A Bad Man Is Hard To Hide
Chapter 2 - Catfight Cowgirl || ao3 || quotev
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Story Tags : Butch/femme, butch/butch, Drug Use, Cows, Horses, Butch Cowboys :-), Blood & Gore, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death (subjectively), Animal Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Knives, Cults, Animal Mutilation
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Catfight Cowgirl
Eddie wakes up early to collect the eggs. Her watch says 3:09, which is just fucking inhuman. Getting up at seven for school was bad enough.
Annie is already gone. Eddie creeps out of their room on socked feet. She kinda needs to use the bathroom, but she doesn’t wanna risk making too much noise. To her great relief, she does not run into Jane or Neil in the hallway.
The screened back door makes an awful screeching noise when she opens it, and it lets in an uncomfortably moist chill. Darting across the living room, she grabs her pullover from the hook by the entrance.
Eddie’s hesitant to shut the screen door again but she’ll probably get yelled at for not doing it. Right as she’s sliding it closed, that stupid dog launches himself at it, barking and scratching at the mesh. Eddie wrenches it open, lets him out, and slams it closed. She makes a mental note to ask Annie about some WD-40.
The dog is still barking at her and she crouches down, shushing it, bargaining with it, finding a stick on the ground and throwing it into the mist. The dog scampers away.
The horses in the field cast strange silhouettes. One of them is separate from the others, head up and looking out, some dark phantom creature standing on the hill and keeping watch. It’s cold out here.
The dog keeps at her heels as she approaches the chicken coop. Dogs like to eat chickens, right? She walks the perimeter of the roundpen until she finds a rope with a clip on the end. Calling the dog over, she attaches it to his collar and double knots him to the fence. He plants his feet, pulling at the rotted slats and threatening to slip the collar over his head. Eddie’ll just have to work quickly.
There is a hatch on the outside of the coop, and she opens it without thinking. Immediately she’s blinded by a flapping of wings and squawking. She shuts the door and latches it.
The hens are loud and she bets anything they can smell her fear. With those beady eyes and sharp beaks, she’s gotta be careful not to lose a finger. She waits till they quiet down before trying again.
Most of the birds only have one egg at their feet. She extricates each egg with care, forming a sort of straw nest with her free hand and setting them down in the center of the pile. There’s one hen who won’t move at all, and Eddie doesn’t mess with her. She wouldn’t want someone taking her unborn babies.
Eddie doesn’t have a basket, so she uses a bucket she found overturned by the circuit box. Eggs secured and hatch door locked, she heads back for the house. Only once she’s back inside does she remember the dog. She sets down her bucket and turns around to go free him from the fence.
He is sitting on the back steps, panting and freshly collarless. Maybe Jane and Neil won’t notice. She glances behind her, checking her surroundings; the living room is just as deserted as it was when she left it. That clock ticks away. She lets the dog back in.
Cooking eggs is something Eddie knows how to do. It’s a straightforward task. Maybe she can even go back to bed afterwards. Scrambled is probably fine, so she mixes the eggs with a fork and sets them on plates and gets out cloth napkins from a drawer, though they look like they haven’t been washed in a while.
A hand presses against the base of her spine and she flinches, dropping the spatula she was holding. It’s Jane.
“Hiya,” Jane grins. She reaches around for a plate, keeping Eddie uncomfortably close to the hot pan. “Finally decided to be useful?”
Eddie grinds her teeth together. Nods. Neil is not far behind, taking a plate without a word. Eddie’s skin itches. She didn’t do all of this just to be underappreciated.
She tries to refocus on her cooking, even if she’s tempted to just lay her palm flat on the nearest hot surface. She forgets to grease the pan and the temperature’s too high, but by the time she’s scraping off her half-burnt breakfast she’s feeling more stable.
Neil and Jane are already at the table, cackling and elbowing each other. Eddie sets her plate down and pulls out a chair just as Neil stands up and pushes his in. “She’s gonna help me catch the horses,” he informs Jane.
Of fucking course. “Can I eat first?” Eddie asks.
“What, you’ll let them starve while you get to eat? Them equines get hungry, too,” he says.
How dare she forget. Eddie can hear Jane’s laughter, but she ignores it. She is going to be the better man. “What about the cows?”
“Jane’ll be out trainin’ the new guys,” he chuckles, mostly to himself. “Bitch lost the fucking bet.”
Jane points her fork at him. “Only ‘cause you fight dirty.”
Smiling, Neil adjusts his glasses with his middle finger. Eddie, unamused by his and Jane’s displays of pettiness, gets her shoes on. She also grabs the bucket—it seems like a good idea to clean up after herself. Everything runs a whole lot smoother when she goes through life as if she’s never been there at all.
“Hurry up, pretty lady,” he drawls, pushing the screen door wide open. Eddie can’t decide if she likes him better or worse when he’s in a good mood.
She’s been a little afraid to go anywhere near the barn since they introduced her to the horses. Horses are large farm creatures with huge eyes and she always thinks they look more like humans who’ve been cursed into being animals. They’re pretty from afar, sure, but something could go wrong. What if she leaves the gate open? What if it bites her? Neil and Jane’s horses didn’t seem very friendly, kicking out and baring their teeth.
Neil doesn’t take her to the barn; instead, they walk right up to the metal gate. Neil unlocks it and swings it closed behind them, twisting the chain until it stays shut. “Normally I’d have you watch the gate, but this is an important lesson,” Neil says, unknotting three ropes from the bars of the fence.
The horses pause their grazing as he and Eddie approach. He whistles and the pretty one comes up real close. “You’re gonna take Betsy and Gamble.”
Eddie looks to him, and she looks back to the horse. “Do I just…grab their head-things?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Neil laughs. “You always use a lead rope. You wanna keep some distance between you and the horse in case he decides to be a bitch.”
He hands her two ropes. One is blue, and the other is green. Does she need to remember these colors?
“Clip it to the ring underneath her chin,” he continues. “This is a halter. If you see a horse without one, tell me.”
