Stella, page 8
“Here?” Mateo blurted, his eyes wide. A grin lit up his face. “That’s amazing.”
Dad cut his eyes to Bart. “What’s with the goats?” he challenged softly.
Bart pointed to Finn in protest. “Don’t ask me! Ask silent goat-boy here.”
“I got a good price, once I threw in the labor for Kelton’s new deck,” Finn explained quietly. “Elias can shear the goats when they’re big enough. Get a good bit of money for the Angora fiber.”
“Why would we want to even bother with that?” Bart replied in surly tones. “We got hay baling to do, remember?”
“What’s with the attitude, Bart?” Elias demanded. “We’re all doing our part here.”
“You boys can get along just fine without this place,” Dad interjected.
Everyone stared at him.
Dad nodded. “Elias spends all his time over at Paulson’s or on the road. Finn’s shop’s got more work than he can handle. Bart, there’s not a ranch or a farm in the county’s not looking for a hand. Or you could work anywhere—people say you could sell ice cubes to polar bears.”
The table was silent.
“And me?” Mateo finally asked timorously.
Dad didn’t respond to that.
We spent far too much time the next few days cleaning out the chicken coop. The chickens didn’t trust us and weren’t grateful and were probably planning to make a huge mess of it the moment we left. Bart and Finn were out with the sheep, but close enough to return to the ranch at night.
My boy slept in his sleeping bag next to the doghouse. “Julian’s coming tomorrow,” he whispered excitedly at one point. “This is going to change everything! I won’t be lonely anymore. We’ll go fishing and camping and swimming in the pond and sledding in the winter! And we’ll get Dad to listen about not selling the ranch. How could he? Julian and I both need somewhere to live. Dad will see that. I know he will.”
I did not know what this meant, but I wagged for my boy’s happiness.
The next morning, Mateo was up early, full of energy both quick and nervous. He invited me into the cab of the truck next to him. Dad drove. I noticed that his truck had a knob on the steering wheel, which Dad gripped with his one hand. The vehicle bounced quite a bit until it found some smooth surface, and then I could feel it getting faster.
“What time is his flight landing in Spokane?” Mateo pressed.
Dad gave him a sideways look. “We got plenty of time.”
“I really hope,” Mateo mused aloud, “that Julian and I can be good friends. I mean, he’s not that much older. He’s sixteen and I’m thirteen, but that’s only three years.”
Dad didn’t say anything.
“I mean, has he ever been to the ranch?”
Dad shook his head. “Listen, Mateo, I need to tell you something.”
Mateo froze, so I did too.
“Nice place Elke had, down in Houston. It’s called a condominium, an apartment in a big building with a pool and whatnot. It’s mine now—she left it to me. There’s a trust fund for Julian’s education. What I’m saying is, I think you and I should move down there.”
“Move? To a city?” Mateo repeated, horrified.
“I’m selling the ranch, son. We’ve got to live somewhere.”
“But…” Mateo shook his head wildly. “What, I mean, what about the dogs?”
Dad gave him a level look. “Well, no, the building doesn’t allow dogs. It’ll be a change, but probably a good one.”
Mateo was sad and silent.
“Speaking of dogs, I heard you’re sneaking out to the barn at night to sleep with them,” Dad continued. “That true?”
Mateo swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
There was a silence. “Well, no more. People sleep in the house. Barn’s for animals.”
“But…” Mateo started to protest weakly.
“No buts. We clear on this?”
Mateo put his hands on me and I felt some wistful sadness in the gesture. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “Clear.”
We drove and drove, and after a while, there were many cars, and we slowed down quite a bit, maybe so that we could look at them. Finally, we were barely creeping, and we drove up next to a big building. Dad got out and opened a hatch in the rear of his truck.
“That’s him!” Mateo exclaimed.
A boy strolled hesitantly out the door, pulling a rolling bag behind him. He was lanky and tall, with coloring the same as Bart’s. His face did not light up when he saw Dad, but he brightened a little when he saw me. I figured that was a good sign.
