Trouble at the Red Pueblo

by Liz Adair

Jack shook Spider’s hand first and then Karam’s, continuing with his poem without comment.

  The fellas gathered round the pot,

  Anticipatin’ stew

  ‘Til Cookie lifted up the lid,

  Revealin’ one old shoe.

  Still holding the pitcher, Laurie kissed Jack on the cheek. “I hope you’re not planning on feeding us shoe leather.”

  “Nope. Prime Angus, raised right here on Braces.” Jack handed the box to Amy. “Get that corn in the pot right away, and I’ll cook the burgers.”

  Amy smiled. “I’ve had water boiling for ten minutes already, waiting on you.”

  “Well, I’m here now.” Jack raised the lid of a stainless barbeque unit and turned on the burners.

  Spider and Karam sat back down, and Laurie finished pouring limeade. She left the pitcher on the table and followed Amy into the kitchen.

  Watching Jack as he pulled hamburger patties out of a drawer in a stainless refrigerator built into the cooking area, Spider searched for some polite comment that wouldn’t engender verse. Karam came to his rescue.

  “I am not sure I understand about what is a straw bale house. Is it really made of straw?”

  Jack closed the stainless lid over the sizzling burgers. “Why sure it is. Come on in here, and let me show you.” He opened one of the doors to the living room and held it for Karam to pass through. “You, too, Spencer,” he said.

  Spider obediently stood and followed.

  Jack stepped through and pointed to the casing around the door. “See how thick the walls are? Ever seen a straw bale? That’s how thick they are. And lookie here.” He lifted a picture off the wall. Underneath, a framed Plexiglas sheet formed a window, allowing a glimpse through the plaster to golden stems packed together.

  “That is amazing,” Karam said. He stepped back, surveying the wall. “But why?”

  Jack frowned. “Why what?”

  “Why use straw instead of bricks?” Karam asked. “Will it not fall down?”

  “Heck no. The house has a framework of massive beams. The straw bales just fill in the area between.”

  “It’s for insulation,” Spider added. “Keeps the house cool in summer, warm in winter.”

  Karam smiled. “You Americans. You are so inventive. In my country we can build houses that are cool in summer, warm in winter, but we build them out of mud brick. We’ve been doing it that way for thousands of years.”

  “Where is your country?” Jack asked. “You from Mexico?” He put one foot forward, held up his hand, and launched in.

  Way down across the border

  Beyond the Rio Grande—

  “Karam’s from Gaza,” Spider interrupted. Could a guy with that much education be that clueless?

  Jack dropped his hand. “Where?”

  “Gaza.”

  Jack looked from Spider to Karam. “Where’s that?”

  Karam answered. “Right next door to Israel.”

  “Oh.” Jack blinked. “I don’t know any poems about that.”

  “That’s all right,” Spider assured him, opening the door to the patio. “Those burgers sure smell good.”

  “That’s because it’s Braces beef.” Jack hurried out, lifted the lid, and shouted, “Amy. I’m turning the burgers.”

  Spider and Karam sat at the table, and a few moments later Laurie appeared with a tray of condiments followed by Amy with the dishes. By the time the burgers came off the grill, the table was set, and a platter of golden corn steamed in the middle.

  All through lunch, Jack retold the story of building the house. Karam ate only corn and cantaloupe, but he listened politely. Now that he had seen the house, Spider listened with more interest and a grudging admiration for all Jack had accomplished.

  “You’ve done a great job,” he said as he finished the last of his melon. “The house, the way it’s landscaped, your fields, they all look first rate.”

  Jack’s cheeks got rosy, and he looked down at his hands. “Thanks. I’ve been working at it for a long time.

  Buildin’ up a little place

  That I can call my home,

  A place to hang my Stetson—

  Jack broke off in the middle of his own verse. “You know, someone else musta liked the looks of it ‘cause I got a letter in the mail offering to buy it.”

  “Is that so?” Spider tried to sound casual. “I don’t suppose you were inclined to sell.”

  Jack snorted. “Shoot, no.”

