Hoofbeats on the Trail

by Mark Littleton

  “Come on,” Jeff said, his eyes dark. “Maybe you can help.”

  They all walked out the door. Coombsie had dropped the bullhorn from his mouth and was standing over something on the ground, looking down at it. When Jeff cautiously touched his shoulder, he looked up with tears in his eyes.

  “I drove them away.”

  Ally started to speak, but Jeff motioned for her to be quiet. Coombsie just stood there, the bullhorn still dangling from his hand.

  “Which one was it, Coombsie?” Jeff finally said.

  “All of them.”

  “The bad ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ally wasn’t sure what was going on. Jeff took her and Nick both aside.

  “Look,” he said. “I don’t expect you to get this, but Coombsie sees ghosts. He was in Vietnam, and the ghosts of Vietcong soldiers he killed haunt him. He came here to get away from them. But he thinks the ghosts have found him. He can hear them laughing, and when he does, he tries to scare them away. That’s what he thinks, anyway.”

  “What can we do?” Ally said, her voice catching in her throat.

  “I want to help him, Ally. That’s all. He’s my friend.”

  Ally and Nick glanced at one another uneasily. Ally spoke up.

  “Coombsie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you ever talk to them?”

  “They don’t talk. They just laugh,” Coombsie said wearily. He slipped to his knees, dropping the bullhorn.

  “What’s he doing now?” Ally whispered.

  “Just be quiet,” Jeff whispered back.

  Coombsie’s voice was low, barely audible. Small, almost squealing noises came from his mouth; he almost sounded like an animal in pain. His head was bowed. He was praying. Ally prayed too, desperate for God to give her some insight into how to help Coombsie.

  Coombsie’s voice rose, and he beat his chest with a fist. “Please stop me from seeing them! Please! Stop them and make me whole again.” Then he slowly rose, picked up the bullhorn, and walked slowly, sadly, toward the cabin. Jeff followed him, with Nick and Ally close behind.

  When they entered the cabin, Jeff put his hand on Coombsie’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be okay this time.”

  “It’ll never be okay,” Coombsie replied as he put the bullhorn back on the table and sat on a chair, looking glum and tired. “They come back. They always come back.”

  Jeff kept his hand on Coombsie’s shoulder. “I just know it’ll be okay someday, Coombsie. I just know it.”

  “Yeah,” Coombsie said without any conviction. It was as if the life had suddenly drained out of him.

  Jeff looked sadly at Nick and Ally. “We’d better go. He needs to be alone now.”

  Ally nodded, then stopped in front of Coombsie. She said, “I loved your story and the music, Mr. Coombs. I’d like to pray for you. Can I pray for you?”

  Coombsie looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. He blinked and then turned away.

  “There’s nothing anyone can do,” he said and stared into his hands.

  Jeff grabbed Ally’s hand and pulled her away. They walked slowly to the door and stepped out into the late morning sunlight.

  The three of them trudged through the woods for awhile before Nick finally broke the silence.

  “I really feel bad for him.”

  “Yeah,” Jeff said.

  Ally glanced at him. “Are you okay, Jeff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe he should see a doctor.”

  “He’s been through that,” Jeff said. “He’s been through everything. This is the closest he’s ever come, I think. Usually, it’s worse.”

  “What has he come close to?” Nick asked.

  “What he wants.”

  “What is that?”

  The trail ended, and they stepped out onto a back road. “To be whole again. He doesn’t usually pray.”

  They walked along in silence. Only their shoes made noise as they scuffled on the dirt.

  Jeff said suddenly, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would happen again.”

  Ally touched his shoulder. “Jeff, it’s okay. I like Coombsie. He’s really unique. But I don’t know how to help him, except to pray.”

  “Yeah, and we all know what praying does.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Look, you want to go to the Hanson’s and ride for awhile? I think I need to do something that will take my mind off this.”

  “Good idea.”

  “It would be a relief,” Nick said.

