Sheep Dogs (chapter 5)

Five

Elias

          Elias liked to watch the sun rise. Most mornings, he would sit on the porch in an old wooden rocking chair that his father built by hand just the same as the cabin and the barn. His father had built everything on the property in fact, everything sturdy and built it on the overflowing love that once filled the place. If Elias closed his eyes, he could still hear his mother singing along with his father's guitar, both of their voices floating on the breeze as he and his brother danced in the yard. Things were simple in those days; his mother wore a smile at every moment, his father was always there, and he and his brother kept each other company.

Sometimes Elias would have to replace a plank in the barn wall or a part of the fence. Each time he did, it was like part of his family’s presence was slipping through his fingers. If it weren’t for the photograph of his parents on their wedding day, he wouldn't remember their faces now. 

His parents married young and moved to escape the ever-growing cities. Built their life on the mountain and raised Elias and his older brother, Coltland, on that property. 

Elias’s mother passed away suddenly when Elias was just twelve years old; not three years later, his father passed away from a heart attack. 

Their final resting place was at the highest peak on the mountain, looking out to the valley below. Elias still visited them on their birthdays and wedding anniversary every year, sharing meals and stories of the days gone by. Coltland stuck around for about a year until Elias was almost seventeen, then left him for the city their parents had left behind. Last Elias heard of his brother, he had settled down with a nice girl and was helping expand a city down in Colorado. And that was almost eight years ago now. Elias feels a bitter pang in his chest when he wonders what Colt’s life is like now. Does he have children now? Surely Elias would have at least gotten a postcard.

Once the sun is high enough to see everything clearly, Elias stands up and starts the morning chores, cleaning out the stables and feeding the animals. 

The sheep had been cooped up for days and could stand to be let out, but Beau had still looked rough when Elias had checked on him that morning and likely wasn't going to get out of bed until noon, so Elias decided that for now, the sheep could graze in the small fenced-in pasture.

             Elias washed his hands at the outdoor faucet that led directly into the well, the only source of water other than the stream just outside the property.  

            Beau was awake and sitting at the dining room table when Elias walked back inside, drinking some water and muttering pained curses under his breath and clutching his head. A dark bruise had formed around Beau’s eye overnight, and it made Elias wince just looking at it. He was overcome by a sense of protectiveness; Elias could tell by the look on the other man's face that he was no stranger to pain, and his stomach twisted with pity.

  “Mornin’, Cowboy,” Elias said as he entered the kitchen.

         Beau just grunted in return. “Mornin’,”

  “How’re the ribs?” Elias asks.

  Beau shrugged, “Fine.”

          Elias nods as he starts throwing together some breakfast. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything else out of Beau. “Sheep need to graze,” he says, setting a plate in front of Beau. “I say you rest up today and we’ll take ‘em out tomorrow.” 

          Beau just nods and grunts again in agreement, too exhausted to even argue.

Beau eats about half of his breakfast and goes to lie down on the sofa. Elias sits on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa as he reads his book. 

  “What’s your book about?” asks Beau, clearly bored. 

  “It's hard to explain,” replies Elias, slightly irritated.

  “Could you start it over and read it to me?” 

  “I suppose that could be arranged.” Elias sighs as he flips to the first page, and surprisingly, Beau stays quiet and just listens. 

          Elias stirs awake. He still sits on the floor, book half open in his hand. He must have fallen asleep while reading. Upon looking back, he can see that Beau had done the same. He looks peaceful like this; the cuts and bruises on his face don't look as bad anymore. His sandy blond hair falls across his forehead. He looked younger despite the ugly marks on his face.

            It was early evening by now, and Elias didn’t want to wake Beau, so he draped a blanket over the other man’s body and headed to bed himself. 

Elias kicked off his boots and crawled into bed; he could faintly smell whiskey, and was that marijuana? Elias wasn’t surprised; he would have smoked at least four joints, had he been beaten to a pulp by Ralph the Rangler. That was what he had been called in school. He was the only boy in town who could participate in every rodeo competition flawlessly. He used to show off for the girls and would have a different one on his arm every week. 

Ralph's family practically owned the town and had been after his land since he could remember. To make things worse, Elias had been the smallest boy in school, scrawny and weak, which made him an easy target for Ralph's cruelty and a burden on his brother.

             Elias dug his fingers into the pillowcase, the scent of the drug reminding him of his father, who used to grow the stuff out in the far side of the pasture after his mother passed. But there's something else there too, something he can't put his finger on, something strange and unfamiliar. He couldn't stop himself from breathing it in. There was something about that scent that was so human, so real, something Elias couldn't quite name. 

Elias recalled all the times he’d been called queer in his life, and in that moment, curled up in his bed. He could only think, so what if I am? That's my business.