The Smartest Horse in Texas (The Traherns #2) (5 page)

“I heard him. That’s why I waited until you put him away.”

“I don’t want to leave him in the barn. It’s too dark in there
and I don’t want to affect his eyesight if I stay here awhile. Is there a
corral I can put him in during the day?”

“The one next to the house is strong. It’s not used much.”

“It’s too low. I’ll add some more rails.”

She motioned towards Misty. “I suppose she’ll need shoes.”

“Depends on how hard her hooves are. But she might as well get
used to someone handling her feet. You hold her head while I pick them up.”

She stood there, talking nonsense
to that mare, and I almost forgot what I was doing, listening to her. I tapped
the filly’s hooves as I picked them up, so as she wouldn’t get frightened when
she did get shoes.

Later that day, Dawn called me to the house.

“We need supplies. We’re running low on things like salt and
flour and sugar. Why don’t you take the buckboard to town and pick up what I
need? I’ll tell you what I want and you can make the list.”

“Will do.”

“It’s eighty miles, so you’ll need to leave first thing in the
morning and come back tomorrow.”

“Do you want to come along?” I asked. Most women love a trip to
town so they can see what other women are wearing and pick up some women things
they didn’t want a man to get.

She thought it over. “I could make supper in the morning in the
bean pot and set it on the back of the stove. Yes, I’ll go with you.”

That evening, when told of our plans, John frowned. “I should
go,” he said.

Dawn looked at him. “Last time you went you didn’t come back for
two weeks.”

“I won’t drink that much again,” he said. “It was stronger than
what I was used to.”

“Pa’s going to need help branding the calves. He’ll be mad as a
wet hen if you’re gone.”

He pointed at me. “How do you know he won’t get drunk and drive
into the river?”

“Well, we’re certain you will, so I’ll take my chances with
him.”

 The next morning I got the buckboard ready and hitched the
horses to it. I threw in some extra food, ammunition and blankets, for I knew
that a trip doesn’t always end like it is supposed to.

The horses John pointed out as the ones they used on the
buckboard had evidently not been used for some spell. They reared and kicked
and fought the traces, so that I had to hogtie each one before I could get both
of them harnessed up at the same time.

As soon as I tried to drive them up to the house, they panicked,
scared to death of the contraption following them.

I stopped them, got off the buckboard and looked at the mess
they’d made of the harness.

About that time Dawn came out carrying a small tote bag, dressed
in a lovely dress of blue. I pointed to the horses and shook my head.

“They don’t seem to like this very much.”

“You’ve got the wrong horses. Those were just brought off the
range a week ago. I suppose John said these were the ones to use?”

“Yes. I guess it was too bad he wasn’t here to see the fun.”

“Oh, he was watching. Up on the ridge. I saw him out my window
and wondered why he was staying around.”

“Well, I’ll get these untangled and put the regular horses to
it.”

“You got them harnessed.”

“Yes.”

“Untangle them. Then you lead them while I drive. We’ll use
John’s horses. They look to be good stock.”

“Ma’m, that might not be safe.”

“Life isn’t safe. Especially out here, where a rattler can hit
you while you’re in your own garden. We’ll take these horses.”

I had thought about trailing Hero along behind us, and that
cinched it. I untangled those two, and while she held their heads, I saddled
Hero and rode over. Grabbing the headstall of the bridle on one, I cinched his
nose close to my leg. Dawn climbed in the wagon, gathered the reins and away we
went.

Those horses built up quite a lather at first, trying to get
away from that rattling thing that followed them, but I held them to the road
and Dawn bounced along with the wagon. She sure wasn’t a Sunday-go-to-meeting
type of girl, who couldn’t take being roughed up. I figured her bottom must be
black and blue from being spanked by that buckboard seat. A buckboard is not
comfortable, especially with no cushions on its seats. This one had no springs
either to help ease the travel, and I stopped several times along the way to
give those horses and her a breather.

“Would you like to ride Hero?” I asked. I didn’t know if he’d
take to someone wearing skirts, but we could always try.

She looked longingly at Hero, but shook her head. “Pa don’t want
me riding astride a horse. Says it don’t look feminine. And it’s not modest.
Besides, this skirt is not made for riding.”

By noon those horses had decided the buckboard was there to
stay. We stopped near a spot where the water seeped out of the ground. Dawn
talked to the horses while I pulled out some grain to give them. I didn’t want
them too fired up, so gave them each just a little bit.

The water was brackish where we stopped. I thought of the
distance we had come and was very happy that I hadn’t tried walking it that
first day.

I tied their reins to a stubby little bush that looked like it
had been there before the sun had baked this area dry.

Then I joined Dawn, setting in the shade of the buckboard. She
had spread a ground sheet down and opened the small tote. She had filled it
with food such as you don’t get out on the trail. Little cakes and dried fruit,
some fresh bread and cheese.

“Ma’am, you would spoil anyone traveling with you. No wonder
John wanted to come.”

She took a bite of that fresh bread and smiled, shyly. “I don’t
fix this when John comes.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t have done it
because of the trick John pulled. She had the tote with her when she’d left the
house, before she knew. I looked at that food and wondered if it was really a
loop, for husband catching, aimed at my head.

I wasn’t wanting to be caught, but that food sure tasted mighty
fine. I helped myself to some more. Now that I knew what she was up to, I’d
tread more carefully. In the meantime, I downed three of those little cakes and
polished them off with some sort of cold peppermint tea she’d put into a
canteen. A man could get used to that kind of treatment. Fast.

We stayed there two hours, letting the horses rest and the hot
sun go further on its journey. It gave us lots of time to get to know each
other.