  They came around a corner and reached the main road down to the farm.

  Seven

  Going for a Ride

  The three walked up the road and reached Mrs. Hanson’s house in a few minutes. In another ten minutes they were all saddled up, ready for a cattle drive. Ally rode Snowbird, Nick had Lucky, and Jeff took the majestic Thunder.

  Before they left, Mrs. Hanson said, “Don’t take Thunder by that burned-out farm, Jeff.”

  “Oh, how come?”

  “He likes their little pond. Just plunges in. Last time he got stuck, and we had to pull him out.”

  “Wow. We were just there a couple of days ago.”

  Ally laughed. “He just wants to cool off.”

  “Right, but I wasn’t at all cooled off when we were done getting him out,” Mrs. Hanson said with a grin. “Just keep Thunder reined in tight. He’s been rather frisky the last few days.”

  “Right,” Jeff said, glancing at Nick and Ally.

  They all trotted off down the road, heading in the opposite direction from the Matthews’ farm. As they plodded along, Ally said, “You’re not going to take us to another mountain man’s cabin, are you, Jeff?”

  “Nope. Let’s roll.”

  Jeff kicked Thunder, and soon they were all cantering along the road, evergreens and thick leaves brushing at them. When they slowed back down to a walk, Ally said, “How do you know all these people, Jeff?”

  “Oh, I get around.”

  Ally was silent for a moment, then said, “Jeff, I’ve been meaning to ask you: What do you know about thieves breaking into houses in our neighborhood?”

  “Just that they never steal much.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Mostly electronic stuff, I think. They seem to mainly like tearing the houses up.”

  “You don’t think Coombsie’d be doing it, do you? He could have a lot of anger, I think.”

  “Nah. Anyway, he’s rich. Why would he want to steal?”

  “He’s rich?”

  “He gets all kinds of special checks from the government, because of his disabilities and wounds from combat.”

  “I don’t think that’s rich.”

  “It is in my book. Come on. Let’s ride.”

  Jeff took off again. Ally looked at Nick and said, “He certainly likes to go all the time, doesn’t he?”

  “Hey, he’s a young guy with spirit,” Nick said. “Except it isn’t the Holy Spirit, I don’t think.”

  “I was going to talk to him about that. Why don’t you jump in sometimes?”

  Nick just shrugged. Ally looked away from him and gazed down the road where Jeff had just whizzed around a corner.

  “Well, I guess we better ride.”

  “Yeah.”

  They stormed up the road, caught Jeff, and then galloped along, cheering and razzing one another. Suddenly, a bunch of dogs ripped out of the woods ahead of them. Jeff pulled up short, as did Ally and Nick.

  “What are they?” Nick asked.

  “Dump dogs from the landfill down the road,” Jeff said. “Let’s not tango with them.”

  “What will they do?” Ally asked nervously.

  “Chase the horses. They’re a bit on the wild side,” Jeff turned around Thunder and began loping back in the direction they’d come. Ally wheeled and followed, with Nick close behind her. The dogs began barking and pursuing.

&
nbsp; “Go!” Jeff yelled.

  All three of them kicked their horses into a full gallop, and the dogs were soon left in the dust. When the dogs were well out of sight, Jeff slowed down to a walk. Ally came up next to him, with Nick on her left.

  “Where do the dogs come from?” she asked.

  “People get rid of them, let them off in the woods,” Jeff said. “Some run away. Some are born to be wild.”

  “Poor things,” Ally said. “They should be in a shelter.”

  “And put to sleep?” Jeff asked. “I don’t think they’d want that.”

  They rode for a while longer and soon were in sight of the Hanson farmhouse.

  “Well, that was a good ride,” Jeff said. “Thanks for coming. Guess we can clean up and be on our way.”

  After the horseback riding, the threesome returned to the stables, brushed down the horses, and headed for home.

  As they approached Jeff’s house, he stopped. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, see you later,” Ally said.

