A Coffin for Santa Rosa (12 page)

From his rocky ledge, Brandy saw Gabriel riding up the canyon toward him. The Morgan reared, his shrill whinny alerting the herd of danger. Racing down the steep slope, he herded all the mares together and wheeled to face his former master.

Gabriel rode within a short distance of Brandy. Then reining up, he hooked his leg over saddle, rolled a smoke and flared a match to it. ‘Don’t know why I’m tryin’ to save your life,’ he said to the Morgan. ‘Anyone with a speck of brains would just let Devlin shoot you an’ save everybody a lot of fuss.’

Brandy pawed the iron-hard dirt and snorted defiantly at Gabriel. Behind the red-eyed black stallion, the herd milled around nervously.

Gabriel sighed. ‘Reckon there’s no easy way to do this, is there?’

Again the Morgan reared up, forelegs pawing at the air, and
uttered a squeal of defiance.

‘Figured not.’ Gulping a last lungful of smoke, Gabriel exhaled slowly then flipped the butt away and unhooked his lariat from the saddle. ‘Might as well get to it.’

He twirled the rope above his head and flicked a loop at the stallion. But Brandy was already rushing him and the rope spanked him on his withers and fell to the ground. Gabriel yanked on the reins, trying to avoid the Morgan’s charge. The agile cowpony obediently crabbed sideways. But he wasn’t quick enough. Brandy was already on him. Ramming him with his chest and shoulder, the Morgan knocked the lighter pony off its feet, spilling Gabriel from the saddle.

Gabriel landed hard. Winded, he looked up and through the swirling dust saw Brandy charging down on him. He rolled aside, barely avoiding the stallion’s hoofs and sprang to his feet. Recoiling his rope, he swung onto his pony and waited for Brandy to charge again.

Brandy quickly obliged. This time the cowpony didn’t need any urging from Gabriel. At the last instant he nimbly sidestepped the onrushing Morgan, and Gabriel neatly flicked his loop over Brandy’s head. In the same motion he wrapped the rope around the saddle horn and pulled the pony back on its haunches.

The rope snapped taut, jerking Brandy off his feet. He landed on his back with a thud that echoed off the canyon walls. Squealing with rage, he scrambled up and prepared to charge again.

Before he could, Gabriel spurred his pony off at an angle, tightening the noose around Brandy’s neck and pulling him off balance. The Morgan stumbled and fell to his knees. He struggled to get up but again was pulled over by the
ever-tightening
rope. Enraged, he rolled over and sprang up, at the same time throwing his weight against the rope. The lighter cowpony, even with Gabriel’s added weight, was jerked off its feet.

Down it went, hurling Gabriel from the saddle. He hit the ground with stunning force. As he lay there, dazed, he heard pounding hoofbeats rushing toward him and knew it was the Morgan out to kill him. He rolled aside, avoiding the trampling hoofs, and scrambled behind a pile of rocks.

Half choked by the rope around his neck that was still attached to the saddle horn, the Morgan wheeled and rushed at Gabriel. Before he reached there he ran out of rope and was yanked back onto his haunches. His weight and momentum broke the cinch around the pony’s girth and the saddle was ripped from its back. Glad to be out of the battle, the pony trotted off toward the barricade.

Gabriel ran around the rocks, keeping them between himself and the enraged stallion. Seeing the trailing saddle gave him an idea: scrambling over two boulders that were separated by a narrow space, he stood on the other side taunting the Morgan, goading it into charging him again.

Unable to pass between the rocks Brandy leaped over them to get at Gabriel. As he did, the trailing saddle became snagged in the narrow space. The rope went taut, jerking the Morgan backward in mid-air and slamming him to the ground. Momentarily winded, he scrambled to his feet and looked around for Gabriel. Seeing the man standing nearby, the stallion lunged for him but again was pulled up short by the rope. Trapped and half choked Brandy stood there, rope burns on his proudly arched neck, trying to regain his breath.

‘Brains is the way,’ Gabriel calmly told the panting horse. He sat on one of the rocks, took out the makings and rolled himself a smoke. ‘Trouble is neither of us was gifted much in that department.’

