Norton, Andre - Novel 32 (3 page)

But the Big Plan—that was something else, something that
Neal had mentioned first and
Christie had seen right away was important,
even if it were
something Mother and Father
had never
spoken about at all.

The idea had come first five days ago, when they had begun
the long drive from
Ohio
to
Arizona
. On the first night out Perks
and
Parky
had been wild to stop at a motel where they
had had a lot of pheasants and
other birds in
a wire enclosure and kept
advertising that show
along the road for
miles before the station wag
on
finally got there. From then on the twins,
then Neal and Christie, had kept watching for
motel signs. Not just the kind that read TV
in
every room
or
swimming pool,
but
others with
wayside zoos (though
Mother did not like those
and said it
was cruel to keep wild animals shut up so). But one in
Missouri
had shown a lot of
things from the Civil War days,
and there had.
been
another where a real live buffalo had a
pasture all to himself and they
could watch him.

So it became the Plan. They—Christie and
Neal, and the twins—were to find
something
to show
that would make Ten Mile Station a
place
where people would just
have
to stop and
see what was there. That would probably keep
them long enough to eat, or to get gas, or even
stay overnight. But whatever they showed had
to be important—and different—exciting enough
to make the tourists stop first. So the children
had been making lists of ideas, which Neal care
fully kept in the back of his notebook. So far,
Christie was
afraid,
none of them were very
bright ideas
worthy of a real Big Plan.

Baron was by the corral waiting for them.
Now he stood up, his creamy tail
wigwagging
his excitement and delight at
being in this place
of unusual and exciting
smells, wide open to
give pleasure to
a dog. He was a very large
Shepherd
with silver cream fur, except that his back was marked with a black saddle. Now
he
trotted forward, his tongue lolling happily from
his jaws, to escort Neal and Christie to where
they could look between the poles of the corral
at its inhabitants.

There was a baby burro with the two big
ones! Christie held Shan firmly as
the small
creature
threw back his head and loosed a
sound much bigger than
himself
.
The horse was a very ordinary-looking brown one with a black
mane and tail. And they had seen other burros,
but never a baby one.

"Is he good enough to fit into the Plan?"
Christie asked her brother.

After a long moment, he nodded slowly.
"Maybe for
a start."

They went on with Baron to the shed where
Pinto was fitting a shoe to the
hoof of another
horse.
The twins were squatting down on their
heels watching, round-eyed.

"Doesn't it hurt her?" Perks wanted to
know, her face screwed up in
sympathy. "Not
even
when you nail it right on like that?"

"No
sirree
. It would hurt
old Susie more to
go
walkin
' over these rocky trails without
no
shoes. She was
limpin
'
bad
yesterday 'cause
she had
throwed
the old shoe. This don't hurt
her none—just makes her feet safe. There now,
ol'gal
, you're a sight better off now,
ain't
you,
than when you was
goin
' around three-legged
this
mornin
'?"
He slapped the mare on the
flank, untied her rope hackamore, and led her
out into the corral.

"Please." Christie was at his elbow as he put
the gate bars back in place.
"What's its name
—the
baby burro, I mean?"

"That's
Jericho
. He's named that rightly
'cause he's got a bray what'd
bring down
Jer
icho
walls were he to come close to '
em
—
them
soldiers what took
the place in
th'old
days,
they'd never have had to use their trumpets
were
he
marchin
' alongside '
em
.
You know the
Bible story about those
trumpets and how the
walls came all
tumblin
' down? My ma used to
read that to me when I was a little 'un. I always
favored the
excitin
'
stories an' she knew it."

"Yes, we know,"
Parky
answered before
Christie
could. "He's
Jericho
—and this is
Baron." He thumped one dusty
hand down on
the
dog's dark back. "He's a real, true police
dog—been to school and has papers that says so!
And that's my sister Perks." He waved to
ward his twin with much less ceremony.

"Your sister now!"
Pinto stared from one
twin to the other in open-faced
surprise.

Christie sighed. When would the twins ever
decide that
Parky
was a boy and Perks a girl?
So far their
insistence on identical shirts, jeans,
and
floppy haircuts had caused a lot of confu
sion in school and out.

