Page 48 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
“Not so good here, look. Wider crimps”
“Extra broad crimps on that one. It’s inferior wool.”
“That one’s tender wool. See the crimps breakin’ apart? Sheep gettin’ a poor feedin’ month.”
Then Milly or Cole rolled the fleece and Marcel bagged it into the wool packs stamped with the class.
As the pens dwindled, Grady moved outside with Lady ahead of him, on it without a word or a bark between them, openinggates and moving the flock through. The buzz of the clippers was a steady drone of on-on-on, off, on-on-on, off. And on the other side of the wall from the shearers, the sheep popped out into the corral, white as newborns and skinny to their visible hip bones as they milled about like dazed new arrivals, blinking up at the sun and around at each other, only the occasional mark of bright-red blood on a shorn white flank.
The work happened non-stop until break, the pens emptying and filling, the front pen filling and filling, and one by one they got done. The shearers ground their combs and cutters before taking a seat, sparks flying from the grinder as the plate circled backwards and forwards, a sharp whirring filling the shed. The sheep bleated to one another, their hooves tapping the wooden slats of the floor, punctuating a silence that felt new after hours of the buzzing of the clippers. The deep smell of sheep manure rose up from beneath bodies heavy with wool and mingled with the greasy scent of lanolin.
“The missus sent some coffee cake for ya, Grady, but I reckon when she finds out you’re here, Little Cole, she gonna send a whole course meal,” JP said and mussed Cole’s hair as he passed him.
Cole batted him away with a guffaw, his dark eyes bright and alive. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt and took a seat on the floor among the shearers. Grady said he’d go on and get the coffee.
“I can do it.” Cole went to get up.
“Sit,” Grady told him. He went out and down to the house.
When he got back Cole was eating and taking some ribbing from Carson about something he did when he was a kid. Cole was laughing, defending himself between bites on his sandwich, and Grady couldn’t help the light feeling in his chest at seeing him so at ease.
“So, how’d ya end up here?” JP asked. “Grady don’t take hands.” JP took the coffee Grady handed him and winked.
Cole shrugged and muttered about how Grady don’t take hands but he needs them.
“Oh hoho!” JP crowed.
Grady shook his head and took a seat. He pressed his back against the wall of the front pen and took a slice of cake.
“If ya gonna take a hand, I reckon a Cole should do it,” Carson said and sized Cole up. “But I woulda gone with Jack.”
“Ah, fuck off,” Cole said.
“Just messin’,” Carson said. “Everyone knows he don’t wanna break a nail.”
“Where’s the missus, Grady?” Milly asked. “Still lawyerin’?”
“Yep.”
“She’s got a big case,” Cole said.
Grady raised both eyebrows. He hadn’t thought Cole had been listening to a word Charmaine said. But he should’ve known better—Cole was always listening.
“Yeah?” JP said to Grady.
“Yep.”
Milly rolled her eyes and turned to Cole. “Like gettin’ blood out of a stone. What’s the case?”
Cole shrugged. “Somethin’ about some kids in some kinda trouble?”
And Grady thought about how Charmaine had talked about it at dinner without actually saying it, and figured it did sound like some kids in some kinda trouble.
Everyone looked at Grady to clarify, their mouths chewing and sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes, their eyes questioning. Grady didn’t really want to get into it.
“Some kids got some trouble done to ’em,” he said.
He saw JP get it, the recognition and flash of anger in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Good thing they got her, then.” Whichwas a nice sentiment, Grady thought, but Charmaine was young and green, and she knew as well as Grady did they gave her the case because no one else wanted those cases. Still, it was true enough she’d work her ass off to give those boys the best shot they could hope for in these parts.
