Sheep Dogs (chapter 4)

TW: Homophobia and slight violence

Four

Beau

         Beau picked up whistling a tune as he rode. Beau liked to whistle, though he never whistled the same tune twice, nor did he remember the last tune he carried. Since he was young, he loved to sing, whistle, and hum. His mother and teachers praised him for it, but his father did not. In his teen years, Beau had wanted to be a musician but never had the attention span to learn an instrument or to read music. So instead, he whistled random notes that sounded good together and made songs no one would hear, and he wouldn't remember. 

         Beau traveled along the path Elias told him would take him to town, and within four hours, he was riding down the long dirt road to Ralph’s place.

        He dismounted and tied off his horse. He looked back up the mountain. Perhaps he should just stay with Elias instead of asking his boss for a new tent. He shook his head. No, he had already been enough trouble for Elias.

            Beau turned his back on the mountain and walked up the steps to Ralph's office. He knocked three times on the door and waited. 

             The door creaked open just a crack, and Beau could hear Ralph muttering, “Son of a bitch.” before Ralph opened the door all the way, letting Beau inside. “Damn it, Westley, what the hell you doin’ down here?” Ralph asked. 

             Ralph was about the same age as Elias. He was round from drinkin’ and eatin’ too much over the years. He had a brown mustache, and sunglasses covered his eyes.

  “That storm the other night tore my tent to shreds; I came down to get a new one,” Beau replied.

              Ralph sat down in his chair behind his desk and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke up in the air. There was a chair in front of the desk, but that chair wasn't for employees unless they were getting fired. Beau didn't dare try to sit down; he didn’t even move from the spot he was standing in. Ralph finally looked at Beau again. “You got two jobs on that mountain, Westley,” he said. “One, keep those damn sheep alive. Two, keep my gear intact.”

                 Beau hung his head, ashamed. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a hard time doin’ his job right.

  “Where are my sheep?” Ralph's voice snapped Beau out of his thoughts. 

  “They’re safe,” Beau answered.

  “I swear I’ll break your nose if you leave my sheep alone with those unreliable mutts."

  “No, sir, I left ‘em with my friend who lives on the mountain.”

         There was a long, uncomfortable pause. When Ralph spoke, his words were measured and intimidating. “Who is your friend?” The words were calm, like when the tide recedes before a tsunami.

         Beau got the sense that he was not going to be able to charm his way out of this one, whether he answered honestly or not. So he went with the truth. “Elias Finch,” he said.

         Ralph didn’t answer for a long time. He had this stone-cold expression he always got when he was about to put his fist through a wall or someone’s face. “Boy,” he drawled. “You mean to tell me, you left my sheep with Elias Fuckin’ Finch?”

         Beau took a nervous step back. Ralph put his cigarette in the ashtray as he got up from his chair and came around the desk. Before Beau could think of something to say, Ralph had him by the collar, his fist pulled back, ready to strike. “You left my sheep alone with that damn queer?!” 

         Beau had never been good at fighting back, and if he wanted to keep his job, he was going to take the blows anyway. Even as Ralph spat insults about Elias and Beau himself, even as the taste of his own blood filled his mouth, Beau still took every single blow.

          After Ralph decided Beau had had enough, he hauled the younger man back to his feet. “You listen here, boy, and you listen well. You go back up that mountain, you get my sheep, and you take them far away from Elias fuckin’ Finch. You finish up your summer here and don't come back sniffin’ for a job next year. Ya’ hear me?”

            All Beau could manage was a nod before Ralph released him and gave him a strong shove out the door. Beau just lay there in the dirt under the hot summer sun for a while. His whole body ached, his ribs were likely bruised, and he could feel the blood drying on his face. Eventually, he dragged himself off the ground and back on his horse. On the ride back up the mountain, he didn’t whistle, just stared ahead. When Elias’s cabin came into view, he could see the other man smoking a cigarette on the porch, and he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Everything felt a little lighter; even his ribs hurt a little less when his muscles relaxed.