He paused as he heard horses approaching. Turning, he saw Devlin and his men riding toward him. Realizing he’d run out of time, Gabriel flipped his smoke away and went to meet the irascible horse-rancher.

Devlin reined up, his men behind him, and surveyed the scene. ‘Reckon you got that rope on him,’ he said to Gabriel. ‘So I’ll keep my end of the bargain.’

‘Never figured otherwise.’

‘One thing, though – I ever catch that black devil near my mares again, I’ll shoot him. Understood?’

Gabriel nodded grimly.

‘OK, boys,’ Devlin gestured to his men. ‘Cut out the mares an’ drive ’em back to the barricade.’

‘Why not take ’em all, boss, mustangs too?’ suggested one of the riders. ‘Once they’re broken you can always sell ’em to the Army.’

‘Good idea,’ began Devlin.

‘Not the mustangs,’ Gabriel interrupted. ‘They belong to Brandy.’

‘Dammit, there you go again,’ Devlin raged, ‘tellin’ me what to do.’

‘Right is right, no matter who tells you,’ Gabriel said. He made no move to draw his Colt but there was the same dangerous edge to his voice that had made Devlin back down earlier.

Not this time, though. This time Devlin made a stand.

‘Mister, I’ve led men into battles I knew we couldn’t win, an’ I’ve spat in death’s face more times than I got a right to. So knowin’ you can put a hole in me faster than I can wink don’t scare me one iota. Way I see it, I’m already living on borrowed time.’ Without taking his eyes off Gabriel, he added to his men, ‘Boys, wages I pay you don’t include taking a bullet, so if any of you want out I’ll hold no grudge.’

The riders stirred uneasily in their saddles, but no one rode away.

‘I appreciate that, boys. Make your play,’ Devlin told Gabriel. ‘Otherwise, mount up and take that damn stallion of yours out of here.’

Behind Gabriel, the Morgan nickered softly.

Gabriel turned his head a fraction, enough to see Brandy watching him from nearby. All the rage had faded from his dark eyes, replaced by a curious look of trust – as if the stallion was expecting Gabriel to back him up.

Amazed by the Morgan’s audacity, Gabriel faced front and prepared to draw, when someone called out his name.

Everyone turned and looked in the direction of the barricade. A slim, dark-haired young girl in jeans and a
sun-faded
denim shirt had just climbed over it and was now running toward them. As she ran she waved her arms and again called out Gabriel’s name.

Gabriel acknowledged Raven with a quick wave then turned back to Devlin. ‘No gunplay while the girl’s here. Agreed?’

‘Goes without saying,’ Devlin said. ‘But find out what she wants an’ then send her on her way, pronto.’

Gabriel waited for Raven to run up to him. ‘What’re you doin’ here, scout? I told you to wait for me at the hotel.’

‘I know. But I saw Tall Tree in town. Said you were here an’ had found Brandy. So I rode out to see if he was all right.’ Seeing the grim faces on the men around her, she added, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothin’.’

‘Then why’s everybody look so angry? Does it have anything to do with Brandy?’ she asked when no one answered.

Gabriel put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the barricade. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘That’s an order,’ he added when she didn’t move. ‘Get out of here!’

Raven angrily knocked his hands away. ‘You got no right to boss me around!’

‘Got every right. I’m your guardian. Now do like I say. Git.’

Ignoring his command, she stepped around him and approached the Morgan. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, rubbing Brandy’s muzzle. ‘Why’s everybody mad at everybody?’

The stallion snorted and jerked his head away, revealing the rope burns on his neck.

‘Oh no, look at you,’ Raven exclaimed. ‘You’re all raw and bleeding. How could you do that to him?’ she said, addressing everyone. ‘What’s he ever done to you to be treated so cruel?’

‘Little lady,’ Devlin began.

‘Shame on you,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘You’re a
horse-rancher
, Mr Devlin. You’re supposed to love horses.’

‘I do,’ he said lamely. ‘But I got a right to protect my mares, from him or any other stallion tries to steal ’em.’

‘But you got no right to shoot him,’ Gabriel said. ‘Or take away what’s his.’

‘You want those damn mustangs so bad,’ one of the hands said, ‘then buy ’em from Mr Devlin. He found them. He’s got a right to do whatever he wants with ’em.’