"Their real names," she explained, "are Pa
trick and Patricia—"

"
Parky
and Perks,"
cut in
Parky
with a scowl
and an elbow cocked outward,
which Christie
managed
to avoid with a quick half-turn developed in long practice. "He's Neal
and we're
all
Kimballs
, like Dad said. Now"—he grinned,
showing a new toothless gap in
front—"we're
introduced
and can be friends. What's that
horse's name?"

He pointed to the brown one who appeared to be asleep
standing right there.

"Old Timer.
And an old-timer he is—'most
as old,
judgin
'
by horse time, as I am. He's got
a right to take things easy these days."

"Do you ride him?"
Parky
wanted to know.

"Not much anymore. He's a mite old for any
trailin
'. Was a top
ropin
'
horse in his
day.
I
bought him
offen
the
Bar Six when they thought
him past his work.
He'n
me, we worked to
gether real good once, and I like
to think he
has it
easy now. Susie carries me where I want
to go these days."

Pinto turned arid was looking at the dust-cov
ered station wagon. "Your
folks have a proper
lot
of stuff to unpack. Suppose we go and see
if they need help
doin
' it
now."

"Mr.—Pinto," Christie corrected herself
hastily, "do you live here
all alone—with just
the
animals? Isn't there anyone else around?"

"Not generally. Oh, there's some as come
and neighbors now and then. The
Wildhorses
—
it's 'bout time for them to be
showin
'
up."

"Wild horses!
You mean real wild horses—
like on TV?" For the first
time Neal lost his
usual
calm. "Gee, can you rope them—catch
them and tame them?"

Pinto threw back his head and gave a bark
of laughter that sounded near as
loud as
Jeri
cho
's bray. "Not these
kinda
Wildhorses
.
'
Course they was wild once—or their old folks
were—
accordin
' to our
ideas. These
Wild
horses
—they're people—Navajos.
Wildhorse
is their last name—like yours is
Kimball and
mine's Odell. Mighty good neighbors, they are.
Not like some what were around here in the
past. Just you
looky
here now—"

He led the way to one of the thick wooden shutters and
loosed the catch that held it back
against the wall of the house, swinging it out
so they could see what he was now
pointing to
clearly.
Sticking out of the wood was a piece
of stone and just above it a second gray splinter.

"Know what those
be
?"
Pinto tapped his
forefinger against the
lower stone. That's a gen
uine
injun
war arrowhead! Fired right into this
here bit
of plank by some Apache come
raidin
'.
This station—twice it was a fort, held against
raidin
' parties. I heard
m'pa
tell 'bout them. In
those times
injuns
weren't no good neighbors
to us, and sure as
shootin
'
we didn't favor them
none either.
Plenty faults on both sides, as I
heard
it.
M'pa
, he fought Injuns, but he fed '
em
too, when they
was
starvin
' 'cause they was
chased up this way and penned in on
land where
even coyote couldn't get
hisself
a good meal.
But
them
were the old days—things are differ
ent now.
Only they did have two-three fights hereabouts, and you can find yourself arrow
points to prove it."

Christie clutched at Neal's arm eagerly and
saw him staring back at her with
beginning ex
citement.
This was the best idea yet for the Big
Plan.

Birds awoke Christie the next morning with
their cries. She lay in the bunk
listening until
she
suddenly wanted to get up and be but and
crawled from beneath the covers. Shan leaped
from where he had been curled between
the
edge of her pillow and the rough wall
and pad
ded to the door. He looked back at
her with a
demanding sound deep in
his throat. Christie
dressed with more
speed than she usually did
in the
mornings and tiptoed past Perks, still
asleep
in the opposite bunk.
In the big outer
room there were a lot of
shadows, and the doors to both the other rooms
were closed. Baron was scratching and whining
from behind the one that was shut on the boys'
room and she let him out. The big dog touched
noses with the cat and they both stood impa
tiently now by the outer door, watching her.

Christie snapped on Shan's leash before she
unbarred the entrance way. Though
the sky
was light,
she could not yet see the sun. A
shattering
sound made her jump and sent Shan,
his ears
flat against his head, to take refuge between her feet. For the second
time that bray
came from the corral. Could that really be
Jer
icho
?

