Eventide

The deputy stood before Hoyt and unlocked his handcuffs. You can gather up your belongings now, he said. And report to the probation officer.

I have twenty-four hours till I have to see him.

That’s the way you’re going to do this, is it? Make it difficult for everybody, like you been doing all along.

It’s none of your fucking business anymore what I do, Hoyt said. The judge released me. I’m free to go. And you’re free to kiss my ass.





23


ON A SATURDAY MORNING IN DECEMBER TOM GUTHRIE and the two boys, Ike and Bobby, drove out to the McPheron place just after breakfast. It was a clear cold day. Only a little wind was blowing up out of the west.

They got out of Guthrie’s old red faded Dodge pickup and entered the horse lot where Raymond was waiting for them next to the barn. The two boys, twelve and eleven, were slim and lank, dressed for the cold day in jeans and lined jackets and wool caps and leather gloves. In the horse lot Raymond already had the horses brushed and saddled, and they stood loose-tied at the pole fence, swinging their heads to look as the Guthries approached.

You fellows are right on time, Raymond said. I’m about ready for you. How you boys doing this morning?

They looked at each other. We’re okay, Ike said.

Hell of a deal having to come out here on a Saturday morning so early, isn’t it.

We don’t mind.

Did he feed you any breakfast before you left town?

Yes sir.

That’s good. It’s going to be a long time till noon dinner.

How do you want to go about this? Guthrie said.

Oh, about like always, I guess, Tom. We’ll just ride out amongst them and bring them all in together to the holding pen there and start separating them. How’s that sound to you?

Sounds fine to me, Guthrie said. You’re the boss.

They mounted the horses and rode out into the pasture. The horses were fresh and a little skittish, a little high in the cold weather, but soon settled down. Far across the pasture the cattle and two-year-old heifers and big blackbaldy calves were spread out in the sagebrush and the native grass, their dark shapes visible over a low wind-blown rise. As they rode on, Guthrie and Raymond talked about the weather and the lateness of the snow and the condition of the grass, and Guthrie thought to inquire about Victoria Roubideaux. Raymond told him she had called the night before. She sounded pretty good, he said. Seems like she’s doing real well in her studies there in Fort Collins. She’ll be coming home for Christmas.

The two boys rode alongside the men, not talking. They looked around at all there was to see, glad to be out of school doing anything on horseback.

When the four riders drew near, the old mother cows and heifers and calves all stopped grazing and stood as still and alert as deer, watching them approach, then began to move away across the grass toward the far fence line.

You boys go turn them, Guthrie said. Don’t you think, Raymond?

That’s right. Head them back this way.

The boys touched up their horses and loped off after the cattle, riding like oldtime cowboys out across the native grass on the treeless high plains under a sky as blue and pure as a piece of new crockery.



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