‘Forgettin’ Tall Tree, ain’t you?’ Gabriel said. ‘He’s the one who found the mares, not your boss.’

‘Is that what this ruckus is all about?’ Raven said, ‘a bunch of measly broomtails?’

‘They ain’t measly to him,’ Gabriel said, indicating Brandy. ‘He risked his life fightin’ that leopard stallion for the right to run free with ’em.’

‘Yeah, an’ if I agree to let him loose,’ Devlin said angrily, ‘you know damn well what’ll happen next: some night he’ll be right back tryin’ to steal my mares again. See my point?’ he said to
Raven. ‘My back’s against the wall.’

Raven thought a moment. ‘I’ll make a deal with you, Mr Devlin. You let Brandy an’ them mustangs go free an’ I’ll give you
El Tigre
.’

‘Raven—’

‘Don’t worry, Gabe, I know what I’m doing.’ Turning back to Devlin she added: ‘You said you’d been chasin’ him for years now. That means you must want him pretty bad. Well, here’s your chance.’

Devlin hesitated, obviously eager to own the leopard mustang, but….

‘Is it a deal or not?’

‘I want the horse,’ Devlin admitted. ‘But I’m not sure I want him enough to run the risk of that black devil stealing my mares again.’

‘That’ll never happen, mister.’

‘How can you be so sure, little lady?’

‘’Cause I’m taking Brandy an’ the mustangs away from here.’

‘And just how you planning on doin’ that?’

Gabriel took a wild guess and said quietly: ‘She’s goin’ to rent boxcars an’ ship ’em out of here. Right?’ he said to Raven.

‘Right.’

‘You know how much that’ll cost you?’ Devlin said to Raven.

‘Don’t matter,’ she said loftily. ‘See, what you don’t understand, Mr Devlin, is I’m rich. Oh, sure,’ she said when Devlin looked doubtfully at her attire, ‘I don’t look it. An’ I sure don’t talk like it. But my uncle back in Old Calico owned a bank and lots of land an’ stuff. And when he was killed in an earthquake he left everything to Momma. And when she passed, she left it to me. Ain’t that true?’ she said to Gabriel.

‘I was there when the lawyers had her sign the papers,’ he said. ‘She felt like it, she could buy a whole train.’
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Devlin said. Dismounting, he offered Raven his hand. ‘All right, little lady, you got yourself a deal.’

The morning sun was shining brightly when they pulled into Deming. The regular train was not due until after lunch and the windows and doorways of the station and the balconies of the adjoining Harvey House were crowded with curious people. They had heard rumors that a special train was coming and had seen its smoke curling up from far off across the wasteland.

Most of them were townspeople, white and Mexican, along with a few Apaches who had walked in from the reservation. They watched, fascinated, as Raven first unloaded her horse and then the all-black Morgan. Brandy, fired up by the excitement of the moment, was a little skittish but otherwise gave her no trouble and the onlookers applauded her skill. Next Gabriel and two hired wranglers unloaded their already-saddled horses; and then the gate of a second boxcar was opened and out poured the wild mustangs.

They came out in a panicked, wild-eyed rush, jostling each other as they clattered down the ramp, and were immediately herded together by the mounted wranglers.

Gabriel caught a glimpse of Sheriff Cobb and his
shotgun-carrying
deputy amongst the crowd, and threw him a half-salute. The sheriff tipped his hat to show he’d seen Gabriel and then pointed toward a saloon, miming that he would buy him a drink.

Gabriel nodded, and rode up alongside Raven. ‘Any time you’re ready, boss.’

Raven stood up in her stirrups and looked about her, first at the crowd, then at the flat, open land stretching in the direction of the Cooke’s Range and finally at Gabriel. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, ‘’fore I change my mind.’

Gripping Brandy’s rope, she kicked up her horse and rode off toward the mountains. Gabriel signaled to the wranglers to move the mustangs out then galloped after Raven.

They rode at an easy gait across the wide plain for about three hours. The sandy gray soil was covered by a patchwork of
yellow-green
scrub-grass, clumps of prickly pear cacti, and tiny forests of yuccas. There was no cloud cover and the sun beat relentlessly down from the nude blue sky.