Eddie nods like she’s understanding everything he’s saying. Like if she saw something concerning, she would actually want to go talk to him about it. She clips the lead to Betsy and grips the rope in her hands as if it might suddenly be pulled away from her. She tries not to put any pressure on the horse’s end, holding it away from her body and leaving as much slack as possible. As much distance as possible.
“Betsy’s basically a big dog,” Neil says. “And lookie, here’s Gamble. You can just tug at him, doesn’t hurt him much.” He makes Eddie attach the lead rope to Gamble as well, and suddenly she’s got two strange, enormous animals at the end of both her arms. Actually, Gamble looks pretty small compared to the other horses. Maybe he’s a baby or something. Eddie breathes in slow. They’re just like dogs. Hooved dogs. Grass eating and completely harmless dogs with creepy alien eyes on the sides of their heads.
A frantic shuffling noise startles her. The third horse, St. Martin or Marty or whatever, takes off headlong down the field. Neil walks after him, spinning the lead rope lazily. “Don’t piss me off today, Martin,” he calls.
The horse prances to the side, tail in the air, whinnying back at him from all the way at the top of the hill. Eddie’s no expert, but he looks like he’s enjoying this game.
Neil reaches into his pockets and digs out a sliver of carrot. Immediately Gamble rushes over to him and Eddie drops the rope in her hand. Neil, scowling at her, holds the carrot away from the little gray pony’s eager teeth. “Keep a better hold on him.”
“I was trying to. He pulls hard,” she mutters weakly.
“Uh, I dunno what to tell you, get fucking used to it?” Neil scoffs. He turns back to Marty, who’s dared to come closer to him. “Marty, get your ass down here!”
Marty kicks up his hind legs, tossing his head and loping down the hill. When he’s finally at a standstill, Neil gets his carrot out again and walks towards the indignant animal. Marty begins walking to meet him, too. Neil holds the lead out to attach it to his halter—Marty snatches the carrot and runs away.
“No you fuckin’ don’t,” Neil says, sprinting after him. He chases Marty around the fence, whipping the ground at his feet with the end of the lead rope. Eddie observes the scene in awe. It’s mesmerizing, the way Neil waves his arms like a madman and Marty reacts so expressively to every motion. She’s never seen someone act like that before, so unafraid to step in the path of a wild animal. In a way though, both Neil and his horse look a bit frightened of each other. Gamble and Betsy have begun to graze again.
Once Neil manages to corner Marty, he grabs at his halter and doesn’t let go. Marty throws his head up violently, thrashing and backstepping. Neil gets his arm behind Marty’s ears (Eddie didn’t know it was possible to headlock a horse until now), finally securing the lead rope and immediately putting space between him and Marty. Neil reaches into his pocket and holds out another carrot. Marty relaxes visibly, accepting the offering and walking comfortably by Neil’s side like nothing happened. Horse people are weird.
“Got a handle on those two?” Neil asks, swinging the lead rope back and forth again like he wasn’t just using it to threaten the newly docile animal on the other end.
“Um. Yeah,” Eddie says. She’s still processing what she just witnessed. She tries to step forward and finds Gamble to be an immovable force. He ignores her completely, chewing away at the dead-ish grass.
“Oh,” Neil adds, making an odd clicking sound with his tongue. “Don’t let Gamble pull you around like that. I don’t like to reinforce bad behavior with ‘em.” Right, that makes sense, because feeding carrots to an escape artist doesn’t count as reinforcement. “C’mon now. Kiss at him, he’ll listen if you use your voice.”
“Kiss at him?”
“Like this.” Neil repeats the sound he was making, a series of clicks with an almost aggressive undertone. It makes Gamble’s ears perk up, and he leaves the grass alone.
Neil leads the way back to the barn. Marty throws a fit about going into his stall, so Eddie has to wait outside with the other horses until Neil comes to get them.
When Eddie’s walking the horses, she feels sort of dumb and out of place. But when Neil has them, he’s powerful. Everything here submits to him—Eddie’s just taking up space on his turf.
The inside of the big red barn is small and damp and dim. It’s hotter out here than it is outside. Open stalls hold bales of hay stacked higher than Eddie’s head. Bugs scuttle over dirt and dead leaves on the floor.
At the other end of the walkway, Neil drags a hose. She feels like a voyeur watching him work around her. He moves with a purpose, having some kind of a plan in his head that only he is aware of.
The wheelbarrow runs up and down the aisle. He rolls his sleeves up and lifts hay bales from the top of the pile. Eddie sees everything: the hay in his hair; his shirt creeping up; the overhead light glancing off his belt buckle. He doesn’t see her at all.
She’s tired of being useless. “Is there a job I can do?”
Neil shrugs, beginning to feed the hose through a slat in the stall dividers. Eddie stands there for at least another minute or two just fidgeting. Getting ignored is making her crazy. She thought she wanted to be left alone, but not like this.
“Can I leave then?”
He looks at her like she’s stupid. “No.”
“Then what can I—?”
“Here, catch.”
Eddie does not catch. It hits her on the side of the head and clatters to the floor at her feet. A broom. She reaches for her aching temple while Neil shakes with laughter. These people are sick.
“Barn always needs sweeping,” he says seriously, gesturing to the floor.
Eddie sighs heavily, happy enough to be given a task. She was a little worried she would fall asleep on her feet. Sweeping is not as easy as it seems. She can go over the same area ten times and still not get all of the dust away. Moving the bigger stuff like leaves and pebbles is an improvement, but no matter how hard she tries, the floor never looks clean.
Straw is the most difficult. It sticks to the bristles of the broom, and every pass scatters it more. She’s made it five feet down the walkway and she already wants to quit. Eddie’s good at a lot of things: she can do all the dishes by hand; she can change the sheets on her own bed; she’s got above average test scores, and she always does her homework even when she’s skipping. She never even considered that there would be a right or wrong way to sweep.