“Well, hey, I’m Julian. You must be my cousin Mateo,” he said as he slid into the seat behind us.
Mateo twisted around. “And this is Stella.”
Mateo reached his hand over the back of the seat to grasp Julian’s. Mateo was beaming. Julian didn’t seem anywhere near as excited. “Hello, Stella,” he said to me.
Mateo lifted me over the seat so I was in the back with the stranger. I was thrilled to have the new boy in the car with me, but I could tell that he did not feel the same. His voice was flat and his movements were slow, and I could smell a deep sadness welling up inside him. I did my best to make him feel welcome by licking him on his hands and face and wriggling my rear end feverishly.
“Does this dog ever stop licking?” he asked. I heard the word dog and thought it probably came with some approval.
Everyone chuckled and then the truck started moving. No one spoke for a long, long moment, and I could feel the silence weighing heavily on Mateo.
“So how was your flight?” Mateo finally asked brightly.
Julian shrugged. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t just stay home.”
Dad tightened his one hand on the steering wheel knob. “It’s what was decided,” he finally explained.
“Yeah, by other people,” Julian objected. “How come I didn’t get a vote?”
“Because you’re sixteen years old. You can’t live by yourself,” Dad reminded him evenly.
Julian looked out the window. I licked his pants. “I don’t have any friends here.”
“Oh, you can hang out with me!” Mateo offered brightly.
I could feel Julian’s unhappiness and wondered how a person could be sad when a wonderful dog was licking him in the mouth.
“We’ll go fishing,” Mateo offered. “You ever been fishing?”
Julian looked blankly at him and shook his head.
“How about camping? You ever go camping?”
“I don’t go camping,” Julian replied.
Mateo’s face fell. The silence grew long again.
“Well, what kind of stuff do you want to do? We live on a ranch,” Mateo pressed gamely. “It’s the most incredible place in the world. All kinds of things to do, all the time.”
Julian thought about it. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. I guess I’m looking forward to that,” he finally offered.
There was a long silence while Mateo stared at his father, and then he turned back and peered at Julian over the seatback.
“Well, we don’t have horses,” Mateo advised apologetically. “It’s because, you know, that’s how Dad lost his hand. The horse fell on him.”
They didn’t say much more after that. We drove for a long time, but finally I picked up the familiar smells of home coming into the car.
For some reason, the appearance of Julian in our house meant that Mateo no longer came out to sleep with me in the barn where I lay in my doghouse. I missed him terribly, but I understood that Julian’s arrival had changed things in a way that a dog just simply couldn’t hope to understand.
The next morning, I stood behind Mateo as he knocked on Julian’s door.
“What?” a muffled voice demanded finally. Mateo pushed open the door and we walked in. Julian had emptied his suitcase, and his clothing was stacked on the bed and the floor.
“We’re going out with the sheep today.”
Julian was sitting on the bed. He stared at Mateo. “What does that mean?”
“It’s awesome!” Mateo said eagerly. “We go out onto these big parcels that Dad leases from the government. Takes us all day to get there. We stay out with the sheep for a few days, camping, then spend another day bringing them back.”
“And that’s awesome?”
Mateo’s grin faltered. “Well … yeah. See, you’re old enough, so once you get the hang of it, you and I could do the sheep. Then Bart could get a different job, and then we’ll have enough money so we won’t have to sell the ranch, and move, and…”
His voice trailed off.
“Look, kid,” Julian responded heavily, “I think you got the wrong idea about me. I’m not here to become a farmer. And there’s a big difference between sixteen and thirteen. You go do you and I’ll do me, okay?”
Whatever Julian was telling Mateo, I could feel the words cutting into my boy. I couldn’t understand—why would anyone want to hurt Mateo?
Mateo’s eyes were flat when we wandered back to the kitchen.
“Where’s Julian?” Bart asked.
“He wants to sleep in,” Mateo reported as he sat in his chair.
