. I’ve neglected you. After all the trouble you went to, you deserved… you deserve my complete attention and you haven’t gotten it. This so hasn’t worked out well for you or for us.”

 

He repeated the gesture I remembered from our first meal together, pointing between the two of us as if weaving a cord connecting our hearts.

 

“Listen, Rence, it’s OK. It’s just the way it had to be. Today hasn’t been good for either of us or anyone here, for that matter. I hate that it turned out this way, but what can you do?

 

“You know, I like you a lot, a whole lot. I made this detour to get to know you better and I’ve done that, at least. But, you’ve got to get to bed; your eyes are drooping. You’re dragging. So, off with you, dear man!”

 

He gave me a wan grin and leaned in for a final kiss. Once again, my hand ended up on his sternum, but this time, I pushed him away.

 

“Bed time, big guy.”

 

I stood, took his arm and led him to his room. We detoured to look in on Aiala. She was asleep, her side rising and falling gently.

 

“Rence, you think it’ll be OK if we just leave her sleeping?”

 

“Yeah, she should be fine till the morning. I’ll get her up when I get up at 4:30.”

 

We turned and headed down the hall. I pealed off into the guest room.

 

“I’ll be through in a minute to brush my teeth.”

 

I was nervous about using the master bathroom and imposing on his personal space, but we’d agreed that I would use his bathroom since the guest bathroom was now the infirmary for Aiala. I grabbed my gear and my night cremes and headed down the hall. After knocking on the door frame, I stepped into Rence’s bedroom. I hadn’t visited his bedroom during my tour of the house that morning (it seemed like days ago!), so I was surprised by the set up. In the middle of the room stood a weight rack, bench and other equipment. A twin bed was pushed against the far wall. A dresser was hidden in the open closet. And there was Rence, sitting on his bed, shirtless, pulling off his jeans. He looked up after I stepped into the room.

 

“Sorry. I’ll just be a sec.”

 

I rushed to the open bathroom, shutting the door after entering. I was flustered. I was breathing heavily. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I roused myself and got to brushing my teeth while I pictured Rence’s physique. I proceeded automatically through the ritual of teeth cleaning and skin preservation and after several minutes I steeled myself and opened the door to return to the guest room. I made a point of not looking at Rence, only glancing his direction when I wished him ‘sweet dreams’ for the night. There he sat, still in his boxers, illuminated by a bedside lamp, looking good. I don’t know what tweeked my interest more, his ample body hair or his mass of muscles. Both looked fine to me. Both looked masculine. Both looked virile. Rence’s chest hair was turning white across his pectorals, though it was still dark on his arms (and shoulders), his legs (and thighs) and his belly. I had known his body was shaped by masses of muscle. After all, I had just placed my hand against the mounds of his pectorals. I remembered the fullness of his bicep when I stabilized him months ago, when he had slipped on ice at the station. I remembered the solidity of his shoulders when we had done a side hug. And there he was, all of him, the hair, the muscles… the solid, physical bulk of the man, but also the man himself: the kindness, the consideration, the affection. And he looked really good to me, clad only in his red plaid boxers.

 

While I had averted my glance moments before, now I found myself riveted. Well, until I caught myself staring.

 

“I’m sorry, Rence. You just look too good. I didn’t mean to gawk.”

 

He gave me another wan smile and acknowledged my interest.

 

“G’night. See ya in the mornin’. You’re a good man, Karl.”

 

Then he rolled into bed, pulled up the covers, and blew me a kiss. With his droopy eyelids, and despite the full beard, he looked boyish when his lips curled into a soft smile. I stepped out of his room and heard him turn off the bedside lamp. Despite my fatigue, I didn’t think I would get to sleep quickly, my thoughts were jumbled and confused, florid after the sights of the day and that last sight of Rence.

 

After I pulled off my clothes and slipped between the cold sheets, I flashed back on the day: me in the armchair, a finger marking my place in the book, fuming, waiting for Rence to show me around the ranch; the silhouette of Manny’s wife with the fog of her breath illuminated by the sun at her back; the pile of bloody, muddy sheep carcasses; Rence’s commanding voice, “No entras!”; the blood-matted hair shorn from Aiala on the floor of the cheese room; the stitched seams of skin on Aiala’s flank and chest; me, giving him tp to blow his nose as he squatted at Aiala’s side in the bathroom; Rence’s brown nipples partially hidden by the curve of the bottom of his pectorals, his nipples peeking out of his chest hair; his gentle, boyish smile before he turned out the light.

 

What a horrible, tumultuous, baleful day. Thank god it was over. But what a sweet ending!