“What if they rush me though?”
“They won’t. And if they did, I’d handle them.”
“How will you?”
“You have to trust me, William, or this isn’t going to work.”
William didn’t look comforted. He watched the cattle like they were snakes. Billy just didn’t understand him—by the same age,he could rope and shoot and ride almost as well as he could walk. Tommy was the same. Every day they’d be out there, doingsome task, trying to show their father they could cope. William was the exact opposite. Didn’t seem to care what Billy thought.He had tried taking him out into the station but all he did was moan. And Katherine only indulged it. There was plenty oftime for all that, she said. But he would have to learn someday, and the sooner he started the easier it would come. Billywould do things differently with Thomas, he’d decided. Thank God he had another son.
“Look, stop making a bloody meal of this. Just get on with it. Come on.”
Billy approached the cattle. Meekly, William did the same. Billy noticed the stableboy watching from the fence, his bare armshanging over the railing, his head bowed, his eyes upturned. He dropped his gaze when Billy looked at him, spat out a longstring of saliva, and let it dangle until it broke and hit the dirt.
The cattle were about as easy and compliant as any he could have hoped for, yet still William managed to get it wrong. He was too hesitant, too slow, kept himself too tight to the fence. Curtly Billy corrected him, once again heard the men laughing from over by the tree as William began squealing, “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” like he’d roped the fucking moon. Billy knew what they would be thinking. Would have thought the same in their place. Making fun of the little prince.
They kept the cattle moving until William had stopped his twitching and settled himself down, though now he was too casual,his gaze wandering, wasn’t paying them enough mind—if it weren’t for Billy they would have scattered, or dug in, and it wasobvious William neither noticed nor cared. The exercise meant nothing to him. You lost control of a mob in Billy’s day, thewhole family could have starved.
“All right, that’ll do, now we’ll try some cutting out.”
This involved separating one of the heifers from the group and holding her on her own. William had never done it before butthe pony knew how to cut; it was the kind of skill that wasn’t always instinctive, for horses and humans both, but Billy hadmade sure the pony was trained before attempting to train his son.
“Can’t we just stop now? I’m tired, Daddy—please?”
They’d not been at it fifteen minutes. The boy was soft as dung. “No,” Billy snapped. “Pull your lip in. I’ll do the firstone. Watch closely now.”
He singled her out easily. The other cattle moved along. Billy had the heifer pinned against the fence when all she wantedwas to run. Funny how skittish a cow will get when separated from the herd. But with each dart she attempted, Billy and Buckdid the same, mirroring every movement, keeping her in place.
“Right. Come up here with me. You can take a turn.”
“I can’t do it.”
“All you do is follow her. The horse’ll show you how.”
The pony had its tail up, keen for a run at the cow. Billy dropped back and for a moment after the changeover neither thecow nor William moved. Watching each other closely, seeing who’d be first to flinch, and in the stillness Billy glanced overat the men watching from the tree—smoking with their hats off, enjoying the show—and at the stableboy also, a slack-jawedsneer about him, that insolent pop-eyed stare. Look! Billy wanted to shout at them. Look what he’s doing now!
Suddenly the cow bolted. The pony followed suit. Leaping across to block her, then darting back again, and Billy saw William ragdoll in the saddle, and what would happen next. “Hold him, William! Hold him, bring him round!” But the boy was long past trying to control his mount: screaming, he dropped the reins and grabbed the saddle and let the pony run loose, chasing the cow, refusing to let it pass. William slid sideways, and for a long time seemed to dangle there, as Billy jumped down and ran. He wasn’t quite quick enough. William cried out, and fell.
He hit the ground headfirst, breaking the fall with his hands. He rolled and Billy was over him, protecting him; he got thepony by its bridle, held it until the cow was gone, then when he let go again the pony shook himself and moved off, as ifunaware anything was wrong.
Kneeling at the boy’s side, Billy touched his head, body, legs, asking him, “You all right? Can you hear me? Anything broken?Let me see . . .”
William began blubbering. Billy inspected his face. There was a good-size graze on his forehead and another on his cheek;his hands had been torn up by the gravel and his shoulder hurt, he said. Billy scuffed his hair and smiled at him. “It’s onlya scratch. If you don’t get hurt you’ve never tried nothing—come on now, back up, let’s give it another go.”
“No,” William whimpered through his tears. “I don’t want to.”
Billy lifted him to his feet and stood with him, roughly brushed him down. He retrieved the boy’s hat, straightened it out,tried to put it back on his head. William hit him. Batted his arm away. Billy heard the men laughing and felt a surge of emotionthat was difficult to place. Anger, embarrassment, even a little pride. “Hey now,” he said quietly. “There’s no need for that.It ain’t my fault what just happened. You let that pony have his head.”
“I don’t want to ride the