Neil doesn’t comment, but she can tell he’s judging her incompetence. She doesn’t notice that he’s stopped working until she reaches a stall up near the front, where he’s just standing. She is trapped in her own skin. He’s been watching her this whole time.
He nods to the empty stall, and she enters it. It’s the first time she’s seen him look a little directionless. His gaze darts to the side, then back to her. He steps closer, caging her in. It’s comforting, him being a barrier to the rest of the world. She doesn’t know the stable very well. She’s just here to do what she’s told. Neil looks right at her with those clear blue eyes, sharper than Jane’s but never quite focused. “Can you keep quiet?”
“Yeah.” Eddie keeps quiet about a lot of things. She’s never told anyone about the hitting, or the drugging, or the flickering shadow in the corners of her vision. Neil’s asking about volume, yes, but he means more than that. What they’re about to do is wrong. He doesn’t want anyone to know.
He kisses her like he’s hungry, mouth open and searching for something he’s not supposed to have.
Every summer, around this time, Eddie house sits. Her parents’ friends hand over the keys and instructions to feed the fish—though she knows them by heart—and the house is hers for a week. The pay is meager, and she always ends up doing a lot of house chores out of guilt for eating their food or having to sleep in their bed because there’s no guest room. But there’s a reason she keeps coming back: the Kirks have, like, the nicest bathroom she’s ever been in.
Though there’s no explicit rule against it, Eddie knows she’s not supposed to go in there. It’s not attached to the bedroom, and the door is always closed. But since she first discovered it, she can’t help herself. It’s as big as her room back at home; the tile, mauve and green, still sparkles from when they got it renovated a few years ago. They have a whole separate tub just for the shower, which is Eddie’s favorite part. The water runs hotter there than it does at her own house, and she’s prone to spending half an hour just lounging in the steam until condensation drips from the walls. The showerhead is detachable, too, and she can hold it right up to the roots of her hair when she’s washing out Mrs. Kirk’s fancy product. It probably doesn’t have any real benefit, but it feels like it does.
Sometimes the feeling is the best part. It’s the thrill of getting away with luxury on borrowed time, living like she’s a better person than she really is. Ignoring the pullout couch or how Mr. Kirk ‘forgot’ his wedding band at home, because at the end of the day, Eddie’s just the house sitter, sinking deeper into a warm bathtub of salts and lavender.
What would her neighbors think if they saw her now, letting a strange man take her for all she’s worth? He keeps her hands pinned to her chest, mouth insistent on her own. She wants him to slow down. She doesn’t want him to stop. He’s not close enough. He’s pressing down on her.
When he moves to her neck, she can finally breathe again. He’s sucking at her skin like he wants her, like she’s more than just a chore that needs to be taken care of. He doesn’t really care about what she wants at all, overwhelmed with his desire to feel good. The desire that she caused. She makes him feel good. Fuck.
“You promise you won’t tell?” he asks, a whisper.
She feels like she’s in summer camp again. I’ll kiss you for a dollar. There’s lots of places to hide. Promise you won’t tell. Neil may be insecure, but Eddie doesn’t mind it. He was never very charming to begin with. “Yeah,” she repeats.
Neil hasn’t really done this before, but he knows what the guys used to say. It can’t be held against you if she doesn’t say no. And Eddie—well, Eddie’s said yes twice.
He looks at her for a while, biting the inside of his cheek. His frown cuts into his face like glass, never dissipating. It takes Eddie a second to realize that he’s waiting for something. “Take your shirt off,” he says, gesturing.
As tempting as it is to give in to his demands, Eddie shakes her head. She’s not stripping in a barn; that’s how you get a splinter where splinters shouldn’t be.
“Take it off,” he says, “or I tell Annie what a fucking whore you are.”
Shit. She hadn’t considered Annie a part of this. Annie wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t even want to listen. Eddie takes her shirt off.
“Damn,” Neil says, grabbing her hips and pressing closer to her like he can’t bear the space between them. His thumbs dig in and it starts to feel more clinical than passionate.
He starts unzipping her jeans. “Just stay still, okay?” he mutters, trailing off. He’s blushing.
A bizarre thrill bullies its way through the heat of Eddie’s chest. She’s not supposed to be enjoying this—he clearly doesn’t care about anyone’s pleasure except his own—but then he pushes her underwear down and his mouth falls open, breathing harder. “Goddamn,” he whispers.
Eddie wants this to be over with as much as she wants him: more than anything. She’s riding a high that'll crash as soon as she lets it, so she might as well have fun while it lasts. That’s what this life is for, isn’t it? She’d do anything for a good time.
Neil’s body is foreign and yet so enticing. Eddie needs to know how he moves, how he inhales, where his mind is at. She’s sweating with the one-eighty of her attraction to him, teeth chattering. She bites her lip as he—
Something in the stable is moving. It’s a repetitive banging, a fighting cry amidst a wooden cage. It wants out. Neil’s brow pinches and his hands fall from Eddie’s waist in a jagged motion. He shakes his head and steps away downturned; he won’t look her in the eye.
Peeking out from behind the stall door, she sees Neil dragging Marty through the back doors, pausing every few steps to swat at him with a rope. She sighs, leaning against the solid pillar of wood behind her back. Everything is spinning when she blinks her eyes.
Neil comes back with half-baked excuses on his lips. That bitch horse needs to be exercised. He’s gotta feed the animals. He’ll show her another day. For a moment he reaches out as if to touch her, but he freezes midway and puts his hand in his pocket instead. Her skin is clammy enough with his lingering death grip.
“If you see Jane, uh, don’t speak to her,” he adds shakily. He watches Eddie go. The ceiling is low, and she ducks to avoid a wooden beam before disappearing from his field of view completely.
Neil and Annie are smoking in the living room. They didn’t even offer Eddie one; she just gets to watch. It’s hazy in here, the room clouding before her eyes. She leans into Annie’s arms and lets the smoke surround her.
