6.
Ollie
I’d finished with the morning chores and had just turned Bebop back out to pasture when I heard Garrett calling my name. I turned as Bebop moseyed off to graze.
“He’s glad you’re back,” Garrett said. “Saw you out there earlier. Could never tell you’d spent the last seven years not on a horse.”
“It feels good to be back in the saddle,” I said. “Feels good to just be outside again.”
“I bet. And I appreciate all the hard work you’ve done, just in the short time you’ve been back. But I got a little side project for you to work on, if you’re interested. Follow me.”
I followed him toward the barn, expecting it to be some sort of repair project, maybe new roofing, something that would keep me away from the guests. I was trying not to be paranoid, but every time someone looked at me, I felt as though they knew exactly who I was, where I’d been, what I’d done.
But Garrett kept on going past the barn, the one of the corrals out back. It was a smaller paddock, and there was only one horse within its confines, a tall, rangy roan that immediately gave us a suspicious look as we approached.
“No one’s had much luck with this fella,” Garrett said. “Thought maybe you could see what you’d be able to do with him. His name’s Ditto.”
“Good-lookin’ horse,” I said.
“He is. He’s a smart one, too, and has a great conformation, which is why I don’t want to give up on him just yet. But he’s unseated every rider that’s been on him so far and he doesn’t trust anybody.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
Garrett nodded. “Good. And hey, why don’t you come on up to the house later for supper. Marie would like that. She’s making pot roast.”
“All right,” I said. I looked back at the horse, which had moved as far away from us as he possibly could. “I can do that.”
I went back up to the barn and cleaned tack for a few hours, and then I decided to drive into town and stop back into that place—Ollie’s—again. I kind of got a kick out of it, having the same name as me and all. And I’d been thinking about that girl, Wren. I wasn’t sure why, other than she was the first woman I’d really had contact with since I’d gotten out, and now it was like she had imprinted on me or something.
I felt a little nervous walking in, but then there she was, pouring coffee for some guy in a wide-brimmed Stetson, and she looked up right as I walked in.
“Well, hello again,” she said. She sounded genuine, as though she were actually pleased to see me, or, at the very least, not displeased.
“Hey,” I said. She gestured to one of the empty seats at the bar and was filling a coffee mug without me even having to ask.
“It’s on the house this time.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” My tone sounded accusatory even though I was really just curious. Was it supposed to be this hard to talk to other people?
“Last time you were here you left a five-dollar bill for a one-dollar cup of coffee.” She smiled. “That’s a generous tip and all, but you barely got any service at all, so that’s why this one’s on the house. I didn’t even offer you the half and half before.” She slid a little silver pitcher with a lid on it to me.
“I take it black. Thanks, though.” I was about to ask to look at a menu when the guy with the Stetson looked over.
“Ollie Boardman,” he said. It was Keith Wilson, one of Garrett’s sons. He’d gained a lot of weight since I’d last seen him, the fabric of his shirt stretched to the max to contain his bulk. It was weird seeing him in a hat like that; he’d never been that interested in anything to do with the ranch. “Thought I recognized that voice of yours. So, how’s life out of prison treating you?”
This wasn’t a friendly conversation; he was speaking loud enough for everyone in the whole restaurant to hear. I could feel gazes turning toward me. Wren stared right at me, and I couldn’t read the expression on her face.
“It’s fine,” I mumbled.
“You kill a man with your
own two hands and you’re out in what—seven years? I’ll be damned.” He slapped
the counter and spun around on the stool to address the people sitting at the
tables. “Isn’t that something?”
I ducked my head and wished I could disappear into that cup of coffee. Like I
could just shrink myself down and dive into the hot black liquid and disappear.
I felt a little seed of anger, though, plant itself right inside my chest. I
didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to give it power, because I was
afraid of what might happen if I did.
I could tell by the expressions on the people’s faces that they weren’t sure if he was joking around or not. They glanced over at me, wondering if someone who looked like I did really had it in me to kill someone. Aside from the tattoos covering my arms, I thought that I looked like any other guy who might’ve stepped in there.
“Were you gonna order anything else or are you ready for the check?” Wren asked Keith loudly. She didn’t wait for his response before slapping the check down in front of him.
He gave her a look like he was about to say something, but then he reconsidered and leaned forward to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw down some bills, hitched his pants up, and then walked out. I waited a minute, hoping he’d get into his truck and leave.
“I should go,” I said, standing up.
“No way.” Wren reached out and touched my forearm; I jumped as though she’d shocked me. She gave me a quizzical look. “There’s no need for you to leave. Don’t let a guy like that run you out.”
I hesitated but then sat back down. It seemed that the other diners had gone back to eating; maybe they thought that Keith was making the whole thing up.
“He’s not lying,” I said, keeping my voice low. The other people’s conversations were loud enough that I didn’t think they’d be able to hear me. I wasn’t sure why I was even telling her this, other than I felt like I had to. “What he said is true.”
It was hard to read the expression on her face. She just held my gaze for several seconds. “I know,” she said finally.
So people did know. But maybe it was a good thing, that way, it wouldn’t be such a shock.
“It’s really just something that I want to move on from,” I said. “I’d really just like to forget about the whole thing.”
