Afraid of the Dark

An unusual morning rain had come through and left the ground just barely wet. Austin cantered around the arena and was pleased to not breathe in the familiar dust. He ran along the north rail and practiced rollbacks. His mule was getting the hang of it, but still he was a mule and wanted to think about everything before he did it. Austin considered the fact that he had to be smarter than his animal. Apparently, spending most of the hours of most of his days working his equine friends hadn’t made him that smart. It had made him broke and divorced, but not smart. Sarah said as she left, “You go out on trails all right, but what you really love is riding around in circles.” She said that and drove away in a Chevy with a weak battery to the house of another man.

“Damn if that ain’t the horsiest-looking mule I ever saw,” Dwight Twins said from the gate. He had one of his small, sneakered feet set up on the bottom rail.

Austin turned the mule and let him walk toward the man. “How long have you been there?”

“Couple minutes. Long enough to pronounce that the fastest mule in the county. Does he go where you want him to?”

“On occasion.” Austin leaned forward to rub the animal’s big red neck. “I’m thinking of trying him at steer wrestling in the little rodeo.”

“I thought he was scared of cows.”

“It’s true he doesn’t like them that much, but he’s not afraid of them anymore.”

“Well, good luck.” Dwight spat onto the ground, his way of indicating his own sarcasm.

“I was wondering if you’d come be my hazer.”

“Can’t. Gotta drive up to Pueblo and pick up a horse for Delores Rainey. Get Dougie to do it for you.”

Austin laughed. “Dougie couldn’t haze a steer straight if he ran a cable through his mouth and out his ass.”

“Anyway,” Dwight said, “you should ride up to Colorado with me instead of killing yourself down here. You don’t need no rodeo to prove that mule.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Delores wants me to pick up her little brother in Trinidad on the way back.”

“I didn’t know she had a brother.”

“Me neither. I guess he’s a fuckup.”

“There’re a few of those around.” Austin swung his right leg over the mule’s neck and slid off the saddle.

“So, what do you say? Pass up a mouth full of dirt and a broken collar bone for a long boring drive and stale, predictable conversation?”

“When you put it that way.” Austin loosened the girth and scratched the mule’s belly. “Delores must be eighty. How old is this little brother?”

“I don’t know. Seventy? I don’t know. His name is Myron, but she calls him Yeahbutt.”

Austin looked at Dwight.

“She told me he always has to have the last word, so he’s always saying, ‘Yeah, but.’”

“Cute. So, what’s Yeahbutt doing in Trinidad?”

“Don’t know. Delores gave me the address and an extra fifty. That’s all I need.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“Pick you up at five.”

“Make it five-fifteen so I can get the animals fed.”

Dwight Twins was famous for being late except for mornings when he was early. He showed up at 4:00 and Austin was just struggling into consciousness.

“Am I early?” Dwight asked.

“Hell yeah, you’re early.” Austin rubbed his eyes. “It’s four o’clock, man. Jesus, what do you do? Drive around waking up roosters?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, make some coffee while I get dressed.”

“It’s going to rain later on,” Dwight said. “Weather Wally predicted it on the radio.”

Austin closed the bathroom door and leaned on the sink, looked at his face in the mirror. “Weather Wally can’t predict daybreak.”

Austin got dressed, sipped from a mug of coffee, then put it down. “I’ll go feed the animals and we can grab a bite on the road.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Well, it ain’t.”

“You’re not pretty in the morning, are you?”

Austin climbed into the passenger seat of Dwight’s truck and stopped him before he was out of the yard. “What did you do? Did you take all the stuffing out of this seat?”

“Basically. I put it on this side because the bumps hurt my behind.”

“I can’t ride all the way to Pueblo on this buck-board bench.” Austin looked out the window at the moon. “Back this thing up. Let’s put the trailer on my truck and I’ll drive.”

“Okay, but I’m paying for the gas.”

“You’re damn right you’re paying for the gas.”

They hitched the trailer to Austin’s pickup and left at first light. Dwight laughed to himself. “You know why cowboys all have the same-sized balls?”

“No, why?”