Stopping only to rest their horses and stretch their legs, they crossed the vast, open scrubland, cutting across gullies and dry lake beds ringed with lava deposits. Around noon they rested briefly in the shade of a scarecrow-shaped rocky outcrop. Here, they lunched on jerky and hardtack, washing everything down with tepid, copper-tasting water from their canteens.

At Gabriel’s suggestion Raven kept a rope on Brandy, fearing the Morgan might make a run for it once they were in the open. But the stallion seemed to sense that what was happening was for his own good and made no attempt to act up. Nor did the mustangs cause any problems. They were content to stay with their leader, grazing on the dry, sunburned grass and green yucca shoots growing on the hillsides.

By mid-afternoon they entered a deep alkali draw full of tombstone-shaped boulders that was called the Devil’s Cemetery. They followed it for a mile or so, gnats flying about their heads, and then found themselves riding through an empty canyon flanked by cliffs of garish crimson rock.

Gabriel suggested they release Brandy and the mustangs here. But Raven insisted on pressing ahead. There was nothing wrong with the canyon, she explained. She just didn’t feel it was the right place. When Gabriel asked her how she’d know what
the right place was when she came to it, she shrugged and said: ‘I don’t know. I’ll just know.’

The wranglers rolled their eyes, but said nothing.

They rode on.

Finally, after following a soft sandy trail along the base of a steep ridge, they came to a long narrow valley sheltered on both sides by craggy, red sandstone cliffs. There was an abundance of coarse green grass and greasewood, indicating the water table was high along with the possibility of a spring hidden among the rocks, and Raven instantly reined up and signaled for the others to stop. ‘This is it!’ she exclaimed.

Gabriel and the weary wranglers swapped looks of relief.

‘Be sure now,’ Gabriel said to Raven. ‘Don’t want to turn them broomtails loose an’ have you go changin’ your mind.’

‘I’m positive.’ She turned to the Morgan, adding: ‘You like it here, don’t you?’

Brandy snorted and tossed his head, his long black mane gleaming in the glaring sunlight.

‘See?’ Raven said. ‘He agrees with me. From now on this is his home.’

Gabriel gestured to the wranglers, who nudged their mounts away from the herd of mustangs. The broomtails seemed to know they were free. They drifted apart, gradually forming a loose circle, and began eating the grass, tearing it up in tufts and swishing their tails to chase away the persistent flies.

Gabriel dismounted, sat on a rock and rolled a smoke. Raven crooked her leg over her saddle, one hand still holding the rope around the Morgan’s neck, and stared wistfully about her.

‘We’re doin’ the right thing, aren’t we?’ she said after a long pause. ‘Lettin’ Brandy go, I mean?’

‘It’s what we agreed on,’ Gabriel said.

‘You don’t sound too happy about it.’

‘Don’t have to be happy to do the right thing.’

‘Ain’t changed your mind, have you?’

‘Nope.’

‘It’s the best thing for him, you know.’

‘Yup.’

‘Living with us in the city, whether it’s San Francisco or Sacramento, would make poor Brandy miserable.’

‘Ain’t disputin’ that.’

‘Then what is it?’

Gabriel looked at the Morgan, met the black stallion’s dark, solemn gaze and tried to explain to himself why he was sad about releasing a horse that always seemed intent on biting or maiming him in some way or other.

‘I knew it,’ Raven said, smiling. ‘You love him just like I do. No, don’t deny it,’ she added as Gabriel protested. ‘Can pretend all you want, call him all the bad names you like, hit him with that dirty ol’ hat of yours an’ even threaten to sell him for glue – it don’t matter a hoot. You love him and he loves you, an’ that’s all there is to it. So, what do you think about that, Mr Gabriel Moonlight, sir?’

He exhaled a lungful of smoke and gave her a piercing look. ‘My hat ain’t dirty,’ he said. Stubbing his cigarette out on the rock, he walked to his pony and mounted in one swift, gliding movement.

‘Where you going?’

‘Back to town.’

‘Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to him?’

‘I already done that when I agreed to turn him loose.’

‘Fine.’ Raven watched him ride off, followed by the wranglers. ‘Be an ol’ grouch. See if I care.’ Dismounting, she loosened the loop around Brandy’s neck and flipped it over his head. ‘You’re free!’

