End Vision, page 30
Andrew smiled as Victor returned with William’s saddle, placed it next to the others, and the three of them entered the corral. They walked up to the horses. Andrew went for a saddle.
“You’ve got to brush them first,” said Victor. “They’ll get sweaty under the saddle and try to shake off if you don’t.”
“Oh, yah,” said Andrew. He took a brush and began to brush the back of his horse.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” asked Patrick.
“I know what I’m doing, man. I just forgot about the brushing.”
Andrew finished brushing out his horse and handed the brush over to Patrick. Patrick brushed Candy and talked to her as he did. “Candy likes having her hair done.”
Andrew watched Victor. He had finished brushing his and William’s horses and now rubbed the underside of the saddle pad with his bare hand. Andrew copied him with his own saddle pad, and told Patrick to do the same.
“Check for stickers,” he told him.
Andrew placed the pad on his horse and pulled the pad up to the horse’s withers. He went over and did the same on Candy. Next, he took his saddle from the top of the corral, brought it to his horse, checked that the girth strap was on the right side, and then flipped the right stirrup and girth strap over the saddle. While holding the right side straps up, Andrew approached his horse from the left and placed the saddle atop the saddle pad, then lined the saddle up so the horn was right above the withers. He felt the process coming back to him, and no longer snuck peeks over to Victor to see how to proceed. Victor had already saddled one horse and had begun on the second. Andrew fastened the front cinch and laced the latigo through the front cinch ring, and brought the latigo back toward the saddle while tightening the front cinch. He pulled the end of the latigo through the D-ring on the saddle, brought it back down toward the cinch ring, laced the end of the latigo back through the cinch ring again, and pulled it back up toward the saddle. He finished off by tying the latigo off with a Texas T knot.
“That’s how yah saddle a horse,” Andrew said, grinning.
“I’m impressed,” said Patrick.
“Like riding a bike.”
Victor walked up and checked Andrew’s saddle.
“Looks good,” he said. He pulled on the saddle. “It’s not too loose, but I wouldn’t make it any looser than you got it.”
“O.K.,” said Andrew.
“I’ll get the bridles on, and you get that saddle on for your friend, there.”
Andrew grabbed Patrick’s saddle from the corral and quickly fastened it to Candy. He moved with purpose. Once finished, he felt a sense of pride as he looked at the horses and breathed in the fresh air around him. He felt good. Victor called over to William, and the old man walked over from the truck to the corral. Victor was already in the saddle, and led William’s horse out by the reins to meet him.
“How do I get on one of these things?” asked Patrick.
“Watch me,” said Andrew. “Left foot in the stirrup. Like this.” He placed his left foot in the left stirrup and swung up into the saddle. His horse shifted from foot-to-foot as he situated his weight and got his right foot in the right stirrup. “Easy as that.”
Patrick walked cautiously to Candy’s left side and reached his right hand to the saddle horn. He placed his left boot into the stirrup and began bouncing his weight up and down on his right foot. He couldn’t bring his body up off the ground.
“Pull up.” Andrew laughed. “Grab the horn and push up with your left leg.”
Patrick continued bouncing on his left foot. “I can’t do it,” he yelled.
“Push yourself up with your leg, man.”
Patrick got his right leg off the ground and pushed hard on the stirrup with his left boot.The saddle shifted left, but he brought himself up and onto it.
“Hey! There yah go.”
“I think my saddle is loose,” said Patrick.
“Oh. It’s fine. It’s tight. I tightened everything. It’s just shifting some with your weight.”
“O.K. Now what?”
“Take the reins in your right hand and bring them where you want to go. Like this.” Andrew brought the reins in his right hand back, like he was pulling back a tennis racket, and leaned his weight right. The horse began to turn. Patrick did the same, and Candy spun around. Andrew walked his horse out of the corral and Patrick followed.
“You good?” asked Andrew, looking over his shoulder.
“Yah. I think so.”
Victor and William waited outside of the corral, and Andrew and Patrick rode over to meet them. The four of them sat side-by-side facing west to the fence line.
