Lady Grace & the War for a New World (Earth's End Book 2) (19 page)

“That is not the worst, lady,” Sam looked dejected. “Sam Big has the Voice. All the Bigs have the Voice.”

“What is the voice?” James asked.

“What is the Voice?” he replied in a voice so similar to James’s that it could have been his. “Everyone in the underground has the Voice. We can sound like other people, and make noises like things. We can make people do what we want with it. But Sam Big has the Big Voice. He can make you think your ma is calling you. Or your love. Or that they’re hurt and screaming for help. He can use the Voice to make you come out, even if you know he’s there and will kill you. The Voice is his most terrible weapon.”

“SAM OF EMILY, COME HERE, YOU FILTHY RUTTIN’ PIG. GET BACK HERE OR I’LL PULL YER GUTS OUT YER ASS.”

The words cut through them like a lash. They turned toward their source. Ellie sat, vibrating with energy, holding another fish. She smiled. Her teeth seemed very sharp.

“That was his Voice,” Sam said, wild-eyed. “Sam Big’s Voice. He will do that if he catches me. I don’t know how he sent his Voice here.”

Ellie smiled. “Me,” she squeaked. “I have Voice.”

“How did you get the Voice, Ellie?” Grace asked. She knew all about the Voice, having heard Sam Baahuhd use it to bend people’s wills back in the old days.

“From Sam Baahuhd. Meet Sam when I on Earth first time. We hold hands. Hearts open up. I know all him; he know all me. He give me Voice.” Ellie frowned. “Voice no work on gold planet, only here, Sam’s home.”

“
That’s
whose voice that was!” Grace exclaimed. “Sam Baahuhd’s. I knew I recognized it.” Grace was thrilled. “Did you use it earlier?”

“We will save the children,” she said in that masculine tone. “It does not matter if I use Voice.
We will save the babies.
”

“Well, of course we’re going to save the children.” Grace smiled, “I think we just found a powerful new asset. Henry, keep that girl in fish.”

29

“Mom! Everybody! I think I’ve got something that will help us tame the horses.” Jeremy called them into his computer lab/storage container. He had the same images coming up on all his screens. “These are feeds. They’re footage sent by a television network from one station to another. It’s a way of moving data.

“This wasn’t a network program; it was a privately produced program, and this is really raw footage. They were probably sending it somewhere for editing. This was faster than shipping it if they were behind schedule.

“I searched for ways to train horses fast and found this. ‘How to Train a Wild Horse in an Hour.’”

“No one can do that,” Lena said. The group agreed.

“
He
can.” A figure appeared on the screen, a tall man with long braids and hat with a high crown and wide brim. He wore a western shirt, and long jeans that showed only the toes of his cowboy boots. He had the suggestion of a belly. He stood in front of a fancy two-story barn. Tall pines surrounded that. Corrals filled in the corners of the screen.

“He’s an American Indian,” Jeremy said. The group focused on the screen. None of them had seen an Indian. Before Earth’s end, the Indians had claimed their own country, which ran from Canada to Mexico down the center of the United States. It was a kingdom, really; they controlled cross-country shipping. “Listen.”

“Hi, there, y’all, I’m Bud Creeman, the Horse Manager. I’m here at Will Duane’s ranch in Montana with some of my friends. We’re doing this film as a benefit for the Wild Horse Rescue Network.” The camera focused on his face. His brown face was not too good-looking, but good-looking enough. His expression was earnest and kind.

“First off, I want to tell you that you’re out of your friggin’ mind if you do any of the stuff I’m going to show by yourself …”

“Cut.” A voice spoke from outside the screen. “Mr. Creeman, please stick to the script. We’re trying to increase wild horse adoptions, remember?” The screen went blank for a second, and then came back on. Bud was there, looking exasperated.

“I think the people should know that what I’m doing is very dangerous and only professionals should attempt it. Training a wild horse is not a do-it-yourself project.”

“Cut.” Blank screen.

“Look, you send this film anywhere you want and edit it however you want. I’m going to tell it like it is. Horses are dangerous, folks, and if you think you can train them by yourself, you’re nuts, unless you’re a professional or pretty damn good amateur.

“Having said that, let’s go to the round pen.”

“Jeremy, can you stop the recording. How will this help us?” Grace said. “He says we can’t do it.”

“Watch him, Mom. He shows how, exactly. There’s more you have to see. Plus, you won’t believe when this was made.”

“When?”

“2015. Way before the Second Revolution.”

“My God, how did you find it?”

