Cowboy Up
Chapter 3. Chowin', jawin', fallin'
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| Detail from Brokeback Mountain special edition by SpyrousSeraphim. My thanks. |
Summary: Piers Nivans continues to intrigue and mystify everyone at the Lazy-R ranch, and Chris takes a tumble, or is it two?
Chris was just about to help himself to a generous slice of tamale pie when Piers spoke out.
"Shall I say grace?" he said pleasantly. Chris' hand retreated from the pie and went back to his lap. Claire gave her brother a look.
"Lord, bless this food and us that eats it. Amen."
"Amen." said the others sheepishly.
"Hee hee, that's a proper Cowboy's grace, Boss" laughed Andy, looking at a red-faced Chris. "Merciful short! Ain't heard it here in long while, not since Miss Jane was alive." Every lady was a Miss in Andy's opinion, even the married ones.
Chris lifted the pie dish and offered it to Claire. "Er, yes, quite, ladies first."
Claire gave her brother another look, even more incredulous than the first. "Why Christopher, thank you, wonders will never cease!"
"So Piers, what are your first impressions of the Lazy-R?" asked Claire as they helped themselves to the various dishes laid out on the big kitchen table.
"Like I've come home." replied Piers. Chris glanced at him quizzically. "Like I belong I mean." added Piers, catching the look. "You're like family."
"Um, where is home?" asked Claire, fishing.
"Down on the coast, south of San Francisco." Piers smiled, but didn't offer any more.
"Have we met before Piers?" Claire was nothing if not persistent, another Redfield trait. "You seemed to know me this afternoon."
"How could I forget you, with that wonderful red hair? A mutual friend's party perhaps? There were so many after college." he smiled disarmingly.
Claire appreciated the compliment and the smile so much she forgot her next question for a moment. And then, just as she remembered it, Chris butted in.
"Give Nivans some space Sis! Let the man eat first, questions later. You gotta' try this cowboy cabbage Nivans, and the chicken and dumplings. Claire's dumplings are real sweet."
Continued after the jump . . .
Claire blushed and put a hand to her breast, "Christopher! What will Piers think?"
"Huh?"
Andy laughed and Piers grinned. Chris just looked confused. Claire gave him yet another look, the short, sharp, drop 'em dead one .
"Ouch! What did I say this time?"
"Jest eat your chow Boss, Miss Claire's on the warpath." Andy patted Chris' shoulder in sympathy, then he turned towards Piers. "Mah sister lives right on the coast. Gotta' goat farm in a little place called Pescadero."
"I know it." said Piers. "Just a few miles inland from the beach, wonderful cheeses. There's a great grocery store too, Arcangeli's. They make the best garlic bread and Danish pastries I've ever tasted."
"Don't they just. Though that bread takes a might chewin' with these gums."
"Have you got a dental quote yet Andy?" asked Claire conversationally; whilst mentally filling away Piers' statement for further investigation.
"Yes Miss, and I reckon' I'm a thousand short. I'm gonna have to herd me some goats fer quite awhile."
"Better than cattle though old-timer." Chris punched Andy in the arm.
"Have you smelt one goat up close, Boss? Let alone a whole herd of them stinkin' varmints!"
They chatted unhurriedly over the meal, but as soon as it was finished, Claire began to clear the table. Ranchers get up early and go to bed early, it had already gone half-past eight. Piers offered to help Claire wash up, and whilst they were both busy, Chris took Andy to one side.
"Suss Nivans out for me please, Andy, his knowledge I mean. He certainly can ride, and he seems to know his cattle, but I'd value your opinion."
"Sure thing, Boss, he seems a nice enough kid, though. Don't remember so much jawin' during chow time a'fore. Miss Claire seems stuck on him, and you too I reckon."
Chris smiled. "Sometimes you reckon too much, old-timer."
Piers had finished helping Claire and came over to join Andy.
"Do you play cards Andy? We could have a game before we turn in."
"Do I play cards? Do cow chips grow on the plain? You're on young 'un."
"Not too late Nivans, I'll give you a shake early tomorrow, say 5 am."
"OK Chris, I'll be ready."
After they'd thanked Claire for the meal, the two cowboys left, talking earnestly together. Chris and Claire watched them go, Chris with an arm draped around his sister's shoulders. "Thanks for tonight Sis. That was a lovely meal." He bent down and kissed her head.
"Hmm, don't get used to it Bro. Our finances need a real boost right now, that was strictly a one-off, to get to know your man Nivans."
"What do you think of him?"
"I think I like him. I'm going back down to the coast on Monday, I can make some enquiries about him next week if you want me to?"
"No, don't, I think like him too. Let's see what Andy has to say, but I'm happy to give him a trial run based on what I've seen. I liked what he said about belonging."
