Blue Roan Colt

by Dusty Richards

  Julie gave him a wry smile. “Think they’ll run a phone line out there?”

  He nodded. “Sam can get one-hundred-ten volts out there. He can get the telephone company, too.”

  “So we can have electricity now, as well?”

  “Of course. I went with propane heating. It’s so cheap these days, you can’t beat it unless you have natural gas.” Mark shook his head. “I am not going for a pipeline out there.”

  The hands all departed for their homes to spend the holidays. Julie, Rosita, and Mark handled feeding the cattle and horses every day, breaking bales open from the back of his pickup and tossing the hay out of the pickup bed to the trailing animals. Rosita continued to guard Julie’s virginity and the couple were forced to grab secret moments together as if they were teenagers. With fences in good shape, a constant supply of water, and the final alfalfa crop of the year cut and baled, there wasn’t much more to do till cows and mares began to drop calves and foals in the spring. What there was, Julie and Mark could easily handle. She was every bit as tough and resilient as any man he’d ever known. And she loved the work. They were a perfect fit.

  One night in the barn, hanging bridles in the tack room after a ride around the north pasture to assure the fences were all up, he turned to bump into her. The notion hit him that this was the woman who would soon be his wife. Their gazes locked, and he took her in his arms. She felt warm from the day’s work, her hair tickling his cheek.

  “You know how much I love you?” He kissed the nape of her neck. Lord she smelled good, work’s sweat and all. “Where is our chaperone?”

  “I think she’s busy in the kitchen fixing supper.”

  “So, we have maybe five minutes before she rings that supper bell.”

  Julie tickled him. “I can hardly wait till we’re in our own home.”

  “Yeah, me, too. She’ll probably run over every night to keep an eye on what we’re doing.”

  The bell clanged loud enough for folks on the adjoining ranch five miles away to hear.

  He kissed her good and proper, ran fingers through her hair, and held her so close he could feel her heart beat. His breath quickened, as did hers, fanning hot against his neck.

  The bell rang a second time.

  “Time to get in there before she sends Jones out to find us.” Reluctantly, Mark released her.

  Hand in hand, they ran to the house where Rosita stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her ample bosom.

  After supper, they retired to the living room where a fire burned in the fireplace. Jones had eaten in the bunkhouse with the hands and Rosita rattled around in the kitchen cleaning up.

  Julie picked up a Good Housekeeping magazine from the table and relaxed beside Mark. He stretched out with his head in her lap. Rosita would finish up and wait to walk with Julie back to her trailer.

  “I always wanted a plantation type house.” Julie leafed through a magazine that showed floor plans and photos of finished homes. She’d took to staying with Rosita most every day. Between sharing the ranch work, planning their wedding, and picking a house plan, it made sense for her to be there rather than down in Sonata.

  Mark hesitated on a page showing a low-constructed log home, sprawled all on one floor. She put a finger on the page. “I like this. It’s so you and me. It looks like it belongs here on this ranch, where everything fits the lay of the land. It doesn’t interrupt the exquisite beauty of Paradise Valley. What do you think?”

  He was often caught up by her words and the way she pronounced some of them, soft and clinging. He was learning to think much like she did in certain ways and it made him feel more settled. Happier.

  “I do like it a lot. We could be comfortable there, I think.”

  She dog eared the page and closed the magazine.

  Rosita appeared, and Julie kissed him properly as far as their keeper was concerned and the two women left. He remained on the rug, staring into the fire, content with his life, filled now with only good memories. He’d finally put to rest the bad ones.

  The next day, they finished all the regular chores by lunchtime.

  “Rosita, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You spend all your time taking care of us and have none for yourself. We can handle things from here. We can even round up supper. You can come back tomorrow.”

  Rosita eyed him like a snake on a bird. “Will you promise me no funny stuff?”

  Mark tossed a quick glance toward Julie and crossed his heart. “I promise.”

  Julie made the same promise.

