High Rider

by Bill Gallaher

  Two days before Christmas, John rode the first of the wild horses to a standstill while Amos and Emmett looked on in bemused amazement. John dismounted and, knowing he had impressed both men, suppressed a smile as he asked, “You got any real wild ones?”

  The Coles laughed and Amos fetched another animal that John rode into submission as well. Amos shook his head and chuckled. “They say that seeing is believing, but what I’m seeing I can scarcely believe.”

  Emmett said, “Well, I ain’t asleep and I ain’t dreaming, so it must be real.”

  The day before Christmas, while John did chores, Amos and Emmett took Connie and the buckboard out and returned a couple of hours later with a rather scrawny pine tree. They set it up in the house, and that evening Ellie decorated it with handmade paper ornaments and bows made from ribbons. It was a custom new to John, and Amos said that it was new to them too, but their German neighbours a couple of miles down the road did it and the Coles had liked the idea. Afterwards, they drank eggnog and sang carols, and before bedtime, Amos read from Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. John had never had anybody other than a preacher read to him before, and he got lost in the story. It seemed as if Dickens had personally known Sebastian Chambers, although he did not think it likely that his old slave master had found redemption as Scrooge had.

  On Christmas Day, the Coles’ neighbours stopped by for a visit, as did some acquaintances from town. The Coles introduced John as if he were part of the family, and it felt as strange to him as it probably did to the visitors. They feasted that night on beef, potatoes, and carrots, roasted in the same pot, and had apple cobbler for dessert. Afterwards, they moved to the cane chairs in the living area with hot whiskies.

  They chatted for a bit, and Ellie said, “Amos, you’ll do the honours, won’t you?”

  “I surely will.” He rose and went to the Christmas tree, where he retrieved five packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbons. He gave two to Ellie, one to Emmett, a large one to John, and kept one for himself.

  “Why don’t you go first, Ma,” Emmett suggested.

  “Oh, no,” Ellie said. “It isn’t fair to make the rest of you wait.”

  They all tore at their packages, except John, who picked at his, unaccustomed to either receiving or giving gifts. He saw that Ellie had opened her presents to find a new cooking pot from Amos and a fancy apron from Emmett, while Emmett got a new Bowie knife with an eight-inch blade and sheath from his parents. Amos’s gift from Ellie and Emmett was a silver-plated timepiece and chain. They had all finished opening their presents and John was still fumbling with his, almost afraid to open it.

  “C’mon, John,” Amos urged. “Nothing in there that’ll bite.”

  John got the paper off and held the large paperboard box.

  “Open it, for pity’s sake!” Ellie cried.

  John pulled the top of the box off; inside was a black Boss of the Plains Stetson hat. Beneath it, nestled in a pair of home-knitted woollen socks, were a gold eagle worth ten dollars and a double eagle worth twenty dollars. As grateful as he was for their generosity, he wished that he had had the money beforehand so that he could have bought gifts for them. Amos sensed his discomfort.

  “John, your gift to us is your presence here. Besides, the double eagle is this month’s wages and the eagle is a bonus in hopes that you’ll stay on. Now, I ain’t a man for making speeches, but I’m telling you this in the spirit of Christmas and all that it means: I’ve been on this earth a good many years and I’ve yet to meet a man who works as hard as you do. Never seen a man with as much glue in his pants when it comes to sticking on a sunfishing horse either. So like I said, we’ve never had such a gift dropped in our laps as you.”

  “What you do around here to help, John,” added Emmett, “is more than a body has a right to expect. You do the work of two men, so you deserve every penny of it. The hat, too. It’s the biggest size I could get—I hope it fits.”

  Ellie spoke up. “And if you’d like a lady’s perspective, you’re more of a gentleman than most of the so-called ‘gentlemen’ in town are.”

  John tried the hat on and the fit was snug, but that meant it would stay where it ought to in a stiff Texas wind. He cleared his throat. “Well, if things don’t work both ways, they won’t work at all. I can’t think of nothin’ else I’d rather be doin’ than what I’m doin’ right here. You’ve made me feel welcome since the first day I come here and that’d rest easy on any man’s heart. My thanks to you.”

