Epilogue - Hudson - Continued
T he truck Hudson was driving wasn’t a Peterbilt, but at least it was a truck , even if it was a white-painted box truck and Hudson was only delivering empty milk crates to Platte Valley Dairy, out near Morrill, Nebraska.
The drive along the two-lane blacktop was like a tease. Not quite an hour long, not enough to settle into it, and certainly nothing that was a challenge. Frustratingly short and straightforward.
It was a pretty enough drive, for all that, following the South Platte River for a ways as it ribboned across the high prairie. And the sun was shining on the new layer of snow that had fallen the night before, making the sky a bright blue that just about made him want to put his sunglasses on.
He told himself he was happy. And sure, he could keep telling himself that, but the fact of the matter was, Ty wasn’t.
He seemed content enough, and had smiles for Hudson any time he wanted them. He helped Michelle at the laundromat and usually picked the boys up from school, looked after them until Michelle got home. Sometimes he took Michelle’s beat-up faded blue Honda Civic and drove out to Scottsbluff National Monument, parked by the sandpit lakes, and got out to watch the Canadian geese land at sunset.
He always offered to take Hudson with him or Michelle and the boys, but Hudson had the feeling that Ty needed to be out there by himself. Needed the sounds of a thousand wings flapping over a half-frozen lake to drown out his sorrow.
Ty had called around looking for work. Called and called. Applied online. This ranch. That stable. He even applied at Platte Valley Dairy, though milking cows wasn’t what he was good at. He was good at ranching. At riding and roping. At singing the little doggies to sleep at night. Sleeping under the stars with his saddle for a pillow.
Every job application resulted in a No, thanks . They didn’t want to hire a felon, or had a full roster for the season. Which meant that Ty was basically hanging out, rather than getting on with his own life.
Hudson was beside himself on how to help Ty. Ty was doing the best he could, but other than making a wish to the universe, something Hudson didn’t quite believe in, there was nothing he could do but be supportive. Which he was willing to do, until the end of time, if need be.
He’d give anything to see Ty happy, if only he knew what that anything was.
Then, one day, during the bleakness of early November, shortly after they’d gotten their own apartment in the same apartment building as Michelle’s, the same sturdy, squat, boring beige apartment building down on 17 th Street, Michelle had texted after dinner that she had mail for them. He told her to please come by.
She showed up with the boys because there was no one to watch them in the evenings, and Hudson quickly invited all three of them to join them for spaghetti night.
While they had been living together in Michelle’s apartment, it had been crowded, yes, but they’d taken care of each other. The boys had enjoyed waking their uncles up early from time to time, but seemed to understand that people needed to rest. Hudson got up plenty early anyway for his truck driving job, and Ty got up because Hudson did. Somehow, Michelle managed to wake up before everybody.
Now that they were each in their own place, Hudson and Ty on the first floor, Michelle at the other end of the building on the second floor, he couldn’t keep his eye on the little family like he wanted to. And nothing was working as smoothly as it had done, even if, when they’d been crammed into Michelle’s small apartment, they’d practically been stepping on each other’s toes most of the time.
As they ate the simple meal together, Michelle looked tired, and the boys looked pale and sad, and Hudson wiped his mouth and looked at Ty. Ty looked back at him and shook his head, which Hudson translated as agreement and a feeling Ty had that seemed to be We all can’t keep going on like this .
Hudson agreed, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what he could do about it.
“I don’t know what is in the envelopes,” said Michelle as she helped Trevor use his napkin to wipe the red sauce from his face. “But it looked important. The return address was an attorney, so I didn’t think it should wait.”
That was her way of apologizing for barging in on their evening. Not that they would have been doing anything other than snuggling in front of the smart TV while trying to find something new on Netflix.
Hudson wiped his hands and got up from the table, going over to the kitchen counter where Michelle had left the envelopes. The kitchen was so small it only took him a few steps, but right away, he was confused. Why would an attorney be sending him mail? Ty had the same envelope with the same return address. Both envelopes were the size of a sheet of paper.
Alice Marie Brenner , the return address read. Attorney at Law .
Using the little plastic letter opener that Ty had purchased at the dollar store downtown, Hudson opened the envelope and pulled out the collection of papers. It was a letter from Ms. Brenner. A form to sign. Two forms to sign, actually, with several signatures needed on each one, and places for his initials. A return envelope, already stamped and neatly folded. And lastly, and most oddly of all, a very long paper check. The kind that banks printed out.
Hudson looked at the amount on the check. Blinked, and looked again. He scanned the letter from Ms. Brenner one more time, thinking this was some kind of joke, or if not that, then some cruel mistake.
“There’s a check made out to me,” said Hudson. “And the amount is based on the number of months I worked in the chain gang. It’s to make up for that.”
“What?” asked Ty. “What are you saying? Send it back. It’s a mistake. They never do that.”