  “Well, okay then. But remember, God is watching you.”

  It was all Mark could do to keep from snorting with laughter. He nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  Arm in arm, they watched the plump woman hustle back to her trailer.

  “She’s such a dear woman.”

  Julie looked up at him. “Indeed, she is.”

  “You’re beautiful.” Mark kissed her on the nose.

  She shook her finger sat him. “Remember what we promised. It’s so pretty outside today. Everything is golden and silent, like it’s pausing before anything happens. Let’s go for a ride.”

  “That’s a good idea.” They put on sweaters, went to the barn for saddles and bridles, and walked out into the pasture with them. As if called, two of the geldings whinnied and raised their noses into the air as if testing their odor, then trotted to them. For some horses, a ride was as enjoyable as it was for those who rode them.

  Once saddled and mounted, the animals burst into a gallop at the touch of heels against their flanks.

  He hadn’t seen the mare and her colt since the day of the barbecue, though each time he rode out for work, he looked for them. Today was no different. Once the horses had their joyful run, they slowed them to a walk.

  “I hope we can spot the blue roan colt. I want you to see him and his mother. They are so beautiful. Maybe if we’re quiet, we can sneak up on the pair and their band.”

  “When did you first see him?”

  “A few weeks ago, just a glimpse and they were gone. I want that colt.”

  “The mare, too, I hope. They shouldn’t be separated.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s amazing how the roans come about, isn’t it?”

  He glanced at her in surprise. “Not a lot of people know about them. It’s a genetic anomaly.”

  “Well listen to you. Sounding like a scientist.”

  “Naw, just in awe of that breed. My dad used to sing and play ‘That Strawberry Roan’ and that got me wondering what a roan was. He tried to explain about the black legs and the different colors of the coat, but even he couldn’t explain it so I understood fully.”

  “Well, all I really know is some that are called roans really aren’t ‘cause they don’t carry the right genes.”

  “True roans should not carry two red genes, but instead should carry one or two non-red, which would be black. Confused yet?”

  “Probably. All I really know is I know a blue roan when I see it. They’re one of the prettiest horses on four legs.”

  She reined in. “Now that is an opinion, and therefore debatable.”

  He brought his mount to a halt. “Are we having our first argument?”

  “Absolutely not. We’re having an intelligent discussion in which one of us disagrees with the other without it coming to a shouting contest or worse violence.”

  “That sounds like something you read.”

  She laughed. “It is.”

  “Okay, I give. You’ve got four years of reading and studying on me while I was shooting Germans.” Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “That was unfair of me. Oh, wait—look.”

  Mark put a finger to his lips and pointed.

  Out in the middle distance, the yellow mare appeared like a ghost through a stand of gold-crowned cottonwoods. Her flanks shimmered in the evening sun, the same golden shade as the leaves on the trees around her.

  Julie gasped. “Oh my God!”

 
; The mare paid them no mind until Julie’s gelding snorted. Across the way, the other horse raised her head, mane blowing in the breeze. For a moment, Mark didn’t spot the colt, then saw her move delicately from behind her mother and mock the same head movement.

  He could hardly breathe he was so taken by the beauty of the blue roan. He absolutely had to have that pair. Not today, of course, but soon. He would bring Jones out here with him. Together, they could cut the two out of the bunch and drive them into the corral.

  His mind flashed back to the day he and Jones and Alma had captured those first six ponies on the ranch up in Bloody Basin. It was a breathtaking memory that made his heart thunder again in his chest. Some things were just too perfect to forget, and for a moment, it was as if Alma and Jones rode alongside him once again.

  “I think they’ve seen us.”

  The stallion of the band—a tall, powerfully-built dun with a brown strip down his back—had, indeed, caught sight of them. He threw his head high and screamed. The herd turned and bolted, vanishing in a matter of moments, leaving nothing but a cloud of red dust swirling about in the last rays of the day.

