So now Pony sat with the boy in the quiet of the barn, watching the impossibly frail baby buffalo struggle for life and trying to find the right moment to break the terrible news to Roon. She tightened her arms around her knees. “You did a brave thing today,” she said. “You gave this little one a chance at life by carrying her down the mountain in your arms.”
“We took her away from her mother.” Roon raised his eyes to hers. “That wasn’t brave. It was wrong.”
“If we had left her there, she would have starved.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because we were too late. She’s too weak. She’ll die anyway, afraid and in a strange place, far from her mother.”
“Maybe,” Pony acknowledged. “But maybe not. I don’t know what will happen, Roon, or if what we did was right or wrong. I only know what my heart tells me, and my heart told me that we had to try.”
Roon was silent for a few moments. “That buffalo cow would have killed us to protect her calf. Not all mothers would do that, you know.”
Pony studied him. “Are you talking about human mothers? Are you saying that a human mother would not fight that way for her children?”
“A human mother doesn’t have to fight that way. All she has to do is care, and sometimes she can’t even do that,” he burst out in a rare show of emotion.
“Your mother cares about you, Roon. You may not believe that, but it’s true. I care very much about you, too, and I would fight for you the same way that mother buffalo did if it were necessary. I would fight for you that same way.”
“But you’re not my mother.”
“No. And you are not that calf’s mother, yet you carried her in your arms, and here you are sitting with her in the dark, willing her to live so that we can take her back up on the mountain and return her to her real mother. You do that because you care.”
“The only person in my family who cares about me is my brother Ralph,” Roon said. “He asked me to write him. He was going to send me their new address but I haven’t gotten it yet. Nana would tell you if she got any mail for me, wouldn’t she?”
Icy dread chilled Pony’s heart. “Roon,” she began, but before she could continue there was a rustle of movement behind them and the sound of soft foot-steps approaching. Caleb stepped into the stall and crouched down on his heels. He glanced at Pony, and she lowered her eyes with a faint negative movement of her head.
“Dr. Cooper’s coming by again first thing in the morning to give the calf another feeding,” he said, speaking softly. “Pete said as soon as she gets strong enough to stand, she might be able to nurse off a regular milk cow. You ever heard of anything like that?”
Pony nodded. “We did that for a few orphaned calves and it worked. The milk cows accepted them.”
“Cooper said he could find us a good milking cow and I told him to have it delivered here as soon as possible. Five boys and one little buffalo calf… Maybe I should’ve ordered two milk cows.” He grinned faintly. “How’s she doing?”
Pony shook her head. “She’s still very weak.”
“Roon, I’ll spend the night with her,” Caleb offered. “I’ll bring my sleeping bag down and stay right here beside her. Why don’t you go up to the house with Pony and get some rest.”
Roon looked at Caleb and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
“All right. It’s your choice.” He rose to his full height and glanced at Pony. “Can I talk to you?”
She followed him out of the barn. The night was cool, and as they walked down toward the creek she caught the tang of wood smoke and heard the distant mournful wail of a coyote. Without warning, tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t tell him,” she said, her throat closing around the words.
She felt his hand reach out and take hers in a warm, firm grip, and not even her anguish over Roon’s loss could negate the pleasure of his touch. He said nothing, just walked beside her in silence holding her hand, his strength giving her comfort. They walked along the banks of the creek and listened to the water as it rushed out of the mountains and rippled toward the sea. Finally, they returned to the barn.
“I’ll tell him now,” she said before they went inside.
He squeezed her hand gently. “No. I’ll do it.”
Pony watched as Caleb squatted beside Roon, reached a hand to smooth the golden fur of the buffalo calf, then shifted his hand to grip the boy’s shoulder. “Roon, I have some very bad news.” Roon flinched from the touch and his eyes lifted to McCutcheon’s. “Your brother Ralph was killed in a car accident over a week ago up in Canada. Pete came as soon as he heard. I’m so sorry.”
