Lem - 2. Mattie

There's a heaping pile of horse shit on the ground. I scoop up the hay underneath it with a manure fork and work it toward the wheel-barrel we use for cleaning muck. I back into the corner and feel someone lift my hat off my head. I turn around.

The horse in the next stall over has my hat in his mouth, by the brim.

"Smokey, you asshole." I dump the apples and lean the fork against the wall. When I try to grab at my hat, Smokey lifts his head and swaps ends.

Chase hoses down a stall across the barn. "Hurry up, Lem! I want to get this done."

"Calm down. Let me get my hat from Smokey." I walk around the corner and go into Smokey's pen.

Smokey lifts his head and stomps his foot like he wants to play.

"Okay, you win. I want my hat back." Reaching over to pat his nose, I finally get him to lower his head; he's got a good grip.

"Try a carrot." Chase walks in behind me. Smokey lets go and starts toward her, wrapping his lips around a carrot.

"Eww, horse spit."

"You could try being nice. He just wants to play."

"I know that, Chase. Smokey is smarter than you are, sometimes."

"You don't have to be so mean." She punches me in the arm. Twelve-year-old girls grow up tough when they're raised around two brothers. "Gay wad."

It feels weird, her calling me that. It seems like she knows something--like what happened with me and Mattie. I feel my cheeks flush, so I pull my hat down way over my face. "Let's get this shit done."

Every day I have to clean the barn with Chase and Jason. I don't know how I always get screwed into cleaning up the crap, seeing' we're supposed to take turns. You get used to it after a while.

Chase feeds the horses, and makes sure they're clean. Jason throws bails, sweeps, and feeds the horses. I shovel crap.

We used to take care of our own horses, but Jason got lazy. When he was thirteen, Boscoe was almost ankle-deep in his own shit before Dad tanned Jason's hide.

In the mornings, Chase gets to take care of the rabbits. Jason takes care of Dad's bird dogs. Classic 4H family.

I take care of the Chickens every morning. Throw out the feed, lift the nests, get the eggs, and avoid the rooster. He's a mean little fucker. Horny little thing, too. After we're all ready for school, we all pile in Jason's truck and he takes us to school. It's not that he wants to do it, momma makes him.

Every Tuesday and Friday morning, we drop off two dozen eggs to our neighbor, Mrs. Jensen. She's in her eighties and lives all by herself. Momma likes us to check in on her, seeing' she's widowed and ain't got no family of her own. Mrs. Jensen always answers the door in her night gown, with a cup of black coffee in hand. Her house smells like garlic for some reason.

She used to send us off with a dozen or so of her blue-ribbon oatmeal raisin cookies, but Jason would hog most of 'em. Either she caught on, or Chase said something. Now she'll give us a small basket. She wraps up about five cookies in a bandanna, and there's one for each of us. The red one's for Jason, the blue one's for me, and the pink one's for Chase. Sometimes, she'll put in a dozen for Dad and Momma. She even calls over and tells Momma to expect some cookies, that way Jason can't eat the entire thing himself. I really just think she needs someone to gossip with.

She's like a third grandma to us.

I finish my chores and wash my hands. I walk outside and hop up on the fence and watch the sun setting. Burlee might be the ass-end of the United States, but there's one thing that's for sure: you'll never see another sunset that'll make you feel more at home.

* * *

Backdraft was born September of 1999. His sire was a killer named Playboy, and his grandsire was Houdini. Playboy had his fair run in the mid-eighties through the nineties. In almost twelve years on the PRC, he put a lot of riders out of commission. Playboy held an 82% buck-off rate. His half-brother, Strawberry Wine, held 90% and became a legend when he had a 99% buck-off the year of his retirement. His very last rider stayed on for the full eight seconds. Rider scored 48 points, the bull scored 50.

Backdraft's dam was known only as 622. His grandsire on that side was Volcano, granddam Marble's Daughter. He has rodeo stitched into his genes. Lots of rodeo.