“So they can pull each other’s trailers. That’s an old one, but I love it.”

“What did you say that made me say yes to going with you?” Austin asked.

Dwight shrugged.

On the interstate, Dwight said, “I don’t know if it matters much to you, but I don’t think Sarah should have left.”

Austin sighed agreement.

“I was surprised when she picked up the way she did. I mean, just out of the blue like that. I suppose you were in a better place to see it coming. For another man.”

“Yeah.”

“Must have hurt like hell. She’s a damn beautiful woman.”

“Dwight,” Austin said, “you want to shut the hell up?”

“Sure thing.”

Austin considered his soon-to-be-ex-wife. It had hurt like hell. And it had probably been all his fault, but recognizing that so late wasn’t going to help and sure didn’t ease the pain. He looked over at Dwight and the older man smiled at him.

“You ever been dumped?” Austin asked.

“Hell, who hasn’t?” Dwight said. He rolled his window down another inch.

“This is my first time.”

‘Scary, ain’t it?”

Austin turned his attention back to the highway.

Four hours later they were ouside Pueblo picking up Delores’s horse. He was a beautiful black and white paint with wild eyes and a piebald nose. He pranced around the corral and Austin noticed that he searched for balance here and there with his left hind leg. He and Dwight were standing there with the former owner.

“Did Delores get a vet check on this guy?” Austin asked.

Dwight didn’t know.

The other man, named Hicks, said, “She came up and looked him over.”

“He acts like he’s got the wobbles. Look at how he moves in his back end.” The horse was trotting away from them. “He’s all loose like he’s crazy in the caboose.”

“Delores saw him move,” Hicks said.

“All I know is I’m supposed to pick him up and deliver him,” Dwight said.

“Why isn’t he cut?” Austin asked.

“Somebody might want to breed him,” Hicks said.

“Let it go, Austin,” Dwight said.

Austin thought better of saying any more. It wasn’t his deal. He’d seen horse traders like this man before and if Delores didn’t care, he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Hicks twisted up his face as if thinking. “Austin. You that guy whose wife left for that goat roper?”

“Let’s get this horse loaded,” Austin said.

“Well, you boys ought to get home before dark, easy,” Hicks said as the gate of the trailer closed against the horse’s rump.

“We got to make a stop in Trinidad,” Dwight said.

“How long a stop?” Hicks asked.

Austin thought the question was odd. He latched the door and stepped over to the man. “Why?” The thought flashed through his mind that maybe they were being set up for a hijacking.

“No reason. This horse does a little better when it’s light out, is all. But he’ll be fine. You fellers seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Right then, Austin was absolutely certain that was not true. He and Dwight left with the horse, but Austin’s stomach was already upset.

“Something bothering you?” Dwight asked.

“Just everything.”

Austin and Dwight made it into Trinidad about lunch-time. They sat in a diner and downed some coffee and a couple of sandwiches before checking out the address Delores had given Dwight. Austin asked directions a couple times and they found the street, then the house, a run-down aluminum-sided affair with a shake roof and an ancient Doberman on the porch. The dog lifted his head, then let it fall again. Dwight knocked. Again.

“It’s the right number,” Austin said, looking at the digits arranged vertically in front of him.

As they were stepping off the porch, the door opened.

“What do you want?” a fat woman asked. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her giant T-shirt came to the middle of her thighs and giant, wide-legged jeans covered her the rest of the way to the floor.

“Is Myron Rainey here?” Dwight asked.

“No, he ain’t here. Who are you?”

“His sister asked me to give him a ride down to Cimarron. You know where I can find him?”

“Try a bar.”

“Any bar in particular?” Dwight asked.

“One that got booze in it.” And with that she closed the door.

“Nothing’s easy,” Austin said as they walked back to the truck. Austin stopped at the trailer and stroked the tip of the horse’s nose. “He’s a nice animal. I wouldn’t ride him for a million dollars, but he seems sweet.”

“Well, let’s hit a couple of taverns,” Dwight said, getting into the cab. When Austin was behind the wheel, he added, “Just a couple. Hell, if he ain’t at hand, Delores will just have to live with it.”