Eddie’s line of sight keeps drifting towards Neil. She can’t stop herself, not with the thought of his mouth and hands taking up so much space in her recent memory. He sits all hunched in on himself, like he’s uncomfortable in his own home. The way he picks at his lips is almost endearing. Yesterday she didn’t think much of him, but that’s changed now.
“Do anything fun this morning?” Annie asks, bringing the cigarette to her lips. She only makes small talk when she’s vying for information.
“Taught her how to sweep,” he says.
Annie laughs good naturedly. She’s setting the pawn up to take his queen. “I promise she’ll be good for something around here. Ed’s got lots of talents.”
Neil nods. “She sure does—”
Footsteps. The porch stairs creaking fast and then slowly, very slowly, the door opens. “Neil,” Jane says. “Can I speak to you outside?”
Not unlike the dog slipping his collar, Neil jumps to his feet and goes with her. Annie sits back like nothing’s wrong, but Eddie knows how much she hates being excluded. Group projects with her are a nightmare.
Outside, the yelling starts. It fits right in with the sounds of the chickens, the dog barking outside. I don’t know.
Annie’s not a talker, not really. She’ll stay so quiet, trying to ignore what’s upsetting her. Eddie won’t even know about the anger until it hits a fever pitch and crashes down on her.
Why not?
Eddie came home late one night to find Annie baking. It was the strangest thing, Annie with her sleeves rolled up, lifting trays of golden cupcakes out of the oven. Annie, with her men’s haircut and permanent scowl, piping pink icing at the kitchen counter. Perfect circles.
“How was your day?” she’d asked, too busy placing sugar pearls with tweezers to look up.
It was good, actually. It was a good day up until then. Eddie finished her stupid U.S. lit project, the one that should’ve been easy but her partners wouldn’t pick up when she called. She hates group projects. She doesn’t know why she decided to be an English major, but her new prof seems promising. They had pizza in the dining hall today, did you get some? And she doesn’t even have that much homework tonight because she moved her schedule around for tomorrow. When Eddie’s stream of consciousness petered out, silence settled like cellophane, preserving the scene before them.
Eddie remembers what happened clear as day: Annie dropped the glass mixing bowl and it shattered. It was not an accident. There was no way. She turned around sharply, walked halfway to the oven, and something broke. Then she dropped the bowl.
She would not let Eddie help clean up. In fact, when she finally did look away from the mess, she ordered Eddie out of the kitchen. Or, she tried to.
“Get out,” were the words she’d used. And then she’d gasped, softly, as if she couldn’t believe herself for saying them. “Sorry. I’ll clean it up.”
Eddie didn’t listen. She stood her ground in the doorway and wouldn’t be dismissed. At some point Annie relinquished her position in the standoff, choosing instead to leave the kitchen and shoulder check Eddie on the way out. It didn’t hurt too much at the time. The next morning she found, between the crook of her shoulder and her ribs, a faint bruise. It was the last time Annie apologized for her anger, and the first of many bruises to come.
I’ll show you.
The broken glass was gone before Eddie left for school. In the fridge were rows of cupcakes put away neatly. The trays took up half the space in there but nobody mentioned it.
Eddie stopped buying milk because it wouldn’t fit. The cupcakes remained uneaten. By the third week, a dark sludge had begun to form on the underside of the containers. Both of them avoided the kitchen. Annie took her coffee black.
I don’t believe it.
Annie’s no savior, but she sure wishes she was.
I’m not lying to you.
Jane storms in looking like she’s gonna hit something. Annie’s already up, prepping for damage control.
“Let’s go!” Jane snaps. Annie takes Eddie by the hand and starts out after Jane. Neil makes some protests, but he joins them anyway.
Eddie hates to admit it, but she’s out of breath before they reach the gate. The pastures are right up along the main road, but they stretch further than Eddie can see on the horizon. The gate is easily more than a football field away, and Jane doesn’t show any signs of stopping when they reach it. She rattles the chains, fighting with the key. Neil moves to help her but she pushes him off.
Eddie looks all around, trying to find the problem, but she doesn’t see anything amiss. It must be bad if she and Annie had to come and see it, too. They climb a rolling hill, dragging up thinning grass into the worst of the unyielding sun.
As soon as it comes into view, Eddie regrets ever having to see it at all. Even Neil, trekking up to it, looks stunned. Annie’s the only one that refuses to waver. She walks right up to it.
“Don’t—” Jane sniffles, trying to square her shoulders. “Don’t touch her.”
Eddie wouldn’t want to touch it with a pole. She gags at the smell alone, but the sight is unbearable. It’s not like some crime scene out of a movie. There’s no obvious blood in sight, or tracks leading away from it. Even in the copious mud, where every step leaves a print clear enough to photograph, there are no tracks around the body. Or, the carcass.
It was a cow once. Eddie’s pretty sure of that. The hooves are all cracked and damaged, but the legs are mostly untouched. Its legs look so short and small compared to its barrel of a rib cage. The skin of its stomach lies in flaps over its spine and flank, revealing a yawning cavity removed of guts or anything. Flies buzz around it, feeding on the quick decaying soft tissue. It's so dark in there, the pit of its insides—something that Eddie knows was never supposed to be exposed to the light.
Its neck has a series of puncture wounds, three to be exact, perfectly round and made by who knows what. Eddie looks out at the cows in the field around them. They’re heavy and fat and immovable, even from a distance. They graze as if nothing has happened. This cow doesn’t seem like much more than its own skeleton. A dark shadow mars the earth beneath it.
“Is that blood?” Eddie’s not sure who asked that question. Maybe it was her.
Neil shakes his head, but Jane answers for him. “There ain’t no blood. Dunno how. It’s fire.” She bites the inside of her cheek and shifts her posture. Her arms cross and uncross and fold over her chest. “They burned her up,” she whispers.