* * *

Mattie and I sit on a set of bleachers a little separated from Momma and Chase. Mattie's mom stayed home today, and since Mattie's dad and Ronnie are in Helena for the state high school rodeo, Mattie had to load his horse on our other trailer.

Team roping is the second event today, right after the first round bull ride, so he's coming up before I do. Mattie gets a serious case of sewing machine foot.

Momma is sitting on some plastic seat cushions she brought from home, reading a book. Chase is talking to a girl she knows from a town a few over.

Mattie's jimmy-foot is making my foot start to go. I smack his leg. "Stop fidgeting!"

He looks at me, leg still going. "What?"

"Your leg, it's driving me nuts."

He looks down at it and stops; folding his hands together, he sticks them between his knees and leans over on his elbows.

There's a spat of laughing behind us, so we turn around in our seats.

"Hey! Where're those purdy chaps?" There're three kids standing by the railing, bout a year or two younger than we are.

Mattie takes a lot of crap for his chaps. Once in a while he rides saddle bronc, but he's not very good at it. See, his granddaddy was a PRC rodeo champion bull rider back in the sixties, and passed the chaps down through the family. Matthew's dad wore the chaps when he was younger--so did Ronnie and Tay. They're turquoise leather with tan fringe. Up the legs, there's a design in ivy, and at the top, next to the belt loops, are wild roses.

A bull rider like David Hedquist – you didn't give him any shit. He wore what he wanted to.

For a kid like Mattie, he's fair game.

One of the kids does a cat call and points. His friend takes a few steps up the bleachers. "Did your mommy want them back?"

Mattie pulls his brim down and turns beet red.

I don't stand for anyone making' a fool outta my best friend in the world. "Hey, you a bull rider?" I spring to my feet with my fists itching' and ready to go.

One kid stares, which makes him look kinda stupid. "Uhhhhh, no."

Mattie grits his teeth. "Lem, shut the hell up."

"Then you should 'prolly shut your ass," I continue.

One of them makes a face at me when they walk off.

Mom looks up from her book and gives me the evil eye. "Lem, don't you talk to people like that. Sit down before I come up there."

I turn red around the edges and sit back down. Mattie and I kinda match hue right now. "Sorry, Momma."

Mattie's leg starts going again.

"Wanna go down and figure out what horse they drew for me?" I give him one of my stupid grins.

"I guess we could."

It's weird when they pull these Junior Rodeo events in a place as big as the civic center, especially when everyone else is at the state meet. The arena is called the horseshoe; there are two levels in each section that go all the way around the back of the civic center, and a balcony row over the top of a set of large garage doors at the flat end. It's all concrete and olive green this year. Before that, the seats looked like they came out of a bag of Reese's Pieces candy.

We're sitting pretty far down, so we take the stairs up to the walkway and go through the door. If you take a right and follow the concessions hallway to the back of the civic center, there is a large set of steps that go down to the arena floor, and a wide hallway that goes behind the balcony and across to the other side of the arena. There are dark windows facing out into the back parking lot.

The parking lot's been covered in dirt, and there are stock pens all over the place. I guess it's on account of College Rodeo being in town next Thursday.

We walk the back hallway to the other side, alone except for a few people at the end of the hall smoking. I see our reflection in a glass door ahead of us, my chaps flaring around my legs with each step. Mattie and I walk in pace like we're in an old western cowboy movie, the part where the hero walks down the street like they were untouchable. It's like we're in slow motion – just for the blink of an eye. John Wayne would have been proud.

The officials desk is at the bottom of the steps on the other side of the stadium. There are four women working behind a conference table, one sorting through papers.

"Hello, I was wondering if you could tell me what animal I'm riding?"

The lady looks up at me and licks her thumb. "What event, hon?" She thumbs through a couple of pages without looking at them.

"Saddle Bronc," I tell her. "Name's Eric Taylor."

