Chapter 6

We huddled around the campfire and told stories later that night, as was our evening tradition. A few of us sat on dusty blankets while others claimed stumps for seats. The fire was burning bright but Frankie threw another log on for good measure. The sun set a while ago and a bright moon and vibrant stars had taken its place.

None of us changed out of our grungy garments. We seldom did. Only difference from day to evening attire was the removal of heavy chaps and clogged bandanas. Most of the men wore the same clothes for days on end and only ‘cleaned’ them when trudging through large rivers.

The dirt and stench didn’t seem to bother the boys, at least not right now. They were too busy enjoying a few laughs while feasting on cookie’s baked beans and dried pork. I moved a little closer to the flames to warm myself up as a deep chill filled the air. The fire was a welcomed relief which was strange as we’d been sweating in the heat all day long.

“I got a good one for yas,” Carlos said in his Mexican accent. “We tell it back home so don’t go spoiling it amigos.” He addressed his three brethren who nodded their understanding.

“What is it?” Frankie asked earnestly. He loved a good joke as much as the rest of us and having new drovers meant fresh material.

“How did the cowboy ride into town on a Friday and ride away three days later on Friday?” Carlos asked, while his buddies grinned their approval.

Frankie scratched his flee ridden head. “Uh, let me think about that.”

I looked over at my brother Jimmy, wondering if he knew the answer or not, but his flat expression didn’t give it away one way or the other.

“He must have ridden into town on a Tuesday,” Frankie said triumphantly as he ticked off his fingers. “Three days later it’s Friday!”

“No, you dumbass,” young Jacob replied. “He said the cowboy drove in on a Friday...”

“Oh right,” Frankie shook his head but was obviously quite confused.

“You know the answer preacher man?” I asked.

Pastor Paul looked up from the fire, with a startled expression. “No sorry I don’t.”

“Do you ever tell jokes?” I asked sincerely, unable to recall ever laughing during one of his boring sermons. “Or maybe reverends aren’t allowed a sense of humour?”

“Ha ha,” Paul said dryly, sitting up straight and shooting me a stern look while placing his dirty bowl on the ground.

“Did I say something to offend you?” I wondered.

“The Lord’s work is a serious business,” Paul said. “That’s all.”

Clearly I had touched a nerve.

“It’s not all fun and games like the lives most men live,” Paul continued. “I’m responsible for the spiritual wellbeing of my flock. You have no idea what that’s like. So sorry if I don’t make you laugh in the process.”

“Oh I see.” It was my turn to sit up straight. “You think the common man has it easier than you?”

“Well they don’t have as much pressure to live properly or to have all the answers or to connect with the all powerful.”

“You don’t think so,” I rubbed my chin in disbelief. “So you’re saying you have it tougher than the rest of us?”

“Yes,” Paul said calmly. “In many ways at least.”

This condescending attitude made my blood boil over. “I guarantee that every man here has it rougher than you, BY A MILE! I’d bet my life on it.”

“Well, first we’d have to define the meaning of rough...” Paul calculated. He bobbed his head while considering the term.

“It’s easy,” I said looking around at the huddled mass of men. “Even Frankie here has a story that would make you cry for weeks.”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Frankie shot back.

“Do you believe in God Buck?” Paul asked in his churchy voice.

“Yes of course I do,” I said while fidgeting a bit on the cold ground. “He and I have a great understanding.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“He leaves me the fuck alone and I do the same for him.”

“Oh my...” I heard several men whisper.

Carlos crossed himself with his right hand.

“That there’s blasphemy,” Frankie looked appalled.

“It’s not blasphemy you asshole,” I said looking around for an ally but finding none. EvenClydeappeared upset by my outburst. He started scrubbing the pots a little harder.

“It may not be blasphemy but you’re walking a thin line,” Paul said now in total control of the conversation. “Why would you want an arrangement like that with the almighty Lord? He loves you and wants to be a part of your life, as he does with all of us.”

I chuckled but only get dirty looks for my outburst. “Oh come on,” I said. “What has God done for any of us?”

I looked around the campfire but nobody makes eye contact at this point.

“God loves me,” Ben said adamantly.

“Sure Benny, but where was God when we were getting the shit kicked out of us by Big Bob and Fat Margret?”

“No talk about Bob and Margie,” Benny put both hands over his ears.

“Sorry Ben, but where was God when they didn’t feed us for days and we had to eat out of the pig trough just to quiet our stomachs?”

“That’s enough Buck!” Jimmy shouted with open arms and a cocked head. “Nobody wants to hear our shit story. So fuck off!”

“That’s my point,” I shot back. “Nobody wants to hear about it and nobody did anything to help us. God certainly wasn’t there so why should I do anything for him now?”