  Spider’s hand went to his shirt pocket, checking for his notebook. Dang. He really needed to get it back from Laurie. “Do you remember who wrote the letter?”

  Jack shook his head. “Tossed it in the garbage. It was no interest to me.”

  “Huh,” Spider grunted. “By the way, where do you get your water?”

  “There’s a spring up where this canyon intersects with the next one over. That’s Martin Taylor’s place. We share the water rights.”

  “I read about water rights as I studied American History,” Karam said. “People have been killed here over water rights.”

  “Well, I’m on pretty good terms with Martin,” Jack said. “He rents me his shares since he isn’t doing anything with his property. It works out well for both of us.”

  “Going back to this person who wanted to buy your ranch,” Spider said. “Was it someone from St. George? Earnest Endeavors?”

  Jack made a flicking motion with his hand. “I didn’t even read to the end of the letter. Like I said, I wasn’t interested.”

  Laurie stood and took Spider’s plate, stacking it on her own. When she tried to pick up Jack’s, he held on. “Leave that be. I want to show you all something down at the barn.”

  Laurie gave up on Jack’s plate and reached for the one Karam handed her. “You fellows go on. I’ll help Amy clean up and join you later.”

  “No!” Jack stopped, seemingly abashed at speaking so forcefully. “I mean, I want you to see this.”

  Laurie continued stacking dishes. “Well, let me at least carry these in.” She disappeared through the kitchen door, reappearing a moment later. “Now. What do you want to show us?”

  Jack took her elbow and headed across the patio. “It’s something I think you’ll like.”

  Spider picked up his hat, and he and Karam followed. As they walked, a breeze from behind stirred the dust and carried a rust-colored puff away. Nearing the first bank of stalls, Spider heard a horse whicker, and a moment later a buckskin’s head emerged from the open half door, ears pointed forward.

  Laurie stopped and turned to her cousin. “Jack, what have you done?”

  Alarmed at how pale his wife had become, Spider stepped up beside her. “What’s the matter, Laurie?”

  “It’s Taffy. Oh Jack, I thought I’d never see her again.”

  “Taffy?” Spider looked at the mare stretching her neck and pushing against the stall door, his mind trying to work out how Laurie’s horse, the one she’d had to sell four years ago when times were so tough, could be here in Jack’s barn.

  Jack shrugged. “I heard you were selling off your stock, and I knew any horse trained by Laurie Rowland would be worth the price.”

  “Latham,” Spider said. “Laurie Latham.”

  No one heard him because his three companions were already at the stall door. Laurie had her hands on Taffy’s cheeks, and the horse’s forehead rubbed against her chest.

  Laurie looked back at Spider, and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “She remembers me,” she said.

  He joined her at the stable door. “Of course she does. You had her from before she was weaned.”

  She sniffed. “Have you got a handkerchief? I need to blow my nose.”

  Spider felt in his back pocket, but it was empty. “Shoot. I left it with Neva. Here, use this.” He looked around to see that Jack and Karam had moved to the next stall before pulling his shirttail out and undoing the bottom buttons. As Laurie bent over to wipe her eyes, he said, “I need to be careful about how many weepy f
emales I come across in a day.”

  “I guess.” Laurie wiped her nose and re-buttoned the shirt for him. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re a good man to have around.”

  Spider tucked in his shirt and then took her in his arms. “Don’t mention it. You all right?”

  She nodded. “It was the surprise of seeing her. I’m fine.” She gave him a quick hug and then turned to call to Jack. “Could I take her out right now?”

  Jack looked at his watch. “We’ve got time for a short ride.” He thought a moment and then pulled out his cell phone. “I think I can get us another half hour. You all start saddling up while I make a call. Spencer, you can ride that bay, and Karam, there’s a pinto in the next stall.” He took out his phone and walked away, dialing as he went.

  Laurie opened Taffy’s door and stepped inside. Bending over, she lifted a front hoof and examined it.

  “How’s it look?” Spider asked.

  “Great. She’s doing fine.” She put down the hoof and patted the buckskin on the neck. Then she let herself out of the stall and opened a door to the left of Taffy’s stall. “Here’s the tack room.”