Its skull is mostly there, drying in the sun, except for a distinct circle over its forehead area. The area is an inflamed yellow-pink, completely hairless; it’s been skinned. And the worst part of all: its lower jaw is gone. All of the skin is still there, melted and useless. Its lips hang on the ground. Eddie will not be able to scrape that image from her mind for a long time. It lives in the recesses. She won’t be able to walk in a dark room without feeling it beneath her feet, blubbery and dead and helpless. She takes a step to the side and feels it, actually feels the cow’s squishy corpse under her sneaker, right there, coming back for her. She shrieks.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Annie hisses, pulling Eddie back by her sweater. And because everything has been out to get her lately, the resulting discovery is more horrifying than Eddie’s conscience could have begun to make up. Lying in the grass, severed from its body, is the cow’s long white tongue.
Eddie squirms. It’s all over her. Her arms move involuntarily, and she’s saying something like get it off me get it off go away and she’s actually fucking whimpering because she needs to get so far away from all of this right this second.
“Control your girl,” Neil mutters, clearly amused by his own suggestion. Annie pushes Eddie away and tells her to shut up and turn around if she can’t fucking handle it. Jane is not laughing. She rubs at her eyes, the bridge of her nose, her mouth. Wiping away something that isn’t there.
“How’re you gonna move it?” Annie asks.
Jane scrubs the fabric of her tank top over her face. “I want a burial.”
“Fuck no,” Neil says. “I’m not tearing up my land for your little pet.”
Jane makes a sour face, gaze locked on Neil. “She wasn’t supposed to go like this. It’s not natural.”
He steps closer to the corpse. “She wasn’t producing. I was gonna shoot her anyways.”
“No. You weren’t,” she insists, jaw set.
“We talked about this.”
Eddie’s still wondering how Jane figured out which cow is which. They all look the same, and the body before them is far beyond recognition. The cows do wear tags, but this one’s ears are gone.
Every time she looks at it she finds a new detail to make her heave. Whoever did this is out there right now, probably going about his day without a second thought. Eddie is dirty, and it’s hot out, and her throat is threatening to tear itself apart.
“I’m going to find who did it,” Jane says. That’s a promise Eddie is not going to get in the way of. It’s a little freaky the way Jane speaks, voice soft and hoarse. She’s smiling, showing just the tips of her canines. Something rolls down her cheek and maybe it’s just sweat, but it could very well be tears.
Under instructions not to touch the dead cow, Annie’s starting to look pretty bored. “I gotta dip,” she sighs. “Meeting’s today.”
No. That’s not right. She can’t leave. Doesn’t she know how messed up Jane and Neil are? She doesn’t want to be alone with them again.
Annie squeezes Eddie’s forearm and starts walking back towards the gate. Eddie should probably call after her, stop her, but she doesn’t want to sound desperate. Jane is still smiling down at the corpse, blinking rapidly. Eddie catches Neil looking at her and he turns away like nothing happened.
“Are you fuckin’ crying?” he laughs, knocking Jane on the shoulder.
She rounds on him. “Say that again.”
Neil knows better than to fight with Jane when she’s like this. She’s a fucking bulldog, half a foot shorter than him and twice as strong. When he closes his eyes he sees the curve of his chest in the mirror this morning, the frustration building as he chased after Marty, the uncomfortable twist of Eddie’s mouth, eyes shut. He’ll never be a real man, he can’t please a woman, his own horse can make a fool out of him in a matter of minutes. Life’s fucked. “Fight me, tough guy.”
Eddie takes a seat on the muddy ground, facing away from the scuffle. Up here on the hill, a gentle breeze works through her hair, cutting the heat for just a few seconds. The sun sends an awful glare over her glasses, so she closes her eyes. Never mind the bickering. There’s a cow a few yards away, and she silently goads it to come closer.
Eddie’s friend used to live on a farm out in rural PA. The two of them were convinced they could talk to animals with their minds. Eddie was a forest fairy. She didn’t have to be afraid.
She looks back over her shoulder just in time to see Neil spitting in the grass. It makes her stand up instantly.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Jane says, scowling.
The walk back to the house is quiet, deflated. Annie’s gone again already. Neil walks ahead while Jane lags behind. Eddie is thoroughly caught in the middle. Her nice sneakers are scuffed and dirty, but she can’t take her eyes off them.
Finally she begins to recognize the area. Trees are few and far between but all of the endless grass looks the same to her. She stares at the little house until it grows fuzzy and pixelated in her crossing vision, obscured by sun spots. They’re so close.
Of course, then Neil stops dead before anyone can get in the front door. “Hang on,” he says, stepping off the driveway. “The horses need to get out today.”
“Do it yourself,” Jane scoffs.
“No,” he grabs her elbow, “I said—”
“Get the fuck off me!”
“I said the horses need exercising.” His tone is low, suggestive. Jane stands indifferent. “Just c’mon.”
Neil is waiting for her in the round pen. His prized possession is ready for combat, groomed and shiny beneath the sweltering sun. The leather of Marty’s saddle gleams, oiled. His mane, for once, has been pulled and combed.
Jane’s skull is throbbing so hard it might fracture at any minute, but she can’t deny her curiosity: to what does Neil owe the pleasure? Or, to whom? Eddie hangs back awkwardly by the gate—she always looks a little awkward—and Jane admires her unquestioningly. This is gonna be good.
“Hold him,” Neil says, handing the reins to Eddie.
Marty immediately wheels around to snap at him, jostling his ridiculous shank bit in the process. That stupid horse always manages to piss himself off. Cows wouldn’t do this shit.
Neil says something to Eddie that Jane can’t hear, and then he puts his arm out. Eddie hesitates once or twice before putting her foot on his open palm. He lifts her up until she’s all the way settled on top of Marty. She grabs the horn of the saddle and holds onto it for dear life while Neil works on cinching a flank strap. Shit, Jane forgot they still had one of those, but she’s not surprised. Then it hits her: Neil is trying to cheer her up. That pansy bastard; she knew he had a heart somewhere in there.
As soon as the second girth is on, Neil is out of the way. He hops up on the fence next to Jane. “Cheers,” he says, as Marty begins to buck.
