Read Online Saltwater Cowboys by Dayle Furlong - Free Book Online

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    On the morning that Jack had left for his interview Angela put the box of salt away, screwed the cap on the shaker tightly, crossed to the stove, lifted the lid off a boiling pot, and sprinkled in salt, round the pot of potatoes in circles, over and over again. She heard Lily wail as she woke from her nap. Maggie put down her crayons at the kitchen table behind Angela and asked, “Can I go see her, Momma?”
    â€œYes, my love, here,” Angela said, put the lid on the pot, and grabbed Lily’s juice bottle. “Give her this.”
    The next morning Angela awoke to the incessant shrill of the telephone. She stumbled out of bed, snaked her way through the jumble of toys on the living room floor, entered the sun-filled kitchen, and picked up the phone. “Jack?”
    â€œI got a job offer. We’ll be in Foxville by the end of the month.”
    Joy welled up in Angela’s chest and her eyes watered. “Oh, thank god.”
    â€œWe’ll have an income and a new home in no time. There’s a nice new school there and people from all over Canada, I hear.”
    â€œThank you, my love. You’ll see how much fun we can all have together again, Wanda, Pete, you, and me. It’ll be just like home,” she said.
    â€œI’m sure it will. Go back to sleep before the girls run you ragged.”
    â€œI love you,” Angela whispered.
    The evening Jack returned from St. John’s, Angela asked him to go get milk from the corner store. The autumn air was crisp and stars crowded the sky. Brighton lay tucked between a slight Appalachian mountain range. The wind was stunted by rock. The main road curled around town and connected the handful of necessary businesses: the cinema, the hockey arena, the grocery store, and a bargain department store. The corner store stood behind the library and school, close to Fung’s, the Chinese food restaurant. A car passed. Jack smiled at the driver but avoided his eyes.
    Jack shuffled along, head down, hands crammed into his jeans pockets. The heaviness in his belly made up for the loss of appetite. His big blue eyes were cloudy, his lips downcast. His wide face pinched the skin on his long, thin nose. He stared at his boots, dusty and heavy, and kicked rocks sharply as he walked, looking to vent his anger on the smooth bodies of the pebbles.
    In the smoky, scented store, as Jack made his way to the milk cooler, Mr. Pinsent, the owner, a cigarette clamped between his stubby lips, waved and nodded. As Jack reached for a carton he bumped into Doctor Nelson and dropped his milk carton. They watched the liquid inch slowly, directionlessly, across the linoleum.
    â€œNo use cryin’ is there?” Doctor Nelson said and raised the toes of his leather shoes away from the spilled milk.
    Jack lowered his head and rested his fist on the glass. He took a step forward and lost his balance on the wet floor.
    â€œYou alright?” Nelson asked and hauled him forward, centimetres from his thick salt-and-pepper beard. Doctor Nelson’s beige raglan crinkled against Jack’s dirty denim jacket.
    â€œCome for a drink,” Nelson said.
    Jack’s leg twitched. He gulped as if he’d swallowed netting that had siphoned off his breath. He could barely speak and could hardly hear what Doctor Nelson had said, but he found himself nodding, agreeing to go to the doctor’s to talk privately. All the while, Mr. Pinsent, the cherry-nosed, stout and balding grocer, discreetly passed his mop underneath the feet of the two men.
    Purity tea stepped in the long giraffe-neck silver carafe. Hot buttered scones steamed on a silver tray. Nelson passed one to Jack, who sat fidgeting in his jeans and navy cotton T-shirt. He felt naked without his denim jacket; it had been politely taken at the door and promptly hung by the prim young nursing student.
    â€œI don’t want to leave,” Jack said softly to the man who had delivered him and all three