Baron barked sharply and trotted over to
look in between two of the poles.
He barked
again, as
if warning
Jericho
against making such
rude noises. Christie laughed and
there was a flash of gray along the top pole over Baron's
head. The dog ran along, leaping
up now and
then to try and catch the
runner. Then the small animal vanished and he was left standing on his
hind legs, taking great sniffs of air.

"
Rroow
-—" Shan cried,
and Christie scooped
him
up. He made a soft,
chittering
cry as a bird
swooped overhead.

"Well, now, you're up bright and early."

Pinto was coming up to the
corral,
a rope coiled over one arm. He grinned at Christie.
"
Goin
'
to be a right good day."
Throwing back
his head, he squinted up at the sky from under, the wide
brim of his battered hat. Seeing Pinto
made Christie remember what she and Neal
had talked about last night.

"Mr.—Pinto—you said that there had been
a lot of Indian
fights around here. Do you sup
pose we
can find some arrowheads? Not just
the
ones stuck in the shutters, but loose?"

Pinto was opening the swinging gate of the
corral.
"Shouldn't
wonder.
Except you'd have
to go
lookin
' for them careful.
And this is so-
methin
' to keep in mind, Christie—you
and
them other
young'uns
—you don't go
wanderin
'
off by yourselves here.
'
Tain't
safe.
You
don't
know
nothin
'
'bout
readin
' trail signs, nor
findin
' your way 'round yet.
This is no
kinda
country to get lost
in. You stay close by where
you can see the station—understand now!" His voice was just like
Father's when he said some
thing important. Christie nodded.

"You mean— Are there bad things—bears,
maybe—or wolves?" She tried
to think of any
dangerous
animals listed in the desert book.

"You don't have to be afraid of animals so
much. Maybe there might be a big
cat or two
back in
the canyons. Not that he'd have any
mind to go
stalkin
' you—he'd
rather have a
deer or
such like. No wolves in this country.
And coyotes, now, they don't go
botherin
'
no
body. But
there's snakes
and they
ain't
so
friendly minded. Just
gettin
'
lost is bad enough.
So you stay where you can
see the station '
cept
when you got your pa or me or your ma 'round."

.Christie nodded again, even more vigor
ously. The warning about snakes
was one that
stuck in her mind. Now she watched Pinto rope
the mare Susie.
The three burros were drinking noisily from a hollowed-out log trough and the
other horse still looked asleep standing up.

When Pinto had the mare saddled, he threw another rope
around Old Timer's neck and the
horse opened his eyes and reluctantly ambled
forward at the slow pull. Pinto,
now mounted,
looked
once more at Christie.

"Old Timer gets a
mornin
'
out
grazin
'. You
want to go along.
Can't say as how
Susie would
take to carrying that cat of
yours, though."

"Shan will stay on the leash here. He's used to
that," Christie answered eagerly. "Just wait
a minute."

She hurried to anchor the leash to one of the
porch supports, then came flying
back to be
boosted up
on Old Timer's back, catching fast
hold of the horse's rough mane.

"First time I ever rode a horse," she admitted
nervously as Pinto urged Susie ahead and
Old Timer plodded behind.

"That a fact? Well, now, we'll have to see
as how you learn to do that before
the summer
is
over."

Christie was not quite sure she wanted to
learn more. When she dared to look
beyond

"Old Timer gets a
mornin
'
out
grazin
'. You
want to go along.
Can't say as how
Susie would
take to carrying that cat of
yours, though."

Christie grabbed
the mane and was glad they were going no
faster.

Susie
and her rider picked a path that wound
around
between trees, through high brush, to
come
out at last in a big, open space. The mare
halted and, as Old Timer slow-footed up beside
her, Pinto reached over and took Christie from
her perch, setting her behind him. Then he
twitched the rope from Old Timer's neck and
the horse dropped his head and began grazing.

