Cooper grinned and then held up a hand in a sort of stopping motion. “All right. We don’t want any trouble. It’s just there’ve been some problems with rustlers lately. There’s also some concern that some of the border violence going on in Kansas might work its way out to these parts.”
Matt said, “We’re not rustlers. Just honest men lately from Texas. Once we’ve had a turn in a bath tub and a shave, we’ll look a lot more like the cowhands we are.”
Cooper called out to the darkness. “Stand down! Come on in.”
Four men came in, and they were indeed cowhands. Boots worn so tight it was hard to walk in them, leather leggings strapped to their pants. Wide brimmed hats, and bandanas about the neck.
Johnny said, “I’ll put on some more coffee.”
76
The McCarty men hunkered down for coffee and to share the antelope.
“There’s a town called Greenville,” Cooper said. He was sitting on the ground beside Johnny, with a chunk of roasted antelope impaled on his knife blade. “You boys go in there and get yourselves lookin’ presentable. There’s four different ranches within riding distance of town. At our place, it’s called the Bar M, we might have an opening for a man. There’s others, too. The Washburn place, about thirty miles south of town. The Hill spread, about twenty miles west of town. Use my name as a reference.”
Johnny said, “Much obliged.”
The men rode on. They had a camp five miles to the north.
Once they were gone, Matt climbed into his bedroll. Johnny added some wood to the fire because here in the mountains, it still felt like winter after the sun went down.
Matt said, “So, should we ride straight on to the town of Greenville? We should have a little money left over to make ourselves a little more presentable. I, for one, could use a hot bath.”
Joe was sitting by the fire. He said, “I’d be content to roam around these mountains for just a little more. Greenville will be there when we get there.”
Johnny nodded. “I have to say, I agree. Maybe tomorrow we can do some hunting. Maybe find a good spot by a stream to camp for a couple of days. But then we probably should be heading down out of the mountains to find that town. I’d hate to deprive Matt of his bath.”
“You got a point. He’s startin’ to smell a little rank.”
Matt said, “I’ve got nothing on either of you.”
Come morning, they were riding along a wooded ridge. Pines rose all about them.
They started down the ridge, and the land opened up a bit. They could see the piney slope descending away from them. It looked like a thick, green carpet in the distance. Beyond were some rocks and cliffs.
“Looks like there might be a canyon, a little further down,” Joe said.
They continued downward, and Joe was right. A canyon opened up before them. It was long and narrow, and a small stream wound its way along the canyon floor. Johnny figured it was probably from spring run-off and would be about half as wide and deep come August.
Matt said, “I bet geologists would tell us that stream carved out this canyon, over a period of thousands of years.”
Joe shook his head. “Sometimes it’s best just to enjoy the beauty of God’s world and not try to wrap our heads around how He made it all.”
“But Joe, it’s the normal state of the human mind to be curious. Curious about all things. You see a thing of beauty like this canyon, don’t you want to learn all there is to know about it?”
“I want to learn anything that’s important to us. Like, can we get down to that water and let our horses have some of it? And fill our canteens? But some things are beyond us. We can wonder about it all day, but we’ll never have all the information. We weren’t here over them thousands of years you talk about, so we can’t really know if that stream had anything to do with it at all.”
“But Joe..,”
Johnny was grinning. He remembered arguments like this between the two, when they were growing up. He wasn’t sure which one of them was trying to egg on the other.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find a way down to that river.”
He rode closer to the edge. The canyon looked to be shallow on both ends, but as deep as thirty feet here at the center. Grass and a few trees grew on the canyon floor, but mostly it looked to be gravel and rock.
Then Johnny noticed five riders in the canyon. They had reined up and were positioned a few yards apart. They were facing toward one end of the canyon, as though they were watching something or waiting.
When Joe and Matt rode up behind him, he said, “I think our friends from last night are down there.”
Joe said, “Looks like Cooper in the middle.”
