Gib Rides Home (13 page)

She needn’t have worried, though; he wasn’t about to. He grinned at her again, thinking that he’d have put her mind at ease if she hadn’t made it so plain that they weren’t speaking.

Later that night back in the cabin, he did get up his nerve to ask Hy about the wheelchair.

“Why’s she always in that chair?” he asked. “Can’t she walk at all?”

Hy eased himself down into his seat and, using both hands, lifted his broken leg up onto the apple box stool. Staring off into the past with a particularly melancholy-looking arrangement of the wrinkle gullies on his beat-up old face, Hy finally sighed and said, “’Fraid not. From what I hear, the missus is plum paralyzed from the waist down. Surely is a sorrowful thing.”

“But she hasn’t always been that way,” Gib said.

Hy looked at him sharply. “Who told you that?” he asked.

Gib shrugged. “You did,” he said. “You told me, when you said she used to ride Black Silk.”

Hy nodded. “Sure enough,” he said. “I did tell you that, didn’t I. Well, you’re right. Julia Thornton was one of the finest horsewomen I ever seen. Come by it natural, she did, being a Merrill by birth and all. But then the accident happened—in 1903, I think it was. Leastways Livy was four or five years old.” Hy’s voice trailed off and he went back to staring into the past. This time nothing that Gib could say would pull him out of it. And when Gib pushed a little, saying things like “What happened?” and “What kind of an accident was it?” Hy got sharp and grumpy and said he was going to bed.

But the next day, when Gib came into the horse barn after finishing his chores, Hy was already there, leaning on his crutches outside Black Silk’s stall.

“Been groomin’ the mare, haven’t you?” he asked, and when Gib confessed, he went on, “And she behaved herself, I reckon? Didn’t give you any trouble?”

Hy seemed pleased when Gib said that Silky had been good as gold, but then he wanted to see for himself. And after Gib got through demonstrating, he seemed even more pleased and impressed. Gib was putting away the grooming tack when Hy limped into the tack room and said, “How’d you like to do some ridin’ this afternoon? Just a few turns around the corral, maybe.”

“Riding?” Gib couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice, “Yes sir, I’d surely like that. You meaning riding Black Silk?”

Hy chuckled. “Whoa there,” he said. “Slow down a bit. Maybe Silky someday, but what I had in mind just now was Lightnin’. We’ll start out with Lightnin’ and see how it goes. Neither one of them’s been getting any exercise lately. So we’ll start you off with Lightnin’ and then maybe Silky soon as I get permission from the missus. All right?”

“All right,” Gib agreed, trying to keep from jumping around like a two-year-old. “All right!”

Hy pointed out Lightning’s bridle and saddle blankets, but when they came to the saddles he stopped, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. There were more than a dozen saddles in the tack room. Long rows of more or less beat-up old roping saddles, leftovers from the days when the Rocking M had been a big cattle ranch. Gib looked them all over and picked out the one he thought must be Hy’s, as well-worn as any, but cleaner and less stiff from lack of use.

“This what you use on Lightning?” Gib asked.

“Yep.” Hy nodded. “Mine. Had them stirrup straps and fenders made special for my long legs.” He glanced at Gib, shaking his head. “Don’t know as how we can shorten them up enough for you.” Then he stepped back and, balancing on one crutch, pointed to something way up on the top row. Right at first Gib thought he was pointing to a fancy silver-studded lady’s sidesaddle. “No, not that useless contraption,” Hy hooted. “The one wrapped up in the blanket. Climb up and get that one down.”

It was a small but beautifully made stockman’s saddle, the fine leather of the skirt and stirrup fenders heavily embossed with a pattern of leaves and vines. “Miss Julia’s,” Hy said, as Gib looked up at him questioningly.

Gib nodded. “But it’s not a—”

“A sidesaddle.” Hy made a snorting noise. “No sirree. Miss Julia—the missus, that is—grew up riding astride. Her pa said those gulldurned sidesaddles was too dangerous on a ranch. The missus never even had one until ...

“Until when?” Gib asked, but Hy only shook his head. “Look at them stirrup straps,” he said, grinning. “Just up a notch or two’ll be about right. Fit you like a glove, I’m thinkin’.”