And read. She’d brought the Bible along and wanted to read the
whole time, but a mind can only hold so much information dumped into it at one
time, so after an hour, I stopped her.

“What happened to you when you were taken?” I asked.

“Indians practice slavery. Stealing horses or people is part of
their culture. So they stole a little yellow-haired girl who rode too far away
from her home ranch. I had a good horse and almost out-rode them, so I was a
prize to be captured and taken back unharmed. It was the chief’s son who caught
me and his father adopted me into his family. I was to marry the son when I
reached the age. Slavery is different there. After a while you become part of
the tribe. I wasn’t the only child they added. Their tribal groups are small.
It’s a way to bring new blood into the families.”

“What brought you back?”

“Some soldiers saw me in the village and raided it to free me.
My father and brother were both killed trying to save me.”

“And then?”

“I remembered Pa and Ma, even my name they had given me, so the
soldiers brought me back here. I came back a stranger. I really don’t fit into
either world now. Ma was gone, dead of consumption, and Pa didn’t know how to
treat me. I wasn’t the little girl he knew. And I missed my father and
brother.”

She bit her lower lip, remembering that time. “I wouldn’t sleep
in a bed. They were so soft they made my back hurt. And I didn’t understand the
ways of a white woman. Only Aunt Mabel would help me. They live twenty miles
the other side of the valley, so I’d ride over there when I could. Pa didn’t
understand that either.”

I understood, finally. When
she referred to her father, she meant her Indian family. When she said, “Pa,”
she was referring to Cummings. I wondered if he knew it. And if he did, what
did he make of it?

She described her life in the Indian village. It had been hard,
but not cruel, as they had treated her kindly, for them. She spoke of her
adopted brother, the chief’s son, whom she was to marry. He’d tied ten horses
outside her door, showing her worth to him, and she had taken them to water
immediately, showing her acceptance, for he was kind to her and a mighty
warrior. Her mother had died one winter, falling through the ice, and the whole
tribe had mourned her, for she had been a great lady. “My name means, ‘the
light at the beginning of the morning.’ My father said I was a joy to have.”

I told her about my Tennessee hills and my bothers and sisters.

“You have sisters?”

“Two. They can ride, plow a field, bark a squirrel or dance with
the best of them. And cook.”

“And read and write?”

“Oh, yes. Ma made sure they read the Bible and the classics,
same as us boys.”

“What does it mean, to bark a squirrel?”

“Squirrels aren’t very big, and if you shoot them, chances are
you ruin the meat. So you shoot next to them and knock the tree bark into them.
It knocks them out of the tree, either stunned or dead.”

“Why would you leave the mountains, with all that fresh water
you speak of, to come here, where the water is barely drinkable?”

“Opportunity. I plan to take Hero and chase cows out of the
thickets until I get me a herd together, then trail them to the railhead in
Missouri, or wherever it is by now.”

“You want Hero to chase cows?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve heard the brush is full of them.”

“As thick as fleas on a dog. But forget using Hero. You need a
short-legged quarter horse with hide as tough as wood, who can crawl through
the thickets. Those long-horned cows love the thickets, and it takes a small
horse to crawl in and chase them out.”

“I don’t have money to buy me another horse. That’s why I took
this here job.”

“Hum.” She thought a moment. “What you should do is get yourself
a few good-looking mares and breed some horses. The Rangers would love some
fast horses with Hero’s blood in them. You could sell his services to some of
the ranchers around here and earn yourself enough money to buy a few good
mares. Or trade for them. Wouldn’t cost you nothin.’”

I rubbed my chin in my hands. I’d been chasing a cow dream for
so long, I hadn’t considered using Hero. But it made perfect sense.

The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. To trail a
herd north, I would have to hire me some riders, gather a herd and them take
them north. I knew I wasn’t the only man with that idea.

Raising horses was a different matter. Horses were cheap in this
country, unless they were exceptional, like Hero. If I could raise exceptional
horses...

“You could breed him to Misty, and... What’s wrong? Don’t you
like the idea?”

“There’s only one thing wrong.”

“Which is?”

“Hero is not my horse.”

“What?” She looked at me in shocked dismay.

“He belongs to my cousin, Trey. During the war, Trey took me
prisoner. He always could move like an Indian and so caught me. Turned me over
to a private to guard me. I had an easy escape. That’s how I got Hero. He was
Trey’s horse, so I took him with me. I’d lost mine, and had to put some
distance between me and the Union line. He was saddled and ready to go. I don’t
know, but I’ve often wondered if Trey staked him out for me.”

“Could be. Being’s he’s your cousin.”

“Anyway, I have to take
Hero back. The more I think about it, the more I know I have to do it. I’ve got
it hanging over me.”

Once those horses decided that the buckboard was there to stay,
I tied Hero on behind and climbed up beside Dawn. I explained that I was new to
this desert country, and wouldn’t mind learning about it. A few questions were
all I had to ask, and she became a book of information.

She talked all the rest of the way to the settlement, telling me
about the weather patterns, the ways of the animals and the people who lived
here abouts. She also warned me about the blister bugs. “If they crawl on you,
your skin will blister. Worst thing you can do is brush one off. Then you’ll
get a long water blister on your skin.”

By the time the first buildings came in sight, I figured I’d got
the lay of the land, and wouldn’t be pulling any pilgrim stunts. For every land
has its own voice, a rhythm that makes it different from other places. This one
was harsh and didn’t treat newcomers well.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the store, which set
near where a smallish creek entered the river. Two houses sat next to it.