"Like family he said." Claire patted Chris' arm.
"Yeh, that means something to me." Chris hugged his sister tight. "Yeh, family."
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Earlier that afternoon, Claire had gone through the accounts and then waited in vain for Chris to return from his ride with Piers. They'd just about reached their borrowing limit with the bank, and it was a long time to the fall round-up and cattle sales. She'd heard the clatter of the horses in the yard, and looked out to see Chris and Piers return. Chris was first, looking flushed and excited. Mr Nivans must have impressed. It made her glad to see her brother like that. He was so handsome when a smile lifted his mouth and those sad brown eyes sparkled. It didn't happen often enough these days. Piers followed shortly behind on Goldie. He let the palomino nuzzle his face when he got down, her ears pricked forward contentedly. Claire smiled, the young man seemed to make everyone happy. But when they didn't come in after half an hour she went downstairs to the kitchen, with its old range and long pine table that could easily seat ten hungry hands, plus the foreman and his Boss. Once upon a time it had, but sadly those days were long gone now. Claire sighed, coming back to the ranch often made her feel a sense of loss, for the past, for her Aunt and Uncle. And for the summer holidays spent there with Mom and Pop when she and Chris were kids. She forced herself back to the present. "Get a grip Claire, suck it up girl." That too, was a Redfield thing, life went on, whatever the past.
She wasn't sure why, but she thought she'd prepare something 'western' for supper that night. Not that she wanted to show off, but she thought it would be a nice way to welcome Piers ... Nivans that is. And Andy would appreciate a good feed when he returned. He'd been out for a couple of days Chris had said, and knowing Andy that had meant a diet of beans and then more beans. She wrinkled her nose at the thought ... Cowboys!
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The next day it was only Claire and Andy who sat down for breakfast.
"Good morning Andy, have you seen Chris yet?"
"He cut sticks with young Piers first thing. The Boss came in an woke Piers hisself, five o'clock. I heard them jawin' and laughing before they left. Disturbing my beauty sleep an' all!"
Claire grinned at Andy. "You need to sleep ..."
"Now don't you say it Miss! Mine's a mature visage."
"Hmm, if you say so," she laughed. "So, where were they off to so bright and early? He didn't say anything to me about it last night."
"They's gone fencing a landslip up beyond the high ridge. And I reckon the Boss wants to check on that sonofabitch ... Oh, sorry, Miss Claire ... that S. O. B. black stallion that roams up there. I shoulda shot him when I had the chance. But the Boss said no, I figure he still wants to bust him."
"He'd be worth a fortune in stud fees Andy. The Lazy-R needs all the help it can get right now, we're running on empty."
Andy fixed her with a stare. "That's as maybe, but he's a born killer that one. Mark my words Miss. You can see it in his eyes, it's in his blood."
"Do you think Chris is in danger?" Claire was suddenly worried, she knew how determined Chris could be once he'd set his mind to something.
"He knows the risks Miss. But he wants that horse real bad. Always has, since he first set eyes on him. And even after your uncle ... well, the Boss just said let him go, and like a dang fool I did."
"But Piers is with him, right? He seems level-headed, if a little mysterious."
"And that's another thing. Have you seen how the Boss likes to show off in front of him, like a buckaroo? When I got back yesterday, the Boss was showin' him roping tricks in the coral. Comes running up to me and says 'Andy, come and meet Piers Nivans, our new hand.' No, 'How's your day bin, any problems?' Jest come and meet the waddy. That ain't the Chris Redfield I know, all buttoned-up and quiet like." He's sorta' changed, and I don't rightly know if it's for the worse or the better. Yackin' an smilin'. If I wasn't leavin' I think I'd be stayin', jest to see what happens."
Andy broke into a toothless grin. And Claire grinned back, briefly. So, she thought, she wasn't the only one to have noticed. People did act strangely when Piers Nivans was around!
"Uh, what do you make of him, our new tenderfoot?"
"He ain't no tenderfoot Miss, he's a dabster, knows his stuff. Dashed if I know how, he don't look old enough, but he's got it up here." Andy tapped his head. "I give him all my Cowboy logic tests last night Miss Claire, and dang me if he didn't pass 'em all jest like that."
"Logic tests? What're they Andy?"
"Well, here's a f'rinstance ... There's three men in the front of a truck see. And they's all dressed alike, hat to boot. Which one is the real cowboy?"
"I don't know." said Claire, "If they all look identical, how can you tell?"
"He got it right, and the why-fer's. 'The cowboy's the one in the middle of course Andy.' he says to me with that sassy smile o' his. 'He ain't sitting there just by chance. Fer' one, he don't have to drive, and fer' two, he don't have to mess with the gates." Andy laughed, and so did Claire.
"Dear Andy! I'm gonna' miss you." she patted his arm across the table.