  Karam tugged at Spider’s sleeve, his eyes wide. “I do not know how to attach a saddle,” he whispered. “I come from the city. This is the closest I have been to a horse.”

  “Tell you what,” Spider said. “Let’s run up the canyon and take a look at Martin Taylor’s place.”

  Karam looked down at his shoes. “I am not dressed for running.”

  Spider’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll take the car.” He turned to Jack, just returning. “Mind if we drive up and look at your spring?”

  Jack’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t want to come with us?”

  “Nah. I’d like to see what’s up that canyon. What time do you need us back?”

  Jack looked at his watch. “How about an hour?”

  “You got it.” Spider swung by Taffy’s stall and looked over the half door at Laurie as she tightened the cinch. “Karam and I are going up to the head of the canyon,” he said. “We’ll meet you back here.”

  She smiled and waved assent, and Spider led Karam around the house to the car. They got in, and Spider drove to the access road, turning right instead of left and heading toward the red sandstone cliffs a quarter mile distant. Huge marshmallow clouds boiled up from behind the red mesas, intensifying the blueness of the sky beyond.

  “Those look like rain clouds,” Karam said.

  “Maybe so, maybe not. This is the monsoon season. They generally have cloud buildups like that every day.”

  The gravel road up to Jack’s circular driveway had been well cared for, but approaching the canyon, it deteriorated to a sandy trail. Spider drove as fast as he could to keep from becoming stuck. The car bounced around and shifted from side to side as he tried to accommodate the Yugo’s small wheelbase to the ruts made by a pickup.

  The road dropped into a dry creek running through a canyon about a half a mile wide with red sandstone mesas rising six hundred feet on each side. Rocks embedded in the sandy bottom gave plenty of traction, but as the valley narrowed, the wash grew deeper. Finally, the track they were following climbed out at a place where the bank, though steep, wasn’t straight up and down.

  “Hang on,” Spider said as he shifted down and mashed on the accelerator.

  “I don’t think—” Karam grabbed the dash and the door handle and watched, wide eyed, as the little car flew toward the embankment.

  They made it halfway up before they lost momentum, and the rear wheels began digging a hole. Spider shifted to reverse, and the tires spun, throwing sand. He kept a steady pressure on the gas, and finally, they rolled back down into the creek bed.

  Spider turned off the key, got out, and looked around. All he could see ahead of him was the sandy wall where the dry wash made a turn. Raising his eyes, he scanned the flanks of the nearest mesa rising from the canyon floor and saw a trail traversing to the top. He bent down and looked through the open door at his companion. “Feel like taking a walk?”

  Karam unbuckled and got out of the car. Following Spider’s pointing finger, he eyed the trail and then turned with raised brows. “Seriously? Now we are climbing mountains?”

  “You teach American History,” Spider said. “Think of this as a learning experience about westward expansion. It wasn’t all flat, you know.” He reached into the backseat for a bottle of water and started up the bank. “There’s a clump of cottonwoods up the creek. If you want to go sit in the shade, I’ll be back in a while.”

  “No, wait.” Karam dove into the back for the other water bottle and became entangled in the seat belt. “I am coming,” he called, shaking his right arm to free it. He slammed the door, and with shirt untucked and hair hanging over his brow, he trotted to where Spider stood. “Ready.”

  Spider smiled. “Good man.”

  The sandy track angled toward the base of the hill, and they walked in silence. Spider was grateful for the steady breeze that tempered the heat of the afternoon sun and for the scent of sage that drifted up as they brushed against the feathery bushes.

  “The sand makes walking extra hard,” Karam said, puffing a bit.

  “I think the footing will be better once we start uphill.”

  That proved to be the case, and though they were ascending, the hard packed clay of the trail made walking easier. Halfway up, they took a water break, sitting on a large red-rock slab in the shade of an overhang. Spider scanned the dry creek bed looking for the Yugo and finally spied one orange rear fender. The rest was obscured by the height of the bank. To the left, he could see Jack’s place below them, and further on, loping through the sagebrush, the buckskin and the bay.

