CHAPTER

7

DAVID WENT to work at eight and drove home at four-thirty for two weeks. He took to stopping at the J.C. Penney’s store in Gillette on the way home, to browse through the toy department and choose a plastic model car, which he would glue together during work the following day or two. As he sat there, putting together a fifty-seven Chevy or a thirty-seven Packard (he’d also assembled a black Corvette for Cecile), Cecile would be in and out of the chilly building, carrying on her dealings with the truckers parked out front, sometimes four or five deep, parked parallel, facing the rest area building like an angry herd. And every now and again Pete Hayden would pop down with his bully of a child, who would sit in Cecile’s chair, next to David and tell him about how cows did it on the ranch.

At home, David was feeling very comfortable. He and Sixbury were becoming the best of friends. After work, he would help with the sheep, trimming hooves, worming them, whatever had to be done. There was nothing that couldn’t have been managed by the woman and her retarded son, but Sixbury appreciated his presence. As she put it, “Patrick ain’t much to talk to.” After dinner, they would talk. And on nights before days that David did not have to work, the two would drink themselves to sleep in the front parlor.

He didn’t return to Laramie with Howard, but the two men went to Casper twice, and once up to Sheridan. Howard joined David and Sixbury for an occasional meal, after which he and David would go out walking along the Belle Fourche.

The job didn’t pay very well, but his expenses were minimal. So, in fact, he had almost a generous number of free dollars for trips to Casper or model cars from the J.C. Penney’s in Gillette. In all, David was happy. He’d found a home. He liked the people and he loved the terrain.