ENNIS
By
Tom Forster
Chapter
2
Billy Wayne
Barker came from a solid family. His mom, Sarah, was old man
Barker's, Vernon Senior's, baby sister. She grew up on the ranch
outside of Riverton but when she hit seventeen she was ready to get out
and see some more of the world. She saw her opportunity to do
that with her third cousin, a strapping, black headed young man named
Alvin Barker.
Alvin was
fifteen years her senior and she was crazy about him. When they got
married and headed down to Texas in 1955 she told her momma and daddy,
“If thangs don't
work out, at least, I won't have to change my last name!"
Things worked
out fine. They settled in Weatherford, about an hour west of Fort
Worth, and Alvin got a good job as a traveling feed salesman.
They even bought a hundred acres outside the town limits and set up to
raising a few head of cattle on the side.
Sarah &
Alvin had four boys in five years. Billy Wayne was the
youngest. When Vernon Sr. made his annual trips from Riverton to
Fort Worth on cattle business, he would always stay a couple of weeks
with Sarah, Alvin and the boys. Vernon took a liking to Billy and
would always tell him about his ranch up in Wyoming.
“Billy, you
gotta come up and see me and your Aunt Rita sometime. This flat
country ain't good for the soul, boy,— and look at those scrawny cattle
out there,— they ain't even got enough to munch on."
Over the years,
Billy would hear stories from his uncle and mother about Wyoming.
He always wanted to head up that way but never got the chance.
Billy looked up
to his brothers, but being the youngest, despite the closeness in
years, he always felt set apart. Everybody called the three older
ones "The Three Musketeers" because, they were always together.
They always covered for each other when there was trouble, and
there was always trouble when the Barker boys were around.
Billy could be
counted on to help his folks around the ranch while his brothers would
head off for parts unknown. The ranch work appealed to
Billy. He especially liked working with and taking care of the
horses. He'd ride around the small spread on his gelding with a
watchful eye for coyotes, his rifle sticking out of his saddle for easy
access, especially during the Spring calving season.
Billy loved
going to the rodeo in Fort Worth to watch the cowboys rope and ride,
but it was the bull riding that interested him most. He'd watch
the tough young men nervously tightening the ropes before the gate
would open, then the adrenaline rush of the eight second ride.
Billy was a
loner through high school, always looking in from the sidelines.
He got good grades, and his folks had hopes he'd be the first in the
family to go to college. They'd written off the three older boys
as far as school was concerned. Billy wanted none of it.
His sights were set on the rodeo and he needed a way to get his foot in
the door so he could get some experience under his belt.
Chad Tyner was a
senior, a year ahead of Billy. Chad was already competing in
junior rodeo competitions in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Billy looked
up to Chad, though they never had a conversation of more than a dozen
words. Billy saw his chance one hot summer afternoon when he
spied Chad in the bleachers at a local rodeo in Weatherford.
"Hey Chad, you
ridin today?"
Chad continued
to look straight ahead.
“Nah, I'm just
watchin.’ I got a competition in Mesquite next week and I don't
wanna’ risk gettin hurt for the puny pay-out they got here. What
you
doin here?"
After that day
Billy and Chad became big buddies and Billy finally got the chance to
learn how to ride. He wasn't too good at it at first, but Chad
was a good teacher. Billy soon began to see him as the brother he
never had. Some weekends they would take off out into the desert
to camp and ride their horses or head into Fort Worth to watch the
professional riders at rodeos on the north side. Chad’s
girlfriend would sometimes come along, but Billy always liked it best
when it was just the two of them.
One early summer
evening after Billy’s junior year, Billy was brushing down his horse
when Chad pulled up in his truck.
“Hey buddy, you
wanna drive out to the lake and drink a few cold ones?”
“Sure,— gimme a
few minutes to finish this up.”
Billy always
felt nervous and excited when Chad was around. They drove an hour
out the west road and turned onto the dirt track that went out to the
lake. They’d been fishing there a few times. It was a
beautiful, warm evening and the stars were coming out. Chad
backed his pickup near the water and they got out and sat on the
tailgate. Chad brought along a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and
he popped the top off two bottles and handed one to Billy.
“Damn, it sure
is nice out here. I’d like to have a piece of land along the lake
here with a cabin.”
Billy noticed
Chad was sitting so close he could feel the heat from his body.
“Yep, that sure
would be nice.” Billy replied.
They sat a
long while swinging their legs off the tail gate drinking their
beers. Billy was never happier.
After a couple
of hours of shooting the breeze, Chad hopped down off the truck.
“Well buddy,
it’s time we got a goin,’ and your doing the drivin.’”
