by Mark J Rose
The horse left the road over the embankment and stutter-stepped down the face of a steep hill. One time he lost his footing and almost tumbled face-first into the ravine, but he knew to compensate by shifting his weight to his back legs. He righted himself and continued down to the riverbed. The water had receded during the hot summer, so it was easy to walk along the gravel. Matt’s scent was strong now, and Thunder saw him ahead, lying with his face on the ground. The predators hadn’t finished their job. He was still alive. Thunder wondered briefly if Matt would turn into a predator if he met those humans again. The horse had seen this before when men would fight. Both would act like killers and be covered in blood.
Matt had one eye open as Thunder approached, but then the horse saw it slowly shut. Matt moaned and then was silent as he returned his face to the ground. Thunder could hear his breathing coming in fits and starts. The horse stooped down and nudged him gently in the side using his nose. There was no reaction. He nudged Matt again, hard enough to lift his body up off the ground. The young man’s breathing pattern changed with the nudge and Thunder heard him mumble, but he went quiet again.
Frustrated, Thunder shook his head back and forth in a wide motion and snorted. He trotted away for ten yards and whinnied loudly. He heard Matt sigh and then go silent. Thunder snorted again and clicked his hooves on the gravel, hoping to stir him, but it had no effect. He thought of Scout and how he might attract a man’s attention. He remembered the dog nipping at the horses’ legs when he wanted to get them moving. Thunder walked to Matt, stooped down, worked his way under his coat, put his hindquarters in his mouth, and closed his jaw.
“Ouch, damn you!” Matt yelled. “I’m awake.”
Thunder stepped back and whinnied. Matt picked his head up off the ground to look at the horse. He had thought Thunder was a hallucination. There was a searing pain in his head and his vision was blurred. Matt reached his hand up to his mouth to feel his teeth and was glad to find them all still there. A painful smile filled his face as he wondered how he’d react the day when he found some missing. He moved his hand to the pain in his head and felt a large, tender lump; they’d hit him hard. He checked his hand, but there was no blood.
“Glad to see you,” Matt said. He strained to smile again through the pain in his skull. He was fighting to stay conscious. “I thought horses only came back…in the movies.”
Thunder shook his head in approval and let out his customary “Thpfft.” Matt could see the frayed rope around the horse’s neck.
“You got away,” Matt said, grimacing as he pulled himself to his hands and knees. His head pounded harder. The horse walked forward and affectionately nudged Matt with his nose. Matt lost his balance and went over on his side. “Hold on, you crazy animal,” Matt said through unbearable pain. “I’m glad to see you too, but you gotta let me get up!”
Matt grabbed hold of Thunder’s saddle and pulled himself to his feet, then slowly got one leg up into a stirrup as the horse leaned low beside him. It took some time, but eventually he was straddling the horse. Matt said a prayer for the strength to stay in the saddle. He was slipping away and worried he wouldn’t be able to hang on. The pain was so great that he began to wonder why he’d gotten off the comfortable ground in the first place and the desire to slip back down to the dirt was almost overwhelming.
With Matt on his back, Thunder slowly rose to full height and turned to walk along the dry edge of the river. He went past where he’d come down the embankment and glanced up for some easy path to the road so he could return the man to his herd. It was too steep, so he continued to follow the riverbed. Thunder could feel Matt tugging at his mane to keep from falling and so he tried his best to walk smoothly.
The horse wandered for more than an hour along the river, losing sight of the road they’d used when they met the predators, hoping to find a path that would lead to the man’s herd. The predators came to mind and Thunder worried briefly that he might be taking Matt back to them. He put his nose in the air and smelled. These were different smells than where they had tied him. What’s that? Other horses were nearby. A mare!
Thunder forgot entirely about the man on his back as he followed the scent of the horses. He looked ahead and saw a road that nearly touched the river. He stepped onto it to follow the scent that was growing stronger. The mare almost took his thoughts completely, but he remembered the man again and forced himself to walk gently.
As he rounded the bend, a farm came into view. It looked a lot like his home, where Scout lived and where he met Matt. He had liked it when Matt scratched his head and brought him apples. He’d take him back to his herd, and then he’d find the other horses. Her scent was so strong! Thunder walked through the front gate of the farm and felt the man shift and wake again. He walked with Matt slumped over on his back, past the barns, past the men working on the farm as they stared, and then to the front of a large white farmhouse.
Stooping down, Thunder let Matt fall gently to the ground and heard him groan. The horse stepped back, put his head in the air and whinnied loudly. Men all around the farm stopped working to look toward the sound. The farmhouse door opened, and a sturdy and confident middle-aged woman stepped out onto the porch. She looked down at the man in their courtyard and the large chestnut-brown thoroughbred standing behind him snorting protectively. She turned around and put her head into the doorway.
“John, you better get out here,” she said. Her voice was calm, but loud. “The Lord has sent us a surprise.”
8
Jonathan Boyd
“I’m alive,” Matt said to the roof of the barn. Sunlight was streaming in through the open windows. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and his head exploded in pain. He reached up to feel the lump and then looked at his hand. There was still no blood. He recalled riding into the farm though a gate and looking up to see a sign that said “Boyd Farm.”