Jane hadn’t seen a real buck until Neil bid on that damn horse from the back of a truck in Vidor. Marty can sure shake a leg, panting and whipping his hind legs in the air. She doesn’t believe in a lot of that ethical bullshit the hippies are saying about horses, but it’s true that old habits die hard. Marty hates being ridden.
Jane can’t blame him; Eddie flops around like a sack of potatoes. Does she know that the more she squeezes her legs, the faster he’s gonna go? Marty throws his head down and runs circles, preparing to initiate his death drag. Naturally, Eddie falls forward and hangs onto his neck, even though it throws the rest of her body off balance. An angry horse plus a green rider makes for the perfect storm—and it’s really fucking funny to watch.
Every time Marty comes near the fence, Eddie looks up at the two of them with this hopeless, pleading expression smeared onto her twisted face. She’s so pretty when she’s scared. “Sit up,” Jane yells, just so she can watch Eddie try and correct herself before almost falling clean off as Marty pivots and leaps sideways.
Jane leans into Neil’s shoulder, trying to quit laughing and just enjoy the show.
“Get off me, fag,” he says, swatting at her, before looking to Eddie again. “Stay still up there, girlie, be gentle with him!”
Eddie doesn’t know how to be gentle. If she loosens her grip on his mane, surely she’ll fall off. She tries not to tug on it harder, but she’ll probably get hurt a lot worse than this horse will if she’s the one who hits the ground.
There are few times in Eddie’s life where she truly believes she is on top of the world. The feeling is sorely missed. In her mind she is still seventeen and cutting her own hair. First day of high school, smiling at the pretty girl in her algebra class with the short hair. She is alone in her room again, writing, pen sparkling in her hands, she cannot stop. Knitting her green scarf for the big game. Her sister is holding her up by the waist, giggling. Eddie reaches for the top of the Christmas tree. She is swooping, suddenly steady, out of her dad’s arms. The bike is keeping itself up. She is pedaling far away from here.
She loses her grip and wakes up.
“What time is it?”
There are two houses, actually.
“Holy shit, uh…”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
What? “Hm?”
“No,” I don’t think so. Should she, uh, the clock. Yeah.
Oh.
“Eddie.”
“Yeah? Where’s Marty?”
The blond one is looking at her. “Follow my finger. That’s a good girl.”
“I’m not an animal. You shouldn’t talk to me like that.”
Jane stands up quickly. She says something under breath, but Eddie can’t hear it until a few minutes later. By then it’s just a shadow, smoke gone in the air. Jane’s green boots are so shiny like the saddle. Where’s Marty?
Jane is talking again. “Kneel. Over here. Now.”
“I’m already on the ground.”
“I fucking mean it.”
Eddie tries to do what she’s told, but then Jane pushes her down. “Shh, don’t move. Stay down.”
“But you told me to kneel.”
Jane nods all serious. Her face is buzzing. “He’s coming.”
Someone comes through the gate. He was with her this morning. They know each other. Right, he lives here.
The sun hurts, but Eddie does make it back inside. She’s in bed and then everything is dark but they are still talking.
“Sounds like gibberish, right?”
“'Pretty sure she said your name.”
“Worth it.”
When Eddie is awake again she knows she is awake, because it’s not subtle. The light is so loud. It’s dark outside. She gets up and almost falls over, heart pounding. Her vision shorts in and out, yellow gray fireworks draping over her corneas. Fuck.
She wanders into a room she hasn’t been in before, caught by her own reflection. She watches her eyes in the mirror for a while. They look so pale and grey in this lighting. There’s a dark bruise around her temple from where she hit her head; skinned knees raw and still dirty; a nasty laceration runs the length of her neck and down her shoulder, just brushing her collarbones. It’s shallow, sure, but puckered and red. She hadn’t noticed the pain until now. She doesn’t even know what cut her.
She blinks and Jane is sitting behind her, on the bed. Eddie whirls around—or, she tries to. Everything hurts, but at least she’s not dreaming anymore.
“Let’s get you sat down,” Jane says, and soon Eddie is not by the mirror anymore. Jane keeps trying to guide her towards a seat, but Eddie pushes her off. Finally Jane slinks away towards that other guy. Oh—Neil. That’s what his name is.
Eddie turns, hearing a lock sliding into place. Something small and furry brushes against her legs. When she tries to look down she feels so dizzy. Her temple aches. She doesn’t wanna sit down.
“Damn, what fight did you get into today?” Annie laughs when she walks in the door. She’s staring at Eddie like they’re the only two people in the living room.
“I…” She fell. That’s not even a lie.
Neil beats her to it. “She fell,” he says. Annie nods sympathetically, still eyeing Eddie like a piece of damaged meat. It’s strangely infuriating. She wants to be desired, but not like this.
“Wait.” Eddie can’t stop herself. She can’t let Annie be fooled by them when they’re clearly so conniving. “That wasn’t what actually happened.”
“Oh?”
Eddie glances at Jane and Neil on the couch. They’re unbothered, smiling back at her.
“Go ahead,” Neil goads sweetly. “Tell Annie how you really got all those bruises.”
Her stomach sours. They’re not supposed to be acting like this. They’re supposed to be mad. They should be jumping up, grabbing her, telling her to shut the fuck up. They should at least be having some sort of a reaction. Anything at all. “I just. I did fall, just it was outside.” Eddie forces a tight smile. “That’s why I’m so banged up.”
Annie relaxes, striding towards her and stretching up to ruffle her hair. “Aw, of course you are, baby. Life on the farm’s no easy task.”
At some point Eddie returns to the ground, tired mind working at images of a horse’s errant hooves, saw dust branding her cheek, eyes closing. That cat is in her lap again, purring, humming. Buzzing.
His throat is all tight. Damn it. Crying is for sissies. He doesn’t cry over shit. Especially not girls. Eddie doesn’t count. She’s nothing to him. Annie’s rough with her all the time. She’s used to it. Her opinion doesn’t matter.