“Alright,” said Andrew. “We’re ready.”
“You look good on that horse, boy,” said William.
“It feels pretty good being back on one,” said Andrew.
William smiled. “I know what you mean.” He looked over to Victor. “You ready?”
Victor nodded.
“Lets go.”
Victor put his horse forward with his knees and the group set off in single file, moving south toward the fence line. They rode slowly. The horse’s hooves clopped in rhythm to the lunging of their bodies, and, soon, they reached the fence and turned the horses west to ride alongside it. The wind blew steady from the northwest, and both horses and riders bent their heads against it.
“Keep your eyes open for any damaged fence,” Victor yelled down the line.
They continued down the fence line, Victor up front followed by William, Andrew, then Patrick. Andrew took in the subtleties of the landscape. The ground that had seemed so flat from his vantage point at the pickup now showed its true form. It tilted and rolled slowly. Up close and unobstructed by a single tree, he saw it rise and fall and terminate into the horizon in all directions. He breathed in deeply. He smelled the earth and a slight dampness in the air. It was nice to be out in it.
Andrew turned and spoke to Patrick. “How yah doing back there?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the main stage...Candy!”
Andrew laughed, and shook his head. “You look good back there. Even in those ridiculous clothes, I must say, you look good.”
“I know I do, honey.”
“I’m going to ride up a bit. You be O.K.?”
“Go on. I’m fine.”
Andrew put his heal to the horse’s side and trotted up beside his grandfather. Once at his side, he slowed the horse to match William’s pace.
“Hey, old man.”
“Hey, boy.”
“How yah feeling?”
“Oh. I’m good. I’ll be stiff tomorrow. And not where it counts.”
Andrew smiled. “You look comfortable. Like you are right where you are supposed to be.”
“I wouldn’t know anywhere else to be. I feel like I’ve been right here forever.”
They rode together and did not speak. Andrew watched his grandfather scanning the landscape and wondered if they saw the same things.
“How many years have you made this ride?” asked Andrew.
“Oh, sixty years or so.”
“Do you remember the first time you rode out here?”
“I do,” said William.
“What was it like then?”
“It was just like this. When your grandma and I moved out here, it was just like this. Except I put up the fences. But everything else looks much the same.”
“When did you put up this fence?” Andrew pointed to the one they rode along.
“Right after we moved in,” he said.
“Why did yah do it?”
“Why did I put up the fence?”
“Yes.”
“Had to. We were getting some cattle, starting the ranch. Had to have a fence to keep everything on the property. I remember I thought I could do the majority of the work on my own. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I came out here one morning, maybe I was trying to impress your grandma, but I came out here and started to dig post holes. Now, this was by hand with an old sharpshooter. It was like digging in rock. The ground here is so hard. And I started jamming that sharpshooter into the dirt and immediately knew I’d never be able to do it alone. I thought there was no way anyone could ever hand dig holes out here alone, but I kept digging. I’d only gotten about two or three inches in the dirt when I hit something hard. Like metal. It tinged when I struck it. I set the sharpshooter down and got on my knees to look and see what I had hit.”
“What was it?”
“It was an old tin can. Sweet corn. The lid had been removed and there were some old advertisements rolled up in it. I remember being out here thinking I was the first man on earth to dig on this land, and here I was digging up a tin can in my first hole. I would have been less surprised to find an old arrowhead or a piece of Indian pottery than I was to find that old tin can.”
“What sorts of ads were in there? Do you remember?”
“Oh, there were a few. I don’t remember them all. I do remember one was for a pair of spectacles. Eyeglasses. It was for an eyeglasses holder. They kept a person’s glasses on secure so that they wouldn’t fall off, I guess.”
Andrew laughed. “Aren’t those just called ear pieces?”
“You’d think so. But I guess not.”
They rode on. The ground began to slope gradually upward. In the distance, Andrew saw where the fence cornered out and turned north.
“Now you see here where the posts start to look newer?” asked William.
“Yah. They still look pretty old, though.”
