C4 antho - Chamber Four

Black Night Ranch ~207~
“Yes!”
“Yes, what?” Billy asked.
“We both have names.”
“Oh.” Billy opened his mouth to ask how old the little
boy was, but thought better of it. He guessed him to be about
nine or ten. That was close enough.
The little boy stretched out on the ground and fell asleep.
Miguel slumped against a tire, drunk. Billy drained the bottle,
stood up too fast, and banged his head on the tractor.
“Fuck!”
The little boy stirred but didn’t wake. Miguel looked long
at his brother. “The same voices,” he said. “Day and night.
Same voices all the time. I am tired listening to sheep. To
shears. My hands shake all the time. It is like I am shearing
when I am not shearing. I am tired listening to him talking
nonsense all the time. It would be worth dying if I never had
to hear sheep or shears or him or Mexicans and Americans
trying to understand the other.”
“Yeah,” Billy said.
“You will not be fired, I think,” Miguel said.
“Maybe.”
“You can learn my language by next year when we come.
I did not speak English last year. My brother did not. Tell
him that.”
“Why would he even need me to speak Spanish if you
speak English? He doesn’t need me.”
“He will. I will not be back,” Miguel said. “I am hungry.”
“I am hungry, too,” Miguel’s brother said, waking to the
suggestion.
“Too bad one of those stupid sheep hasn’t walked by and
dropped dead. I bet I could cook mutton better than James
Carl,” Billy said.