The Tally Book At The Pen Gate

Then Merle closed the book and looked straight at Chad.

“Arlo,” Merle said, without taking his eyes off Chad. “What did you pay for this man at your branding?”

Arlo cleared his throat. “Two-fifty,” he said. “Chad said he was still learning. I said I’d pay it anyway, the way he heeled.”

“Rafter T?”

“Two-fifty,” the Rafter T man said quietly. “Every time.”

Merle held the tally book up a little. “There’s twenty-four brandings in here, Chad. I know most of these brands. I’ve eaten dinner at most of these tables. And every one of them is paid ninety.”

Chad’s face had gone red under the dust. “Merle, that’s between me and my crew. I have expenses. I have the truck, the fuel, the phone, the calls. You don’t know what it takes to keep a crew.”

“I know what it takes,” Merle said. “I booked crews in this country before you were born. A man takes his fuel out of his own share. He doesn’t take it out of another man’s wages and then tell the folks paying them that the man isn’t worth it.”

He handed the tally book back to me. Then he reached for his wallet.

“This boy’s been carrying your crew all spring,” he said, and he counted out twelve twenties and a ten into my hand, right there at the pen gate. “Two hundred fifty dollars. That’s for today. I pay my own help.”

I stood there holding the money. I had not been called a boy in twenty years, and I did not mind it from Merle.

“And Chad,” Merle said, “I’ll cover Ty and I’ll cover you for today, because you rode and I said I would. After that, don’t come back to my place. Not to rope, not to book, not to visit. You’re done here.”

Nobody laughed and nobody cheered. I would not have wanted them to. It was the quietest I have ever heard a branding crew.

Chad looked around the gate, at the neighbors whose checks had been written to him all spring. Then he looked at his sister.

Jenna stepped forward. Her hands still had vaccine on them, and her voice did not shake.

“I’ve known for seven weeks, Chad,” she said. “Riley asked me not to say anything at Easter. He said to let the ranchers count. You’re going to pay him back, every dollar of the thirty-eight forty. And you’re going to do it because it’s right, not because Merle caught you.”

Chad opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at me, and for a second I saw something on his face that was not anger. I think it was shame. It was gone fast.

“Jenna,” he said.

“I’m standing with my husband,” she said. “That’s all.”

She came and stood beside me. She did not take my arm or make a show of it. She just stood there, close, and that was enough.

Chad walked to his pickup and sat in it a while. Then he drove out without staying for dinner.

Merle’s wife stood on the porch watching his dust go down the lane, and she did not say anything either.

Arlo was the first one to come over. He shook my hand and held on to it.

“I’ve got a branding for my daughter’s place on the sixth of June,” he said. “I’ll call you direct. Two-fifty, and I’ll feed your horse.”