“They are old. But your dad helped put those in. That was years back, when he was just a teenager. Maybe thirteen. We had a big blizzard blow through that winter and it really spooked the cattle. They must’a started running and hit the fence and just didn’t stop. Ran right through the damned thing. Some of them got through O.K., and others got caught up in the barbed wire. Your dad and uncle and me had to come out, round up the strays, and get the ones caught up in the fence loose. Your dad got cut up pretty bad that day. Your grandma sewed him up back at the house. The cut got pretty bad, and she made me take him in to town for shots. The doctor said she’d done a good job, but they took out the sutures and redid the whole thing.”
“I remember that story,” said Andrew. “I remember him showing me the scars. That happened right here?”
William pointed to the fence line. “Just about right here. I know from the posts. He was a big help that day.”
Andrew didn’t respond, but studied the fence line and thought of his father at thirteen — a man he never knew.
“He was a good man, Andrew,” William said. “He was a kind man, and he loved you very much. I want you to know that.”
“Then why did he do it?”
“You know, I’ve asked that question myself more times than I can count. It killed your grandma. It killed her. She was never the same after his death. And it took me a long time to forgive him for that. I hated him for a long time. I blamed him for a long time.”
“Then why? Was I not enough? Was it because of Mom? Why did he do it?”
“You know the answer to that as well as I do. And I’d tell you to be careful if I thought it’d make a bit of difference. Your father just never felt like he was good enough. Never. He was never satisfied with what he was blessed with in the first place: a wife, a child, a family who loved him. He always needed more. When a person thinks that way, when a man always needs more and more, the pressure can start to add up. He saw what others had and he wanted to have what he had and all that, too. I think it added up for him, and he tried to escape it the only way he knew how. He ran away from life. From living. He chose the numbness of drink over the emotions of life. People think that being alive should always be fun, and that is not always the case. You hurt sometimes. You miss things. The hard things make the good things good, son.”
“I guess.”
“You understand what I’m saying? The problems that you have can’t be solved with drink or with bought things or by wanting whatever it is that others have. Those ads for the eyeglasses holders wanted people to think that they’d be a fix-all for whatever vision problems they had, and maybe they helped some. But nothing got fixed by buying them. I promise you that.”
“I understand, Granddad.” Andrew reached over and rubbed William’s boney shoulder. “Thank you.”
Andrew fell back behind William and waited on Patrick. A sense of relief spread through his body. He felt himself home for the first time in many years. Patrick rode up beside him. He smiled uncomfortably.
“How’s it going?” asked Andrew.
“I think my saddle is slipping. It feels loose.”
“I tightened it. Are you sure it’s not just moving a bit with your weight?”
“I don’t think so. Once we started going up hill, it moved back.” Patrick pointed to Candy’s withers. The saddle had slid back. They were now at the juncture of the west and north fence line, and Victor and William were stopped at the corner.
“O.K. Yah. I see what you are saying. Maybe I didn’t get it tight enough,” said Andrew. He turned to his granddad. “Is there a good spot to stop and fix Patrick’s saddle? I think it’s loose.”
“I told yah to make sure you tightened that thing up right,” said Victor.
“Yah. I thought I did.”
“Just down the way is a spot we used to picnic,” said William. “We can stop there and stretch out some.”
They began north and topped a hill that looked down onto a dried-up creek bed. A small grove of cottonwoods lined the old bed. William stopped his horse and pointed down the hill to the trees.
“Now that’s a view that has changed,” he said. “Years back, that creek used to always have water running through it. Farms around here started irrigating off of it, and it dried out. When we first moved here, Sharron and I used to ride out here and have a picnic in those cottonwoods. It even ran for a bit after we had the kids, but not long after.”
“You brought dad down here, too?”
“Yes. We did. We’d all come down on Sunday after the boys were born, and we’d swim in the creek and dry out on the bank. Sharron and I would watch them play. Those were very happy times.”
