"Drought," they answer at the same time.
"Drought?"
"Yeah, you know that thing we’re in?" Wes makes a face like I am extraordinarily stupid. "Or don't you watch the news at ASU?"
I open my mouth, a heartfeltfuck offpoised on my tongue, when Wes turns his attention back to my dad. "Last night Wyatt called Jo's ranch a tinderbox." His sentence has additional meaning, one I don't understand. But our dad certainly does.
"Don't even think about it." This time, Dad is actually growling.
I know better than to ask the obvious question. I sit quietly and keep my ears open, hoping to learn through listening.
"I told Wyatt no, Dad. He looked pissed, but he understood. Once I tell him about the dead eyes, he'll understand even more."
Our dad nods. "Let's go for a ride this morning."
Wes eyes him with uncertainty. “You sure about that?"
"As goddamn sure as I've ever been about anything. You can only count on grass-fed cows staying grass-fed for so long without water."
"What is it you think you'll find out there?" It's my question. I can't help it. I'm dying of curiosity.
Dad gazes at me, his stare intent, as he decides if he's going to share the ranch's woes with me. He takes a bite of his breakfast, chews and swallows, then speaks. "I want to take a look at the land that borders our back pasture. It was purchased a couple years back and nobody ever did anything with it. But as dry as the ground is right now, it makes me think it's more than a lack of rain. Where the hell is the groundwater?"
"What do you think is happening?" Wes asks.
My dad shrugs. "Let me finish my breakfast and we'll go find out."
"Can I come?" Excitement tumbles through me as I think about riding with my dad and Wes.
"No," they answer at the same time, and it's irritating.
The muscles in my face tighten. "Why not?"
"Because I don't know what we're getting into," my dad says, "and I don't want to put you in the middle of it."
"Bullshit," I challenge. "You think I'm too young. Or…" I cock my head to the side. "Is it because I'm a girl?"
"Well, now…" my dad starts.
"Hold on there," Wes begins. Neither one of them wants to be called out, nor do they want to be guilty of what I've hinted at, but that's too damn bad. It's not my job to tend to their comfort level.
"I don't want to hear it from either one of you." I stand quickly, the chair scraping the wood floor. “It’s early, and I have enough time before I’m supposed to leave for the vendor fair. I’m going to get Hester Prynne ready. I'll see you out there."
I stop at the front door to pull on my boots. Gramps sits in the rocking chair in the living room, his eyes closed. I turn the knob, and with one boot out the door an old, creaky voice behind me says, "Give 'em hell."
"You seewhat I'm talking about?" My dad nods down at the grass we're riding over.
"It looks more like hay," Wes comments, and I sense defeat in his tone. "Just a little farther and we'll hit the property line."
I know this isn't a pleasure ride, we're doing real 'reconnaissance', as Wes called it, but it's nice to be out here with Wes and my dad. I can't think of a time it's ever been just the three of us.
We approach the property line, as delineated by a wooden fence. I hop down from Hester Prynne and stride forward until my hips are flush with the top of the sun-warped wood. Tenting a hand over my eyes, I gaze out at the vast land. It's lower in elevation, more desert than the HCC. In the far-off distance I see a home, and beyond that large machinery dots the landscape. From here it looks as if Colt dumped his small toys on a field.
I wonder what it is they're doing out here. And I'd really like to know why they need balers.
My dad says something but I don't hear him. I reach for the joint of the fence, disconnecting a rail from the post and tossing it aside.
"What the hell, Jessie?" Wes calls out. "That's private property."