"I tell you what though." Andy continued. "He might be a proper cowboy, but he sure as hell cain't play heads-up or Texas hold'em."
"Andy Walker! Have you been gambling? What would Uncle Bob have said?"
"I reckon he'd a'turned a blind eye Miss Claire." Andy winked roguishly. "But that Piers now, he does all that jiggery-pokery with his face, all moving his eyes and stuff. Damn! I swear they even change color. If'n you'll pardon my French. Gives him away every time, boy cain't bluff to save his life. I cleared over a thousand dollars last night!"
"Oh Andy, it's illegal, you shouldn't ..."
"Only if ya git's caught!" Andy laughed again. "And besides, it was all his idea, when we got back to the bunkhouse after we was all done chowin' and jawin'. Said he ain't got nothing else to spend his money on. And now I can git ma teeth after all. With that cash I'm home and dry, ain't that somethin'?"
Claire thought about it. It certainly was something. Though precisely what she didn't yet know. Piers didn't seem the type to lose at anything, he was too ... too perfect? But Chris had said he'd lost their race on the horses deliberately, and now in Andy's poker game. What was he playing at? And as for not being able to bluff she wasn't so sure. Perhaps he was better at that than any of them truly realized? Then she pushed all the uncharitable thoughts firmly to the back of her mind. So what? He’d drawn Chris out of his shell and now he'd helped Andy. And he was also rather handsome. His skin coloring and those two little moles on his left cheek made him look almost cherubic. What was there not to like? Claire blushed as her thoughts wandered, and she put a hand self-consciously up to her neck. Yes, there was a lot to like concerning Piers Nivans.
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That morning Chris and Piers had saddled-up in the dark, then loaded a couple of mules with spare posts, some rolls of wire, feed and food. Where he could, Chris would make do with the fencing already there; but sometimes with a landslip, posts and wire would be lost or impossible to retrieve. They rode out in silence, each of them leading a mule. Chris had adopted his usual goal-oriented, silent mode, whilst Piers was just cold, hunched in Carney's thick Carhartt jacket. The sun had only just risen, and the cold night air still clung to the land. After an hour, as they cleared the first ridge, Piers heard another sound other than hooves scrabbling on stone. A large German Shepherd dog joined them, catching them up with an easy, lopping gait. It ran past Piers and leveled with Chris, barking once to announce its arrival. If Chris acknowledged the dog, Piers didn't see or hear him; so he maintained his own silence and waited impatiently to feel the sun warm his body.
They could have made it this far in the truck, but now they left the rough track and started to climb towards the high ridge itself. Piers followed Chris' path closely, trying to avoid the slippery scree, shortening the lead rope on his mule to stop it straying too far either side.
The hairs on the back of Piers' neck rose and the below them the skin tingled. His keen sixth-sense had triggered an in-built alarm. Slowly, he scanned the ridge rising up in front of them. His eyes adjusting to focus at that distance. He called out to Chris. "We're being watched." He pointed up and to the right. "One O'clock, high." Chris followed his direction.
"What, Coyotes? I can't ... wait, yes, horses?"
"A small pinto and a large black one." said Piers. "Is that your stallion?"
"Reckon so, he seems to keep tabs on me whenever I'm up this way. Danged if I know how he finds me though. Sight and smell I suppose."
"More than that I think." said Piers, "Your connected somehow, Andy told me about him last night."
"Connected? What do you mean? Like fate or somethin'?"
"Maybe." Piers shrugged, "I don't have all the answers."
"Damnit Nivans, every time you answer something, you leave even more questions unanswered. What gives?"
Piers shrugged again. "Like I said before, I know what I know."
"Well know this, one day I'm gonna bust that damn horse, come hell or high water. That's not fate, that's a fact."
Piers smiled, as much to himself as to Chris. But he didn't say anything. How could he?
As soon as the sun began to disperse the night chill, Piers paused and removed his jacket. As it rose higher into the blue heaven, he removed his plaid shirt. He flexed his shoulders and luxuriated in the warmth. Chris watched him and shook his head in wonder. Nivans was like some kind of snake or a lizard, basking in the morning sun, soaking up the heat. He wasn't your normal hired hand, that was for sure.
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They found a long break in the fencing where the scree had slid down and over a ledge. A post dangled over the lip, still attached to its secure neighbor by a couple of strands of barbed wire. Chris was determined to retrieve it, it was a Chris Redfield thing. So he scrabbled down the scree to take ahold of the wire. Which is when he slipped. His feet went out from under him and he found himself over the edge, he grabbed at the wire in desperation.
"Gah!" A barb tore through his glove and deep into the flesh of his palm. He bit back the pain as he swung below the ledge. "Nivans!"
"I got you Chris, just take my hands, both of them."
