Rattlesnake (17 page)

“You have cobwebs in your hair,” Shane observed.

“I have cobwebs everywhere. I’m just hoping not too many of them have the residents still attached.”

Shane grinned wolfishly. “You’re always welcome to a nice, cleansing soak in my tub.”

“May take you up on that.” Jimmy had just enough pride not to adjust himself at the thought, although he needed to.

After tugging at a decrepit cardboard box marked “X-Mas ’87,” Shane peeked inside. “God, there’s a lot of crap down here.”

“I know.”

“Rumor has it there’s an entrance to a secret mine down here somewhere. Probably bullshit, but maybe not. At least a couple other buildings downtown have old mine entrances underneath them.”

“I’ll let you know if I come across any gold nuggets.”

“That’d be cool, wouldn’t it?” Shane shoved the box back into place. “You could buy yourself a new car. What would you get?”

Jimmy considered the question. When he was fortunate enough to buy a vehicle—which was rarely—his only criterion was price, an exceedingly low price. He couldn’t be picky about make, model, or lingering smell of vomit. He considered himself lucky if the thing lasted a couple thousand miles. In that respect, the Ford had been a treasure.

“Don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe a little sports car. Something that goes fast. How about you?”

Shane tapped his head. “Not allowed to drive. Seizures.”

Fuck. Sometimes Jimmy forgot. “But we’re talking hypothetical cars anyway, so if you
could
drive and if you
did
strike it rich, what would it be?”

“Pickup truck. A big one, not too flashy. The kind you could use for real work and not have a stroke if it got dented or scratched a little.” He grinned.

Nodding, Jimmy turned his gaze to a box that had once held fancy paper napkins but had more recently been converted to a mouse condominium. The rodents themselves were no longer in residence. Maybe they’d lost the place during the foreclosure crisis.

“Can you take meds for the seizures?” he asked, not looking at Shane.

“I do. But I still seize now and then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m lucky to be alive.” He said it in a preachy sort of voice, which made Jimmy turn to look at him. Shane quirked the corner of his mouth. “I’ve heard that about a million times. Most of the time I even believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s easy for people to sermonize when it’s not them carrying the burden.”

Shane gave him an odd, inquisitive look that made Jimmy turn back to the mouse shit.

After a moment or two, Shane spoke again. “Sunday’s my day off. Trudy and her friend Melissa take over the bar ’cause we close early anyway.”

“I’m glad Aunt Belinda doesn’t chain you to the inn 24/7.”

“Nah, I like working here. Keeps me busy. But a day off is nice too.”

Jimmy decided the mouse condo could go. He moved it to the side of the room where he’d begun a trash pile. He had two other piles as well, one containing items he wanted to ask Belinda about before tossing and the other with items that might bring some money from antique collectors. He was hardly an expert on the matter, but he’d already found a stash of old room number signs that looked pretty cool, as well as a couple of brass gas lamps.

Shane remained nearby, playing with what appeared to be an empty paint can. “Don’t you have something better to do on your day off than hang out in a spider- and mouse-infested basement?” Jimmy asked.

“Most Sundays I have lunch at the ranch. My family…. It’s kind of an event, you know? Dad barbecues, Mom makes her famous beans, my brothers and sisters all bring stuff. My contribution usually comes from Mae’s. I’m thinking pie this week.”

“Sounds nice,” Jimmy said, hoping he didn’t come off as wistful. “But how will I know what to order for brunch if you don’t have a Sunday dish?”

“You could get the quiche, because I never order that. Too vegetably.” Shane scrunched up his mouth. “But actually, I was kinda hoping you’d come to the ranch with me today.”

Jimmy was so startled he almost dropped a chipped ceramic soap dish. “But it’s a family thing.”

“People bring guests sometimes. It’s fine. There’s always plenty of food. And I thought you might like to see the place. It’s real nice.”

Jimmy tried to hide his inner conflict. “I have to work.”

“Oh, c’mon. Some of this shit has been sitting here for a hundred years. It can sit a few more hours. Aunt Belinda can spare you. She’s getting more than her money’s worth out of you already.”

With a rub of his face that most likely left his cheeks grimy, Jimmy shook his head. “Your family doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit. They don’t even know you, hardly. Now’s their chance to see you’re not some kind of psychopath bent on taking advantage of the village idiot.”