  Amos had a look of childlike anticipation on his face. “We ain’t done yet, John. Why don’t you have a look in the loft above Emmett’s room?”

  His curiosity aroused, and more into the spirit of the celebration, John went to the ladder placed against the wall and climbed high enough to be able to peer into the shadowy space. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he would find there, and it took a moment for the significance of it to sink in. There was a handmade cot topped by a tick mattress, with a folded blanket at the foot and a pillow at the head. Beside the cot was a wooden box on top of which sat an unlit candle in a brass holder. The realization of what it meant sent a warm sensation flooding through him, and while he had probably shed tears as a child, he had no recollection of it, and had never shed any as an adult. But he now felt them clouding his vision, and a lump in his throat blocked his voice. Behind him, the Coles chorused, “Happy Christmas, John!”

  •

  After the brief holiday, Emmett rode south to Waco to attend another meeting, and John broke the remainder of the horses. He and Amos began training two of the best for harness racing. One in particular, a young bay mare, was lightning fast. After John had broken her, he took her out the back gate and let her run. Even carrying his considerable weight, she tore up the furlongs with a speed unmatched by any of the other mounts. Amos commented that she had taken off like a “scalded cat,” so Cat became her name.

  When Amos hitched Cat to a sulky, John told him, “Seems a shame to hobble that horse to a trot, Amos. She loves to stretch her legs.”

  “Maybe, but most of the racing in Fort Worth is harness racing and that’s where the money is. We gotta try her there first and if she don’t work out, well . . .” Amos let the sentence dangle there, incomplete.

  On the day of the first race meet, people streamed into town from the surrounding ranches and as far away as Dallas, either as spectators or participants. Emmett, back from Waco, and Ellie joined Amos and John. Unlike the races back east, where horses were bred for trotting, a wide variety of breeds was used here, which made it all the more interesting and entertaining to watch. A festive feeling charged the air and the crowd roared its delight when the races got under way.

  Amos and Cat were in the second race, which was exclusively for two-year-olds. Cat got off to a good start, trotting nicely, but lost her rhythm around the first turn and broke into a gallop. The rules stated that Amos had to steer her off to the side, slow down, and let her find her pace again. A couple of other horses had problems, too, which allowed Cat to get back in the race, but in the end, she and Amos crossed the finish line in fourth place, with seven carts on the track.

  Amos was disappointed. “Believed she’d do a whole lot better than that,” he muttered. “Maybe you’re right, John. She always felt to me like she wanted to break away, so maybe trotting ain’t in her blood.” He lifted his hat and scratched his head, as he often did when there was a decision in the offing. “There’s an open race after the harness racing’s done and if you wanna ride Cat in it, you have my blessing. You can go saddled or bareback, but bareback may be your best bet because you’re heavier than a normal load for a racehorse. Anyway, I hope I didn’t tucker her out too much.”

  The prospect excited John. “I don’t think so, Amos. I’d wager she’s not even warmed up yet.”

  Besides the betting that went on, all of the ranchers with a horse in the open race pitched into the prize-money pot, which had built up to one hundred and fifty dollars. It was for firs
t place only.

  “You don’t come in first,” Amos said, “all you’ll get is to eat the dust of the leaders, so make her give everything she’s got, John.”

  With the harness racing completed, John mounted Cat and they joined eleven other horses and their riders at the starting line. Some of the animals were nervous, and it rubbed off on several of the others, which meant a lot of movement and jostling on the line. Cat wanted to run, but John held her head close as she pranced with explosive energy in the small space.

  With the horses lined up abreast, the starting gun banged and John felt the strength and power in Cat’s stride as she surged forward and flew down the track. The sound of forty-eight horses’ hooves pounding on the hard earth was thunderous in his ears, and the danger in being in the thick of it thrilled him. He sensed that Cat could have taken the lead but he held her back, hoping that she would be all the hungrier for it in the home stretch.