“It’s been floating out there all this time, bouncing off satellites. I sent out a search on horse training and got it. This guy was famous back then. He’s called the Horse Manager. He trains executives how to be better managers by working with horses. He works for someone named Will Duane, who’s the richest man in the world. Or he was. That’s his ranch.” He turned on the player.

A camera in a helicopter panned over a vast forest interspersed with meadows. It showed a log mansion to rival any estate Grace’s family ever owned. The mansion was surrounded by lawns and gardens and had a pool in back. Just a glimpse of it was given, then the camera moved to the perfectly groomed barnyard and ranch buildings.

“It’s a palace, Mom.”

“It’s beautiful, Jeremy. The estate here didn’t come close to it.” Grace was captivated. “Let’s watch.”

A tall man with white hair walked across the stable yard toward the barn, gesturing at the camera to get away from him. A voice on the film said, “Will Duane. That’s as close to him as we’ll get. He’s a hermit.”

The camera settled on a big corral with a bunch of horses milling around in it. Next to it was a round corral with solid walls that looked about eight feet high. They were tilted out a little.

Bud stood outside the pen and said, “OK. You need a round pen to do this. This is the best, safest way to put a horse under saddle. Forget breaking … and don’t use that word in the title,” he said to someone off screen.

“I’m just going to go do this thing; you can watch me. First off, if you want to train a wild horse, you need to have a wild horse. We’ve got about thirty of them here, brought in from the herd.” He walked over to the corral and picked up a lariat that was hanging on a post.

“Since they want me to do this in an hour, I’m going to rope a horse.” He walked around the herd, looking at the animals. “I like this mare, that bay one. I like a dark horse, but what I like about her is the depth through her heart. Gives the heart and lungs room.”

The horses were watching him carefully. He took one step toward the mare, did something with his hands, and the loop of the lariat was around her neck. She pulled back and he ran with her, ending up next to her against the corral wall. The other horses moved away, and he started talking to her, speaking a language none of them understood. An Indian language, they realized.

She dropped her head and he touched her, whispering to her. She seemed to be mesmerized. “I’m just going to scoot her right over to the round pen before she realizes she’s caught.”

The mare was in the round pen running around the outer edge with the lariat removed from her neck. “I’m just letting her blow off a little steam.” She stopped and he backed away. The horse moved toward him, head down. Then he was touching her all over, talking to her.

“When you step into the round pen, you step into horse time. I’ll give this mare all the time she needs. You need to be able to touch every part of a horse. Otherwise, you throw the saddle on and it hits somewhere that ain’t been touched before, you got a rodeo.”

He enchanted the group. “He knows so much. Look at that,” Jeremy said. Bud moved in a smooth, almost slinky way. He was riding the mare in thirty minutes, walking around the round pen.

“I’m riding her with just the halter. She needs to learn how to stop and turn, how to pay attention to me.” He was turning her as he talked, from one direction in the pen to the other. “OK, boys, open the gates.” The pen opened. “She’s gonna get a little silly when I walk through the gates. That’s because she can’t see what’s out there. A lion could be behind that gate, according to her.”

He walked her in and out a few times until she did it with no nervousness, and then walked down the driveway and around the yard.

Jeremy stopped the player. “See what I mean?”

“He made it look so easy,” Mel said in awe.

“He’s an expert,” Lena added. “
We
couldn’t do that. And besides, we don’t have a round pen, or any of that. We don’t even have a lariat.”

“I’ve got saddles, Lena,” Grace said. “We brought eight. The general thought we’d have to ride across Mongolia. We have a basic horse setup, halters, everything we’d need. But I agree with you. We don’t know how to do that.

“I don’t see how this helps us, Jeremy.”

“Lady. I would like to try to tame a horse,” Sam said. “Did you see how he touched the horse? I can do that. I can calm people. I have not touched animals, but I would like to try.”

“I’d like you to, too, Sam. But in the right place with the right equipment and facilities. We don’t have anything. Besides, where are the horses?”

“Right below the cliff,” James said. “Ellie drove them here. They’re just standing there.”

“Ellie did that? How?”

“Beats me. They’re down there and they’re not moving.”

“What do we do now?”

“Get the saddles out and see what we can do,” Grace said. “Lena, you and Henry and Sam are the horse detail. I have to get all the medical stuff and ordnance ready. I can’t do horses, too.”

Lena, Sam, and Henry looked doubtful.

“There’s more, you guys. You have to see the rest,” Jeremy started the broadcast again. “He can do way more than train horses.”

The screen showed the same scene of the mountain ranch. A motorcycle drove up to the barnyard and a lean man got off. He pulled off his helmet and looked at the camera.

“Oh, my God,” said Grace, Lena, and James. “He is
gorgeous
. Who is he?”