“Evidently they do,” said Hudson. “The letter said Mr. Tate initiated a lawsuit. For the benefit of anyone who was in the chain gang and suffered because of it.”
“Mr. Tate,” said Ty, his brows lowering. “He’s a powerful man. How much did you get?”
“Um.”
Hudson chewed on the inside of his lip and felt a powerful need to sit down. That or run in circles until he was dizzy. It was then he remembered that Mr. Tate had mentioned Alice Marie Brenner to him, and the fact that he needed to check back about something to do with his time in prison.
“Based on eighteen months living in that fucking tent—sorry, boys—that stupid tent, I get seventy-four thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine dollars and eighty-eight cents. Half up front. Half in three months.”
Everyone at the table was stock still and blinked at him.
“Do I get money?” asked Ty, sitting up, going pale beneath the overhead bulb inside of its cheap light fixture. “Open mine.”
“I reckon you do,” said Hudson. He opened the envelope addressed to Ty and pulled everything out, spilling it all onto the kitchen counter. Then he picked up the check and looked at it.
“You get twenty-nine thousand, one hundred and sixty-six dollars and sixty-two cents. Half now, half in three months. And all because you spent seven months living in that stupid tent.”
Hudson’s mind spun with images of getting his own red Peterbilt truck, complete with chrome trim and a sleeping cab. He and Ty could roam the country, checking in on Michelle and the boys when they passed through town. They could feel the wind in their hair and listen to the hum of the tires on the road and be happy forever.
“I could buy Honey with that,” said Ty in a very soft voice. “But I don’t know where I’d keep her.”
His face crumpled as he got up from the table.
The pain in his words went straight to Hudson’s heart and everything went still inside of him.
Ty hadn’t been merely bored with their life in Scottsbluff. Hadn’t been simply feeling at loose ends, unhappy because he couldn’t find a job. No. Ty had been miserable . And this was the first Hudson was hearing of it. Not because Ty had been lying, but because Ty had been pretending to be, if not happy, then content, and all to protect Hudson.
“Ty—” he said, reaching for Ty as he held out his hands for the keys to the Honda.
“I’m just going for a drive,” said Ty as Michelle handed him those keys. The two boys looked up at Ty with round eyes, uncertainty glimmering there.
“Will you come back safe?” he asked. Please, come back safe , he meant to add, but Ty was already gone in a furl of coat and a spin of stale air from the long corridor that led to the outside.
“Oh, my,” said Michelle. “He set such a store by that horse, didn’t he. She was so sweet and pretty, I can see why.”
“He set a store by that whole life,” said Hudson, looking at the front door, listening for the sound of the Honda’s engine. “And here I was thinking I was simply going to buy myself a rig and start my own business.”
He looked at Michelle, realizing the truth at last, seeing it for what it was. “This isn’t any kind of life for any of us,” he said. “The boys need fresh air and friends, and you need a better job than the one you have.”
“It’s decent, steady work,” she said, lifting her chin a bit defensively. “I’m lucky to have it.”
“Yeah, lucky,” he said. The words tasted bitter.
“Let me help you clean up,” she said, getting up from the table, starting to clear the plates away, using her napkin to wipe the spaghetti sauce from Trevor’s chin.
“No, I’ll get that,” he said. “It’ll give me something to do while I wait for Ty.”
“He’ll be back,” she said. She stood there a moment, one hand on the top of each of her son’s heads. The room smelled like garlic, and beyond that it smelled like cold air. Felt cold, like a small cave that all of them had outgrown. “Did he take his phone?”
“No,” said Hudson.
He hugged her and the boys before they left, tromping down the long, carpeted corridor, then taking the stairs to their own apartment. Then he was alone with the dishes, and the unpaid bills, and the cramped quarters. The ratty couch from a used furniture store. The table that seemed precarious at the best of times. The dingy walls. And knew he would go crazy if something didn’t change.
Especially for Ty. That was the most important thing, tearing at his heart as he searched inside of himself, his mind spinning for a solution. If Ty was unhappy, then nothing else mattered.
But they had money, right? Almost one hundred thousand dollars.
Hudson reached for his phone and found Royce in his contacts. Royce was the grandson of an important, prosperous rancher in Montana. Maybe that’s what they could do. Ty would be happier in Montana, wouldn’t he?
“Hello?” asked a voice. Royce. Calm, collected, polite.
“Hey, Royce, it’s Hudson,” said Hudson, clutching his cell phone rather hard.
“Hello, Hudson, how are you doing?” asked Royce. “It’s so nice of you to call. We’re getting some crazy snowfall here, and the house is settling down for the night.”
“Sounds cozy,” said Hudson.
“Yes, it is,” said Royce with a little laugh. “What can I do for you?”