"Right pretty,
ain't
they?" Pinto pointed
ahead and Christie saw trees in bloom. "
Them's
apricot and some peaches.
Kinda
old now, but still got life
in '
em
.
The Company had an or
chard and a garden here—raised their own gar
den sass and a
lotta
grub. Set a good table, the station did. My ma, she used to dry apricots,
make peach leather.
Mighty
tasty!"

"Was the stage line still running then?"
Christie held Pinto's belt with the same grip she
had kept on Old Timer's mane.

" 'Bout
seventy years ago now, it
was—yes,
they were
running it. There were mines back
up there"—he pointed to the rocky walls in the
distance—"and the stage ran
through to Dar-ringer.
Took out gold dust, brought in passen
gers and mail.
But it started a lot earlier
than
even Pa's time.
Back in eighteen-sixty Bright
made the first run.
Them
were the big days.
M'pa
, he started
ridin
'
shotgun a little later
when he weren't
more'n
a kid. But he was
mighty handy with
his gun, and he could take
over the
leathers too—drive stage—if there was
a
need. Took a man as
knowed
how to drive
real good to manage a six-horse team at a run.
'
Tweren't
till he met my
ma and got married
that he settled
down to keep station. She didn't take to him
drivin
'.
Though
keepin
' station in
Apache country weren't so safe neither.

"Now—we'd
better be
gettin
' back. Your ma
wakes up to find you gone and she might be
thinkin
' as how you were lost."

They heard Baron barking, loud excited
barks.

"Somebody
must be coming." Christie knew
what
those barks meant.

"So? Maybe that truck from out of town with
the things your pa's
expectin
'.
Though it's a
mite early for them."

Susie broke into a lope and Christie gasped,
holding Pinto's belt as if her fingers were glued
to the leather. She was glad they did not have
to go far.

When they reached the station, she saw
Baron standing in front of the
door, barking
furiously.
Shan had retreated as far as he
could—his tail was puffed up and he was spit
ting. Another car had pulled up
beside the sta
tion
wagon.

Car?
No, it was a truck—or was it a
trailer-
camper? It looked, Christie
thought, as if some
one had seen a trailer
and then built something
like it on a
truck body. And it was painted bril
liant
blue with patches of yellow here and there.
Attached behind it was a horse trailer.

"Lucas!" Pinto stopped Susie by the corral
and handed down Christie, who ran
to catch
Baron's
collar, keeping him from rushing at the
people getting out of the cab of the truck.

There was a man wearing jeans and a red shirt, the tails
hanging outside. He had a hat
like Pinto's, only it was newer and black and
there was a band of silver discs
around the
crown.
There was a big buckle of the same
metal on the belt he wore over his shirt and he had a
heavy necklace of silver set with blue stones.

He pushed back his hat a little and looked at
Pinto very solemnly, raising the
other hand
palm out
and saying, "How!"

Pinto laughed, "How, Lucas. Glad to see
you, ma'am," he added to the
lady who
dropped
from the opposite side of the cab. She
wore jeans and boots, too, and a shirt of deep
orangy
yellow. Her long black hair was fas
tened back with a silver clip and
she had on
two
jingly necklaces.

"Pinto," she called, "you just get younger
every year instead of older.
My"—she threw
out
her arms and took a deep breath—"it's
good to get back!"

Two more travelers were tumbling out. One
was a boy who looked to be about
Neal's age.

He had on jeans, boots, and a red shirt like his
father's, but he was bareheaded
and his thick
black
hair was a rather untidy-looking mop.
The
girl behind him came more slowly, staring
at
Christie. She had a blue shirt and a necklace
like her mother's, and her hair lay in two
smooth braids over her shoulders.

"Something new!
Pinto, don't tell me you
have taken to wheels at
last!" The man looked
at the station wagon.

"Ten
Mile's
startin
' up again. That's the new
owner's." Pinto dropped
Susie's reins to the
ground
and came across the yard. "Here's
Christie Kimball." He nodded at Christie.
"Her family's
goin
' to make this into a highway
stop for that danged road when
they get it finished."

"Christie"—now he spoke to her—"these
folks are the
Wildhorses
I was
talkin
' 'bout a
while back. There's Lucas and Marina,
Toliver
and Libby."