Bud was speaking on the screen again: “Well lookee here, folks, it’s my ol’ buddy Wes Silverhorse straight from shootin’ his latest movie. How did we lure you out here in the woods, my ol’ friend?” Bud sauntered over to him.

“Cut the crap, Bud. You know we’re shooting a film on the other side of the ranch. I’m getting paid more than the Queen of England to be here.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Wes. It’s been a while.”

“Cut.” The screen when blank.

“Hi, Wes. Great to see you.” Bud shook Wes’s hand. He turned to the camera. “Here’s the world’s favorite Indian actor.”

“Not just Indian, Bud. I’m bigger than that.”

“Cut.” Blank.

“Hi. This is the man who used to be my best friend until he went to Hollywood and got a swelled head.” Bud’s hat flew off. No one saw what knocked it off. “He’s also the sweetest tempered darlin’ …” Bud flew back about five feet. “Knock it off, Wes, or I’ll pop you one.”

Jeremy stopped the images. “Did you see that? He knocked his hat off without moving. And he shoved him the same way. Keep watching.”

“Go ahead and pop me, Bud. I’d love if you tried.”

“Are you in the role now, Wes?”

“Yes, Bud. I won’t come down ‘til we’re done shooting.”

“What are you playing, a psychopathological maniac?”

“A serial killer. An out-of-his-mind, raving, covert ops, military anti-terrorist gone bad. I just finished six months of guerilla training with the Special Forces and a couple martial arts experts so I could do the part. I’m finally in role and, thanks to you, I have come over here and can train horses the nice way.”

“He’s got guerilla and martial arts training! And he’s in shape!” Jeremy practically shouted. “And they can fight, watch …”

“Oh, good.” Bud shouted over to the corral, “Run hard, you poor creatures.”

“Shut up, Bud.” Wes looked at him and Bud slid back a few feet.

“One more time, Wesley, I’m going to pop you good. I couldn’t do it when Grandfather was around, but he’s gone. So you got no protection, buddy boy.”

“Hey, Bud. Do you know what my face is insured for?” Wes stuck his face out. “Millions and millions.”

“You know, Wes, I really liked you before you got famous. You used to be a nice guy.”

“When I was a nice guy, I lived on a broken-down ranch using equipment that should have hit the junk pile before I was born. Our bulldozer came from the dump. I rebuilt it.”

“But you don’t have to do that anymore, Wes. You went to school. If you weren’t an actor, you’re still an architect.”

“Yeah, right. Sit in an office and take orders …”

“See,” Jeremy broke in. “He knows about farm equipment.”

“But our kind of equipment?” asked Henry.

“Look, could any of us rebuild
any
kind of a bulldozer? And he’s an architect. Does anyone know how to build anything?”

“Let’s see the rest.”

“Hello, boys,” Bud and Wes stepped back as a third man entered. They recognized the tall, white-haired man as Will Duane. He was old, but stood erect and had a commanding presence. “Having a friendly discussion, boys?” He smiled into the camera, looking like a white-haired grizzly.

“Whoa, Mom, Look at him,” Jeremy said.

“I
am
, Jeremy. He reminds me of myself in a previous life.”

“Keep listening, Mom.”

“Well, boys, philosophical discussions are nice, but it’s my nickel,” Will said on the screen. “It’s my ranch, my film, my TV station, and my movie. You’re both on my salary. Are you getting the drift? Finish the job and get out of here.” Will disappeared off camera.

“He does have a way about him, doesn’t he?” Bud said. “So what are you going to do, Wesley? We’re trying to increase the adoptions of wild horses and raise money …”

“I thought I’d break a few of those horses, Bud.” He indicated the milling herd.

“We don’t break them, Wes. We put them under saddle.”

“I break them, Bud. I break their hearts.”

He walked over to the horse corral and vaulted over the six-foot fence as though it was nothing. He approached a horse in the pen. Blue sparks flew off him. He touched the horse’s nose with his hand and it moved away from the group. He had his hands all over it. The horse looked like it was covered with a shining blue blanket. Then he was up on it riding it around.

And on to the next horse. And the next. Throughout the herd. The camera kept rolling.

Only the herd stallion was left. “I saved him for last, since he has an attitude,” Wesley said into the mike. The stud reared and pawed the air. Wesley did something, and the horse was on the ground with Wesley sitting on his head. Blue stuff came off his hands like blue gel shaving cream. He got off and the horse stood, shaking its head. Wes leapt on top of him. The horse made a couple of little bucks and began trotting around the corral at Wes’s direction. It stopped and turned, bucked. Began to gallop in one direction, then the other, and then started doing complicated maneuvers.