  “Thanks for letting us meet Coombsie, Jeff,” Nick said, surprising Ally. “I hope he starts to feel better.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how these things go. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

  “Be good,” Ally said and started for her house. Nick walked beside her, not saying much.

  “You want some lunch?” Ally said when they got to her house.

  “You really like him, don’t you?” Nick asked, ignoring her question.

  “He’s okay. I like the horseback riding. I like meeting new people. I don’t know about Jeff.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think we should talk to my mom about him.”

  “Yeah, maybe we should.”

  Eight

  The Carnival Contest

  When they stepped into the kitchen, Mrs. O’Connor looked up from preparing lunch. “Have a good time?”

  “Yeah, we met an interesting man, that friend of Jeff’s.”

  “We rode the horses again too,” Nick said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a Coke. “I’m beginning to feel like Roy Rogers.”

  “Those horses will make you bowlegged,” Mrs. O’Connor said, opening a can.

  “What’re you making, Mom?” Ally asked.

  “Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.”

  “Mmm, good.”

  “Your favorite.”

  “Right.” Ally glanced at Nick, then turned back to her mom. “Look, I want to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Were some of the soldiers who were in Vietnam really messed up by it?” She and Nick sat down at the table.

  “A lot of people were messed up by Vietnam, honey. Agent Orange. Killing innocent people. Atrocities. There was a lot of bad stuff going on back then.”

  “This friend of Jeff’s,” Nick said. “He was in Vietnam. Apparently, he killed a lot of people and was wounded and everything. But he thinks he sees ghosts.”

  “How old would people be today who were in Vietnam?” Ally added.

  Mrs. O’Connor turned from the stove, a worried look on her face. “Late forties, I guess,” she said. “Same age as me and your dad. Your dad almost got drafted, but he was in college when President Nixon sponsored the draft lottery, and he got a high number.”

  “What was the draft lottery?” Nick asked.

  “Everyone’s birth date got put in a pot. They pulled them out one by one. The first one hundred or so had a good chance of being drafted. The others didn’t have to worry.”

  “So it was a way to do what?” Ally asked.

  “Make it more fair,” Mrs. O’Connor said, flipping over a sandwich on the stove. “A lot of the draftees in those days were young men who didn’t go to college—didn’t have the money. Blue-collar type people. A lot of politicians thought it was unfair that young men who went to college got out of the draft for the four years they were in college. So it was Nixon’s way of making it more fair.”

  “So Dad got a high number?” Ally said.

  “Yes, in the high two hundreds, I think. We celebrated that one. The war got a lot worse after that, even though Nixon said we were pulling out.”

  “Worse?” Nick asked.

  “My Lai had happened before we pulled out, for one thing,” Mrs. O’Connor answered as she set the sandwiches and soup in front of them. “That was what a lot of the protesting was about. A Lieutenant Calley and his men killed a bunch of civilians—regular folks, not soldiers—at a village called My Lai in Vietnam. It was all over the news. A real atrocity. A lot of soldiers who came back from Vietnam said that was just one of many. But I suppose it was hard for them too. In Vietnam, you never knew who was the enemy and who was on your side.” Mrs. O’Connor shook her head. “It was an awful war.”

  “All war is awful, isn’t it?” Ally whispered to herself, then louder said, “I wonder if Coombsie saw those kinds of things.”

  “If he was there for long,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “If he was a frontline grunt, as they called them, he probably saw enough.”

  “I wonder if he was involved in any of it,” Ally answered, then took the last bite of her sandwich, sending it down with a gulp of ice water.

  “This man isn’t doing anything dangerous, is he?” Mrs. O’Connor suddenly asked.

  “No. He seems nice enough. He just sees these ghosts and yells at them through a bullhorn.”

  “He yells at them through a bullhorn?”

  “Mom,” Ally said, “it’s not that bad. He’s harmless, I think.”

  “Well, be careful. Don’t visit him alone.”