“Shane! You’re not—”

“I
know
. Look, Aunt Belinda’s been reporting on you all week. Good reports. Come with, Jimmy. This time of year the grass is that fresh green, and we’ve got a lot of calves. My mom keeps a little herd of goats too—leftovers from Annie’s 4-H days—and by now they’ll have kids.”

The bucolic picture had more appeal than sifting through dusty relics in a cold basement. Jimmy sighed. “If I show up, are you sure your stepdad’s not going to shoot me or something?”

Shane narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. “He’s my
father
,” he growled. “Has somebody been gossiping about me?”

That gave Jimmy the perfect opportunity to hand over Tom’s letter, which was still tucked away in his room, now in the bedside drawer. But Jimmy had become greedy. He wanted just one more day with Shane—one more night, maybe—before he left Rattlesnake forever. And he knew that if he gave a true explanation of how he’d ended up in town, Shane would never forgive him for his lies.

One more day.

Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Then let me tell you the real story, instead of whatever crap you’ve been hearing.” Shane walked closer, his gait especially uneven and his face grim. “I never had a father until my mom married Adam Little when I was eight. He adopted me, gave me his name, and never treated me any different from Annie and my brothers, who were his kids from his first wife, or Charlie who came along a couple years after he married Mom. He never made me feel like I was anything but his son. He taught me to ride—gave me my own horse when I was nine. When I told him I’m queer, he had a hard time with it for a while. Then he told me he loved me and wanted me to be happy, and he said he’d help kick the asses of anyone who gave me grief over it. And when I was in that wreck and lying there in that goddamn hospital bed, he came and held my hand and cried over me just like I was his flesh and blood.”

“I bet he’s really proud of you,” Jimmy said very quietly.

All the anger drained from Shane’s face as if someone had pulled a plug. “Thanks. And I’m sorry.” He let out a deep breath. “I get kinda worked up over it. Some people think family’s about DNA, but it ain’t. It’s about the folks who want you, who stick with you no matter what. They know your secrets and flaws, and you know theirs, and you love each other anyway.”

Fuck. Jimmy got dust in his eyes, and his hands were too dirty to wipe it away. He turned to the nearest shelf and didn’t say anything because the dust was in his throat too.

Shane stood very close behind him, settling a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Come to the ranch,” he whispered, right into the shell of Jimmy’s ear. He wrapped his free arm around Jimmy’s middle, drawing him back, flush against Shane’s front. “Please.”

S
HANE
’
S
OLDEST
brother was officially Adam Junior, but for reasons nobody explained to Jimmy, everyone called him Pokey. He parked his old Chevy truck in front of the inn and waited for Shane and then Jimmy to squeeze into the cab with him. Pokey was probably a few years older than Jimmy, his thinning hair going gray and a sizable paunch at his middle. During introductions he gazed at Jimmy more out of curiosity than hostility.

“How come you got stuck providing taxi service?” Shane asked as they rumbled down Main Street.

“Volunteered. Paula and Emma got into it again.”

Shane chuckled and turned to Jimmy. “That’s his wife and daughter. Emma’s fourteen. They argue a lot.”

“And when they do, you don’t want to get between them,” Pokey said glumly. “Not if you value your hide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re both sweethearts.”

“Yeah, when their precious darling Shaney-poo’s around, they are. You got them two thinkin’ you fart roses. I tried to tell ’em you’re an ugly dickhead, but they won’t face reality.”

“Asshole,” Shane said with a grin, bashing his shoulder against Pokey’s.

“Cocksucker.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

Their banter continued as they drove out of town and over a hillock, then turned onto a two-lane road leading east through fenced pastures. Jimmy’s brothers used to call him names too, but without the undercurrent of playfulness present between Shane and Pokey. And if Jimmy dared to call them names back, they ganged up and beat the crap out of him. He learned early that the best strategy was to get away from them if he could. But Shane obviously enjoyed this fraternal teasing and gave as good as he got.

Jimmy looked out at the rolling green hills where black cows grazed lazily between scattered boulders. Where the ground began to rise, the open land and narrow washes gradually gave way to evergreen forest and then to the taller peaks beyond.