As Chris stretched out his hand, he could see Nivans' face above him. And at the very moment he should have been fearing for his life, he found himself admiring his rescuer's physique. The well-defined lines of his pectoral muscles, deep and square against the broad rib cage that tapered away to a narrow waist. The sinews and tendons straining in relief against the musculature of his arms. The normally full lips were drawn tight with the effort, the brows furrowed in concentration with the effort. For a moment the face appeared older, angry, as Piers began to grimly haul Chris upwards. And though thinner than Chris', the young man's arms pulled with a surprising and unrelenting force. Only when Chris scrambled over the lip did he see that Piers had locked his legs around the remaining post for anchorage. It was an impressive feat of strength by the smaller man.
For Chris the whole experience had been frightening and yet at the same time strangely erotic. "Thanks." he said smiling and helping Piers to his feet. "I owe you one."
"That's OK Chris, it wasn't your time." Piers said quietly. The youthful golden face was calm and composed again. "Here, let me take a look at that hand."
He held Chris' leather-gloved hand in his own. Blood was already seeping through from the wire-cut. He removed the glove gently and inspected the wound. "It's deep, but clean. You up-to-date for tetanus?" Piers asked. Chris nodded. "Great, let me get the first-aid pack. Some iodine and a pressure bandage and you'll be good as new. Piers held Chris' hand tenderly whilst he applied the thick brown liquid. Chris expected it to sting, but it didn't.
As Piers attended to him, Chris felt himself suddenly hardening between his legs. "Oh! Sweet Jesus!"
"Sorry, am I hurting you?"
"Er, no, it's nothing ... Um, what did you mean exactly? 'It wasn't my time?' Like you know when my time is!"
"Just doing my job, looking after my Boss. Ain't no big deal." Piers said simply, so Chris let it drop, he certainly didn't want to appear ungrateful. In no time his hand was expertly bandaged. He flexed his fingers gingerly, they all worked.
"Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Cub Scouts of course." Piers made the two-fingered salute.
"I bet you got badges for everything."
"You should see my collection." Piers laughed.
Chris put a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Are you good at everything you do Mr Nivans?"
Piers was silent. For a moment his eyes seemed to darken and the frown returned to his face. "No, not always." he said slowly, then he smiled. "C'mon, let's see what we can make of the remaining fencing. And I prefer to be called Piers by the way."
Chris laughed, "You have mentioned it once or twice."
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That evening they sat around a blazing camp fire, watching it sputter and fizzle as it sent sparks up and away into the cold night air. Up and up into the midnight blue sky, until they were lost to sight.
"They're just like little fiery devils, flying around." said Chris, watching the embers as they spiraled ever upwards.
"No, they're going the wrong way." replied Piers thoughtfully.
"OK then, they're like glowing golden angels returning to heaven, how's that?"
Piers smiled. "That's much better!"
They were both lost in shared silence for a moment, contemplating the crackling fire. After a while Chris noticed Piers was now hugging himself tightly. He got up and pulled a couple of thick woolen blankets from their pile of gear. He gave one to Piers and put the other around his own broad shoulders.
Piers smiled up at him. "Thanks Chris." he wrapped the blanket close around himself, and rubbed his cheek against the thick pile. "Mmm, nice and warm."
Chris watched him and grinned. "Well at least one of us doesn't need a blanket, he's got his own built-in." He looked over at the big black and tan dog, lying by their gear. On guard, one eye open in readiness.
Piers put a hand out of the blanket and gestured towards the dog. "Here Ruffy."
The German Shepherd game bounding over, wagging its tail.
"Hello Ruff." said Piers, giving the big dog's ears a rub.
"What did you call him?" asked Chris, "His name's Rinty, after Rin-Tin-Tin."
"Oh! yes, I must have been thinking of some other dog." said Piers hurriedly.
"Odd, Rinty's normally wary of strangers. It's like he already knows you."
"Hah ...!" Piers laughed, slightly nervously Chris thought. "... I seem to have that effect on dogs."
Chris looked at him keenly. "Hmm, and people and horses too, it seems. Did you ever work up on the army range, to the east of the Lazy-R?"
Piers smiled, the light of the fire reflected off him, making shadows move across his face, causing his eyes to change color from one second to the next. Not for the first time since they'd met, Chris became fascinated by the shimmering, smiling face in front of him.
"Nope ..." Piers replied, but Chris didn't seem to hear him. "... not in this lifetime." he finished quietly.
Despite their earlier meal, and the fire, and now the blanket, Piers started to feel the cold of the night air again, he began to shiver.
Chris, still studying the young man's face intently, noticed the pained look that suddenly passed across it, the shaking of the shoulders. Without really knowing why, he held an arm out and opened up his own blanket.
"Here, Piers, come and get yourself warm, next to me."
To be continued . . .
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