Those dark eyes were unblinking as they studied McCutcheon’s face for what seemed an eternity. Had he understood? Was he in shock? Pony was searching for something to say when suddenly Roon nodded and dropped his eyes, his shoulders stiff and his face expressionless.
“I knew there had to be a reason why he hadn’t written,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“NOW PAY ATTENTION, boys,” Badger said, wiping a trickle of tobacco juice from the corner of his mouth and holding up a pair of wire cutters. “These are the tools of your new trade. This here’s a pair of wire cutters, and this,” he said, lifting another much larger contraption, “is what we call a wire stretcher. Mighty handy damn thing, too, as you’re about to find out. These,” he said, waving a pair of sturdy leather gloves, “are mandatory when working with barbed wire. Don’t ever let me catch you without a pair, and when they wear out, holler. We got plenty on hand, no pun intended.”
The boys stood in a line watching him in the early light. Ramalda was in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes, and Guthrie was down in the barn with Pony, Caleb, Pete, Roon and that tiny buffalo calf. Dr. Cooper had just given it its second feeding, and the way things were going, Badger was afraid this fence project might never get off the ground. He was determined to get things rolling. Summer was short and the job ahead of them was damn long.
The sound of a vehicle approaching the ranch house disrupted Badger’s train of thought, and he turned and squinted at the truck towing a horse trailer. “Dang, this place is gettin’ to be crazier’n a three-ring circus!” he grumbled as the truck drove past the house and down to the barn. “That’s Evan Small. Looks like he’s brung us one of his milkers.” He turned back to the boys and sighed. “All right, dammit, you guys go see what’s happenin’. But remember this. A wild critter don’t like to be stared at, so don’t you be gawkin’ at that poor little thing.”
The boys stampeded for the barn, reaching it as Evan Small unloaded the big Holstein heifer from the trailer and led her through the open door. Badger stood for a moment and then spat over the porch railing. “Hell, I mights well go look myself as stand here wondering.” He followed the boys down to the barn. He could hear the low murmur of voices as he approached. The boys huddled in a group outside the stall. Guthrie, Pete and McCutcheon leaned over the partition, Pony stood with the boys, Evan Small had hold of the cow’s halter, and Roon was helping Doc Cooper steady the calf’s head as they propped the little critter up next to the cow’s bulging udder.
“She only just calved late last night,” Evan said. “She’s full of good first milk, and she’s a real gentle cow.”
Cooper grunted, squeezing one of the cow’s teats and directing a stream of warm milk at the calf’s mouth. He used his finger to rub the sweet taste of it between the calf’s lips while Roon steadied her head. The calf was still so weak she couldn’t stand or hold her own head up. Cooper tried several more times to persuade the calf to latch on to the teat and suckle, but she just didn’t have the strength. Finally he nodded to Roon, and they eased her back down into the bed of straw.
Doc Cooper stood up and shook his head.
“I’ll come by at noon, and we’ll tube feed her again. Meanwhile, milk the cow and keep her handy. Tie her on the f
ar side of the stall so’s she can see and smell the calf.” He looked at Roon. “You might put some of her milk in a bottle and try that on the calf, too. Let her lie so she’s comfortable and just raise her head up. Don’t force her. She might inhale the milk and choke.” He nodded at the boy approvingly. “You’re doing a good job nursing her. I didn’t think she’d last the night.”
The old veterinarian gathered his gear into a cordura bag and left the barn, accompanied by everyone but Roon. He walked out to his truck and stashed the bag on the passenger’s seat, wiped his hands on a crumpled rag he found there and looked at Guthrie. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Guthrie nodded. “Thanks for comin’ by, Doc.”
“Like I said, I’ll swing by at lunchtime, too.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Ramalda to set another place.”
They stood in a silent group and watched him depart, followed shortly after by Evan Small and Pete Two Shirts. It was McCutcheon who finally broke the silence. “Keep positive thoughts,” he said to the ring of glum faces. “Nothing good ever happens without positive thoughts.” He squared his shoulders and tugged his hat down over his eyes. “Now, we’ve got five hours till Ramalda expects us in that kitchen for lunch. Let’s go tear down some fence.”