  The pack rounded the first turn with John in fourth place. He looked for an opening to the inside, against the rail, but there was none, nor was there one to the outside. After the second turn and into the backstretch, he felt that the riders around him might be trying to box him in to prevent him from taking the lead and perhaps winning the race. Around the third turn, the horse directly in front of Cat was tiring, allowing John to slip into third place. Now only two horses remained in front and they were neck and neck. He kept watch for room to make a move inside, desperate to find one, but none appeared. Past the final turn, the lead horses were still jamming the rail; it was outside or nothing. John had a quirt but did not use it; instead, he shook the reins and called to Cat to run. She did not need the encouragement. Like a big cat lunging after its prey, she shot around the outside horse and tore down the home stretch. John felt transported to another world in which human beings rode on the wind. From somewhere far away, he thought he could hear the Coles above the crowd, screaming for more speed. But John’s work was done. Cat was in control and she wanted the race even more than he did. Later, Amos would tell John that he had crossed the finish line two lengths in front of the nearest horse, the rest of the field spaced out even farther back. No one at the track had ever seen a horse run that fast.

  “You got a good one here, Amos!” John was nearly breathless as he reined up and dismounted in the winner’s circle. “Lord, but she knows how to run!”

  “That was some race!” Amos’s face was lit up like a gas lamp. “Even men I know to be staunch Democrats were cheering.” His smile widened. “I reckon more for the horse than for you, though.”

  On the way back to the ranch, with the cart in the back of the buckboard and Cat in tow, Amos was exultant. “You earned yourself fifty dollars of that prize money, John. And you know what else?” Neither waiting for an answer nor expecting one, he continued, “A man needs a good horse and a horse needs a good man. You and Cat are a pair if ever I seen one. As far as I’m concerned, she’s yours. Enough said, now. I’m deaf as a board to arguments.”

  That’s how it was with Amos Cole. Once he made up his mind, it was futile to contest him. John had himself a first-rate horse and more money in his Levi’s than he’d ever had before. He thought, A man might feel that the world has done him a bad turn, that he was born in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he’s lucky and he doesn’t let it get the best of him, the day will come when such things matter a whole lot less.

  For John, that day had come; he felt himself to be a lucky man.

  FOUR

  No reason for you to stay.

  The years folded easily into a decade, as soft butter folds into flour. Amos was now in his eighties and was a little stooped, the rifts in his face a little deeper, but he still had the energy of a man twenty years younger. Ellie hadn’t changed much and seemed unaffected by the passage of time, while Emmett’s greying beard grew on a face even more burnished by the Texas weather. John’s beard, which had been like a mere shadow on his face for so long, had thickened and looked full and respectable. His relationship with Emmett had blossomed from one of employer and hired hand into one of brotherhood. As for Amos and Ellie, they may as well have been his parents.

  Emmett said to him one day, “John, you’ve learned a lot about what it takes to be a good cattleman, but you ought to come to Waco with me for the next meeting of the Cattlemen’s Association. You’ll see that ranchin’ ain’t all cattle and horses.”

  The idea did not appeal to John in the least. “I ain’t one for meetins, Emmett. Amos never goes to ’em, so maybe he’d like to go with you. Me and Ellie can look after the ranch while you’re gone.”

  “Pa don’t go to those meetings because he don’t need to. Besides, he’s gettin’ too old to go even if he wanted to. But it’d be good for you, John. You’d learn lots.”

  “Well, if you think I oughta go, Emmett, you’ll get no more arguin’ from me.”

  They set out the following morning and were two days on the road, traversing the flat landscape between Fort Worth and Waco. They crossed the Brazos River over a new suspension bridge, paying a small toll, and entered the town during a blustery late afternoon with the dust flying.

  “I don’t know about you, John,” Emmett said, “but my mouth needs a good rinsing out. A friend of mine usually meets me at the Ranch Saloon, and that’s where we’re headin’ first. He always goes to the meetings with me too, and if he’s true to form he’ll already be there gettin’ a head start on us.”

  The men liveried their horses, walked through the town square to the Ranch Saloon, and pushed through the shutter doors.

  “Emmett!”