His tears are hot and fast. He grabs at the nearest stall door, fiddling with the lock. Back and forth, and the latch won’t unjam. Marty’s ears go up at the noise, bobbing his head over the door and mouthing at Neil’s hair. Neil gets the door open and swings it wide, his usual precautions forgotten. He grabs Marty by the cheekpiece of his halter and half drags him out into the aisle. Neil’s not stupid, he still fastens the cross-ties, but his vision’s crossing with every second. He swipes at his eyes. What if someone sees him like this?
It’s too much. He wasn’t supposed to have enjoyed watching her fall. It was funny until it wasn’t. Over and over, he sees her cling to Marty, clawing desperately at his neck, like she was drowning, like she was falling from the greatest height. Like she was worried he was going to kill her.
“You wouldn’t do that,” Neil mutters, pressing his cheek to Marty’s neck. “You’re not a killer, you’re my special boy.” Fuck. He’s getting Marty’s fur all damp. Marty peers back at him curiously with those big black pupils, exposing the whites of his eyes. “I raised you. I’ll always love you,” Neil sobs, clutching at his special boy’s pretty black mane.
He reaches for the grooming kit on the floor. He curries endless circles into Marty’s short fur, from his ears to his hindquarters. He runs soft bristles down Marty’s legs. There’s barely any dirt left from when he groomed him earlier, but still Neil works the dust away diligently. He’s going to make Marty’s coat shine. His boy deserves that.
He leans over to pick Marty’s feet even though he knows he’ll get nipped at. When he does inevitably get bitten, in a matter of seconds, it just makes him cry harder. Marty’s just an animal, he doesn’t mean it. Neil still loves him.
He doesn’t get around to all four hooves. He is a bad, bad man. He sinks to the floor as Marty paws anxiously at the ground, striking him in the abdomen. It takes Neil's breath away. He lies back on the dirty stable floor under his beautiful, special boy, just watching Marty’s wide stomach expand and contract with his breathing. Neil counts all the little veins there as if they were stars. The overhead lighting is near blinding. He knows what he has to do.
The flask is somewhere in a box in the tackroom, waiting for a time just like this. He’s got them all over the property, in cabinets, drawers, the fridge. It’s some awful fucking concoction, probably something Jane mixed with the runoff from her own liquor collection. She likes wine more, anyways. She only likes to drink for fun.
Neil downs all of the foul liquid, hating himself for it. He’s dizzy already. He doesn’t think that’s from the alcohol. He can’t go back inside the house now, but he needs more. He makes it all the way to the end of the barn before remembering Marty. St. Martin, his good boy. His easily irritated, bit-shy, cow kicker of an animal. The one he’s had since he was a terrified little foal in a vast auction pen. They pulled him from his mother. That was when Neil knew he needed that horse more than any other bidder.
“Lemme put you back,” Neil says, reaching for the cross-ties. They’re heavier than he remembered. Marty won’t wanna go off the property, so this might be Neil’s last chance to really say goodbye. He unfastens Marty’s halter as he lets him back into his stall, hanging it on the hook by the door. Marty runs straight for the hay net in the corner, not looking back once. “I love you so much,” Neil whispers, putting all of his weight on the stall door. “Yeah, they’ll take good care of you even though I’m gone. Or maybe they'll just shoot you,” he laughs. “Put an end to everything. Sounds nice.” Then, not unlike a spooked horse, he bolts.
It’s darker outside than he expected. He has no idea what time it is. He fumbles his way across the grass and towards the garden. He can just make out the sheen of the greenhouse windows, reflected in the moonlight. It’s locked, because apparently he cares about security. Since when? It’s not like any of this shit really matters.
He can’t get his key ring off his belt. It’s like it’s fighting him, caught on his pants or something. What the fuck. Just—he manages to unsnag it, feeling around for the shape of the key he knows so well. He gets the greenhouse unlocked, swinging the door wide open. No use checking on his plants right now. He figures after he’s gone, nobody else will get to enjoy his sad attempt at home growing. Jane hates the smell of weed, she says, and Annie probably doesn’t even know it exists. His garden is going to die. His hard work will waste away, just like him.
It’s there, beneath one of his plant pots. Bourbon or something. He doesn’t read the label, just takes it with him. Back to the barn.
He doesn’t love Betsy the way he loves Marty, but she might as well be his oldest friend. She used to be his dad’s. Neil grew up with her. He got taken away, and when he came back, she was still there. He nearly runs to grab her shit from the tack room. Time is too slow. He does the bridle first, working backwards. She doesn’t need the cross-ties. She just stands patient in her stall. Her saddle doesn't look right, he can tell that much. He moves it all around, shifts it up and down her back. Her girth is too wide, unfamiliar, but he ignores it. He cinches her up and climbs on right there. He leans flat forward against her neck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but once they’re out he sits up tall. Kind of.
He kicks Betsy hard. He’s sorry he can’t be gentle with her, but she can take it. She’s used to it. Her opinion doesn’t matter. Sensing trouble, she picks up her head and takes off down the yard at a meandering trot, tripping a few times. Neil doesn’t know what he’ll do if she breaks an ankle, but he kicks her again anyways. Over and over. She’s a lot better with vocal cues, but he’s not sure he even has a voice anymore.
The average horse weighs more than a thousand pounds. Not even grass can muffle the sound of Betsy’s frenetic movement. Annie hears them before she sees them. Eddie is settled between her legs on the couch, head resting on her shoulder. Jane watches them closely from the other side of the room.
“Hold on, baby,” Annie says, untangling herself from Eddie and getting up. She’s walking towards the window before she can stop herself. “Jane,” Annie says, swatting her on the arm when she’s slow to react. “Jane!”
“What, you see a coyote or somethin’?” Jane doesn’t really want to care, but her curiosity gets the better of her. She creeps over to the window as well.
It’s dark out, but their silhouettes are clear in the moonlight. Neil, hunched over in the saddle of a very confused horse, stumbling left and right around the yard with no obvious goal. “What the hell’s he doing out there?”
“I dunno,” Jane shrugs. “Maybe he’s in a mood.”