He tossed the
keys to Billy.
After the dirt
track, the road back to Weatherford from the lake was straight, long,
and pitch black. Billy didn’t have his own truck yet, but Chad
let him drive his some of the time when they went off doing
things. After thirty minutes, Chad was sound asleep in the front
seat and Billy slowly moved his leg so it was touching Chad’s.
His heart was pounding in his chest.
Billy didn’t see
the big buck in the road until it was too late, and when he swerved to
miss it, the jacked up 4X4 tumbled over and over into the black
desert. Billy was thrown from the truck into a soft pile of dirt
and brush. Chad wasn’t so lucky.
When Billy
recovered from a few broken bones, he gave up. He was still in
the hospital and couldn’t go to Chad’s funeral,— not that he would have
if he’d been able to, he was too ashamed. Billy wished he was the
one who died that night. He tried to go back to school in the
fall but dropped out after a few weeks. His folks encouraged him
to return but finally gave up, then they started suggesting that he go
into the army.
Billy drifted
for a dozen years. He traveled around the Southwest picking up
odd jobs; roadwork, construction, ranch work; never staying anywhere
more than a few months; however, he did hold down a ranching job
outside of Albuquerque for three years.
He made friends
wherever he went. His quick smile and eagerness to please was
very appealing, but he never let anyone get too close. His only relief,
from the crushing guilt and self loathing, was those rare times when he
could drive out into the desert and camp alone under the stars.
He welcomed the solitude.
He called his
folks every few weeks to let them know he was okay. Eventually he
returned to Weatherford and moved back in with his parents. They
were getting older and needed his help. A year after he returned,
his dad died suddenly of a massive heart attack. Billy took a job
with a local construction company and dreamt of building up the
homestead to make it viable, but the land was bone dry a lot of the
time and couldn’t support more than a couple dozen head of cattle.
Billy always
looked forward to his Uncle Vernon’s visits, though in recent years, he
would sometimes send his man, Chet, instead. In the summer of
1994, Uncle Vernon came down and stayed a week with Sarah and
Billy. Billy could see he was slowing down a lot but that didn’t
stop the old man from taking care of business. The day before he
was to head back up to Riverton, Barker asked Billy to drive into
Weatherford to have a bite with him at the café. They
settled into a booth, and the waitress took their orders.
“Son, your
momma’s worried about you. She thinks you’re stickin’ around here
on her account and she wants to see you settle down.”
Billy squirmed
under the old man’s gaze, he loved his uncle but was always a little
bit intimidated by him.
“I’m
settled. Besides, I’m the only one she has here now. She
don’t never hear from my brothers. Hell, I got me two nieces I
ain’t never seen.”
“Billy, your
momma’s doin fine. You don’t have to stay in Weatherford, there’s
nothin here for you, son”.
Old man Barker
was a tough bird. He never could understand why Sarah wanted to
leave Wyoming all those years ago. The family ranch outside of
Riverton had been in the family for three generations and he intended
to keep it that way. When his only son, Vernon Jr., told him and
Rita that he didn’t want any part of ranching life, it was a tough pill
to swallow. The last he heard, Junior was back east somewhere
selling dope. Barker didn’t have anyone to turn to and he always
liked Billy. When Sarah called him a couple of months back to
talk about Billy they both agreed on what would be best for the young
man.
“Billy, I want
you,— no, I need you to come up to Riverton. I can’t manage the
ranch much longer, and you’re the only one with the know how.”
Billy looked at
his uncle’s tired, pleading eyes. He never thought about
something like this ever coming down the pike, but mostly, he felt
totally undeserving.
“Uncle, I’m
sorry, but it just wouldn’t be right. I ain’t never even seen the
place. Hell, the furthest north I ever been is Abilene and
it’s too damn cold for me up there. I’d never make it way
up in Wyoming country.”
“Billy, you’re
it, Son. I got nobody else to turn to. You know all about
Vernon Jr., and there’s only one man on the ranch right now I’d trust
it to,— but he ain’t family.”
Barker watched
Billy, he knew the young man had it in him, but he also understood
Billy had a demon on his shoulder he just couldn’t seem to shake.
“Billy,— you
gotta let go of the past.” The old man patted Billy’s hand.
Billy’s blue
eyes filled with tears as he looked down at the old man’s weathered
hand on his.
“I suppose I
could come up to check things out, but I ain’t promisin’ nothing.”
Barker felt a
weight lift off his shoulders.
“That’s all I’m
askin,’ Son. Plan on comin’ up early next Spring before
calvin’ season. I got a good man who’ll show you all you need to
know.”
Copyright 2006
Tom Forster