Owen
Iwalk out of the house after talking with Trent about his suspicions with regard to feeling watched. Drinking from the canteen that I prepared, I look over the ranch, observing the others do their jobs. But mostly it is just another day on the ranch.
But not an ordinary day.
My mind drifts back to my date with Kelly last night, remembering her smile and her eyes under the light of the moon. It was my first date in years and I was so excited to get everything together in order to have a successful night with a beautiful woman.
I really like her and I don’t think it is just a case of infatuation. Infatuation is like having a crush on someone, and I don’t just have a crush. It could mean something more to me.
But then there’s Trent. I know that he is into her as well and I’m not certain how all of this will play out. I mean, the guy did ask her out within her first few hours here. I bet she gets that a lot from guys she’s investigating. I’d hate that. Just because you’re a beautiful woman, doesn’t mean men have the right to harass you.
I take a seat in the rocker behind me and put a foot up on the rail to push it back, creating the calming rocking motion of a mother rocking her baby to sleep. Funny how that’s something that most everyone carries throughout their life.
As I watch the others move through their chores, I recall the moments where Trent and I worked under the tyrant Lear. I shake my head, thinking that most of my life has been abusive. Trent’s always been there.
And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I allowed anything, or anyone, to come between us. As giddy as I am about the previous eight hours and it’s happenings with Kelly, I can’t let her get between us. Especially because we both have an obligation to the bank for this ranch.
Better yet, for the rest of our lives. That’s a long time to be stuck together and have a grudge against the other partner.
While I’m sitting there stuck in a whirlwind of thought, a couple of the men come running and yelling. I look out into the field and I see a pillar of white smoke rising up from one of our newest and most expensive tractors. I stand up, dropping my canteen to the floor and call into the house to get Trent.
One of the men gets to me first as Trent comes from inside. “What’s going on?” he asks while still holding the door open.
“The tractor,” he says between breaths. “It’s broken,” he pants and bends over holding his stomach. He stands again and says, “Not sure what happened,” another breath, “But it won’t move.”
I look at Trent and he looks at me. We take off running toward the field, but Trent stops at the barn for something. When I get to the tractor, sure enough, white smoke is billowing from the engine. “Damn it!”
I turn and see that Trent has grabbed a bunch of tools, carrying them up to the tractor. “Something isn’t right with the engine, it’s not burning the fuel in the combustion chamber,” I tell him when he finally reaches me.
“Let’s take a look and hopefully it’s as simple as it just being cold,” he says as he lifts the hood to the engine.
I come up beside him, looking into the engine, smelling the smoke from the fuel. I begin to move some tubes and stuff around to check for any signs of damage. “C’mon, man,” I say with a little irritation. Not at Trent, but by the loss of the day’s activities. “Can’t you read the smoke signals? You’re a native American, for cryin’ out loud.”
While still bent into the engine compartment, Trent shoots me a warning glare and I’m forced to apologize. “I’m sorry man, it wasn’t a knock on you. I’m just really frustrated with all that is happening around here.”
“It’s alright, I do understand,” he says, looking back to the tractor. “Come over here and take a look at this.” He pulls out one of the injectors and drops it from the heat. “These are all hot,” he says, pointing to the row of injectors. He gets under the engine and brings out the one that fell and hands it to me.
It’s still hot, but not hot enough that you can’t handle it. Turning it over, I see the shiny spots on the pintle. “This means one of two things. We’ve either got a case of dribbling fuel, meaning these will need to be replaced or a fucked-up cooling system.” I look at the engine again, “And seeing no sludge on the block, the injectors are somehow clogged.”
As I say that, Elizabeth comes to take a look at the engine. After a few minutes of tinkering around, she comes from under the hood saying, “I know what the problem is. I’ll be back in a flash.”
Trent and I look at each other, completely baffled that she ‘knew’ what happened. He shrugs his shoulders at me and we turn to watch her disappear into the barn. She returns with a can of mutton tallow, carburetor cleaner, and a thin wire brush. “This oughta do the trick.”
Elizabeth pulls out the other injector’s and sprays them with the carburetor cleaner, then brushes them clean. Using the mutton tallow, she wipes a smear around the core and then replaces them, one by one.
“I’d replace that gas in the fuel tank before starting this up,” she gathers her things and heads back to the barn. Even though I’m grateful to her for fixing the engine, something about her still seems odd.
Trent tells the guys to switch the gas as I turn toward the ranch. Kelly is out there making notes on her pad. I look at Trent and nod in her direction. Trent gathers his tools and we start walking out of the field, toward the note taker.
As we get closer to Kelly, she pockets her notepad and says, “Fellas, we’ve got to talk.”
In private, I’m guessing.