It was the summer three years ago that my mom died. As time has passed, so has my anger toward her. Through a lot of talking with my dad and Dale, I’ve come to an understanding about what and why she did the things she did.

I’ve forgiven even her parents, James and Martha Bowman, my grandparents. It was hard at first, but after talking to them a lot about my mom, I can see a bit about why they let her get away with the abuse. I say I’ve forgiven them. Maybe I have, but I can never forget that they stood by and let her hit me. I suppose they would have stepped in and put a stop to it if she’d started beating me.  I suppose that is something I’ll just have to wonder about.

Dad was very troubled about it all and even flew back to Ft. Worth to confront them. He was so angry at first that he was talking about bringing charges against them for child abuse and negligence. I think it was his mom, Granma Hilliard that talked him out of it. Still, he felt he had to confront them.

 

Dale and I have spent a week with them each summer since I’ve come back to live with him and Dad on the ranch. At first Dad was hesitant to let us go, but Granpa Hilliard interceded, saying it wasn’t Dad’s place to punish them.  I can see in the way they treat me that they regret their inaction. But that is all in the past. They lavish us with lots of love and generosity. And I can say I really do love them.

Granma Hilliard, Dad’s mother, died five months after my return to the ranch. I’ll never forget the mixed emotions I had when I first saw her again. I think that the memory of her holding me just before my mother took me away is the only memory I’ve retained from that early age. I recognized her the moment I saw her, and I knelt beside her wheel chair and laid my head in her lap. Her twisted, swollen claw-like hands caressed my head as we both cried.

“I’m back home, Granma,” I murmured.

“I’m so happy you are, Daney. I’m so happy you are.”

I spent a lot of time with my granpa and granma during those five weeks. I feel to this day that the only reason my Granma Hilliard lived those last weeks was because I was there and she didn’t want to leave me. But her poor heart was worn out, and she died peacefully in her sleep.

It was at her funeral that I learned I also have an uncle. It’s him I was named after. Dale was obviously named after Dad. Uncle Dane lives in Austin. He’s a big executive of one of the oil companies. He owns all the wells on our ranches. Granpa gave Dad the choice of the land or the oil rights. Dad loves ranching, so Uncle Dane got the oil. He was happy with the outcome. He was always the intellectual of the family according to Granpa. He was also as handsome as Dad.

Now that Granma is gone, Granpa has turned over all the land to Dad, and has come to live with us. It’s always been Dad that took care of both ranches, but now, on paper it is all one big ranch. The ranch is located on the southwest side of the Permian Basin. It sits over a huge oil deposit.

It’s hard to believe, but millions of years ago the Permian Basin was the bottom of a sea. We’ve found big seashell fossils that look like snail shells up on the mesa above our house. Our house is built at the base of a small flat topped mountain called a mesa, which is Spanish for table. It’s about a mile across the top in any given direction. One of our imaginative ancestors even named the ranch The Tabletop Ranch.

There’s another ranch we own that’s over east of Austin. Dad has leased that land to a horse-raising rancher. Most of our horses have come from his stock.

 

Starting back to school that first fall was a totally new experience. We rode in a big yellow school bus that stopped to pick up several other kids. There was a mix of all ages on the bus from a couple of first graders to three high school seniors. The ride into town took about forty minutes. The first stop was at the grade school and then the high school.

In Ft. Worth the eighth grade would have been middle school. Here in McCamey it was mixed into the high school. So instead of being at the top of the heap, I was at the bottom. As Dale pointed out when I grumped about it, better now than having to put it off a year. What he failed to tell me was my freshman year I was still nearly at the bottom.

Dale was starting his sophomore year. I had supposed that he’d be a junior, but it’s just how our birthdays fell. I started a year early, and he started a year late. Secretly, I was ecstatic; I’d have my brother with me for another whole extra year before he went off to college. 

I soon found out being Dale’s little brother was a big boon. He was one of the most popular boys in school, smart and good looking. And since I was a younger mirror image of him, I kind of stepped into an immediate popularity. I was soon to discover there was one major difference between us. He liked girls and I was totally indifferent to them.  I quickly learned to act as if I liked them. Fortunately, for me, small town morals came into play. Girls were expected to keep their virginity intact until they got married. When I was old enough to start dating, girls considered me a real gentleman because I put no pressure on them to put out. 

 

The hiway divided our ranch from the Hobson’s ranch.  Jimmy Hobson was one year younger than me. Even though he still went to grade school, he and I became fast friends. His dad and my dad had grown up together.   They’d been best friends all their lives. Big Jim, Jimmy’s dad, and his mom didn’t get married until just before my mother left and went back to Ft. Worth with me.

Every day after school, Jimmy and I’d alternate whose house we went to. Didn’t much matter, they were both about a mile from the hiway, so if we had to, we could always walk home. But that didn’t happen very often. Some grownup was always willing to drive across the hiway and back.