  “I know, Mom.” She turned to Nick. “Well, school is next week. Want to do anything cool before we have to get back to the grind?”

  “Go outside and let it happen as it happens,” Nick said. “But I wouldn’t mind doing some roller-blading.”

  “Hey, that sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I need you to do some chores later, Ally.”

  “Okay.”

  Ally retrieved her roller-blades from under her bed, then she and Nick walked to Nick’s house to get his.

  Ally and Nick strapped on their roller-blades and began skating in the street.

  “Let’s go up and see if Jeff wants to do it too,” Ally said.

  Nick frowned but followed her, and soon they stood at Jeff’s house. Ally walked up the steps and knocked. Miss Kruck answered.

  “Oh, Jeff would like that. He’s really good at it,” she said when Ally asked about roller-blading. Miss Kruck called Jeff, and he came out, looking a little rumpled.

  “I was taking a nap,” he explained.

  “We were just doing some roller-blading. Thought you might want to come.”

  “Yeah, okay. Give me two minutes.”

  Jeff returned a few minutes later, looking spiffed up and ready to roll.

  Soon they were zooming up the street, Jeff in the lead going backwards and forwards and even performing a cartwheel.

  “You’re amazing,” Ally said when she caught her breath.

  “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Hey, we ought to do the Labor Day carnival,” Jeff said.

  Ally knew about the carnival their town featured every year on Labor Day weekend, but she didn’t know what Jeff was referring to. “What do you mean?”

  “The talent show,” Jeff said. “My aunt told me about it. People do all kinds of things, but I have a horse costume and a knight costume. Two people do the horse and one the knight. It’s hilarious.”

  “Cool. You want to try it, Nick?” Ally asked.

  “Okay with me,” Nick answered.

  “I’ll get it right now. We’ll have to practice big time to get ready. Let’s go back to the house. We can practice in the big circle there.” Jeff’s house was on a cul-de-sac, which terminated in a circle large enough for a roller rink.

  Jeff took Nick and Ally down into his basement, where he found a large box. He
pulled out the costumes and showed them to the twosome.

  “Everything’s here,” Jeff said. “You and Nick could be the horse, and I’ll be the knight.”

  They walked back out into the sunshine. Ally saw that the circle of the cul-de-sac was perfect for skating.

  “What do we do?” Ally asked.

  “It’s simple,” Jeff said. He laid the costume out, then showed them how to get into it. Ally took the rear position, with Nick in the head. When the horse costume was draped over them, Jeff said, “Practice skating around so you get used to the position.”

  At first, they kept bumping into each other, but in a matter of minutes, they were able to skate freely.

  Then Jeff donned the helmet and colors. “Okay, now the knight comes out to get his horse, and the horse tries to get away. He keeps trying to mount the horse, but keeps falling. It’s really funny, if you get into it.”

  “Let’s try it,” Ally said.

  Nick pretended he was grazing. Jeff stepped out into the circle and promptly fell down. On purpose.

  On the sidelines, there was clapping.

  Ally looked out of the holes in the back of the horse and saw Miss Kruck standing on the rim of the circle. “You guys’ll do great!”

  Jeff clowned it up, and soon they were all working on a routine. Jeff said, “We’ll have to practice it. I’ll enter us in the contest, though.”

  “Contest!” Ally cried.

  “Yeah, best new talent,” Jeff said.

  “It’s a lot of fun,” Miss Kruck added as they took off their costumes and sat down on the curb.

  After a snack, Ally was eager to get back to the skating, but Jeff said he had to go by the stables and clean them out. Nick and Ally went with him, and soon they were having a fine time brushing down the horses after a quick ride.

  Ally and Nick then went home for dinner. Once dinner was over, they stepped out into the evening air for a walk and found themselves meandering up the street.

  “We’re going in the direction of Jeff’s house,” Nick said with a hint of aggravation in his voice.

  “I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

  “Do we have to hang out with him every minute?”