Gib thought so too. As he led Lightning out to the hitching rack he was feeling excited but not scared. Not really scared, although when he thought about it afterward he didn’t know why he wasn’t. After all, except for sitting on old Juno a couple of times, he really hadn’t been on a horse since he was a little kid, and you might just wonder if a person could forget how. But somehow he knew he hadn’t. He did need a few pointers from Hy about the saddling, but once he was in the saddle, which did indeed fit him like a glove, it was all there, just as if he’d been doing it all along.

And riding Lightning was exactly like something he’d done before. After he’d been around the corral a few times, feeling the familiarity of the old horse’s eager energy and quick, smooth gaits, Gib turned him back to where Hy was leaning on the fence.

Before he could get a word out, Hy said, “You knowed you’d rode the old blue before, didn’t you? Came right back to you, just like it was yesterday. Every time I showed up at your ma’s place you used to beg me to put you up in the saddle and let you take Lightnin’ down the road a ways. But we had to be sure your mama wasn’t lookin’. Thought maybe he was too much of a horse for you, she did, but I knew better.” Hy rubbed Lightning’s nose and chuckled. “And he recollects you riding him too, sure as shootin’. Probably’s tryin’ to figure how come you put on so much weight since the last time you two had a little gallop.”

Hy went off to the cabin, still chuckling, and Gib went on riding Lightning until it was time to do the milking. And from that day on he did all his morning chores moving faster than a scared jackrabbit, so as to leave more time for riding in the afternoon. He rode around the corral at first, but then he began heading out through the east gate and off across open country. Prairie country, which Hy said used to be part of the Rocking M before the boss sold it off. Riding far out across the open land, mostly at a walk or trot, he sometimes let Lightning have his head and stretch himself a little for a half mile or so.

Riding the old blue roan was one of the most comforting things Gib could ever remember doing. And using Mrs. Thornton’s beautiful old saddle, which his own mother must have ridden on that time when she rode Black Silk, made it even better. At night, just thinking about those rides was enough to cure the worrying fits he got sometimes when he let his mind go to wondering about what had happened to poor old Georgie—and what was happening to Jacob and Bobby, too. Or about why Mrs. Thornton hadn’t asked him in for another visit so that he could find out more about the Gibson Whittaker who had lived near the Rocking M Ranch and had known the Thorntons and an old cowhand named Hyram Carter and maybe some other folks who’d been important to him once upon a time.

Mrs. Thornton hadn’t talked to him much at all after that first visit, though, and she apparently wasn’t talking to Hy either, because Hy kept saying he hadn’t yet had a chance to ask her if Gib could ride Black Silk.

But lately there’d been another late-night worry pestering Gib. And that was whether he was there at the Rocking M only because of Hy’s broken leg, and if the Thorntons were planning to kick him out as soon as Hy got well enough to take care of things by himself, the way he’d done before.

Gib tried to convince himself that couldn’t be what the Thorntons had in mind. Not if Buster had been right when he said that the official papers promised that the signers would keep any farmed-out kid they took until he was eighteen years old. Whatever you might think about Mr. Thornton, Gib told himself, it didn’t seem like he was the type to welch on an official paper. But still, now that he knew what being a Thornton farm-out was like, with the good food and the horses—particularly the horses—Gib didn’t like to think about being kicked out. So that was another thing he had to put out of his mind at night by reliving his afternoon rides on Lightning.

In the meantime other things were happening in the life of Gib Whittaker, the farmed-out kid. The blisters on his hands had healed up, for one thing, and stayed that way because of the gloves. Mrs. Thornton’s riding gloves at first and then, after Miss Hooper got into town to do some shopping, some small men’s work gloves. And while she was at it she got him some denim trousers and a pair of stockman’s boots. Miss Hooper said he was going to have a new suit too, just as soon as she finished sewing it up.

Getting to know Miss Hooper better was another one of the things that was happening that month. And one of the surprises, too. When Gib had seen Miss Hooper pushing Mrs. Thornton’s chair into the dining room that first evening, he’d thought she was a sure enough headmistress type, bone-thin and stiff-necked, with a frown that could make your hair stand on end. But when you got to know her she wasn’t that way at all.

When you got to know Miss Hooper you found out that talking to her was a lot like talking to Hy, except for the good grammar, of course. She had a way of glaring at you that you weren’t really supposed to take seriously, and she liked to say shocking things like “Go behind that screen and take those pants off,” and then, when Gib stared and gulped, “Heavens to Betsy, boy. Just want you to try this on for size. Nobody’s going to look at you.”

