Cause and Effect

Chapter 26

mágoa [maɣʊ̯ɐ}

(n). a heartbreaking feeling that leaves longlasting traces, visible in gestures and in facial expressions

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Bonnie was bored. 

And yeah, she'd already mucked the stalls, not like that was her job anyway, and rubbed down the horses some, because she loved being 'round the horses. They were so beautiful, flighty some of them, but in a strong soft sort of way. So now she was sitting up on the fence watching her daddy's cows laze around on the pasture, and scribbling their sloped backs as best she could in her worn-out little notebook. 

Her dad had been on about her getting off the ranch, going to college, something.

Bonnie, he'd say in that drawl, you don't have to worry 'bout this place, it's mine. Go on, live a little, like girls your age do.

She really didn't have the heart to tell him that she rather be here on the ranch punching cows and breaking horses than driving near a whole damn hour to hit the nearest club. Her foot swung in tune with the sound of crickets and the occasional far-off sound of coyotes. She'd have to warn one of the hands about them, they were sounding a mite too close for both her sake and the chicken's sake. 

A shout startled her, and she glanced up. She could make out a plume of dust rising up near them, and frowning she slid off the fence, notebook and sway-backs forgotten. The walk to that plume took a few minutes, and by the time she got there, she had to shoulder her way through the hands that had gathered, suspicion written on their face. She couldn't blame them. They had their own fair share of trouble with the gangs that ran through here occasionally. 

The driver, a young black man, cracked the door open, half falling out in his urgency. His hands were raised at the sight of the guns one or two of the hands were holding, but Bonnie thought it strange that he for the most part largely ignored them. 

"Please," he said quickly, eyes darting between all the men and at last landing on her. "I have a friend, he's been hurt, real bad. We jus' need a place to put 'im, get 'im some help."

Bonnie crossed her arms, acutely aware that there was a doctor's clinic down the ways in Armadillo, but tact kept her from commenting this. 

"What happened?" She said, making her way out to stand in front of the group. She was a MacFarlane, after all, her damn name was on the ranch. 

The man's eyes never left hers and she could read the panic in his. "Got stabbed, hit somethin' and it won't stop bleedin'. Please."

She stared, stopping only for a few moments to consider, before turning to glance at the man next to her. "Help him bring his friend in." She turned back to the man, who had leaned heavily against the door at the news. "Y'all gonna be under observation, while you're here." 

"Of course," he said, eyes trained on the men going toward the back. "Name's Lenny."

She startled, hadn't really expected such openness from the man in front of her and was slightly pleased to hear it. "Bonnie. MacFarlane." She tacked on like an afterthought, and Lenny nodded. The pleasantries were cut short as a man pale and grey was brought out, slung between a few men. She felt her stomach turn, but she nodded, and pointed back toward the row of housing that the hands sometimes used. 

"Put them up in the far-right house, Boyd left an' that one's empty." The men moved quickly, and she turned to another man. "We're gonna need some supplies, you wanna run into town and grab some things?"

One hand up she stopped Lenny's stuttering. "We got a vet here, ain't a doctor, but I'm thinkin' you aren't gonna want one of them. My man can get us the supplies we're gonna need, and our vet will confirm anythin' else, and then we'll see if we can save your man."