Chapter Text
Erwin was staring, again.
Levi drops the saddle with a loud thump, not minding how the stirrups clatter and spook the young fawns. He swipes a quick arm against the sweat building on his brow—damn did it get hot in the summer—and glares menacingly at the boy in front of him. “D’ya need sumn, boy?”
The boy in question, good ‘ol Blonde Bosses Son, Erwin Smith Jr., with no real callouses and reading glasses and more money than he knows what the hell to do with. Erwin sat himself up-top a pile of hay bales at 0600 this morning and had been watching Levi work with blank-faced interest ever since. Now he stammers in a youthful way, full of genuinely and shock; as if most of the staring in his life went unnoticed. “I—well, no. You can carry on there.”
Levi’s jaw ticks. “Dun tell me what I can an’ can’t do.”
Erwin, for a Catholic boy, doesn’t seem to have the fear in him. He rests his chin in his hand and stares at Levi with fascination, as if he was some kind of alien. “Is Mister Kenny your Pa?”
The mention of his uncle has him even more on edge than he was before. But Smith Sr. could come by any minute and have him fired for lazing around, so Levi crouches to pick up the saddle and heft it over the large mare’s back. It’s an ordeal, really—Levi was short for man of his age, but the working man’s muscle did him alright. “Nah. Uncle Kenny’s my Ma’s brother.”
“You like workin’ wit him?” asked Erwin, prying into his business as per usual. He’s got his book with him too, sitting limp on his lap; Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen him without one.
“If I dun work I dun eat,” said Levi plainly, fastening the right flank cinch before patting the mare on her bum and working at the left one. “Dun matter if I ain’t like it.”
Erwin nods at him, sort of in a glum fashion, and kicks his heels against the hay. “My Pa thinks y’all do a fine job ‘round here. Better than he could, wit his bum leg an’ all.”
First day on the job, the two things Levi noticed about Erwin Sr. were the firmness of his handshake and how bad his limp was. He reckoned it must’ve been something serious. “What, he get in a duel?”
Erwin’s face suddenly goes stony and really very serious. “Almost died, I tell ya.”
Levi stops for a moment, if only to make sure he was hearing it all right. The severity in his look was enough. “Shot in the foot?” he asked.
“Lost four toes.” replied Erwin, gravely.
“Well, I’ll be dammed.” Levi didn’t mention how, had he not lost four toes, he and Kenny would still be stealing milk from crates at a quart a week and raiding saloons for loose nuts.
“Yep.” Erwin said, popping the ‘p’ like bubblegum. He kicks his legs again—some kind of habit—and switched resting his head in his other hand. “Ya know, I’d help, I really would, but Pa tells me to focus on my readin’ an’ writin’.”
Levi finishes saddling the mare up, unfastening the lead ropes to bring her round the front of the house. Smith Sr. was out to round cattle this morning, and 0700 must’ve been fast approaching. “What, he want ya to be a doctor or sumn?”
Erwin nodded. “Yep. Like Dr. Jeager’s son.”
Levi doesn’t say that he doesn’t know Dr. Jeager’s son, nor does he care to, and Kenny wasn’t exactly the best at keeping up with scheduled appointments. Levi wondered miserably, and not for the first time, what he would do in fifty years, when his muscle turned to fat and his body didn’t work like it used to. There was no fund that came from being a stable hand, that was for dammed sure. “Good luck wit that.”
“Thanks, Levi. You dun mind if I call ya, Levi, duya, Levi?”
“Guess not.” Levi answered, slightly irritated. He grabs a hold of the leading rope and pushes the swinging stable door against the wall. “Yer Pa’s pro’lly waitin’.”
“Right on.” said Erwin, jumping off the bales. “Do ya reckon I can be any help?”
Levi clicks his tongue, tugging slightly at the rope until the mare kicks into gear. She’s smart and tame, wicked fast; Levi’s seen it with his own two eyes. “Don’t know how much work walkin’ a horse two meters is.”
“Right.” Erwin said, kind of dumbly, like he was tripping over his own tongue. He’s a classic case of book smart, genuine in a way that is innate to cushiony youth and soft parents. He follows closely behind the mare’s hooves, book wedged under his arm. “Ya like horses, Levi?”
“Ya like askin’ questions?” replied Levi with a smart tone.
Smith Sr. was in his rocking chair adorned in his usual dress: deep suede Justins with the mule-ear straps so worn the leather was fraying like burnt hair. His metal heels clicked against the wooden porch impatiently. “‘Bout time, boy. Where in tarnation is that Kenny ‘a yours?”
“My Uncle’s come down wit somethin’, Sir. Stomach thing.” replied Levi. It wasn’t exactly a lie, Kenny had come down with something; but, it had a little less to do with his stomach and a little more with the overconsumption of alcohol.
Smith Sr. stands up, all his weight on one leg, and hobbles down the steps. His brown and white Collie Jesp scurries around him and the mare’s feet, ready for the days work. “He been into see ‘ol Jaeger?”
“No, Sir. It ain’t all that bad. I reckon he’ll be back tomorrow.” said Levi, unclasping the lead ropes and handing over the reins in a bunch.
“Aight, then, son. Saddle up.” Smith Sr. steps his good leg into the stirrup and kicks his weight over the mare’s back, smooth with practice—as if he had no bum leg at all.
“Sir?”
“I can’t round up these cows all by lonesome, now can I?”
“‘Course, Sir.” said Levi, quickly.
“Can I come?” Erwin pops up from behind the mare with hopeful expression on his face. Levi wondered how he’d fare out back without cultivated dirt paths and rocks crushed to pebbles.
Smith Sr. is quiet as he thinks for a minute. “Guess more hands the better. Saddle up ‘ol Tex for him, wouldja, boy?”
“Alright, Sir.” Levi said, and then they were off.