She shuffles through another stack. "Taylor... Taylor... Taylor..." She stops, then goes forward a few pages, "Taaaaaylor... Here you are. Looks like you drew a bronc named Biscuits." She wrinkles her nose and looks at me over the top of her glasses. "Now he sounds like a tough customer, doesn't he?"

These horses with cute names are usually a hard ride.

I grab a program and tip my hat, "ma'am."

* * *

Mattie and Reed come in fourth place with fourteen flat; they got seventy dollars of the pot between the two of them.

We're sitting in our spot watching the girls tie goats. Mattie flips his belt buckle toward him to get a better view of it, starts to polish part of it with his sleeve.

Momma calls over to me, "why don't you two go get us lunch? Chase and I both want a hot-dog." She holds out a twenty.

"Why can't Chase do it?" I ask.

Chase is sitting there playing Tetris on her iPod. She has enough time between bricks to give me a mean look and get back to her game.

"Get you and Mattie something, too."

I grab the bill from her and we head up the stairs. The hot-dog place is at the other end of the stadium, next to the Mini Do-Nuts stand. The halls are pretty empty, so I figure the lines should be short.

Mattie likes to dawdle. He talks quietly: "You should see if you can come over tonight."

"I was over on Thursday."

"I know. My mom doesn't care. I, uh..."

I turn in toward him. "What, Mattie?"

"Something feels different, like... I feel strange when you're around. The way you pulled me on top of you..."

I shush him. "God, Mattie – I just hope for your sake nobody heard any of that."

He looks around. Sure enough, there isn't anyone for a good distance. "But the hall's empty."

I shake my head and start walking again. He stands there for a second and jogs 'till he catches up. After a minute, he sighs. "You ever get that tingling thing in your stomach that makes it feel like your floatin' in a boat?"

I put a hand on his shoulder and push him to the side, between two big concrete pillars where nobody will see us, and shake his shoulders. "Just stop it, will you? This is weird. If anyone ever knew about that, we'd both be tied to a tree and left for dead. People don't understand gay shit like that."

He chokes and tries to say something that doesn't quite come out. He looks down, and cocks his head sideways. "Lem, do you think... are you calling me a fag?"

"Look – guys just don't touch each other like that. Maybe they do in the city or something, but... damn it, just stop it. We jerked it a few times. It's done. That's it."

He reaches up and touches the side of my face, like a girl would.

I ball up my fist, let into his side, and take a few steps back. "Get the fuck off me," I growl.

He has a sad look on his face, but it looks like he can't bring himself to say anything. "I should break your nose for hittin' me like that."

I shake my head. "Mattie, you've never hit anyone in your life."

He walks up to me, and looks me in the eye. He's doing that thing to make himself look bigger, like he's trying to scare off a mountain lion.

I'm caught off guard when he pushes me. I trip over my feet and land on my duff.

I'm more surprised than pissed right now. I feel like an ass for punching him, but… damn.

He turns and runs up the corridor.

* * *

Momma always tells me that Mattie is sensitive, and that I should be careful with his feelings. Hell, we get into our share of fights--he's like a brother. But we've never been at a point where either one of us had to do something like hit or punch.

Somehow, he's always been there. He listens real good to your problems, probably on account he hardly makes a peep. But no matter what fix I find myself in, he's always stuck with me through everything. He's one of the few people in the world I would kill for.

John Mellencamp once said that you can't tell your best buddy that you love him. I don't know if this is the kinda love that he was thinking', but we're not making love. Fuck, we're just two stupid kids stuck in the middle of Montana with nothing to do.

I could be like everyone else, like all the other kids. I could drink, party, dip, smoke, or fuck girls. But I don't, and that's what I like about Mattie; he doesn't do it either. Keeping off the radar, that's what we do best.

He's a good kid, and he means well. He's just confused about things.

* * *

I take Momma and Chase their hotdogs.

Momma leans back in her seat and fixes her eyes on me. "Where's Mattie?"

I shrug. "He's walkin' around. I'm going back up."

"You don't look too sure."

"He's in a mood." I sigh.

She wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Don't get carried away. I know how you two can get."

