Page 3 of His Country

Pulling his tack from Eagle, he ran a gloved hand across the sweat marks left behind. Even this early in the season Eagle had already grown a thick winter coat several shades darker than his summer. Almost black in winter, his eyes the only brightness in the gloom. He tolerated Aiden’s ministrations before huffing. He knew their routine and Aiden was taking too long.

Normally he hobbled the gelding, but they’d camped here before. Close to a small spring, still lethargically burbling in the dry season, the gelding wouldn’t go far. Not from Aiden or the cattle. He let Eagle drop his head to the short grass and begin ripping at it with his clever lips.

Near the spring was a stand of trees. Already dead, it wasn’t hard to find some small twigs and leaves dry enough to catch. It wasn’t much, but it would do for a fire. With a practiced hand and the help of a lighter, he got the small blaze going. Too tiredto cook, he settled for a protein bar and a cup dipped in the spring when Eagle ventured over to drink.

Sugar ate his remaining protein bars. He probably wasn’t a great dog owner, but Sugar seemed healthy. Her sleek brindled coat was shiny despite the darkness. A mediums sized dog, her breed was undetermined, but she was faster than a whip. Her parents were probably a mix of farm dog and stray, he found her in a small cage outside a feed store in northern Oklahoma. The dog eared carboard sign saidFree.He had no business owning a dog when he could barely take care of himself, but he’d taken her anyway.

Maybe a small piece of him had wanted a companion. Or maybe he just knew what it was like not to be wanted.

Aiden didn’t really have to train her. Instincts took over the moment he stuck her behind a herd, and she’d proven herself useful to every ranch owner he’d worked for since.

She sidled up next to him, dropping dramatically and sharing body heat. He scratched her ribs and chuckled as her back leg kicked. She’d grown up strong—wiry, ears always swiveling, always on alert.

Aiden had only been out for a couple days. Peaceful days. The cattle were enjoying the final days of reasonable weather before winter came. He camped rough as he herded them across the acres. The other hands hated it, but Aiden preferred the chilly mountainous Montana air to the stench of people. Days of silence interrupted only by his grunts to the cattle and call for Sugar to leave some poor rabbit alone.

He tipped his ball cap and looked up at the clear sky. It looked a lot like all the other skies he’d seen. Pretty and big. If he looked north, he’d see the craggy peaks of mountains eating their way up the starry sky.

This was as far north as he’d ever been. It didn’t get this cold in Texas.

They called it God’s country, too. He figured God’s country was a singular type of place, but it was as changing as the people who named it. That’s the trouble with traveling—eventually you learn that its all the same. Different shapes, maybe, but the wind still blew. Rain fell. The sun was hot. Cattle were dumb. The land was unforgiving. People were worse.

And Aiden was here. Sitting in the middle of it all, same as he ever was. One boot in front of the other. Never looking too far ahead.

He didn’t take off his boots, just crawled into his sleeping bag with Sugar shuffling in beside him. Hat pulled over his face, he didn’t think about the stars overhead or the rustling in the trees. He just slept.

Grey sunlight pricked at his lids, and he sighed as it chased away the last vestiges of sleep. His hat had fallen in the night, and he could feel cold dew littered across his skin. With a groan that sounded explosive after the silence, he sat up. Sugar was long gone, no doubt after something better to eat than his chalky protein bars. She’d be back before he packed up.

Eagle flicked an ear at him as he crawled from his sleeping bag. He should have set up a tent, but no one said Aiden was smart. The fire died in the night and had it been later in the season, he no doubt would have frozen to death.Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, he thought as he kicked the makeshift fire aside and went to get some more water. It was frigid, hitting his teeth like cement. Forcing himself to swallow, he eyed the sun and calculated if he could get back to the bunkhouse before breakfast was over.

Rolling J was a decent sized ranch. Mostly cattle, it was hundreds of acres of pristine, Montana wilderness. Aiden found himself spat out at the gates four years ago, a little road wearyand worse for wear. Frank Taylor wasn’t the most personable boss he’d ever met, but he liked his straightforward orders. An imposing man who looked like he could be anywhere from forty to someone who witnessed Moses building the ark, he ran the farm with the keen eye of someone who was used to learning how to do things the hard way.

His wife Carol was his complete opposite. A waifish woman with an unpleasant demeanor, she flittered about the ranch with lofty ideas that never quite seemed to work out right. Against his better judgement, Frank tended to acquiesce to whatever his wife demanded. He’d always twitch his mustache and say, “Well, she went to college.” as his reasoning.

She was a large part of why Aiden took to the mountains whenever possible.

Some birds tweeted their morning call and he took it as his eviction notice. It didn’t take long to break his little camp, tacking it all back on Eagle and swinging into the saddle. The cattle he’d brought would spend the winter in this smaller pasture, closer to the heart of the ranch where it would be easier to check on them and supplement feed to keep them warm.

The pastures up in the hills would take the winter to heal. Cattle was hell on land. Come summer the grass would be vibrant, healthy, and he would start the whole thing over again.

Eagle picked up his pace as he headed toward home. A warm stable and some good hay was the only motivation he needed. Aiden was loose in the saddle, letting Eagle pick their trail. He was sure footed. Smart too. The kind of smart only an animal can be. He knew when a trail was treacherous, ignoring Aiden’s urges and finding a new way around. He trusted Eagle’s opinion far more than his own.

Sugar joined him, tail wagging as she licked her chops. He didn’t even want to know what she’d gotten into.

They followed the sun. Aiden knew the way. He’d done this every year since arriving, and routinely repaired fences up this way. Anytime he could get out for a couple nights, he took the opportunity. There was a kind of lull to riding like this, relaxed without a worry, a destination with no real timeline to get there. The kind of ride that encouraged his mind to drift. He didn’t let it.

Instead, he focused on how the sun sparkled against spider webs. Moisture from the night clinging to gossamer strands draped haphazardly through the branches above. He wondered if the spiders knew they were going to die. If the upcoming cold was like the deathly hand of the reaper, icy fingers extending closer every day.

Maybe the spiders knew, they just didn’t give a damn, and kept spidering along.

Aiden could respect that. It’s how he lived his life. He worked until he couldn’t, then moved onto the next place. Rolling J was the only place he’d stayed at for long—partly because he liked the work, partly because they could afford to keep paying him. It wasn’t an easy life, but Aiden hadn’t ever chosen the easy route.

He didn’t own a cell phone. The last time he’d spoken to his mom had been when his dad died. It had been in the middle of the busy season, and she didn’t ask him to come to the funeral. He wouldn’t have gone even if she had.

The man they buried wasn’t his father. Although truthfully Aiden couldn’t say who his father really was. That first letter from the bank came a few months after he was born, and with it the clink of a whiskey glass against his father’s teeth. That first finger of drink was like the beginnings of cancer. With every missed payment and every chunk of ancestral land his father had to carve out of himself to keep them afloat was another tumor. Spreading until there was nothing but malignancy and whiskeyon his father’s breath. They buried him a few years later, but really, he died the day the bank foreclosed on the ranch.

After his death his mother moved to San Antonio. She liked it. At least she’d said so in a he didn’t respond to.

What was left of his family shared just enough words to be considered in contact. He’d known what he was doing the moment he put Texas in his rearview mirror. If his mother felt anything but strained indifference toward his leaving, she never said.