“Say,” said Hudson, jumping right to it. “Both Ty and I have come into some settlement money for our time in the chain gang. Mr. Tate filed a lawsuit, and we are the beneficiaries of that.”
“I’d heard that he was going to do that,” said Royce. “Just bits here and there. He was so angry about it. When we had meetings, he would talk about it and use very strong language indeed.”
“Well, we’re in Scottsbluff,” said Hudson, his throat suddenly dry. “And it’s not good for Michelle and the kids and Ty misses riding something awful.” He paused, knowing it was worse than the simple statement implied, but that he couldn’t burden Royce with his problems. “So I thought we could take the money and buy a ranch up there. Invest in some cattle. Horses. Maybe sheep. I don’t know. We’d start small, of course. We’ve got around a hundred grand between us and I was wondering if you knew of any likely properties.”
There was a very, very long pause at the other end of the line, and Hudson imagined he could hear a fire crackling in the background. Low laughter. The clink of glasses or mugs. Easy jazz. What a life Royce lived.
“My dear man,” said Royce, in the gentlest of voices, and Hudson already knew what was coming. A big fat no. No way, no dice, just no. “A cattle ranch in Wyoming starts at around two million dollars. Even little hobby farms start at a million. I’m afraid you can’t afford it, and I hate for you to get your hopes up about it.”
“Are you sure?” asked Hudson, feeling so very small, when only moments ago, at the thought of such money in the bank, he’d felt tall and strong and able to take care of his little family.
“Quite sure,” said Royce. “You can look it up. Just search for ranches in Montana. They go for millions. If there’s water, like the Yellowstone River, they go for much more than that. Our ranch, Thackery Ranch, has been in the family for years, so?—”
Hudson nodded, though Royce couldn’t see him. It wasn’t Royce’s fault that he was rich while Hudson was poor. It wasn’t Royce’s fault that Hudson had landed himself in jail. And his problems weren’t Royce’s problem. Wasn’t his responsibility to pull Hudson out of a jam. To aid the little family in finding their feet in a good place where they could be happy.
“Well, thank you,” said Hudson. “That’s all I wanted to ask you. You’ve given me a wake-up call for sure.”
“You’re welcome to come up any time for a visit,” said Royce. “We can put all of you up quite easily. And there’d be horses to ride. We raise paints.”
Hudson had no idea what paints were, but imagined Ty would.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll pass that message along. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. Have a good evening.”
The call over and bad news delivered, Hudson stood there with the phone in his hands. The evening chores needed doing, and if Ty wasn’t back within half an hour, Hudson was going to go out looking for him. The November night was cold. He’d have to walk to find him, as Ty was driving the only car between two households.
Maybe they could buy a second car and make it easier on all of them? Surely that would be the wise thing to do. Only?—
Only it wouldn’t change anything. It would make it only seem like change had happened. Two cars. Freedom on wheels. Mobility. Sure. All of that. But everything else would remain the same. Michelle in a menial job that didn’t use any of her brains or talents. Ty hanging out, waiting for his real life to begin. And himself, Hudson, driving a box truck to deliver things people needed.
Shouldn’t they all be grateful for hot and cold running water, an ice maker, and warm beds to sleep in at night? His freedom, even? Yes, they should be, and he should be, but it wasn’t enough.
Maybe for now they should use some of that money to get that second car. And maybe, for now, Hudson could find out what had happened to Honey.
Hope rushed through him. If they could find Honey. If they could buy her for Ty, it would be money well spent. Surely, in the rural areas around Scottsbluff, they could find someone who boarded horses. That way, at least Ty could ride as often as he liked. Could feel the wind in his hair, the movement of a horse beneath him. Honey would bring Ty joy. Wouldn’t she?
Ignoring the dishes and the bills and the noise of the traffic outside the thin windows, Hudson dialed Leland Tate’s number. Mr. Tate was in charge of everything to do with the valley, so he’d know what happened to all the horses. Especially Honey.
“Hello?” asked a voice that Hudson didn’t know.
“Hello,” said Hudson. “I was calling Leland Tate’s number?” His voice rose at the end, and the idea of it, that he didn’t actually have Mr. Tate’s number, swamped him with the futility of it all.
“This is Jamie,” said Jamie, sounding rather young. “I’m Leland’s partner, and he’s in bed with a bad cold.”
“A cold?” asked Hudson. Nowhere in his brain could he even begin to picture anything like the common cold taking Leland Tate down.
“You ever try and make a big, tall, strong man, a man who is a leader of men, and the manager and foreman of an enormous number of acreage go to bed because his temperature’s high?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Hudson, not sure if he was supposed to laugh at this ludicrous image.
“Well, I deserve a gold medal for making it happen,” said Jamie. “Now, how can I help you? Do you want me to carry a message or—” Jamie paused. “I’m not giving him the phone, because then he’ll just get up out of bed and ruin all my fine plans of waiting on him hand and foot.”