It was near the end of my freshman year in high school that Jimmy’s dad got killed. He had this old ‘47 Jeep pickup he liked to drive around his ranch. It had a wooden floorboard. There was a big hole up under the brake and clutch pedals. He was driving down one of the dirt roads back on his ranch and ran over a rattlesnake. The snake was thrown up through the hole in the floorboard. Big Jim flipped the pickup trying to get away from the snake.

When he didn’t show up for supper, May, Jimmy’s mother, called Dad.  He and Granpa went out looking for him. They found him laying a few yards from the overturned pickup with his head bashed in from the boulder he’d landed against. He had the dead snake clutched in his fist. It was a damned shame he didn’t realize the snake’s head had been flattened when he ran over it.

Brian Boswell was Dale’s best friend and a cowboy from the get go. He was in the same grade as Dale and lived in town, but he spent every moment he could on our ranch.  He loved riding and working on the ranch. Dad was impressed with his abilities and told him he was hired soon as he graduated.

Summers Dale and Brian were together all the time. Granpa and Dad both commented that those two were joined at the hip. The summer after they graduated, they spent three weeks camping out up in the wild rugged hills down south of us in the Big Bend wilderness. They came back the weekend before Dale was heading off to College Station over by Austin, to start his first year of college.  They came back real different from the two fun loving guys that left. 

When they drove into the compound behind the house Sunday evening, Brian leaped out of Dale’s pickup, his hat pulled low over his face, jumped into his own truck and took off without even a howdy-do to anybody. He even left all his tack.

Dale just sat in his pickup, his head resting on the steering wheel until Dad got concerned and went out and opened his door. Dale didn’t even look up until Dad put an arm around him and started pulling him out. He just turned at that point, laid his head on Dad’s chest and started bawling. Dad just held him for a long time.

When he finally looked up, Dad gasped. I moved around to where I could see that Dale had several bruises, a black eye, a split lip and dried blood on his upper lip from a nosebleed.

 “Does Brian look as awful as you do?” Dad asked.

“Probably worse.  I really pounded him.”

“You want to tell me what it was all about?”

Dale kicked at the dirt with his head down and then looked Dad in the eye. “Nope. It’s between Brian and me. It’s best left that way.”

Dale stared back at Dad as he studied him. Finally Dad said, “Son, it don’t matter to me who you love, you’ll always be my son, and I’ll always love you.”  He pulled Dale into one of his comforting bear hugs and then told him to go clean himself up. Dinner would be ready soon. Granpa was standing on the stoop. He stopped Dale and gave him a good hugging, too.  I heard him say, “No matter what, my boy, we will always love you. Never forget that.”

I pondered that a good while. I’d just figured Dad and Granpa thought Dale and Brian were best buddies. Just how they did know that they were in love? Dale and I’d never discussed love or sex or anything like that. But I’d heard him and Brian many a time in the middle of the night having sex with each other. I’d finally figured out that Dale’s dating and liking girls was just an act.

That night I knocked on Dale’s bedroom door, went in and sat on the edge of his bed. The only acknowledgment I got was his hand seeking mine. He held onto my hand with his other arm over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dale.”

“Me, too, little brother, me, too.”

“Do you still love him?” I asked. I couldn’t tell you why I asked.

He raised his arm and looked at me. “What do you know about it?”

“I’m not dumb, Dane. I could see that you two were gone on each other.”

“I guess Dad and Granpa could see it, too.”

“Prolly. You two never have been very quiet at night, neither.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Sure. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“When did you get so wise, Dane?”

It embarrassed me – him thinking I was wise when I knew I wasn’t, so I just grinned at him and asked, “So, do you?”

He blushed and smiled, looking like it hurt, and said, “Hell, yeah. And I know he loves me, too.”

“So why’d you two go punching on each other?”

“He doesn’t want to go to college. He wanted me to stay and be a cowboy with him.”

“You don’t want to be a cowboy?” I asked.

“Course I do. I just want to be an educated one who knows how to deal with the outside world.”

“You beat each other up for that?”

“No, he then wanted to go with me to College Station, but he doesn’t want to go to school.”

“Can’t blame him for that.”

“That’s why I had to make him mad enough to fight.”

“That makes lots of sense,” I laughed, shaking my head as I went back to bed.

Wednesday morning, Dale had his stuff all packed in his pickup ready to leave. Brian hadn’t been around at all. Dad commented on it, saying if he didn’t get his butt back to work soon he was going to have to fire him. Of course, we all knew he was joking. Brian’s one of the best cowboys this ranch has ever seen.

“He’ll be back, soon as I’m gone,” Dale told him.

“Aren’t you going to stop in town and say bye to him?” Granpa asked.