Annie presses her fingers to the glass. “He’s beating the hell out of her. He doesn't ride like that.”
“You think he’s drunk?”
“I think we better go and stop him before he gets any further,” Annie decides. Her and Jane rush to get their boots on. Annie grabs her jacket from the coat rack.
“Wait,” Jane says, jabbing a thumb towards Eddie. “Do we leave her here?”
“She’ll be fine, she’s a good one. Right?”
Eddie sits up, realizing the gravity of what they’re suggesting. They’re leaving her alone. This is her chance. “I won’t run, I’m not stupid,” Eddie laughs, feeling shrill and uncomfortable. Annie and Jane dash out of the house.
“Neil!” Annie calls, hands on her hips. He doesn’t notice her, or maybe he’s choosing to ignore them. He looks real close to falling right out of the saddle.
“It’s only Betsy,” Jane says. “I’ll go get her. You block the gate.”
Betsy doesn’t spook easy, but catching a horse is a tactical thing. Jane doesn’t have a stick or a whip to hold out, so she just waves her left arm in the direction of the gate, trying to encourage Betsy the opposite way. When Neil and Betsy get close, he pulls sharply up and away. He’s trying to dodge her efforts. “Damn it Neil, get off the fucking horse!”
“No,” he says, steering Betsy towards the gate and kicking her sharply in the gut. She listens this time, finally picking up a hand gallop and heading straight towards Annie.
To her credit, Annie tries real hard to stop them. Any injury she sustains is probably better than letting Neil and Betsy run off down the road. They’re going to get themselves killed. She waves her arms in the air, she yells. She goes to close the gate as a last resort. It falls off of its hinges. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, we never fixed it,” Jane says, watching Neil race past the entrance to the farm and disappear down the long road.
Annie takes a massive breath in, shoulders heaving. “You ever watched the rodeo, Jane?”
“Course I have.”
“In bronc riding, you seen them rush the guy after the timer’s up?”
Jane nods.
“C’mon then,” Annie says, already headed towards the stable. “Let’s play cowboy.”
Just by examining the barn floor, there’s no way to tell that Neil spent hours holed up in here this evening. Everything is put neatly in its place, Marty and Gamble shuffle unbothered in their stalls. The only clue is Betsy’s wide open stall door and, as Jane discovers upon entering the tack room, the fact that his flask is gone. She grabs Gamble’s saddle and everything and heads to his stall.
Annie comes in soon afterwards. “This ain’t Marty’s right tack.”
“Oh,” Jane frowns. “He must’ve took Marty’s saddle for Betsy. Just use it anyways, I don’t have a spare.”
These two really are shit at owning horses. They were raised better than this. Annie grabs Betsy’s stuff and puts it on Marty. He kicks out at her when she tries to tighten the girth. She slaps him on the stomach and keeps going. “Stop that. Jane, help me with the bit.”
While Jane holds Marty’s neck to the wall, cornering him, Annie gets two fingers in his mouth and forces the bit past his teeth. He drops it. She pushes it in again. Jane nudges him closer to the wall. In one quick motion, Annie presses the bit to his tongue a final time and pulls the bridle over his ears. Took him long enough. Every second that Neil’s out there is a second wasted on their part.
Jane gives Annie a leg up before throwing herself at Gamble, hoping for the best. She manages to get on top of him, and they’re off.
Annie really doesn’t wanna have to kick Marty, but he’s distracted. Although he’s usually prone to taking off when he’s angry, he won’t move past a lazy canter. If she kicks him, he’ll get mad and ignore her other cues, but if he keeps on like this Neil will be dead in a ditch by the time they find him. Even Gamble’s gotten the message. He runs as fast as his little pony legs can carry him, leading the way for probably the first time in his life.
“Come. On,” Annie says, squeezing his sides and kissing at him. She grazes his shoulder with the end of her reins. He puts his head down and kicks up his heels, throwing a fit, but he won’t go any faster.
“Check it out,” Jane says, slowing down and entering what most would consider Marty’s danger zone—his hindquarters. Jane reaches a hand out, narrowly avoiding his errant cow kicks, and hits him hard right behind his saddle. Marty takes off, and Gamble scrambles to follow.
It’s been so long since Annie’s had a proper gallop. She stands up in the saddle, wind in her hair. Once a horse like Marty gets running, his brain melts out of his ears. All he can focus on is going fast and going strong.
Annie’s thoughts race faster than her body. She is trapped on a horse who will never move as fast as she needs him to, a creature with his eyes on the ground and his heart in the clouds. The fields are vacant; it’s too dark to change pace without fumbling.
Marty sees Neil before anyone else does. With a panicked whinny he sidesteps and almost sends Annie over his shoulder. Neil bursts from a clearing between the trees, still hanging onto Betsy by the neck.
Coming up behind Annie, Gamble balks, the whites of his eyes rolling. Neil kicks Betsy forwards with all his strength, veering off the road. Head swinging, Betsy’s stride breaks. Neil circles her around again. She refuses. They go again. The poor horse blanches, confused.
“He’s trying to jump the fuckin’ fence,” Jane says, locking eyes with Annie.
The cow fence, in all its barbed wire glory, is absolutely not jumpable. Annie ties her reins and slides off of Marty. Neil’s coordination is degrading; it just makes him easier to catch. Annie lunges for Betsy’s bridle at about the same time that Jane comes around and knocks Neil clean off Betsy.
Annie dusts her hands on her jeans and holds the reins of the cooling horses. Jane tumbles from Gamble and takes Neil with her, tackling him by the waist.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Annie demands, hand on her hip. Jane’s got him pinned, but he won’t stop muttering, squirming.
“…somethin’ stupid. Shouldn’t have done that. Can’t fuckin’ control myself…”
Jane lifts his useless body onto Gamble, making sure to hold his reins for him, and begins leading Betsy back towards the house.
Quietly, Annie mounts up again. The horses are utterly exhausted. She leans back in the saddle, watching the moonlight glow.