The stallion shook his head, nickered, and pressed his muzzle against her shoulder. Then he was gone, like a loosed hawk, galloping off toward the mustangs.

Tears stung Raven’s eyes. ‘Dangit, pull yourself together,’ she
told herself.

A rider reined up behind her. She turned and saw it was Gabriel. She met and held his pale-blue gaze for a moment and then unashamedly broke into tears.

Gabriel dismounted and put his arm around her.

‘I’m s-so mad,’ she sobbed. ‘I p-p-promised myself I wouldn’t cry and … oh, hell,’ she exclaimed. ‘Hell, hell, hell. When am I’m goin’ to grow up and quit being such a baby?’

‘You done the right thing,’ Gabriel said gently. ‘An’ I’m mighty proud of you for it.’

‘It is the right thing, isn’t it? I mean plenty of city folks keep horses, lots of horses, but you know sure as a bird on the wing they ain’t happy.’ She paused as Brandy now left the herd and came trotting up to them. ‘Look,’ she exclaimed, ‘he’s coming to say goodbye to you.’

Gabriel grunted, as if scoffing at the idea.

The Morgan stopped a few feet in front of them. He gently pawed the ground and nickered, at the same time lowering his head as if asking to be petted.

‘Go on, Gabe,’ she pushed him toward the stallion. ‘Don’t be so stubborn. Rub his nose.’

Suspicious, Gabriel hesitated.

‘Go on, pet him. He wants you to.’

Again Gabriel hesitated; then, ignoring his instincts, he reluctantly reached out to rub the Morgan’s muzzle.

Instantly, Brandy charged him.

Gabriel tried to jump aside. But he was too slow and the Morgan playfully butted him in the chest, sending him sprawling.

Raven doubled over with laughter.

Covered in dirt, Gabriel sat up and angrily cursed the Morgan.

Brandy pranced around him, nickering as if amused, and finally stopped in front of the irate gunman. For a long moment
man and horse stared at each other. Then the stallion tossed his head, whinnied, and trotted back to his herd.

‘That’s the funniest durn thing I’ve ever seen,’ laughed Raven.

Rising, Gabriel slapped the dirt from his clothes with his hat. ‘Lucky for him you were along,’ he said, scowling after Brandy. ‘Elsewise, I would have shot him.’

Raven only laughed harder. ‘Should’ve seen yourself,’ she said as he mounted his pony. ‘Rolling over and over like a tumbleweed catched up in the wind.’

They rode to the mouth of the valley, where the wranglers awaited them, and looked back for a final look at the Morgan.

Brandy stood proudly posed on a flat rock part way up a hillside overlooking the mustangs. Maybe it was the fire in eyes or his wind-tossed mane, or maybe the way his coat glistened in the late afternoon sunlight like polished ebony, but for that moment he was everything God meant a horse to be.

Raven, overwhelmed by the sight, could only gape in silence.

Gabriel, noticing she was fighting tears, tried to think of something to cheer her up. But the way his quirky humor worked, all he could come up with was: ‘Now I remember. Wasn’t buttermilk pancakes at all.’

‘W-What?’

‘I was wrong,’ he said.

‘’Bout what?’

‘Restin’ on the seventh day.’

Tears forgotten, she gave him a puzzled look. ‘What in blue blazes you talking about?’

‘The Good Lord. Come Sunday He wasn’t fixin’ buttermilk pancakes, he was out in the corral creating Brandy!’

Raven laughed despite her mood. ‘Without a doubt, Mr Moonlight, sir, you are the most long-windiest, sneak-in-
the-back
-door-thinking kind of person I ever met when it comes to
explaining yourself.’

The wranglers chuckled and Gabriel smirked as if she’d complimented him.

Raven, more upbeat now, looked lovingly at Brandy. ‘Think we’ll ever come back to see him?’

‘Reckon that depends.’

‘On what?’

‘If I can put up with your cantankerousness.’ Winking at the wranglers, Gabriel nudged his horse in the direction of Deming.

‘Hah!’ Raven said, spurring her mount after him. ‘You ask me, mister, it’s the other way round.’