Matt said, “What do you suppose they’re doing?”
But before Johnny or Joe could answer, a gun was fired from one end of the canyon. Then they heard the rumble of hooves hammering into the earth, and twelve wild horses came galloping toward the riders.
Most were bays, but one was a paint horse, and one was a black with three white stockings. It was running slightly ahead of the small pack. Johnny figured it was the dominant stallion. A king in the wilderness with his harem, Johnny thought.
The horses saw the line of riders and came to a stop. But more riders were coming up behind them. Some of the horses spun about, realizing they were trapped.
The men had lassos out and loops were spinning overhead.
However, the black stallion began charging toward the line of riders. Directly at Cooper. The ramrod threw his loop, but it hit the stallion at the side of the neck and fell away.
Cooper’s horse reared. The stallion pushed past, and started away toward the far end of the canyon at a full gallop. Cooper turned his horse and was off in pursuit.
“Come on,” Johnny said.
He turned Bravo and was off, running along the edge of the canyon wall. He was careful not to get too close because rocks could break away and he and Bravo would go tumbling down into the canyon. But he kept Cooper within sight.
The end of the canyon was closed, and the stallion came to a sliding stop in some loose sand. Then he turned to face Cooper.
Johnny brought Bravo to a stop, and Matt and Joe reined up beside him.
Cooper had pulled in his lariat as he was riding, and he was about to start spinning the loop again. But the stallion didn’t look frightened. Johnny thought the horse looked like he wanted to fight.
Cooper got a loop into the air and around the stallion’s neck, but instead of pulling away, the horse charged.
Cooper’s horse reared up again, and Cooper came loose from the saddle. All except one foot, which was stuck in the stirrup.
Then the stallion was on top of Cooper. Pounding with his hooves. The saddled horse tried to pull away, dragging Cooper along with him, but the stallion followed along and continued to drive his hooves into the man.
Johnny pulled his rifle.
Joe said, “The horse is gonna kill him.”
Matt said, “We’ve gotta get down there somehow.”
Johnny cocked the rifle and brought it to his shoulder. No time to play around with the second trigger. He just drew a bead fast, more pointing the rifle than aiming it. He figured about seven hundred feet, maybe less, at a downward angle. No wind. He pulled the trigger and the rifle bucked against his shoulder.
The horse lurched and spun. It then wobbled away and then spun in a circle again.
“Got it in the neck,” Johnny said. “Didn’t have time to really aim.”
He had the powder horn around his saddle horn, and some loose balls, greased patches and percussion caps in a vest pocket. He began to reload as fast as he could.
Matt swung out of the saddle and left the old mare’s rein trailing, and he started down the side of the canyon on foot. The canyon wall descended at a small angle, and Matt was able to retain some footing. At least, at first. Then rocks and sand began to slide under the smooth soles of his riding boots. He began to slide with it and kept his balance. He had seen some
Filipino boys riding long, flat boards on the ocean surf. They called it surfing. He realized he was essentially surfing down the side of the canyon wall.
Joe was right behind him, but not faring as well. He was built stronger than either Matt or Johnny, but was slower on his feet. When the gravel began to slide underfoot, he couldn’t react in time and went head-over-teakettle down to the canyon floor.
The stallion had stopped circling, and was now facing toward Matt and Joe. Blood was streaming down the side of its neck and onto one shoulder.
“Don’t much like horsemeat,” Johnny said, bringing the rifle back to his shoulder, “but you’re asking for this.”
He didn’t have to aim as quickly this time, so he was more able to find his target. Right between the eyes. He drew a breath, let it out slowly, and pulled the trigger.
The horse lurched back a couple of steps, then fell over.
Joe called out to Matt, “I’m all right! Go tend to Cooper!”
Matt ran over to Cooper. The saddled horse was flailing about, taking lots of dancing and turning steps but not going far. What he was doing, though, was dragging Cooper along through the gravel.