Where’s my horse?
Matt remembered falling to the ground, and then not much else. He looked around the barn and felt a certain comfort at being on a farm again, though building a tolerance for waking up in unfamiliar farm buildings was probably not something to brag about. He reached around to take stock of his possessions. In his experience, farmers had a nasty habit of confiscating weapons before they let people sleep in their barns. The Walther was still at his side, but his knife was gone.
“You’re awake,” a man said, standing at the barn door. Matt stared up and squinted, trying to see his face.
“Thanks for getting me off the ground,” Matt replied.
The farmer laughed. “We had to do something. That horse of yours raised a stink.”
“Where’d he go?”
“Outside in the corral, pacing. Got wind of my mare again.”
Matt moved himself slowly off the bench. He was dizzy and felt like a dagger was being driven through his head. He almost fell and had to steady himself. The farmer saw this and walked toward him. Matt tried to stand confidently as he approached and reached his hand out to shake.
“I’m Matt Miller,” he said.
“John Boyd. What happened?”
“Someone hit me with a club on the road. They threw me over a cliff, took my horse and all my stuff. My horse came back for me and I found myself here.”
“I thought horses only did that in the storybooks.”
Matt agreed with a painful smile. “He saved my life.”
“Stay afoot with a head wound,” Boyd said. “Can you go see if you can calm your horse? Come over to the house after, and my Maggie will bring you victuals.” They heard Thunder whinny loudly. “Is he always this loud?”
“Something’s got him excited. He raised a stink before I got robbed, too.”
“It’s the wrong time, but my mare’s in season. I’ve a proposition when we sit.” Boyd turned to leave and Matt followed him slowly out the door. The sun was still low in the sky, and it was cool, so the grey wood of the farm building was still dark with dew. Fresh smells of morning surrounded
them. Matt pulled his jacket sleeve up and was relieved to see that his watch was still on his wrist. Half past seven.
Matt walked by a pigpen with a trough that was surrounded by snorting pigs and then to another fenced pasture that bordered a grey barn. The barn had a few wagons stored inside, along with plows, shovels, and steel tools. Matt could just see the hay stacked against its back wall. Thunder stood waiting for him at the edge of the pasture as he approached. Matt reached up with both hands to take his head and scratch the animal vigorously.
“Man, am I glad to see you. I’ll be back. These look like good people.” Thunder was glancing occasionally at the lone mare over in the other corral. “You may meet her soon.” He patted the horse’s head one last time.
Boyd was already at the table when Matt reached the house. There were fresh vegetables, warm chunks of stewed beef, and bread. Matt sat down and Boyd pushed a plate in front of him.
“Suppose you need a stud for that mare,” Matt said.
“How much?” Boyd asked.
“Just your help. Maybe a day or so here to recover.”
“I don’t expect payment for helping a man in need,” Boyd said. “I’d pay a fair price.”
“I’m going to find the men who did this to me and get my things back. My money, my clothes, everything I owned was in the saddlebag they stole.”
“I’ll not take part in retribution.”
“Not retribution,” Matt replied. “I want my stuff back. There was a lot of money in that bag. I can’t imagine those men went very far before stopping to spend it.”
“There’ll be more money.”
“They stole medicine, too. I could help a lot of people with what was in that bag.” They heard Thunder whinny loudly from the corral. “Let him in with the mare,” Matt said. “Your hospitality’s enough. He has good genes.”
“Genes?”
“Breeding.” Matt got up and Boyd followed. As they neared the corral, Matt called for Thunder, and he came trotting over. “We have someone for you to meet,” Matt said. He led him over to the gate that Boyd was unlatching. “Do the deal,” Matt said as he smacked him on the rump. The horse bounded into the corral and slowed as he walked toward the mare. Boyd waved one of his sons over, took him aside, and talked to him briefly.
“Henry will ensure neither is hurt,” Boyd said. “Shouldn’t take too long.” He motioned and Matt followed him back to the table. “Give me a price. I don’t want that foal tainted.”
“Get me back on my horse tomorrow with supplies,” Matt said. “It should take them a few days to spend two hundred pounds.”
“You were traveling alone with two hundred pounds?”
“Trying to get to Philadelphia,” Matt replied. “I had an escort from Richmond to Wilmington. The men who robbed me followed us from Richmond. They were hired by a competitor of the farm of my betrothed.” It was a white lie; he hadn’t even gotten permission to court Grace yet, let alone marry her.
“They did this because you worked on another farm?” Boyd looked doubtful.
“Long story.”
“Harvest is over,” Boyd said. “We have time.”
Matt told Boyd as much of his story as he could while the man listened intently.
When Matt was finished, Boyd said, “The contents of that bag will bring the prosperity you require to ask her father?”
“Sounds outrageous, I know.”
“I’ll have your word that you’ll do no harm to those men.”
“I’m only interested in my saddlebag.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Boyd said. He looked over Matt’s shoulder. “Here’s my Maggie.”