"I know…"

I walk up the steps and walk around the back corner of the horseshoe. This place is big enough that if he doesn't want to be found, he'll probably just show back up when we're ready to head home. The way I see it, I need to get to him before he gets to Momma and tells her I knocked him in the ribs. If he does, I won't be able to talk my way out of it.

I'm coming up to the E section when Jeff walks out of the men's room; he kinda gives me that hawk-eyed look. I feel a bit taken back, and I don't know what to say.

"You know it's not nice to stare, kid?"

I look at the floor. "Sorry. Forgot you'd be here."

"Heh. What's wrong if I am?"

"Nothing. Sorry, you look like someone… just trying to figure it out. Where I was, I mean. When I saw it." Fucking smooth.

He starts to walk up the hallway.

I tag along. "I'm looking for Mattie. Have you seen him?"

"'Fraid I dun know who Mattie is." He scratches the bottom side of his chin.

"Tall skinny blonde kid. Looks like a scarecrow." I get the feeling I'm like the Jack Russell Terrier dancing around Jeff's feet, and every bit as annoying, too. The more cool he plays it, the more I fall apart.

Right on cue, Mattie walks around the corner in front of us.

"That's Mattie," I mumble.

"Oh." He flicks the front of his hat with his finger. "Yeah, I've seen 'em. He's right there." He grins at his own joke.

Mattie doesn't slow down, he just keeps walking. Jeff side-steps him and lets him pass through.

"Dude, Mattie…"

"Fuck off." And he keeps on going.

"Sounds like you done pissed him off a little bit." Jeff adjusts himself.

"Mattie. Hold up!" I scratch my arm. "He's been pissy all day." I look over where Jeff was standing, but he's gone. Guess he didn't care much.

I take after Mattie, jog up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stop for a minute, would you?"

He jerks his shoulder away and keeps his bearing.

I'm so confused right now, I can't figure out what to do. I guess I could just let him be.

I turn around, come face to neck with Jeff. "Fuck! You David Copperfield or something?"

"I don't read much. Got an extra hand?"

"I meant the magician."

"Not into gay stuff. You gonna help me or not?"

I hesitate, figuring I should keep after Mattie. There's something in me that's pushing me toward Jeff. "What the hell?"

"I got a shit ton of tackle I need to move. I can get it in one go if someone helps. Just need to go to my truck."

"Aren't you riding finals in a bit?"

He raises his hat. "I was done ten minutes ago."

Where was I just then? God, this guy has a set of eyes that are just intense.

We walk out behind the holding pens. His stuff is stacked up; there's a bronc riding saddle and neck brace sitting on top of a duffel bag. He has a lasso or two coiled nearby.

He moves the saddle and throws the duffel at me. Damn, this thing is heavy. It almost knocks me over.

He hoists the saddle to his shoulder and hangs the ropes around his forearms. He nods sideways for me to follow him.

We walk a bit down the hallway.

I stutter a bit. "So, I hear you came over from Idaho?"

He spits, doesn't look anywhere but forward. "Yep."

"Where 'bouts?"

"Just outside Coeur d'Alene."

"Why'd y'all leave?"

He glances at me and chuckles a bit. "Mom was sick of all the Nazis."

"Nazis?"

"Yeah, the Aryan Nation was headquartered there before the FBI knocked it all down." He pushes through the door with his shoulder.

I follow him onto the parking lot. "How you like Montana?"

"Yeah."

I don't think he heard me.

We walk over to a beat up truck; it's something antique from the seventies. He leans back a bit, and chucks the saddle in the back. It lands on a pile of chains. "Just throw the shit back there."

I heave the duffel in the back.

We stand there staring at each other. He cocks an eyebrow and smirks at me like I'm an alien.

I rip my gave away, kick a pebble, and look at him.

He leans against the truck and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He holds the pack out to me.

"Um, no thanks."

He laughs again, lighting his cigarette. "Whatever suits you, Susan."