“Oh.” Hudson scrambled to gather his thoughts. “I’m looking for Honey. The horse. One of the herd down in the valley? She was there when the Fresh Start Program ended in September.”
“Oh, I see,” said Jamie. “I don’t know where she’d be, and Leland wouldn’t know, either. He hands over horse distribution to Brody and Zeke. They were the ones to get the horses settled for the winter.”
“I know Zeke,” said Hudson.
“You should give him a call,” said Jamie. “Do you have his number?”
“No,” said Hudson. And when he patiently entered the number in his phone, said his thanks and goodbyes to Jamie, he knew he was on a wild goose chase.
He’d call Zeke and Zeke would say that Honey had been sold. Then Hudson would find out, somehow, who she’d been sold to, and make inquiries.
The new owners wouldn’t sell her back, of course. Not a sweet horse like that. Pretty thing with long eyelashes and a coat that looked like sunshine had been poured all over her. Even Hudson, who was not a horse person, could appreciate why Ty loved her.
He called Zeke anyway. Let the phone ring, in spite of his nerves telling him it was high time that Ty was back, and that it was starting to snow, and that everything was going to hell in spite of his best efforts to go straight and live clean.
In another heartbeat, he was going to make plans to rob a bank, he sure was. He certainly had experience driving a getaway car. Then, with his booty, he was going to buy that ranch and all the horses Ty could ever want and love.
“This is Zeke,” said a familiar voice, and all at once Hudson was swamped with memories, good ones. Him and Ty in the paddock, grooming horses. Or raking the pasture free of manure beneath the bright sunshine. With Zeke, steady and dependable, watching over them.
“This is Hudson,” said Hudson, not liking the way his voice didn’t sound very firm or sure. “I’ll get right to it. I wanted to buy Honey for Ty. Do you know where she is?”
“Honey?” asked Zeke.
Hudson didn’t blame him for not knowing exactly who Honey was, as Zeke must have dealt with a great many horses over the years.
“The sweet yellow one. The one who bucked Ty off that time. The one who only liked to wear a hackamore.”
“Oh, Honey,” said Zeke. “We sold her to a rancher in Montana. He was going to use her as a cow pony. She’ll make a good one, he said. He came all the way down from Hysham to trailer her back himself. He even brought his stable pony with him.”
“What?” asked Hudson.
“A stable pony is an older horse that helps keep other horses calm. They use them at race tracks and suchlike.”
“So—”
Hudson paused. He was about to get more bad news and then he was going to put on his coat and look for Ty as the snow began to spit down.
Maybe the dishes would get done and maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe the bills would wait until the weekend, because he was going to ignore everything but Ty. He was going to hold Ty close and let him know with every word, every breath, every kiss, that no matter what the hell else was going on, Hudson loved him with everything he had. Because he was failing Ty, had failed him.
“After all that trouble, he’s not going to want to sell her to me, is he.” It was not a question. Hudson already knew the answer. Any man who could afford a ranch in Montana wouldn’t be the least bit interested in Hudson’s offer for a good cow pony.
“I wouldn’t think so,” said Zeke slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to tell Ty she was for sale back in September.”
“Back in September, we thought we could make this work. Back in September, we didn’t have money for a horse.” Hudson tried to clamp down on everything inside of him, but a few words rushed out. “Now Ty’s in this cramped apartment, and it’s fine for me, but it’s killing him. Every day a little bit of him dies, and I’m only just finding out?—”
It cut into him to stop complaining, but Zeke did not deserve to be Hudson’s dumping ground.
“I reckon I understand how he feels,” said Zeke. “I got lucky. I’m down in New Mexico raising mules, just like my Grandma did. The place is old and rambling and needs fixing, but it’s ours.”
“You and Cal,” said Hudson, not letting himself feel even the smallest bit of jealousy.
“That’s right,” said Zeke. “Say, if I hear of another good horse—would any horse do, or does it need to be Honey?”
“I don’t know,” said Hudson. His hands felt cold and the spaghetti sauce was starting to coagulate in the pan on the stove. “Listen, I need to go. Ty went for a drive and it’s starting to snow.”
“You take care, now,” said Zeke by way of goodbye. “Say hello to Ty for me.”
“Will do.”
Hudson finally thumbed the phone to end the call. He looked out the window to the parking lot and saw what he thought were the Honda’s headlights cutting through the falling snow, a blaze of diamonds in the parking lot lights.
Ty would be inside the apartment in less than two minutes. Hudson put on his coat, just the same, and went out to meet him. He didn’t plan on telling Ty about his foolish question for ranch and horse because it would only make Ty more unhappy than he already was. A dream reached for and lost.
Ty deserved to be happy. They all did.
Hudson didn’t know what he was going to do, but the first step would be to get Ty inside, out of his wet clothes, and into bed, where Hudson could hold him and keep him warm.