Matt had learned a bit about horses at the Broken Spur. He figured the animal was frightened and confused, and having the weight of a rider pulling at one stirrup probably wasn’t helping any.
Cooper was flopping like a rag doll on the ground, being pulled along by the horse. His face was lost in a pool of blood, and his leg was twisted like there were no bones in it at all.
Matt approached the horse, stepping gently and trying to make it look like he wasn’t in a hurry while he was hurrying.
“Easy, boy. Easy, now.”
The horse was rolling its eyes at him and snorting furiously. It took one more step, but then Matt got hold of its reins.
He held the reins in a way that said, I’m in charge now. The horse knew it and settled down a little. Matt started stroking its nose.
“Easy, boy. You’re all right.”
Two riders came along from further down the valley.
They reined up hard and half swung, half jumped out of the saddle and ran toward Cooper.
“What happened?” one of them said. A boy, not much older than Luke.
But the other, an older man with white stubble on his chin and a perpetual squint to his eyes, said, “I’ll tell you what happened. It was that danged stallion.”
The man had been introduced to Matt the night before as Quint.
Quint brought his head down to Cooper’s chest. “He’s alive. For the moment.”
He looked to the other man and said, “Get his foot out’a that stirrup.”
The boy did. He said, “He ain’t ever gonna walk on this leg again.”
Quint said to Matt, “It’s that foolish obsession he has with that stallion. We were out here in the fall, before the first snow. He faced that stallion then. That’s how he got that scar on his face. I told him the horse was gonna kill him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Johnny was hurrying over. He had left Bravo topside and was running toward them.
He said, “How is he?”
Quint said, “He’s alive. But don’t know for long.”
“Where’s the nearest place? A house, a town? Even a way station?”
Quint said, “The nearest place is the ranch. Two days away from here. The town of Greenville is even further out.”
The younger man said, “We can ride and fetch the doctor.”
Quint shook his head. “If we can find the doc, if he’s not out on some house call. And then we have to bring him all the way out here. Maybe the best way is just get him back to the ranch.”
“How? He can’t ride.”
Johnny said, “We can build a travois for him. There are some pines back there, outside the canyon.”
The other rider said, “It’ll take a while to build a travois.”
“Then you better get on it now. Go back and get the other riders. Tell them to forget about those horses. Do you have an axe?”
The boy nodded. “We got two hatchets.”
“Then get to it. And get a rider up there to fetch our horses.”
“Yes sir,” and the boy was off.
77
Johnny decided the terrain was too rough for a travois to be dragged. He had the men rig it so it was suspended between four riders.
These weren’t horses trained for pulling a wagon. They were cutting horses, but in Johnny’s experience, a good cutting horse could adapt to almost anything. These horses were doing fine.
Even still, it was slow going. They couldn’t move any faster than a casual walk without jostling the travois.
Johnny was riding ahead of the procession, with Quint beside him.
By early afternoon, Johnny said to him, “I’m starting to think Cooper’s not going to make it back to the ranch at this rate.”
Quint nodded. “He’s breathin’ poorly back there, and we’re lookin’ at one night on the trail. At the rate we’re traveling, maybe two.”
“I’m thinking we should send a rider for the doctor, after all. Maybe have him meet us on the trail. Who’s the fastest rider here?”
“Evans.”
Johnny remembered Evans from the antelope feast the night before. Evans was tall and rangy, with a bushy red beard.
Johnny said to Evans, “I want you to ride for the doctor. Ride like a pack of wolves are on your tail.”
“I won’t waste no time, Boss.”
“All right. Take a second horse. Switch mounts rather than rest one.”
Evans took a second horse and was on his way.
Quint said to Johnny, “I’ll say one thing for you. You don’t give up.”
Johnny shook his head. “I may get beaten. But you won’t ever see me quit.”
Quint nodded with a grin. “I’m startin’ to think you’re a man to ride the river with.”