"Well, um… I guess I'll see you at practice on Monday." I back away slowly. I can't take my eyes off him… I… can't.

Jeff looks out from under his hat and packs his Marbs away in his front pocket. He pulls down on the brim of his hat and nods. "Sure." He's hard to read--too level.

I turn and start for the civic center.

"Hey, kid. Watch your points. You're low on the mark out. Think of it like you're riding a fine woman."

I look over my shoulder.

He nods, and hops up into the cabin of his pickup. The truck rattles and bangs to a start, rocketing noisily up the aisle and down the street.

I go back inside and walk back to our section, stopping at the top of the steps. "Shit."

Mattie is talking to Momma.

 

* * *

I haven't talked to Mattie in a week or so. At practices, he's kept himself quiet and tucked away in the corner. I guess I really pissed him off this time.

He never said anything to Momma, just that he wasn't feeling well. She knows something's up, just not what it is.

I've got my lariat out and I'm itching to practice my toss on a dummy in the front yard. On the first throw, I pull the whole outfit over. I guess I should fill the cooler with water or something.

I take the fake cow head off the cooler, run the hose to the ice chest and fill it to the top. The grass is coming in nice, so I squeeze my toes through it. I put the head back on and take a few steps back, run the lasso a few turns and toss it out.

Swing and a miss.

I twirl the rope over my head--it's all in the wrist. I flick it out and wrap around the whole cooler.

"I always wondered why they put the dummy heads on a cooler." Mattie sits on the fence behind me, bobbing his leg.

"It's so people have a place to put their beer. Jason says they have a drinking game with these things." I toss the line out again and hook it around the head. I dally back a ways, but end up knocking the head off again. "Piece of shit."

Mattie giggles softly.

I put the head back on and coil my rope. "You've made yourself scarce lately." I toss it out, tangling it on the sprinkler head. "Damn it."

"I don't know. Guess I was mad or something." He scratches his arm. "You know me, Lem. I can't talk to people. I'm not brave like you."

I look over my shoulder. "Brave?"

"Well, personable I reckon."

"Mattie--there are times when I can't get you to shut up. You just need to open up a bit."

"I wish I was more like you."

"Now why would you say something like that?" I toss the rope. "Your quiet is the best part about you. If I wanted to hear someone talk my ear off, I'd have a girlfriend."

I coil the rope and toss it out again. This time I land it right around the horns. "Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talkin' about."

"Lem, I'm sorry."

"For what, Mattie?"

He turns red and looks away.

I turn around and stare.

He sighs that way he does when he's backed in a corner. "For acting like a chick or something. You're right, it's weird."

"I can stand you being weird every so often. You're not gonna start runnin' around in dresses or anything, are you?"

"Man, what the do you think?"

I laugh. "Calm down. You know I'm just messing around."

"Look, I gotta get home. What time are your parents leaving for Billings in the morning?"

"I think we're going to try to be on the road by two thirty."

"Will you have an extra stall in your trailer?"

"Jason and Chase are the only ones riding their own horses tomorrow. Why, you need a spot for Oreo?"

He looks at the ground. "Yeah, I guess."

"I thought you and Ronnie were going down together."

"His horse sprained his ankle. The vet said he's going to be out a while."

"Isn't Ronnie riding?"

"He is. He went down to Billings yesterday to see if our cousin's horse would work. My mom wanted me to come over and see if you guys would be willing haul Oreo, because she wants to take the car down."

"I don't suppose Dad would have a problem."

"Cool. I'll run over and get 'em now so we don't have to ride him in the dark." He jumps off the fence and stands in front of me. "Mom'll give your dad some gas money tomorrow." Mattie turns to go.

Something in my head tells me he's not himself. "Hey, um, you wanna stay over. Help us load up? Mom wants to take her truck so she can stop at Sam's and one of the feed stores down there. There should be lots of room, if you wanna ride with us."

He corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile. "I don't know."

"Come on. You know you want to. It'd be easier."

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"Dude, just go get your fuckin' horse and hurry back."