The men at the table all glanced at one another, but didn’t say anything.
Twelve
We went out with the sheep the next morning. I expected that Julian would come with us—wasn’t he part of my human pack now? But he remained in the house.
I tracked Deuce as he kept the sheep in check, and I concentrated hard on being as calm and disciplined as he was. But sometimes, when a lamb started jumping around or a few sheep bolted in one direction, I couldn’t help myself, and I found myself racing around at their feet, trying to correct them, getting lost in the flock.
I was, though, finally beginning to understand what was expected of me. I was staying at Deuce’s side (most of the time), being a good dog, obeying Mateo’s commands.
“Stella!” he told me. “I need you to do what I say, and not just follow Deuce around! You’re supposed to be handling your side while he handles his!”
I heard the word Deuce and Mateo sounded exasperated, so I wondered what the shaggy canine had done to be a bad dog while we were with the sheep.
We spent several days and nights out with the sheep before bringing them back. My fellow guardian dogs still treated me like a puppy, but I knew I was now an adult dog. I just needed longer legs.
Back at the ranch, Mateo and I dashed into the house to find Julian, who was exactly as I’d last seen him, sitting in his bedroom, looking at his phone. He wasn’t talking to it, just looking at it.
“We saw two eagles, a fox, two coyotes, and a snake,” Mateo boasted eagerly. “The dogs ran off everything except the snake. I picked it up with a stick and threw it in the trees.”
Julian nodded without pulling his eyes from his phone. I felt Mateo’s enthusiasm deflating, and he left the room dejectedly.
Later that day, Mateo and I were in the kitchen. I was patiently waiting for Mateo to understand that the fragrant peanut butter he was smearing on a piece of bread could easily be shared with a deserving dog who was sitting loyally at his feet. Finn, Elias, and Bart were standing near the sink, drinking liquid from bottles.
“Kid’s gotta do something,” Elias insisted. “He just spends his whole day in his bedroom, on his phone. Bart, go tell him.”
Bart frowned. “Why me?”
“You’re the youngest.”
“Mateo’s the youngest,” Bart retorted.
“I’m trying. He won’t talk to me!” Mateo protested. I hear the sadness in his voice and licked his leg, thinking, Yes, a little peanut butter is just what we need to cheer us up.
“Just do it, Bart,” Elias urged.
Bart made a disgusted sound. “I have to do everything around here,” he groused. But he stood up and then walked down the hallway to Julian’s room. Mateo and I tagged along. As we walked through the open door into the bedroom, Bart rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Julian. Talk to you for a minute?”
Julian looked up. I realized in that moment that he was even less communicative than Finn.
“You know,” Bart continued uncomfortably, “this is a working ranch. I get what happened, with your mom, and, I mean, I’m sorry. We all are. But you can’t just spend all your time sitting here doing nothing. There’s no end to the work on a place like this. And … it’d be good for you. Take your mind off … you know.”
Julian’s stare was blank. Bart made the same disgusted sound, turned, and strode out.
“You want to play handball against the side of the barn?” Mateo suggested plaintively. “Racquetball? Tennis?”
Julian shook his head and went back to his phone. Mateo sighed and followed Bart out of the room.
The nights in the barn without my boy were lonely, even with the big dogs snoring outside my doghouse.
It was still and quiet when I heard a tiny noise. The other dogs didn’t react. I looked up toward an open window, high on the wall above some shelves. I watched in fascination as my favorite goat’s head appeared through it. I had learned that her name was Eddie.
Eddie gazed around and saw me. Struggling, she brought first one leg and then the other over the sill. Next, oddly graceful, she flopped out of the window and onto the top shelf. From there, she leaped nimbly to the ground.
We sniffed, but I wanted to go back to sleep. I climbed back into my comfortable doghouse.
I was surprised when, a moment later, Eddie’s head appeared in my doorway. As if she had done it many times before, Eddie squirmed her way into the doghouse and turned, flopping down beside me.