  “Baby, someday, we’ll have that colt. I’ll make him your wedding present.” He reined his mount around and she followed him back to the ranch.

  The air had turned colder, the wind switching so it raced down off the distant mountains and swept through the valley.

  It was a day he wouldn’t soon forget.

  —

  MARK AND JULIE MARRIED THE week before Christmas, not making a big deal out of it because of her parents’ feelings about them. When she walked the short distance to him at the altar, he covered his mouth to hide his grin. She wore a beautiful pale blue gown and a ring of white daisies on her head. When the gown hiked up a bit as she walked, her bare toes showed. Her smile was wider than he’d ever seen it when he slipped the ring on her finger. The only thing missing were her parents and he hated that for her sake. Everyone told them that Conroy would come around once grandbabies made an appearance. He hoped so.

  Dirty Shirt Jones attended. Sam stood up with Mark and a friend of Julie’s from U of A drove out to be her bridesmaid. All the cowboys from the farm at Lehi and the ranch in Paradise Valley came and shared cake and champagne with the newly-wed couple.

  It was a fine day all around to Mark’s way of thinking. He liked simple and Julie liked what he liked. Most of the time. She could present a strong argument when necessary, but mostly they didn’t quarrel, and he liked that. It made for a peaceful existence.

  The house wasn’t finished, so he got one of the trailers fixed up to live in till it was. Neither wanted to wait any longer to be together. Julie said she didn’t mind the trailer at all. After Christmas, besides work on the ranch, he would go back to rodeoing and so would she. It was a union made in heaven. If it weren’t for Bryce Conroy’s agitation.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEY HONEYMOONED IN A MOTEL in Lehi for twenty-four hours straight, but he worried about his stock at home, so they rode out to the ranch. Everything was fine. Logs were going up on the house, but he paced a lot, wanting it to go faster.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t mind the trailer and we want it to be perfect.”

  He managed to stop his grumbling. They began the move of a few of her things from Sonata and his from the bunkhouse.

  By the weekend, they’d settled in the trailer and had her horse in his barn.

  He stared into empty cabinets. Living alone, he’d settled for eating with the hands in the bunkhouse, but it was time they bought food.

  “We’re out of groceries. We need to check on Rosita. She probably wonders why we haven’t stuck our noses out for so long. For some reason, there’s no hot water. Do you need to call your folks? I better call Sam in the morning.”

  “Calm down. You go check on Rosita. I can light the hot water heater and I’ll be all clean when you get back. You can bathe, and we’ll go shopping for food. How’s that?”

  “Fine.” He chuckled. She could sure keep things in order.

  Good damn thing.

  He went down and leaned inside Rosita’s door. “We’re okay. When we go to town, can you clean up the trailer some and do the wash?”

  She smiled. “I can remember when I first married my husband. We never slept. We never ate. It was so much fun. You and her are a good couple and have such a fine time.”

  He worried what she might think, him moving in with a woman, so he hurried to reassure her. “Rosita, you have a job here. Things won’t ever be normal again, but we will all have fun and we appreciate you. Make me a list and I will get your things for you.”

  “I will do that. You are lucky to find her.”

  “She found me, but I’m happy.”

  Once they settled down together, lots of things became obvious. Julie was ranch-raised by parents who had everything. He was farm-raised by sharecroppers who had nothing. How alike could they be? Not much, even if people considered him rich and eccentric. She’d never picked cotton. Tall as she was, she’d have been bent over double getting to the bolls.

  She was a CPA and he was an idiot. He loved her differently from how he loved Alma. He could never replace that first love, one that grew naturally from necessity. He’d never married the Pima Indian girl, never had the chance, but he would have, had the time come. None of it mattered. What did, and always would, is that he was head over heels for Julie. Didn’t matter how different they were. It would work.

  Back at the Arizona State Fair Grounds, he took the bucking stock off water. He started to separate the livestock for the last performance, horses first, and watched some head slinging Brahma bulls and a black cross who’d put a few guys in the hospital during his bucking career.