* * *

Jeff's in the pen, and his go round is coming up quick. I watch him hop the gate and mount the bull. It kicks the back of the stall, which echoes through the arena.

I yawn. Mattie and I slept on the floor in the basement in sleeping bags. Mattie tosses and turns; he kicked me a few times and woke me clean up. Two in the morning came too quickly, and it's hard to sleep in a diesel pickup. I've never been able to sleep well on the road.

The guy in the ring falls off his beef, and runs to the side to latch onto the railing. The clowns get the bull to run to the exit gate.

Jeff ties off his glove. He looks… confident.

I yawn again.

'Corey Bellens with six point three seconds on the clock. Behind the Billings Chevrolet banner, Jeff Burke up in chute three, representing Burlee Junior Rodeo. He's riding De Soto's Trail Mix. There's the pull!'

The gate slams open, Jeff rides out with several hundred pounds of brindle steak between his thighs. His mount looks wild. Something in it is a bit more wily than I've seen at a junior competition before. Still, Jeff manages to stay on past the buzzer.

He's going on to finals.

"Better start heading down. Broncs are coming up."

I glance at Momma. "Alright."

"Come here."

I move close to her, and she gives me a hug.

"Be careful. I love you."

"I will, Momma. Love you too."

* * *

I'm snug in my saddle, and I've got the rope wrapped around my glove. I open my hand and pull it tighter, as tight as I can stand. The neck brace tacked on to my vest makes it hard to get comfortable.

I can hear coach's words echoing through my head. Hear him telling me to watch my shoulders and get in my points.

I look where Momma and Chase are sitting. I can hear her screaming over the announcer. Jeff is sitting behind them, a few rows up. I think about what he said, about getting hits in higher up on the horse.

Like riding a fine woman.

I get my spurs up and sit back a bit. This girls gonna take me for a good ride, I can feel it.

'Lem Taylor up in chute one. He's riding a mare called Mariah.'

I nod at the guy holding the rope to the gate. He yanks it open.

Mariah takes a good, long leap out of the pen. I lean back as far as I can without falling off, and keep my points up around her shoulders. She comes down hard and fast and kicks out with her hind legs.

Like riding a fine woman.

My pelvis rolls forward, and I get in a hit on her sides. I try to find her rhythm, fall back, and get high points.

She's trying her damnedest to get rid of me. She's a smooth ride.

She drops one hard and I fall forward a little further than I want to go. My glove is slipping. I keep my arm up best I can, pull down on the hack a bit, and keep this reign nice and tight.

I lean a little to far to the left.

My hand's coming undone, and I'm starting to fall. I get another buck before I hear the buzzer.

Saved by the bell.

A pickup man comes up behind me. He's almost too far away from me, but Mariah launches forward again and almost throws me into the other rider. I hook around his waist and hold on until he gets me to the side, then I let go. I almost biff it.

'Lem Taylor moves on to finals!'

There are a few cheers here and there. Mainly Momma, though.

* * *

"You almost made that look easy." Mattie elbows me in the side. "Bet you'll get part of the purse."

"God knows she tried hard to knock me off."

"You've never ridden like that."

"Like riding a fine woman." I look at Mattie. "I heard that somewhere."

"What would you know about riding a woman?"

Chase hears him. "God, you guys are disgusting."

Mattie turns red.

"Mind your own business!" I slap the top of her leg, just above her knee.

"Oww. I'm telling Mom!"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

'To open the second part of our program this afternoon, please help us in welcoming our newly elected Miss Junior Rodeo, Brooke Reynolds! Brooke is riding in the back of the red Cummins turbo-diesel Dodge Ram 2500 there, kindly donated to us this weekend by our friends down at Centennial Dodge and Mopar.'

"Well, would you look at that?"

Mattie scowls. "Huh? What?" There's a streak in his eye, something mad: his green jealousy. I've seen it before.

"It's Brooke! I told you she'd get Junior Miss!"

"Yeah…" He trails off. "Great, isn't it?"