“I hear you,” she said. “There’s plenty in my own life I’d just like to forget about, too.” There was something in her voice, something about the way she said it, that made me think she might be able to understand if I told her everything.
I should have known that Keith was around for a reason; when I walked up to the main house for supper that night, he was there, and so was his older brother, Jacob. I could tell by the expression on his face when I walked in that Jacob wasn’t any fonder of me than Keith was, but he was at least going to do what he could to disguise it.
He shook my hand and smiled coolly. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t put on a ton of weight, and he’d aged rather well. Of course, last I’d heard, he was working as some paper pusher at some bank in Denver, not toiling outside under the hot sun.
Marie was there too, and at least she seemed glad to see me. She was Jacob and Keith’s stepmother; Garrett’s wife had died when Keith was two and he’d married Marie a few years later. Jacob and Keith had always been cordial to her, but they had never seen her as their real mother, even though she’d been there for most of their lives. She and Garrett had never had any children of their own; I didn’t know if that was by choice or circumstance.
“We’re so glad to have you back working here,” Marie said, giving me a hug. “How has it been going so far?”
I saw Jacob and Keith exchange looks.
“It’s been good,” I said. “I really appreciate what you and Garrett have done for me so far.”
She stepped back from the hug but still held onto my upper arms. “I promised your mom I’d watch out for you,” she said. “Though you do look like you’re doing quite all right for yourself.”
“He’s twenty-five, Marie,” Keith said. “A grown man, in other words. I don’t think he needs you to look out for him.”
“You hush,” she said. “Let’s sit down and eat while the food’s still hot.”
We sat down, Garrett at the head of the table, Marie to his right. Jacob sat at the foot and I sat next to Marie, across from Keith.
“So, you’re working here now,” Keith said as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Isn’t that something.”
“We needed one more wrangler, and Ollie needed a job,” Garrett said, giving Keith a level look. “Simple as that. Besides, I didn’t see you rushing to help out.”
Both Keith and Jacob had always hated ranch work, and neither had ever made any attempt to pretend otherwise. I doubted either of them had even been on a horse in the past decade.
“Just because I’m not interested in working here doesn’t mean there aren’t other people you could’ve hired,” Keith said.
I looked down at my plate.
“This is not the sort of conversation we’re going to be having right now.” Garrett looked to Keith and then Jacob. “Do the two of you understand me? Last time I checked, I was the owner of this place, and the two of you didn’t want anything to do with it. Ollie’s put in more hours working here than the two of you combined. I don’t want to hear any more about it.” “It’s financial suicide,” Jacob burst out. “What do you think is going to happen if word gets out that you’ve got a convicted murderer here working for you? You think that people are going to be flocking to come here for vacation?”
Keith laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh, yeah, I can just see it now: ‘Come on, honey, let’s fly the whole family out to the ranch in Colorado where that guy who killed someone with his own two hands works.’”
Marie put her fork down. “That’ll be enough of that,” she said.
I stared at my plate, feeling a mixture of shame and anger. Part of it was that I actually agreed with both of them; if word did get out that I was working here, it certainly wasn’t crazy to think that people would choose to stay away.
“Word doesn’t need to get out,” Garrett said. “We don’t need to advertise it. If someone asks, we can tell them, but if it doesn’t come up, then we can just leave it that way.” He gave Jacob and Keith a hard look. “What’s the matter with the two of you, anyway? I don’t see either of you chomping at the bit to get to work here. We’ve known Ollie more than half his life. He’s like family.”
“He might as well be your cousin,” Marie said, “for as close as his mom and I were. So, I expect you two to be kind to him.”
“It’s nothing personal,” Jacob said. “Ollie?” He waited until I looked up at him to continue. The expression on his face was earnest, as though he really did care that I heard what he had to say. “It’s not personal. My brother and I are concerned about the ranch is all, and how it is going to reflect that you’re working here.”
“So, it is personal, then,” Marie said. “How can you sit there and say it’s not, when you’re telling him you think he’s going to be bad for business?”
I kept eating, trying to block out the conversation. If Jackson were here he’d tell me to just get the fuck up and leave. Or knock their heads together. Jackson was like that, an extremist, not the middle-of-the-road sort of guy. But I felt frozen in my seat. If I got up and left, Jacob and Keith would think I was a pussy; if I stayed and started shit with either of them, that would just prove their point that I probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.
“We’re going to end this conversation right now,” Garrett said. “This isn’t the sort of talk I want at the dinner table in the first place, never mind that it isn’t any of your business anyway. And I’m talking to you, Jacob and Keith. If I want your advice about how to run this ranch, I’ll ask, but seeing as neither of you has ever, in the nearly thirty years you’ve been on this earth, shown any interest in this place whatsoever, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” He stabbed at the piece of pot roast on his plate.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of forks scraping on plates, food being chewed, Keith sniffling, like he had a cold or bad allergies. I kept my head down and ate, figuring the sooner I finished, the sooner I’d be able to get out of there.
The thing about it was, I knew that Jacob and Keith were right. People didn’t want to take their vacations at the same place as some guy who’d killed someone. Garrett was doing me a favor by giving me a job, but maybe it would’ve been better if I’d just gotten on that bus and gone somewhere new. Had a fresh start, be somewhere that no one would recognize me. I didn’t want to start trouble for anyone. I was starting to think it might be better if I just left town.