They built a big fire that night, with men cutting enough wood so the fire could burn tall and hot all night long.
Joe had said he was all right, after his tumble down the slope. But he wasn’t. His ankle had caught on something and twisted, and it swelled so much they had to cut his boot off. He was in the saddle all day, and the ankle was held in place with a splint, in case it was broken.
Joe sat by the fire, his splinted ankle stretched out in front of him.
The travois was placed by the fire. They didn’t try to move Cooper out of it. They were concerned that moving him any more than they had to might make his injuries worse.
His breathing was shallow and raspy. He had taken two hooves to the ribs and Johnny thought the man’s lungs were filling. Hopefully not with blood.
But Cooper was awake.
He said, “Where are we?”
“Trying to get you back to the ranch. We’ve sent Evans for the doctor. They’re gonna meet us on the trail. Riding hard, maybe they’ll be here tomorrow.”
Cooper nodded. Johnny could tell the motion was causing some pain. At least one hoof had caught Cooper on the head, and he had a purple bruise along one side of his face, and an eye was swollen shut.
“You thirsty?” Johnny said.
Cooper nodded. Johnny called for a canteen, and one of the men brought one over. Corry, Johnny had learned his name was. The one who had come riding with Quint right after Cooper had been hurt.
Cooper reached for the canteen, but he found one arm was trussed up with hand-cut pine poles.
“You’ve got a broken arm,” Johnny said. “Your leg’s broken, too.”
He decided not to go into detail about how bad the leg was. That Cooper would probably never walk on it again, and he might not even keep the leg.
Johnny held the canteen. Cooper brought his good hand up to steady it, and he took some swallows.
He then gave a wet-sounding cough. Like a man sounds with pneumonia, Johnny thought.
Cooper said, “What’re you doing here?”
“Saving your life. I shot that hor
se that was trying to trample you to death.”
“Shot him?”
Johnny nodded. “There wasn’t much choice.”
“That was a fine animal. Shame it had to be put down. Thank you for doin’ what you done.”
“I’m just glad we happened to be riding along when he did.”
“Danged fool thing I did. Goin’ after that stallion. I should’ve listened to Quint. Too much pride, I guess.”
“You get some rest. I’m gonna have us all moving by sunrise.”
Cooper nodded.
Johnny walked away, to return the canteen to Corry. But he cast a quick glance back at Cooper’s leg. It was trussed up with four pine poles running along it, and spare bandanas to tie it all together. They had straightened out the foot so it aimed in the same direction as the other one. The leg was swollen to more than twice its size from the mid-calf up beyond the knee. Johnny thought it might be broken in two places. And the bone wasn’t just cracked, but broken clean. He had never seen a leg broken as bad.
Johnny handed the canteen to Corry.
Corry said, “Is he gonna make it?”
“I don’t know. But if not, it won’t be because we gave up. I want the travois rigged back with the horses and moving by the first light.”
“You want me riding with the travois?” He had been one of the riders with the travois rigged between them.
“Not this time,” Johnny said. “I want you to ride ahead. Be our scout. My brother Joe is usually my scout, but he’s got that busted-up ankle. I want you to watch for any terrain that might be hard to bring the travois through. Any areas we should ride around.
“I won’t let you down, Boss.”
Matt stood nearby with a cup of coffee, watching the activity around camp. He was mostly watching Johnny, and he had to admit to feeling a little amazement.
These men had known Johnny no more than a day, and yet he had fallen into a position of leadership as though he was born to it. Some of the men were even calling him Boss. It was those natural leadership skills Matt had mentioned in his letter home. The letter he never sent.
Johnny poured a cup of coffee and walked over to him. Johnny said, “I’d like you to be one of the travois riders, tomorrow. You’ve developed a real natural way with horses. We can’t have those horses spooked. If one of them spooks and gets out of control and the travois flips, it might finish Cooper off.”
Johnny McCabe (The McCabes Book 6) Page 37