Andrew pictured the valley flowing with water on a warm, late spring day. Birds up in the trees. Flowers blossoming next to the river bed. His grandmother and grandfather spread out on a blanket under the shade of the cottonwoods next to their horses, eating sandwiches, and watching his father and uncle splash and play in the cool stream.
“Let’s get down there and we can take a break,” William said. “I’d like to sit there for a bit.”
Victor began the descent down the hill on an old cattle trail that ran to the cottonwood grove and the creek bed. William let him go for a bit, then followed.
“Just lean back when you are going downhill,” Andrew said to Patrick. “The horse isn’t going to slip. Just hold on and lean back.”
“Alright, honey,” said Patrick.
“I’ll go first. Just watch me.”
Andrew began down the hill, leaning back as his horse plodded down the trail.
“Put your weight back and push on your stirrups with the balls of your feet,” he yelled back to Patrick. “Nothing to it.”
Patrick nudged Candy forward with his boot heels and followed down the hill. Candy took it slow. Patrick leaned back in the saddle. “It’s slipping,” he yelled down the hill. “My God, it’s slipping off.” Andrew watched as Patrick yanked hard on the bit, throwing Candy’s head skyward. She shook her head hard as if saying ‘NO’ emphatically. She tried to shake the rider. Patrick reined back harder. Candy snorted and kicked out her back feet. Patrick let go of the reins and held tight to the saddle horn. Andrew saw all this happen as if in slow motion. As soon as Patrick let go of the reins, Candy broke off into a gallup down the side of the hill while Patrick screamed — “Oh, honey. Oh, Jesus.”
“The reins!” Victor yelled. “Get your reins!”
Patrick held tight to the saddle horn, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He pushed hard on the stirrups, and Andrew saw his left boot push through, tying his foot to the saddle. The men moved out of the way as Candy came speeding by. Once she hit flat ground, she broke into a spin, bucking and kicking out her back legs.
“Holy shit!” Andrew yelled. “Get off Patrick! Jump off!”
“No,” Victor yelled. “He’s caught in the saddle!”
“Hang on,” yelled William.
Victor jumped from his saddle. William swung his leg over the fork of the saddle and came to the ground. Andrew remained on his horse, frozen, watching the scene unfold before him as Patrick leaned left to fall from the bucking Candy. She bucked wildly in front of the cottonwoods, jumping and spinning and flinging Patrick like a rag doll. Victor ran to Candy and stood outside of her bucking space. “Whoa!” he yelled, reaching out to try to grab the flailing reins as they passed by. William came up behind him. Candy spun. Victor missed. Candy spun. Victor missed. She tired, and he finally took hold of the reins. Staring wild-eyed at the man pulling her in, Candy snorted, out of breath. Patrick hung limp on the opposite side. William passed beside Victor and moved behind Candy. “He’s unconscious,” said William, reaching to release Patrick’s leg from the saddle.
Andrew watched, unable to move, as all in one motion William took a step behind the old bay, the frozen ground crunching under the weight of his boot. Candy’s black eyes opened wide, looking scared as she pulled hard on the reins and kicked — her right hoof striking William just over his left temple. He fell limp in a contained pile right next to the old cottonwoods and the once flowing creek.
A middle-aged Uber driver in a blue Toyota Prius drove Ramon toward the VerMas Department of Vision building immediately after lunch at a ‘Hot & New’ Italian sandwich spot with Deborah. Ramon looked out the car window and read the influx of data that plodded by. He was leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. This eased the strain on a full belly digesting a ten inch meatball sub. Life was suddenly just the way he had dreamed it could be. The previous afternoon with Deborah had been perfect. They’d bought paintings and pictures and frames for photographs to fill his apartment walls and tabletops. They’d returned to his place to hang the paintings and argue sarcastically with the phony accent of German art dealers about which spot suited a certain piece best. They’d made love twice — once with Deborah bent over the arm of the couch and once more, with passion, pulled close together atop the Nimbus 3000©. She had called in sick twice already, preferring to stay with him than go in to Lazo’s on the week’s slow nights, and though Ramon knew this early stage relationship excitement might not last forever, he was happy that she did. He was happy the entire time.