She tended to say things like that quite a lot, things that got your attention in a hurry and then turned out not to mean what they seemed to. So far they’d mostly talked about blisters and gloves and denim pants, but Gib had a feeling she might be the one who’d talk about some more important things once they got better acquainted.

So May turned into June and Gib went on spending most of his time taking care of the Thorntons’ garden and barnyard critters, and all the rest of his time with the horses. One day for Gib was pretty much like the other, except for Sundays, of course. Sundays were easier because milking and feeding were his only chores. No gardening or stall cleaning on Sunday. But no church either, at least not for Gib. The Thorntons went to church every Sunday morning, except in real bad weather, and sometimes Mrs. Perry and Miss Hooper went too. But Hy stayed home and so did Gib. Nobody asked Gib if he wanted to go, but even if they had he would have had a hard time choosing church over all that extra time with the horses.

In June the Longford school let out for the summer, so Livy was staying home and Mr. Thornton was leaving later in the mornings. But even though Livy Thornton was home all day now, Gib didn’t see much of her except at meals.

Then one afternoon when he was riding Lightning around in the big corral, which was quite close to the house, he happened to look up, and there she was sitting on the roof of the veranda. There was something about the way she was sitting, with her arms wrapped around her tucked-up knees, that made him feel sure she’d been watching him for quite a spell.

S
HE WAS THERE THE
next day too, and the next. The roof where Livy sat went out over the side veranda and could be reached from a second-floor window. So it was an easy place to go if you wanted to have a good look at what was going on in the big corral. But the question Gib started asking himself was why.

Gib wondered a lot about that. Why would a girl, or anybody else for that matter, waste half the afternoon watching somebody taking an old cowhorse through his paces? Nothing at all fancy, just a lot of walking, trotting, galloping, and now and then a short run. It wasn’t much to watch, particularly if you were a person who didn’t like horses in general, and especially if you hated the person who was doing the riding.

And Livy Thornton surely did hate him. Ever since she’d told him so, she’d gone right on making it clear every time they met, tossing her head and glaring whenever she caught his eye, and going out of her way to keep from having to speak to him. He didn’t know why she hated him, unless it was just that being around sorry people, like tramps and farmed-out orphans, made her feel depressed. That might be it, of course, but then why didn’t she just ignore him instead of working herself up into a lather like she’d done that day in the barn? Gib was wondering about that on that third day when he crossed the end of the corral nearest the house and there she was again, staring down at him.

Nothing about it was particularly funny, but Gib felt a grin coming on. Pulling up on the reins and at the same time nudging Lightning a bit with his heels, he set the old pony to dancing a little. And then, as they pranced past Livy’s roost with Lightning tossing his head and stepping sideways, Gib did a big wave and pretended to tip an imaginary sombrero.

And Livy smiled and waved back. At least he thought she did. Lightning had chosen that moment to circle to the right, so Gib hadn’t had time to get a real good look, but he was pretty sure that the last thing he saw was a smile and a wave.

That night in his creaky cot in the loft of Hy’s cabin, Gib had something else to put his mind to before he went to sleep. In between his usual worries, he also spent some time trying to decide if Livy really had smiled and waved. And if she had—why? He couldn’t seem to come up with any answers, so after a while he put it out of his mind and concentrated on looking forward to tomorrow and his next ride on Lightning. Only, as it turned out, it wasn’t the blue roan he rode that next day.

When Gib came into the barn that afternoon Hy was already there waiting for him with a big grin on his face. “Hey there, bronc buster,” he said when he saw Gib. “Just talked to the missus and she said you can start riding the mare. Said she’d go by my judgment, and if I thought you were ready, it was fine with her. Said she’d been worrying about Silky not gettin’ any exercise and she’d be right glad to have the problem taken care of.”

For a moment Gib couldn’t believe his ears. His eyes locked on Hy’s grinning face, he ran over the words Hy was saying a couple of times to be sure they meant what he thought they did. As soon as he was sure, he went over to the stall and called her name. And when she came, nickering and snuffling at his arm and the side of his face, he whispered the good news in her ear before he and Hy headed down to the tack room.