“The views from that hill over there are real nice,” Shane said, pointing. “You can see all the way down to the Central Valley.”

“When the air ain’t shitty,” Pokey added.

Jimmy looked around. “Is part of this your land?”

Shane waved his arm, nearly bashing Jimmy in the face. “All of this is our land. Lost River Ranch. It’s over nine hundred acres. Used to be just five hundred, but then Mom and Dad bought Hawk Ridge from Jesse’s father.”

Pokey shot a worried look at Shane, which Shane didn’t seem to notice and Jimmy didn’t understand. Before Jimmy could decipher the reason, they turned onto a gravel lane, crested a hill, and dropped into a little round valley where a house and barn and other outbuildings clustered near a pond. Almost a dozen vehicles—most of them trucks or SUVs—filled the flat parking area where Pokey stopped the Chevy. “Go calm my women,” he ordered Shane, who laughed loudly. Pokey went to the back of the truck, probably to retrieve the pies Shane had bought.

Jimmy would have hung back, but Shane put an arm around his shoulders and urged him forward. “I promise everybody’s gonna play nice. We take ranch hospitality seriously ’round here.”

Shane had a little trouble maneuvering over the uneven ground. Jimmy probably wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t been touching. But as it was, Shane occasionally leaned some of his weight on Jimmy’s shoulders and his breath went uneven. They proceeded slowly, which was fine with Jimmy. He took in the big barn, weathered and picturesque as it nestled at the bottom of the hill. The house was ranch style, of course, parts of it looking quite old but with more recent additions. It wasn’t fancy, built more for utility than looks, he supposed, but beds of cheery flowers and young vegetables and a few rows of trellised grapevines livened it up.

“You grew up here?” Jimmy asked.

“Yep. We could swim here in the pond or in the creek over there.” He pointed. “We could fish in the creek too. And of course we rode horses and ATVs, and sometimes me and Charlie and Ty—that’s my other brother—would set up tents and sleep outside. Annie never wanted to ’cause of bugs, and Pokey was too old, but we had fun. We’d have a campfire and everything. Don’t get me wrong. A ranch is mighty hard work. We had to do chores before and after school, and we didn’t get days off or vacations. But I
know
this place, right? And it knows me. That’s a good feeling.”

Jimmy wouldn’t know, but he nodded anyway.

He smelled the delicious aroma of grilling meat and heard voices from behind the house even before he rounded the corner. As the entire clan came into view, he was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of men, women, and children. Several dogs wandering among the throng noticed the newcomers first and came running at Jimmy and Shane, barking madly. Jimmy braced himself for an attack, which proved unnecessary as the dogs were ridiculously affectionate. A big shepherd mix almost knocked him over when it planted its front legs on his chest and licked his face.

“Bo, no!” Shane said, laughing as he tried to calm the beasts. But the dogs were clearly happy to have a visitor and ecstatic to see Shane, so it took a while before the animals ran off and Jimmy and Shane could move on.

By then everyone was watching them, and some waved. Standing by a long, oilcloth-covered table, Charlie even smiled at Jimmy. Adam called out a welcome too. He was wearing a red apron and poking at the grill with a long fork. But before Jimmy could brace himself for meeting people, he and Shane were mobbed again, this time by a gang of children demanding to know who Uncle Shane’s friend was.

Shane noogied a little redheaded girl and tickled a dark-haired boy. “This is Jimmy. You all be nice to him, you hear?” Then he turned to Jimmy, smiling. “Do you want to know their names?”

“I’ll never remember them. Are they all your nieces and nephews?”

“Most of ’em. A few are cousins. C’mon. I want you to meet Mom.” He steered Jimmy through the crowd of youngsters, past the barbecue and table, and to a woman who had just carried an enormous salad bowl out of the house. She looked a lot like Shane, tall and attractive, with the same bright blue eyes and pointed chin. Unlike Shane, however, she wasn’t thin, but rather solidly built. And her hair was more deeply auburn than his, although the color might have come from a bottle.

Shane took the bowl from her and leaned over to give a peck on the cheek. “Mom, this is Jimmy Dorsett. Jimmy, meet Valerie Little.”

“Val,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you from my sister.”