It was a bright afternoon and Austin felt strange walking into a tavern. He was blinded when he entered, and he followed Dwight to the middle of the room. He let his eyes adjust as he looked around. A couple of sad rejects were slumped over the bar and a fiftyish woman with with big, platinum hair was wiping out glasses.

They went to the woman and Dwight asked, “Do you know a big guy named Myron Rainey?”

“Don’t know nobody what’s named Myron.”

“They call him Yeahbutt.”

“Oh, Yeahbutt.” The woman smiled tenderly, while shaking her head, as if considering a dead friend. “He comes in here. Was in here last night. Ain’t in here now. He owe you money?”

“No ma’am,” Dwight said. “You know where I might find him?”

“No clue. I reckon he lives someplace, but I don’t know where.”

“Thanks anyway.”

The next place was a little better lighted and served food as well as drinks and so there were more patrons and they looked a little less pathetic. At the bar was an enormous, hulking mound of human being and Austin said, “I’ll bet you that’s him.”

Dwight weaved through the tables, Austin behind him. He tapped the big man on the shoulder. “Myron?”

The red, glazed eyes turned to them. The man looked every bit of sixty-five, but was huge, three feet wide and as tall as Dwight while still sitting.

“Are you Myron Rainey?” Dwight asked.

“Who the hell wants to know?” he slurred.

“Your sister asked me to give you a ride down to New Mexico. My name is Dwight Twins. This here is Austin.”

“You think I give a flying fuck what your name is? My sister, eh? You mean Delores?”

“Yeah. She told me you knew I was coming.” Dwight looked at Austin and then at the door.

“My sister sent you to pick me up?”

Dwight nodded.

“Ain’t that some shit.” Myron nudged the drunk beside him with a elbow. “You hear that? She sent this peewee to come pick me up.” He looked at his empty glass. “Well, okay.” And he stood up. He was nearly seven feet tall. Austin felt the front of his neck stretch. “But I gotta hit your buddy.”

“What?” Dwight asked.

“I’m gonna hit your pal here.”

“Why? He didn’t say a word.”

“Yeah, but that’s what bothers me.” He swayed a bit with the alcohol. He looked at Austin as if for the first time. “Hey, you’re black.”

“I know.” Austin studied his balled-up fist. “I would prefer if you didn’t hit me,” Austin said, starting to fall back a step, plotting a path through the tables to daylight.

Myron showed a rotten tooth in the side of his smile. He then pulled his fist back and let go with a lumbering swing. Austin moved with the blow, catching just a bit of its sting, and remained standing. Chairs squawked as people made room.

“Yeahbutt!” the bartender shouted. “I told you about fighting in here.” He picked up the phone. “Now I’m calling the sheriff.”

Myron wasn’t listening however. He had reloaded and was launching another fist. Austin stepped inside this time and latched onto the big man’s torso. He had his arms and legs wrapped around Myron and was completely off the floor. Myron pounded his back.

“Get him off me,” Myron slurred. “Off me.”

“The sheriff is on his way, Yeahbutt.”

Austin felt the man’s body sagging and so he clamped down harder, squeezing for all he was worth. Dwight was dancing around them. “Dwight, what the hell are you doing?!” Austin shouted.

“He looks like he’s about to go,” Dwight said.

Then Myron was sinking to his knees. Austin relaxed his grip, found the floor with his feet, and stepped away. The big man fell like a tree onto his face.

The bartender leaned over the bar to look. “You boys need to get that mountain out of here before the sheriff comes. That son of a bitch will happily lock all three of you up.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Austin said.

“Don’t matter a mouse’s tit to the sheriff.”

“Shit, okay,” Dwight said. “I say we leave him.”

Austin considered Delores Rainey. She was a nasty old lady, but still, this was her brother. “Grab a leg.” Dwight started to complain. “Shut up and grab his other leg.”

They dragged Myron past people who had gone back to their eating and drinking, through the front door, and into the bright parking lot. They stopped, leaning over, hands on knees, panting.

“This guy weighs a ton,” Dwight said.

Myron stirred, muttered, “Yeah, but.”