“We said our good-byes Sunday, Granpa. No need to say ‘em again.”

“Well, we’re sure going to miss you, Boy.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Granpa.”

Dad stepped up and wrapped Dale in one of his big bear hugs. “You call as soon as you get there. Don’t keep me worrying about you.”

“I promise, I will.”

“So you got everything you need?”

“Dad, stop worrying.”

Dale turned and looked at me. I was feeling like he was abandoning me. He held out his arms and I ran into them. He hugs almost as good as Dad.

“I only had you for three years, now you’re leaving me.”

“You’re going to be okay, Dane. You know I’ll be back to visit every chance I get. Besides, it’s only for four years, and I’ll be home every summer. Once school starts you’ll be too busy to miss me.” Then he whispered, “Besides, you’ll be getting a pickup for your birthday this year.”

I know he was trying to cheer me up reminding me about the pickup. I’d already gone with Dad and Granpa up to McCamey to the Ford dealership and picked out one. The one I’m getting is kind of a light purplish brown. The salesman had a name for it but it sounded too Frenchified for me. Whatever the name, it doesn’t show dust like brighter colors.

 

Later that morning Jimmy came over. He handed Dad a sealed envelope from his mom like he had several times before since his dad got killed. Dad took the envelope and wandered off by himself to read it. Jimmy and I decided to go hiking to the top of the mesa. There’s a road around on the backside that someone cut so you can drive up there, but it’s a lot more fun to follow natural trails that lead along the base of the sheer cliffs and find a place to climb up.

Once we were on top, Jimmy looked out toward his house. He pointed out a plume of dust. “Looks like your dad’s going to do a little visiting,” he said.

I didn’t reply as I watched the truck, made tiny by the distance, pull up to his house. I put my binoculars that I always carried when we went hiking to my eyes and watched Dad get out of his pickup. I moved them to see Jimmy’s mom come out and my dad take her in his arms and kiss her. They were more than just greeting each other.

“Whatcha seeing, Dane?” Jimmy asked. I handed him the glasses, not saying anything.  He put them to his eyes and adjusted them. “I don’t see anything, just your dad’s pickup in front of our house. What did you see?”

“Just my dad greeting your mom. That’s all.”

I wandered off while Jimmy continued to look around through the binoculars. I thought about what I’d seen. I wondered if it signified anything. I liked Jimmy’s mom. I wondered if she would be a good mom to me if she and Dad decided to get married. Would she treat Jimmy more special than me? I knew my dad would treat us the same. He might love me more because I am his kid. But he’d never show it in front of Jimmy. He’s very fair that way. I know that about my dad. That’s one of the reasons I love him so much.

Jimmy wandered over to where I’d found a big boulder to sit on and sat down beside me.  “Whatcha thinking about, Dane?” he asked.

“Do you think your mom really likes me, Jimmy?”

“Why’re you asking me that? Of course she likes you. She says you’re about the sweetest boy around... next to me, of course. She always says I should be as polite as you.”

“Would you like to be my brother?”

“We’re already like brothers, Dane. Hell, you’re my best friend.”

I nodded and smiled.

“So, why are you asking these questions?”

I got off the boulder and stretched. “Oh, no reason. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“You saw something through the binoculars, didn’t you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“‘Cause you got all pensive.”

“Pensive?” I asked, making it sound derogatory.

Jimmy got all blustery. “Yes, pensive. A two syllable word, meaning lost in thought.”

I grinned at him. “No shit?”

“Damn it, Dane,” he said, sounding just like his dad. “I wouldn’t shit you. You’re my fav....”

“Don’t say it,” I yelled at him and threatened him with a fist.  “Don’t you dare call me that.”  I wouldn’t hit him though, and he knew it.

He grinned at me and laughed. “I don’t have to say it. You already know.”

I grabbed him. With an arm around his chest, I pulled him tight and gave him a noogy on his scalp. He was fighting to get away from me. But I just hugged him to my chest.  After a bit he stopped struggling and just relaxed and leaned into me with a shudder and a sigh.  I let him go. He stood there with his head down, looking defeated.

“Are you alright, Jimmy?”

He looked off toward the horizon. “I wish you wouldn’t do that to me, Dane.”

“What?  Give you a noogy?”

He shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Nothin’.”

“Jimmy, if I did something you don’t like, I need to know what it was so I don’t do it again.”

Jimmy has a hard time talking without gesturing with his hands. When he pulled his hands out of his pockets to respond, I saw what his problem was. He saw me notice the bulge in his pants and a big wet spot and he turned a dark red.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

He turned away from me.

“Would it make you feel better to know I have the same reaction when I hug you?”

His head bucked once, but he didn’t move otherwise.  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Hey, I’m a horny teenager... I get a hardon just thinking about it, too.”

“You do?”