          He rode his horse over to the stable and got the creature settled in for the night. He took a moment to look down at his still-shaking hands. He didn’t want to show weakness in front of Elias, show him who he really was. 

Beau was hesitant to approach the cabin for fear Elias would take it upon himself to clean Beau up. That was the last thing Beau wanted, to feel any more pathetic than he already did. Nevertheless, Beau sighed and turned toward the cabin.

          When Beau reached the porch steps, he watched as Elias’s brow furrowed and reached forward only for Beau to swat his hand away. “Ya got first aid?” Beau asked.

  “Bathroom,” Elias replied, concern etched on his face.

          Beau hated that; the almost pained expression on the other man’s face was not a sight Beau wanted to see, so he walked past the other man, into the cabin, and closed the bathroom door.

          The sight of himself in the mirror nearly sent Beau into shock. Images of his adolescent self flashed in his mind. The mirrored reflection of a boy who had been on the wrong end of a belt too many times to count, and yet still looked identical to his old man.

Beau forced himself to sit on the toilet with his head between his knees for a moment so he wouldn’t pass out, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

          He found the first aid kit just fine after scrubbing his face clean with a rag. He put a bit of ointment on the cuts on his face so they wouldn’t get infected. He stared at himself in the mirror until the nausea kicked in once again and he had to look away. 

          He unbuttoned his shirt to assess the damage. Dark bruises had formed on his stomach, and he could only assume that at least two ribs were worse off than the others. The bruises were an ugly purple mixed with yellow and dark blue. The swelling wasn’t getting any better either. Beau wasn’t a doctor, so he decided the best thing he could do for it was to wrap the ugly tissue and find something cold to put on it.

          Beau finds Elias in the kitchen making supper; the other man doesn't look at him as he looks in the ice box for something to nurse his bruised abdomen.

  “There's some meat in the ice box,” Elias says without looking at Beau. “You’ll want a towel so it's not too cold.”

  “Thanks,” Beau grumbles. He does as Elias said and sits at the table, holding the meat to his chest and stomach and nursing a flask of whiskey.

         Elias sets a plate of food in front of Beau and sits across from him at the table. Beau picks at his plate absently, occasionally taking a bite.

  “What happened?” asks Elias, like he was Beau’s mother who just found out her son got into a fight at school.

  “What do you think?” Beau replies, unable to force eye contact. 

  “It looks like you’ve just got back from Hell.” Elias spits back.

  “Somthin’ like that,” Beau rests his forehead on the table and clutches his stomach.

  “C’mon, Cowboy, look at me,” Elias says gently. 

         Beau, not expecting the nickname, looks up at the other man.

  “Tell me what happened,” Elias says, locking eyes with Beau.

         Beau sighs and recounts the whole thing to the other man, and boy, did Elias have a lot to say about Ralph and how Beau shouldn’t have to put up with his shit, but when Beau mentions the things Ralph has said about Elias, the other man is quiet. Doesn’t even breathe or try to deny anything. Perhaps his blood was about to boil over. Beau was plenty pissed that he’d let himself just take Ralph’s comments after every brutal blow. But Elias isn’t angry; he just sighs after a moment and takes a sip of whiskey, like he couldn’t care less what Ralph thought of him, and somehow, Elias’s lack of concern made the tension ease in Beau’s shoulders. Beau even found himself caring less as well.

            With much protest from Beau, Elias managed to convince him to sleep in his bed that night.

  “It’ll be easier on your body,” Elias had said. And finally, Beau relented. 

            The sheets smelled like burned pine wood, sheep wool, and cigarettes. It offered a strange comfort to Beau as he lay in Elias’s bed. It occurred to him that this was likely what Elias smelled like. He had not gotten close enough to the other man to know what he smelled like before, but now that he had, he was possessive of the scent. Elias had done so much for Beau, and it made him feel a bit like he was burdening the other man, but the scent pushed those thoughts from his mind and replaced them with more complicated emotions that Beau would rather not deal with, so he pushed those thoughts aside as well and drifted off to sleep.