That night was burned into my psyche. Sixteen, coming back in from doing evening chores, met at the door with fists. Foul language, horrid accusations of corrupting my little brother. Abel threw a beaten, bleeding, and broken teen right beside my stepmother’s little wooden wishing well. After his hatred had dwindled he spat at me lying in the grass, called me a deviate, and told me to never come near him nor Jesse ever again. Left with just a bag of clothes. No money, no wrap for the bruised ribs or ice for the broken nose. Just some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a coat. Guess I was lucky he gave me those things. He’d burned the poetry book I’d had hidden away he’d informed me. My poems mostly, a few others I’d found in old books then had cut and pasted into my secret cache of verses, had been tossed in the wood stove. So Jesse wouldn’t find them and turn fag. His stupid words not mine.
So, I’d limped away and only ever returned once. When my little brother was ten. Things had gone about the same that time as they had when I’d been booted to the curb like an unwanted cat. The big difference on this trip home was that Jesse was now older and present for the confrontation. He’d jumped between my father and me. If not for my little brother yelling at me to stop hurting Dad I would have killed Abel. No doubt in my mind. But I lowered my fists, stepped away, and honored my baby brother’s request. I left them alone. I’d not wanted to make the boy choose between a father he knew and a brother who was a stranger.
And now here I was, the failure Abel had predicted I would be, holding a fucking dented Android, wondering if I could go home again. The thought of doing so made me queasy. When I glanced at the website, Abel Knox was still listed as foreman. Just seeing my father’s name made my chest hurt. The man had been hate-filled, bitter, and always looking for someone to belittle to make himself feel bigger, and I doubt he’s changed since. The thought of having to speak to him made me wish Satan’s Cyclone had stomped on my head. Numerous times. But unless I slept in a trailer parked alongside the road, I had nowhere else to go.
For the life of me I shouldnotbe contemplating going back to Snow Creek. I’d sworn to never return there unless I was in a pine box. Surely I had friends, right? People who would put me up, right? The longer I thought on it I realized that aside from Clay my friends were just rodeo acquaintances who drank with me on occasion.
There was also this yearning deep down inside me where I hid the tender parts of Hoyt Knox that were pushing me to see my brother. I wanted to see Jesse. Even if just for a few days, or a couple of weeks, until Abel found out I was sneaking about spreading the gay wherever I went. I’d missed so much of his life.So many milestones lost in the haze of the past. I’d face Abel if it meant I got some time with Jesse. Maybe he could forgive me. Maybe I could be a brother again. A real brother.
Yeah, I wanted that connection with my little brother. Needed it. A poem I’d read by John Keats came to me. Celebrating a birthday by the fire and how spending time with your brother was one of the world’s true joys. That was what I longed for…
Sure, Abel wouldn’t want me back at Snow Creek—never wanted me there after he found out I was queer, but maybe someone else will answer the phone?
Or, maybe sleeping beneath an underpass wouldn’t be that bad…
The hospital had been pretty adamant about having a responsible adult to take care of me when I went home. Sedation or something like that. I was kind of loopy when the doctor had been strongly encouraging me to reach out to my family or a loved one.
Since all I had was a few guys who had already pulled out for the next rodeo in my base camp, there were few options. Clayton had stepped up to say he would oversee me getting home. Knowing they couldn’t keep me here once the doc discharged me I had allowed the softer side of me to win out just this once. Also, a voice inside my head that sounded a lot like my mother had whispered to me that maybe it was time to mend fences. Jesse wasn’t her boy but she would have loved him. I’d loved him. I’d never once minded having his crib in my room, waking up to calm him when Abel was too twisted up with loss and Jim Beam to do so, or making his cereal or fish sticks. I wondered if he still loved fish sticks like he had at two. What kind of man had he turned out to be? Did he have a wife now? Kids? Was he happy? Did he hate me as much as I hated me?
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “You climb on the back of two thousand-pound death machines with horns and hooves but you can’t make a simple fucking phone call to ask for help. Get it together Knox.”
Placing the phone on my thigh—bared to the world as I was still sporting a hospital gown—I stared at my phone hard, seeing past the broken screen into the very guts of this whole fucked-up universe. Wow, those pain meds were good. Maybe hoping that my brother was at the ranch now was wishful thinking. Maybe he was off doing whatever it was he did for a living. Maybe my fucking father would pick up. Which would suck. I’d probably just hang up on him and follow the rodeo like a buckle bunny. Not a great option but an option just the same.
For now all I had to do was sign out, have Clay fuss over me in front of a nurse, and then let him drive me to my trailer parked at the now empty T&L Arena. Then I’d wave my chute man off so he could join the others for the next town on the circuit. No blame there.
My index finger shook violently as I tapped the number for the ranch landline. Not being a religious man I still prayed for anyone other than Abel to pick up. The phone rang three times before a man answered. Not Abel. Thank fuck. I knew his voice. The oddest sensation of déjà vu hit me. I felt like I had done this same thing before. Maybe last May when I had twisted a knee after a bad hang up. Calling Jesse, ranting about Abel probably, or who knows what. I had hit the pain meds pretty hard so maybe I was reciting Keats to the poor guy. I opened my phone and pulled up the reply to that text I’d sent him ages ago.
Feel better, Hoyt. Real nice to hear from you. – Jesse
Yeah, that was still as nice today as it had been then. Even more so now. Okay, I could do this.
“Snow Creek Ranch.” God, what do I say? “Hello?”
“Hey, this is …. uh, this is … I’m wondering if anyone other than Abel Knox is there that I could speak to.” A long, long silence followed. I even moved the cell from my ear to make sure I still had bars. “Uhm, so if no one is there right now can you leave a message with my number?” Nothing. Dead space. Great. It didn’t sound like my father at the other end of the line. “Is this one of the hands?” My fuzzy head was reading this silence as something it could not comprehend. My shoulder was starting to ache again. “Okay, well, if someone could call me back, I’d appreciate it. My name is Hoyt and I?—”
“Hoyt! It’s me! Jesse.” Oh. Now it was my turn to sit there still as a knot on a log. Silence.
“Hey, Jesse, you sound older.”
“Iamolder.”
“Yeah, yeah you are. Um… can I come visit?”
More silence. God, I hated this silence. Why would Jesse even think of having me on the ranch? He still had to deal with Dad, and I’d left him.
“It’s just me and my trailer,” I added, as if that made any difference.
“How many horses?”
“None. Just my shit.” The shame rushed over me. The squeak of a nurse hustling past my door entered the room like a fire siren. “It’s not a permanent thing or anything. I’ll work while I’m there.”
“Sure, you can visit.” He didn’t sound thrilled, but then again, I’d not figured he would be. “Are you…Abel is still here.”
It didn’t escape me he didn’t call Abel Dad.
“Yeah, saw on the website,” I murmured. “Knew that prick was too mean to die.” Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have said that?He hadn’t called him Dad, but he might respect the asshole. My nose itched. Side effect of the meds. This kind of painkiller always made my nose itch. “I can sleep in the trailer to avoid him. I just…it’s just for a few months that maybe I thought we could talk and shit, while I mend up from an accident.” Great, now it sounded like I was using him and the ranch.
“You okay?” He sounded worried.