“What about Roon?” Jimmy asked.
“Roon has a job to do that’s just as important as ours,” Badger pitched in. “Keepin’ that little buffler calf alive ain’t easy, but if he can do it, he’ll be savin’ this ranch three thousand dollars, ’cause that’s about what a weaned female buffler calf is runnin’ right now. And if she lives forty years and has thirty calves, she’ll have earned this ranch…well, you boys figure it out. Thirty times three thousand dollars. We’ll figure on the low side for price, just to be safe. Bull calves don’t fetch as much as heifers. Who can tell me what that little buffler calf will have earned us forty years from now?”
“Nine thousand dollars,” Jimmy said.
“No, ninety thousand, stupid,” Martin corrected. “All you got to do is add the zero and multiply three times three, just like Pony said.”
“Ninety thousand dollars ain’t a bad career for a buffler,” Badger said. “So I’d say Roon has an important job. But if that little calf dies, it won’t be for lack of his tryin’ to save her. So all we can do is what Boss says. Keep thinkin’ positive thoughts.” He shifted the wad of tobacco in his cheek and glanced at Pony, who nodded. “And there’s somethin’ else you need to know about Roon,” he said.
The boys looked questioningly at Pony. “Roon’s little brother, Ralph, was killed in a car crash over a week ago,” she told them quietly.
The boys stood in silence and stared at the barn.
“Does he know?” Jimmy asked, his young voice cracking with emotion.
Pony nodded, glancing at Caleb. “We told him last night.”
“And he spent the night all alone in the barn with that sick calf?”
“Mr. McCutcheon and I stayed with him,” Pony said quietly.
Badger watched the boys. They stared down at the ground as if the answer to all life’s mysteries lay beneath their feet. “So that’s how it stands with Roon,” Badger said. “You boys go easy on him. Help him over this rough stretch, ’cause there ain’t nothin’ worse in this whole wide world than losin’ someone who loves you.”
PONY WAS SO TIRED she felt as though the sun’s warmth was lulling her into a kind of senselessness. She took hold of the loose coil of barbed wire and wound it around the big unwieldy roll that sprang out and snagged her clothing and cut her flesh. But she was grateful for the hard work. And she was tired. So very tired. That was good, too. She needed to be distracted. She needed to forget about Roon, about the newest tragedy in his tragic life, about the dying buffalo calf…and about Caleb McCutcheon.
She needed to forget how she had felt last night when Caleb McCutcheon had reached out and taken her hand. She needed to forget how gently he had told Roon about the death of his little brother and how, hours later, he’d held the boy in his arms while Roon had broken down and sobbed. She could not open her heart to Caleb McCutcheon. Such a thing could not happen. Would not happen. He was white. She was Indian. They belonged in two different worlds, and that would never change.
She needed to remember who she was, and what she was all about.
The barbed wire was vicious. In just one morning she had come to see it as an enemy that had to be overcome and she welcomed the battle. She was so immersed in the work that she didn’t notice Caleb coming to stand beside her. She startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up into the eyes of the man she was trying so desperately not to think about.
“Time for lunch,” he said.
She nodded and followed him to the truck, climbing into the back with the boys because she couldn’t trust herself to sit beside him on the bench seat. Being near him was dangerous because she knew she would want him to reach out and hold her hand again. So she sat with the boys, who were comparing injuries and barbed-wire war stories. They laughed aloud and talked about how hungry they were and how good Ramalda’s cooking would taste. Pony closed her eyes, wondering how Roon and the baby buffalo were doing. Was the little calf still alive?
RAMALDA HAD OUTDONE herself for the boys’ first full day at work. She had prepared a meal that would have done the highest king proud, and yet when the truckload of hungry boys arrived at the ranch house, they paid not the slightest attention to the delectable smells wafting from her kitchen. Instead, as one entity, they moved toward the pole barn. Ramalda came out on the porch, put her big fists on her big hips and scowled.