  Spider pointed. “Laurie and Jack. They must be headed to the next canyon.”

  Karam squinted. “I wonder why they did not come this way. Does this road not lead to the next canyon?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t like roads.”

  At that moment they heard the sound of a car coming from the direction of the spring. Spider turned to look, but they had rounded the flank of the hill, and he couldn’t see up the canyon.

  The sound of the engine grew louder. Curious about who might be coming down the road, Spider leaned against the rock behind him and fixed his eyes on the sandy track below. Soon a burgundy SUV came into view.

  “That is a Range Rover,” Karam said, untying his shoe.

  “Couldn’t prove it by me, but I like the color.”

  “My father has one, only it’s black, and not as new as that one.”

  The Range Rover stopped a ways beyond Spider’s car, the driver hidden through the tinted windows. After a moment, the car pulled away and was shielded from view by the bank of the arroyo.

  Spider stood. “You ready to push on?”

  Karam had his shoe upside down, shaking sand out of it. “It is not the mountains ahead that you have to climb that wear you out, it is the pebble in your shoe,” he quoted.

  “Is that from the Quran?”

  Karam looked up from tying his shoe.“No. Muhammad Ali said it. He was an American boxer.”

  “I know who Muhammad Ali is,” Spider said. “Well, come on. We should catch a breeze at the top.”

  They followed the trail, scrambling over rectangular sandstone boulders that had fallen from the rocky mesa cap. At last they gained the top.

  Spider stood a moment, breathing hard and looking around. Juniper trees dotted the landscape, their powder-blue berries contrasting with the deep green of their foliage. Rabbit brush and sage grew thickly, and here and there orange mallow added a spot of color. “Let’s head across,” he said. “I don’t think it will take very long to get to the other edge of the mesa.”

  Weaving through the trees, they hiked steadily until, suddenly, another step would have been into thin air. Below, a wide canyon sloped off to the east. “I’ll bet this is Martin Taylor’s spread,” Spider said. “That green place up at the head is where the spring rises.”

/>   “Look at the canyon wall on the other side,” Karam said.

  “Yeah.” Spider examined the serpentine crevices and huge, knobby protrusions. “And look at the banding of colors. That’s quite a sight.”

  “Mr. Taylor is a lucky man. If this was mine, I would build a house over there.” He pointed to an arched depression in the red rock wall across from them.

  Spider nodded. “Good choice. From all the green in that crevice, I’d say there was a spring there, too.” He ran his eyes over the landscape, trying to see it as a developer would. With the slope of the canyon away from the spring, a water storage tank adjacent to the source at the head of the canyon would do the job. There’d be no need for pumps, as gravity would take care of everything if it were engineered right. He mentally divided the canyon into two-acre plots and began doing the math, based on what Martin Taylor had been offered for the property.

  Karam interrupted his computation. “There’s Laurie’s horse.” He pointed to a place far below where the red, rocky scree gave way to soil and vegetation.

  Spider sighted down the angle of Karam’s arm and found the buckskin. She seemed to be tethered to a juniper skeleton, and the bay was beside her. Spider’s eyes raked the surrounding country, looking for the riders.

  “I wonder where Laurie—” Spider didn’t finish his sentence because at that moment, he spotted his wife, locked in the embrace of her fourth cousin, Jack.

  KARAM WAS SAYING something, but Spider’s mind, spinning with the image of his wife in another man’s arms, wouldn’t process the words.

  Spider watched Karam’s mouth as he repeated the phrase, but he still couldn’t make sense of it. He shook his head as if that would erase the picture of Laurie in Jack’s embrace.

  He turned and looked over the cliff again. His eyes found them instantly, walking to where their horses were tethered. Jack’s arm was around Laurie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist. They walked as one, as if they were glued together.

  Spider turned away as saliva rushed into his mouth, and he felt the Braces beef he had for lunch rising in his gorge. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain control. Pulling the water bottle from his pocket, he poured the warm liquid inside the collar of his shirt and closed his eyes as he held out his arms to catch the cooling breeze.