“God’s ways aren’t our ways,” Paul said all preachy like. “We can’t understand his methods but have to trust they’re for our own good. He never gives us more than we can handle. He always opens a window...”

“What the fuck are you talking about? A window?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Are you just saying stuff pastor? Do you have any idea how dumb you sound right now?”

Paul seemed startled by my response.

“I’m not one of your deacons or choir boys,” I said harshly. “I’m not here to lap up your bullshit and tell you it’s steak. You’re not in church now. You’re in the real world for once and we’re all real men who’ve been through real shit.”

I looked around but nobody would look back at me.

So I continued.

“Where was God’s window when my parents died and I was forced to live with a family of assholes? Where was the window when Big Bob beat me for forgetting to close the barn door? Where was my window when Fat Margaret made me model in my underwear? Huh?”

Pastor Paul didn’t reply right away but kept my stare. I could tell he was considering his response carefully.

“Where was God then?” I asked one more time for good measure before throwing a stick on the fire while waiting for his response.

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Paul finally said. “You’re healthy and strong and have a good job and wife.”

I scoffed at his weak attempt to turn this around on me. “Who gives a shit about that?”

“That’s not nothing,” Paul said sincerely. “I’ve been watching you carefully and been really impressed with what I’ve seen. I think God works through you more than you know.”

I looked up at him, surprised by this odd rebuttal. I wondered where he could be going with this bullshit.

“I don’t mean to take away from your childhood suffering Buck, I really don’t so please don’t misunderstand me but ... everyone has a rough childhood. We’ve all been betrayed by family. We all suffer cruelly at the hands of those who should have done better. Every kid feels alone, scared or unloved from time to time. You don’t own the monopoly on suffering or a crappy upbringing. Mine was no walk in the park either.”

I chuckled causing Paul to go in a different direction.

“Sure you had it worse than most,” he said candidly. “I’ll give you that. I feel bad for you, but it’s made you into a strong, reliable man and more than that...”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I interrupted, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. I hated these sideways comments.

“You’re a good leader Buck,” Paul said earnestly, leaning forward. “I’ve seen you in action caring for your men and your cattle. Frig, you even saved my sorry butt and you don’t think that highly of me.”

The men laughed politely, but Paul wasn’t finished.

“You don’t cower from your responsibilities and you treat everyone with decency. I really believe you’re a good man. And honestly, I wouldn’t have guessed that about you before coming on this trip. I find myself ... well ... looking up to you in a strange way. You’re lucky in more ways than you know.”

I snorted in disgust but kept his stare. I’d never heard kind words like this before and didn’t really know how to react.

“Look at the way you handled those angry ranchers today,” Paul continued. “That could easily have led to bloodshed but your quick thinking and calm demeanour kept everyone safe. Those are very admirable traits and are why Mr. Dolan keeps you in his employ. Everyone here respects you for that even if they don’t say as much.”

I couldn’t take it anymore so I stood up, ready to retreat from this campsite.

“That’s where God was,” Paul said leaning back against his stump. “He was making you into a good, decent human being and I’d say he did a pretty good job.”

“Amen,” a couple of the men mumbled.

But I didn’t agree.

I certainly didn’t feel like a good man and this little speech hadn’t convinced me otherwise. There was nothing about my life that another should envy, especially not a pastor. I don’t have a heart of gold like Benny, nor nerves of steel like Jimmy and I don’t perform good acts unless they benefit my own situation. I only saved Paul because it was my job and only treat the men charitably hoping they’d work hard for me in return.

It wasn’t out of kindness but rather for an ease of existence.

This man had some fucking nerve to call me a good man? And to claim it’s all part of God’s plan ... well that’s a hard pill to swallow.

I still didn’t know what to do or how to respond, not sure if anyone did. For each of us avoided eye contact and stared mindlessly at the flames, like a bunch of dumb fucks. The awkward silence lasted too long.

“Y’all get enough to eat?”Clydefinally thought to ask holding a wooden spoon in one hand and his large cast iron pot under the other. He clearly longed to change the page as much as I did. “Got lots of beans left.”

“I’ll take some more,” Jacob said hurriedly, standing up with his empty bowl. He brushed straight past me, clearly not giving a shit about this conversation.

“Did you water the last of the horses?” I asked in an attempt at reasserting my dominance.

“What are you talking about?” Jacob stopped and looked me square in the eye.

“I saw you water the spares but did you water the ones we rode in on?”

“No,” Jacob shrugged his shoulders in dismay. “You guys were last on ‘em so you should’ve watered them. None of y’all got a piano tied to your ass.”

“We didn’t have time,” I replied calmly. “We had to take the cattle uphill on foot remember?”