“Oh, now, don’t be put out,” Badger soothed, easing himself onto the wall bench. “If you put something up for Roon, I’ll carry it down to him,” he offered. “The boy ain’t eaten much in the past few days. He’s had a rough time of it and that’s a fact.” After considerable muttering and fussing about in the kitchen, Ramalda emerged holding a basket and handed it to him.
With a weary moan Badger stood and started down to the barn. Dr. Cooper was there. Badger shifted the heavy basket of food and when he reached the door of the barn he paused and listened, trying to gauge what was happening inside. Tragedy or triumph?
“Hold her just like that,” Dr. Cooper said. “Tip the bottle up a little more. That’s it.”
Badger stepped inside the barn. He could see everyone grouped around a stall, hovering like a host of apprenticing midwives in the midst of a hard delivery. At least the little buff wasn’t dead. “That’s good,” Dr. Cooper said. “That’s damn good. She’s drinking. Can you see? Watch her close, boys. She’s swallowing. Look at that stream of bubbles. See that? By God, that’s fine. She’s drinking on her own!”
He could see their faces in the dim light. The boys, the young woman who called herself Pony, Guthrie and McCutcheon. Doc Cooper.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dr. Cooper said. “That’s the kind of miracle I never expected to see here today.”
“Amen,” Badger said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
BY EARLY JULY, the summer had settled into a kind of rhythm that gave Caleb a feeling of immense satisfaction. The boys were doing well. As Badger had predicted, they weren’t breaking any speed records when it came to pulling down fences and, in fact, he wasn’t sure they actually accomplished much at all in the course of a day, but they weren’t misbehaving, either. They showed up for breakfast, listened to Guthrie and Badger hash out the day’s schedule, spent the morning on the fence line with Pony riding herd on them and doing the bulk of the work herself, came back for lunch riding in the back of Pony’s pickup, then went back and worked until suppertime.
Steven Young Bear had come by each Saturday, timing his arrival to take advantage of one of Ramalda’s delicious suppers and bringing a big cardboard box of snack food that he knew a bunch of boys without access to a corner store would appreciate. He always included a few items for Ramalda, Badger and Caleb.
“Aiy!” Ramal
da had beamed, holding up the long strings of dried red chilis and garlic.
“Well, I guess I could chew it,” Badger allowed, hefting the foil container of Red Man and eyeing Steven with moderating suspicion.
Caleb had hefted the bat, put on the glove, and then tossed the baseball in one hand, eyebrows raised at Pony’s brother. “Thanks, but what am I supposed to do with this? My big league days are over.”
Steven had nodded in his somber way. “True. But I figured the boys might want a lesson or two from you, being as you were nominated three times for the baseball hall of fame.”
“I didn’t make it,” Caleb pointed out.
“You would have, if you hadn’t been injured in the middle of your best season ever,” Steven had said. “You can give a lot to these kids. Teach them how to throw a ball and how to hit one. Start a Little League team and be their famous coach.”
“Yeah,” Badger agreed, diving into the bag of chewing tobacco. “You could call yourselves the Red Men.”
For his sister, Steven brought news from the reservation and Nana, as well as a big stack of books. “Strictly radical reading,” he said when he handed them to her, and for the first time ever, Caleb heard her laugh. Such a beautiful sound.
For two weeks Roon had devoted himself exclusively to nursing the little buffalo calf, who showed no interest at all in the Holstein heifer and instead attached herself to the boy. Once she could stand and walk about on her own, Roon joined the work detail and so did the calf. The boys would hoist her into the back of the truck and hold her while Pony drove out to the work area. The little creature would hobble along after Roon, whose job was to saw off the fence posts after the barbed wire had been removed. This kept the calf away from the dangerous coils. The boys had argued that they should each be allowed a turn at baby-sitting the calf, but the little buffalo wanted only Roon.
Buffalo Summer Page 11