  The voice belonged to a knife blade of a man standing at the bar. Gangly, like a marionette come to life, and redheaded, he sported a huge moustache that tumbled over his upper lip like a waterfall. Coffee had stained the ends brown, and John could see something lodged in it that may have been remnants of his lunch. Emmett introduced John to Seamus Duffield, better known as “Duffy” to anybody who felt they ought to call him something. The two friends exchanged pleasantries and Emmett bought a bottle of whisky. The trio sat down at a table near the rear of the saloon.

  They drank the remainder of the afternoon away, with Emmett and Duffy doing most of the talking. Emmett pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, best we get ourselves something to eat before the meeting. They always seem to last a lot longer than everyone intends.”

  In a restaurant around the corner from the Ranch, they ate a supper that was disappointingly inferior to one of Ellie’s home-cooked meals, and washed it down with coffee. Emmett pulled out his watch again. “Just enough time to get over to Two Street, where the meeting is.” Looking at John, he asked, “You ready for this, brother?”

  Filled with whisky and food, John felt more like going to bed than to a meeting and admitted it.

  Emmett laughed. “I think you’ll find it quite spirited. Anyway, we should go. It’s a walk over to Two Street and we don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

  He paid the bill and led the way three blocks to Two Street. The wind had died, the dust had settled, and the evening was pleasant. They came to a two-storey building shaped like a T with the stem at the rear. As they walked through the front door into a large foyer, a curvaceous blond woman who looked to be in her late forties greeted them.

  “Mr. Cole! And Mr. Duffy! It’s always good to see you! I see you’ve brought a friend this time, but not to worry, we can accommodate the three of you. Come! I’ll see that you get refreshments.” She led them into a room furnished with a sofa and wingback chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. The ladies will be here shortly with your drinks.”

  She hustled off.

  John did not quite know what to make of the place but was impressed. The cattlemen in the district apparently spared no effort to make their meetings as comfortable as possible. A few minutes later, three women entered, dressed in less clothing than was common for the period, each bearing a drink. John was mystified. One of the women walked straight t
o him and, after handing him a drink, slid onto his lap. She put her arm around his neck, kissed his cheek, and said, “I’m Abby. What shall I call you?”

  John swallowed and grew hot. There was a white woman sitting on his lap and kissing him. He looked at Emmett for some kind of sign that this was all right, that it was not going to lead to bloodshed, namely his. Emmett grinned and raised his glass. “Welcome to the Cattlemen’s Association meeting. The proceedings are now called to order.”

  Duffy cackled with laughter.

  •

  Later, while lolling in a hot bath, John felt complete and utterly satisfied with life. He had never bedded a woman before; indeed, he had never even held and kissed one. He could not for the life of him even begin to describe how wonderful it felt. She was so soft! And her perfume still lined his nostrils, an exquisite reminder of an evening he would not soon forget. Granted, he would have preferred to lose his virginity to a loving wife instead of a whore, but he had not seen a spousal prospect the entire time he had been with the Coles. And tonight went a long way toward unravelling the mystery he perceived women to be, particularly white women, and that was no small step forward.

  In the morning, after they had said goodbye to Duffy and crossed the Brazos on their way home, John asked Emmett, “Do Amos and Ellie know about these ‘meetins’ of yours? What’ll I say if they ask me about it? You know I ain’t big on lyin’.”

  “No one’s gonna ask. Besides, Pa knows. That’s why he never offers to go. I’m sure Ma knows too. She just pretends that she’s not interested in what goes on at a boring meeting with a bunch of men, so that’s why she never asks about it. But Ma knows everything, most particularly when it’s time to mind her own business.”

  •

  The ranch was much more prosperous now than it had been when John arrived, but 1873 saw the collapse of an economy that had flourished after the war, and the beginning of a long depression. That year was a hardscrabble one for the Coles, and their coffers dipped at an alarming rate. John refused to accept his wages, and even though Amos did not like it, he accepted the refusal because he had little choice. But when John developed a serious toothache in his lower jaw and asked Amos to pull the tooth out for him, Amos wouldn’t hear of it. He would pay a dentist to do it.