“Come on, let’s get him into the back of the truck,” Austin said. They each got under an arm and pushed and hoisted and wished the man over the wall into the bed.

Dwight had his hat off and was fanning himself. “Have mercy,” he said. “I feel like my chest is gonna pop.”

“Don’t have a heart attack on me now.” Austin started around the truck. “Get in. We’ll stop down the road a piece and give the horse some more hay.”

In the truck, Dwight said, “You know, he’s right. You are black.”

“Funny man.”

As they rolled away from the tavern, the sheriff’s rig pulled in.

A couple of miles out of Trinidad, Austin pulled off the freeway into a rest area with, notably, “no facilities.” They got out and looked down at Myron from either side of the bed. He was still out, though he had managed to shift his body into a more comfortable-looking position. He snorted and twitched.

“At least he ain’t dead,” Dwight said.

“I reckon,” Austin said. He walked back to the trailer and pulled the pin out of the back door. “I’ll walk this boy around a bit while you muck out.”

“Fair enough,” Dwight said.

Austin backed the horse out of the trailer and led him off the gravel and down a short dirt path, let him nibble at what little grass there was. He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly five. With any luck they might still make Cimarron by nightfall. He walked the horse back to Dwight, who was putting away the silage fork. They loaded the horse and stepped toward the cab. They stopped at their doors and backed up to look into the bed. Myron was not there.

“Did you see him move?” Austin asked.

“Nope.”

“Shit.”

“I say leave him,” Dwight said.

“We can’t leave him out here. Something bad will happen. A bear will find him or something.”

“That’s the bear’s problem,” Dwight said. “Listen, you’re the one he wants to hit.”

Austin looked toward the highway, then over at the steep downward slope. “He can’t have gone far.”

“He won’t be hard to spot anyway.”

“You go that way,” Austin pointed south to a thicket. “Maybe he had to pee.” While Dwight walked off toward the trees, Austin moved to the slope and looked down at the trickle of a creek. He let his eyes follow the stream south a ways, then spotted Myron trying to pull himself up the opposite side of the arroyo. “Good god.” Myron would frantically climb a couple of feet then slide down, his front and face now covered with dirt. Austin called for Dwight and started down.

Dwight made it to the drop-off and said, “Good god.”

“This guy is more than just drunk!” Austin yelled back.

Myron finally rolled over on his back and stared at the sky, heaving great breaths that filled his huge torso like a balloon.

Austin sloshed through the stream to stand over the man. “What the hell are you on?”

“Everything,” Myron said.

“Well, you need to give it up.”

“Yeah, but it helps me cope.”

Dwight caught up to Austin. “Is he dead?”

“Maybe,” Myron said. The big man looked at Austin. “Your name Austin?”

“Yep.”

“Your woman left you?”

Austin looked at Dwight. “What the hell is going on? This is starting to piss me off.”

“So, a few people know your business. Big deal.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you ain’t got any business.” Austin looked back at the hill. “Myron, we can’t drag you back up. Do you think you can walk?”

“I’ll try.” Myron was sounding a little more coherent.

Myron did try. He pushed and grabbed onto the knotty, woody shrubs and pulled, Austin and Dwight behind him, shoving at his hind end. Then he would slip and and there was nothing either of the smaller men could do to stop him. Then they’d start over. By the time they reached the top, Austin’s watch told him it was six o’clock and the light was already changing. All three were exhausted. Myron got up and began to pace in a circle.

“Look at him,” Dwight said. “He’s got sleeping sickness. I saw a wildebeest on television do the same thing.”

“Let’s get going.” Austin got up and steered Myron to the truck. They put him in the cab next to the passenger-side window. The three were wedged in tightly, Myron barely fitting his knees under the glove box.

On a 6 percent downgrade, Myron sat up abruptly, said, “I gotta vomit,” and proceeded to open the door. Dwight made some unintelligible noise of terror, while Austin applied the trailer brake, then the truck’s brakes. He tried to keep the rig straight while he glanced over at Dwight, stretched to his limit across the big man’s body. Dwight’s leg came up and his boot nearly hit Austin in the head. He grabbed Dwight briefly by his belt, then put both hands back on the wheel. The door clicked shut again and Myron threw up down between the door and seat, then turned to put some on Dwight.