Matt turned to the woman who had been the first to see him when Thunder dropped him in front of her house. She was in a blue-and-white farm dress, walking purposefully toward them. Her dark hair, peppered with grey, was pulled back in a loose bun and framed a face that was just starting to smile. Matt stood up and introduced himself.
“I’m Margaret Boyd,” she said. “Feeling better?”
“Very well,” Matt lied. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. “Thanks for taking me in.”
“That animal of yours wouldn’t stop his racket,” she replied. “He had everyone on the farm coming to see.”
“He’s a keeper,” Matt said. A twinge of worry went through his body. He wondered how he would care for the horse with the few coins that were left in his pocket.
“We’ll eat around three,” she said. “Rest in the shade until then.”
Matt looked to John Boyd, who was still sitting. “If it’s all the same,” Matt replied, “I wouldn’t mind doing some work here on the farm. It will help clear my head.”
“Know anything about fences?” Boyd asked.
“Built one last week,” Matt replied.
“You can help my boys out in the west pasture,” the man said. “Won’t pay much.”
“Just get me back on the road tomorrow.”
9
Scout, Part II
Scout ran as fast as he was able until he recognized the streets of Richmond. The dog had been there many times riding on the wagons his family took to the city. He could no longer smell Matthew, but Thunder’s scent was still on the ground. Other smells were brighter, and he lost the horse’s scent at almost every turn, but then he’d catch it again and continue. He trotted through Richmond, dodging pedestrians. Horses passed, confusing him with their strong odor. Then he came to a bench that smelled of both Matthew and the Taylor son, Will. Scout loved the Taylor son, who had always taken care of him. He followed his scent across the street to a building.
“Scout,” he heard, and then a door opened and Will was calling to him. “Scout, what’re you doing here?”
Scout looked around. He’d moved farther away from the horse’s scent now and knew that if he went to Will, he’d try to take him inside. He looked at the brother briefly, to acknowledge him as a member of his pack, and then he turned to run again.
“Where’re you going?” Will called out, but Scout didn’t look back.
**********
The trail of the horse and man was weak inside the city, but as Scout neared its edge, it became stronger, and this was enough to keep him on his path. It led him to creeks and watering holes that Matthew and Thunder had visited. The dog stepped from tree to tree trying to interpret their scent. He got nothing from the layers besides the fact that they’d been there, and so he turned and moved on, hoping to find more detail in another resting place.
Scout lost them briefly in the next city. The town was filled with many colors stacked heavily on top of each other, and he became confused. He could no longer be sure if the aura was from either the horse or the man. Lost in the city, with no direction to travel, he crawled under a house and slept. When the sun rose the next morning, he sniffed the air and the faint trail was there again. He followed it outside the city and it became strong. He grew excited and moved faster. Scout got hungry on that second day and caught a rabbit. He ate almost all of it and napped in a small cave out of the sun. He was soon on the road again, following their trail. After a while, their path was obvious to the dog. They’d taken the road north.
Many travelers were on the road, and the dog did his best to avoid them. Scout would follow the scent into cities when necessary but would usually use the bustle and confusion during the day to sleep. It was easy to crawl under a house until the sun went down and he could track them without being blocked by people, horses, and wagons. He avoided humans when possible, except when he came across a butcher. He smelled the fresh meat inside and saw the man peering through his window.
“Shoo,” the man said, leaning out his door. “Go away, you dumb dog.”
Scout sat on his hind legs. He got impatient and barked.
“Now he’s barking,” a young girl said.
“He’s a stray,” the butcher replied. “Ignore him and he’ll go away.”
Scout barked again. The girl came out into the yard in front of
the butcher shop.
“I think he’s hungry,” she said. “He has a collar.”
“Leave him be,” said the butcher.
Scout raised his paw to the girl.
“Father,” she said, “he wants to shake.”
“Stay away,” he called from inside. “He looks dangerous.”
She walked up to the dog with no fear and took his paw gently in her hand. Scout pulled his foot away, barked softly, and lay on his side, pawing at the ground. He said, “Yawrrr,” as he opened his mouth wide.
She giggled. “He’s very pleasant, Father,” she called. “Can we feed him?”
“He’ll never quit the yard then,” her father yelled from the window.
“He’s hungry,” she pleaded.
Scout spent the next two hours filling himself with all manner of scraps from the butcher. He slept there that night in the shadow of the moon, against the porch. The young girl watched him from her bedroom window, hoping he’d still be there when she woke up. She was sleeping when he wandered away.
Scout was puzzled how to proceed when he came to a dock next to a river. He walked out onto the sturdy wooden platform that reached some distance into the water and stood there. Thunder’s scent was strong here at the edge of the dock. Scout looked down, wondering whether he should jump into the water, but he could barely see the other shore, and his instinct kept him from making the plunge. He retreated from the platform and paced back and forth along the river’s edge, trying to find the scent again, but there was nothing to indicate that they’d traveled anywhere other than onto the dock. Scout sat there for a long time, watching the moonlight ripple across the water and wondering what to do. Tired and muddled, with no idea how to get across, he crawled into some bushes to rest until daybreak.