  The bucking horses were easy. They’d been sorted before. The bulls took some time, but eventually they left the main arena. He had them cut off. He looked up and here she came on her big horse. Damn, she looked good.

  “I was coming,” she said. “Calves or steers?”

  “Steers first. Then calves.”

  That pony of hers knew cattle and he soon had the dogging stuff separated. In the alleyway, he cut off the steers as she brought them to him. Then they penned the calves. She slipped off her horse and came over to him. He kissed her, Life Magazine style—wrapped in his arms, her legs long and slim. This time she laughed when he finished the kisses.

  “You’re a dandy, Mark Shaw.” She dragged off her saddle. “Remember when we met, and you asked me in that way you have to tease me? ‘What do you like to be called?’ You didn’t even know my name, did you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You thought you were so sly.” She waved her finger at him. “I caught you.”

  “I give up.” She’d never know it was the other way around. From the first moment he spied her, it was catch her or die from the need.

  “What is my name? Julie Shaw. I’m married to that Mark Shaw. Plain as can be.” She looked hard at him.

  “Nothing plain about you.”

  She put her face on his shoulder. “That first night, you wanted to take me home with you, huh? Why didn’t you? I never slept one bit thinking of you.”

  “I had the same problem. Waiting to do anything till we got hitched was kind of like giving up meat for Lent, wasn’t it?”

  “What did Rosita think about me? At first, I mean?”

  “She is a dear sweet woman. She’s a soldier’s widow and I guess she never found anyone. She goes to mass every Sunday morning. But what brought all this up? We’re legal and well married, so we can do as we please.”

  “Just some things with us have been… well, different than I expected, that’s all. I’m still trying to figure how I fit into your life and my relationship with the other people there.”

  “Julie, you’re my wife. Sure, I have a lot of other people in my life, friends, business associates, bankers, lawyers, Hollywood folks, but none of them are as important to me as you. Does that answer your question?
”

  “Thank you. I guess that’s what I needed to hear,” she said, kissing him on the cheek just as the door opened.

  Pamela brought him the list of stock drawn by the judges. He thanked her. She spoke politely to Julie and Julie said she always did a good job.

  The secretary grinned. “Of course. Mark hires good sorting help.” She headed back inside.

  “I pay them so much.”

  She and Julie laughed at his joke.

  They soon had the numbers sorted and went for a hamburger from a vendor already open.

  When the guy gave them the burgers and fries, they carried them up to sit on the rodeo bleachers. “At least no baloney sandwiches tonight.”

  “I’d eat them with you. Even in the backseat.”

  “Sure, now that you’ve got me lassoed good and proper.”

  He held up the thick hamburger. “No, I ate baloney all my life. We used it for bacon in the morning. Then for lunch with mustard on biscuits and in spaghetti at supper. And we was damn lucky to have that too.”

  “Well, you’ve come a long way now.”

  He winked. “I sure have. Got me this purty rodeoing woman and everything is just dandy.” They both laughed. He was laughing a lot lately and it felt good.

  “We ate a lot better up on the ranch,” he said. “But hell, over across the water we ate C rations and baloney would have tasted damn good.”

  “You’re like Daddy. He eats potatoes and beef and then beef and potatoes.”

  “A man after my own heart.” If only that were actually true. Would he and Bryce ever be friends?

  She doused French fries in ketchup and ate them one by one, her pinky finger crooked just so. “Oh, more shades of home. Tell me about your best horse.”

  “That’s a long story. I came home hearing artillery and machine guns in my head, seeing all my buddies who didn’t make it. I wanted to get on a horse and ride, ride, ride. Just ride away. My stepmother, Lenora, wanted me to go see a bruja. She meant well. Instead, Dirty Shirt Jones and I, along with Alma, went off to catch some bachelor wild horses in the McDowell Mountains.