“Godalmighty,” Dwight said.

Austin got the truck stopped and off on the shoulder. He just sat where he was behind the wheel and closed his eyes for a second. He looked up as Dwight kicked open the door, then pushed Myron out onto ground. Austin got out and came around, standing well clear of both men.

“Look at me,” Dwight said.

“You’re a mess.” Then Austin regarded his truck.

Myron was on his hands and knees, throwing up again.

“You could have gotten us killed,” Austin said.

“Yeah, but I was sick.”

Dwight peeled off his shirt and stood with his arms held away from his body. “Smells like shit.”

“I’ll get the horse’s water.” Austin went to the trailer. It was sundown and the cars that were speeding by had on their headlights. The horse stirred a bit. “Hang on, fella, just another hour.”

Austin took two towels and the bucket of water to the front of the truck. He grabbed his flashlight from the glove box and looked at the mess. He tossed one towel to Dwight, dipped the other into the water, then started to wipe up the vomit. The smell was awful and he knew that it would take weeks of wind to blow it out.

“We can’t put him back in the truck,” Dwight said. “He’ll get us killed for sure.”

“We’ll throw him in the back,” Austin said.

“This fool will decide he has to take a leak and step out.”

Dwight was right. There was no argument in Austin. “I guess we’ll have to tie him up.” He and Dwight stood silently for a spell considering the idea. “What else can we do?”

So, they tied Myron up, bound his feet and hands. The man was already falling asleep. Austin looked up at the moon. As they were getting into the cab, they heard a loud noise from the trailer.

“You hear that?” Dwight asked.

“I did.”

There was the noise again. They walked back to the trailer. The horse kicked the wall once more. Then a bunch of times. The trailer rocked and the horse kicked more, reared up and slammed his head into the roof.

“Damn!” Dwight let out. “What do we do?”

The horse was freaking out, kicking and rearing and screaming. Austin walked to the back of the trailer and considered opening the door, but decided against it. This crazy horse might kill him, then run like a maniac down the freeway. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We got to do something.”

Both men made soothing sounds that the horse ignored. Austin was still holding the flashlight and, curious to see if the animal had done himself any damage, turned it on and pointed the beam into the trailer. The light hit the horse’s eyes and he calmed down.

“What’d you do?” Dwight asked.

“I don’t know.” Austin turned off the light and the horse started up again. He put the beam back in the animal’s eyes. “It’s the light. The idiot’s afraid of the dark.”

“If you got some duct tape, we can strap that light right where you’re holding it,” Dwight said.

“No tape.”

“I’ve got some in my truck,” Dwight said.

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Austin looked at the highway. “You know these batteries are not going to last all night.”

“Yeah?”

“One of us is going to have hold this light in this horse’s face while the other one drives.”

“I’ll drive,” Dwight said.

“How do you figure that?” Austin asked.

“I wouldn’t want you sitting up there taking in that stench.”

Austin groaned. “You’ve got a point. But I can’t hang on outside this trailer for sixty miles.”

“Nope,” Dwight said.

“I’ll have to get inside with the horse.”

“Yep.”

“You know when we get home, if we get home, I’m going to have to kill you. Or something close to it.”

“I know.”

Dwight held the light while Austin got into the trailer with the stallion. “Easy, boy,” he said, touching the horse’s side to let him know he was there. “Atta boy.” He got to the front and was standing right next to the giant head. “Okay, hand me the light through the slat.”

Dwight pushed the flashlight through and it dropped for a second and the horse immediately reacted, but Austin managed the beam back into his face quickly.

“You okay?” Dwight asked.

“Hell, no,” Austin said. “Let’s go. Don’t drive fast, but don’t poke around neither.”

“All right.”

Austin talked to the horse while he held the light, stroked his nose. He heard Myron yell something from the bed of the pickup. He wondered if Dwight would be able to find his way home. He wondered if the cops would pull them over. He wondered if the batteries would last.