The next morning, Mateo burst out laughing when he walked into the barn and saw my face and Eddie’s in the doghouse doorway.
“What are you doing, Eddie? How did you get in here?” He tugged Eddie out by pulling gently on her nubby horns and took her to the smaller barn, where the goats lived. They were all in there comfortably chewing hay, and Eddie was happy to rejoin them. Then Mateo peered around the room.
“I don’t know how she escaped to your doghouse. Do you, Stella?”
I heard my name in a question and wondered what he wanted me to do. I could sense that the sheep were itching to return to the wide-open spaces, and I reflected happily on my dual role as guardian dog and Deuce dog.
We didn’t herd the sheep out through the gate, though.
I was with Mateo when Dad strode down the hall, passing us, walking somewhat heavily. We lingered, Mateo listening, as Dad knocked at Julian’s door and pushed it open.
“Julian,” he greeted.
“Yes, Uncle Werner?” Julian responded.
“This isn’t a free hotel,” Dad stated tersely. “You get to sleep here. You get to eat here. But you have to pull your weight, son. That’s just how it’s got to be. I need you to get started on painting the barn like I told you. You’ve been putting it off, but the weather’s going to be clear for several days, and it’s time to see you up on that ladder.”
Julian just stared at him.
Dad pursed his lips. “I mean it,” he said. “No dinner until you get going on it.”
Mateo was excited as Julian and Finn carried a long, long piece of furniture to the side of the barn. They kept referring to it as a “ladder,” so that’s what it was—a ladder. I went over to it and sniffed, then watched in amazement as, carrying a bucket and some other items, Julian started climbing up the steps.
I put my foot on the bottom rung and gazed up at him, hesitant. Surely we were not all going to go up there, were we? I had no doubt Eddie could manage it, but I was a dog.
Mateo seemed to understand that I wasn’t meant to climb up a ladder. He stayed on the ground, so I remained with him as he stood beneath the ladder and talked at Julian while Julian painted.
“So put it on nice and thick. Thicker than that,” Mateo instructed. “And look, longer strokes will work better for you up there. Just keep with it, back and forth in the direction of the grain of the wood. Back and forth. Okay, you’re getting it. You can climb down a step or two if you need to get to those parts, and then we’ll move the ladder.”
I could sense Julian’s silence becoming more and more tense, though I did not know why.
Mateo kept up a stream of what I assumed were friendly words. “Missed a spot. Okay, good. Smooth out that area there.”
Julian didn’t reply to any of this.
“That’s not quite right,” Mateo insisted at one point, and that’s when Julian pivoted on the ladder, moving suddenly. In his hand was one of the brushes, dribbling white paint. Julian flicked his wrist, hard, and then my boy was gagging, his mouth full of white paint that he spat out as he ran to the hose on the side of the barn.
I dashed after him, not sure what we were doing but hoping there wasn’t a dog bath involved. When he got the hose flowing, he shoved it directly into his mouth, and I watched as the bright white liquid came out and spilled down his shirt. He kept spitting, rinsing, and spitting.
Bart walked over, laughing. “What just happened? He get tired of your lip and decide to paint your mouth shut?”
Mateo nodded. “Kinda,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Well!” Bart chortled. “That’s about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I turned because I heard someone approaching. It was Julian, with an unreadable expression on his face. Bart gave him a grin.
“I see you gave in to temptation with Mateo,” Bart observed. “We’ve all wanted to get him to shut up, but you’re the first one who’s figured out how to do it.”
Mateo glared.
Julian leaned forward, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay, Mateo?”
Mateo nodded.
“Good,” Julian replied. “Look, I—I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I kind of snapped. I’m really sorry.”
Mateo blinked, staring at him for a long moment. Bart snorted, turned on his heel, and walked away.
“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Julian demanded.
“It’s just that nobody has ever told me they were sorry, not about anything,” Mateo explained simply.
Julian gave Mateo a long, bemused stare, and then went back to painting the barn. Mateo watched but didn’t talk nearly as much as before.
