The Smartest Horse in Texas (The Traherns #2) (3 page)

“It’s over eighty miles to town,” she said.

It figured. I kept walking. Maybe I should have gulped in some
of that water while my head was in the trough. Hopefully I’d find some along
the way.

“Mister, come back here. My pa would skin me if he found out I
turned a man away from water. Even one such as you.”

I stopped. I was actually too weary to turn around, but I did
it. I know I looked trail-worn, but lots of folks did now-a-days.

I took me a step, then Hero shoved me from behind. He evidently
didn’t want to leave the watering trough, and prodded me all the way back.

“That horse has more sense than you,” she said.

“I know it. And he knows it. And he’s not for sale.” I moved my
feet, one in front of the other back to the watering trough. A tin cup lay next
to the trough and I picked it up, took hold of that pump handle and give it a
few pumps. Water came out, perfectly clear, and I filled that cup six times
before I figured I wouldn’t blow away with the next dust storm.

Hero thrust his nose in the water and splashed it around, then
drank some more.

“Thank you, ma’am. I reckon we can do those miles now.”

I turned to lead Hero down the road. I took two steps before I
realized Hero wasn’t budging.

She laughed when I turned back and tried to get him to move.

“Is that horse of yours part mule?”

“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that myself. He saved my life twice
during the war. One of those times it included the life of my whole regiment.”

“What happened?”

“We were ordered to check out an area that had a pretty deep
ravine, hard to cross except for a long narrow bridge. I decided to cross the
bridge rather than take my men down into what could be a death trap if we got
caught down there. We could cross the bridge in no time at all.”

“And?”

“And Hero refused to go. He put two feet on the bridge and then
just backed off and refused to move. He’d never acted like that before, so I
sent two scouts on foot across the bridge. They came back and said it was fine.
But Hero still refused to set foot on it. So I sent two other men down streams
a ways to work their way down into the ravine, then come back towards us. When
they returned, they said they could see Union soldiers lined up on the other
bank, ready to fire. The bridge itself had been cut, so the weight of men and
horses would have collapsed it, dumping us all into the ravine. I think Hero
could feel the damage they’d done.”

“What did you do?”

“We rode downstream for around for two miles, found a place to
cross, then cut that troop off from their battalion. They couldn’t cross the
bridge—I’d left a few men to guard the other side—so we had them
trapped.”

“And the other time?”

“It was while I was escaping after being captured. They chased
me and he outran them. I thought I’d gotten away and tried to slow him down,
but he refused and kept running. Then I spotted a soldier coming in from the
side. If I’d have slowed down, he’d have had me. He was shooting, but Hero kept
the distance far enough, he didn’t hit me.”

“Is that smarts or speed?”

“I don’t know.” I looked Hero in the eye. “Don’t be stubborn,
now. We’re leaving. Come on.” He wouldn’t budge.

“Wait,” she said.

Now what?
I looked at her. She appeared puzzled.

She pointed at my moccasins. “Where did you get those?”

“At an Indian village. Cherokee.”

She was looking me over good now. “And the rest of your outfit?”

“The war, ma’am. I traded off my uniform for clothes that’ll
stand this country. I’ll get me a rawhide lariat, first pay.”

“They didn’t pay you for soldiering?”

“My side lost. No pay. I’m just glad I have Hero.”

She frowned. “You fought to keep slaves?”

“No, ma’am. States’ rights. I fought for the right of each state
to plot its own destiny. I don’t believe in letting the federal government get
too powerful. Which it is now. So in a way both sides lost. I figured Christian
folks in our southern states would start freeing the slaves on their own
accord. Many of the plantation owners were already doing so. There just wasn’t
enough of them soon enough.”

“I’ve never heard of states’ rights.”

“The Constitution. ‘The powers not delegated to the United
States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to
the States respectively, or to the people,’” I quoted. “The tenth amendment.
You should read it sometime. Those writers really knew how to say a lot in a
few words.”

She looked puzzled.

“It limits the power of the federal government. After dealing
with King George, they were afraid of it getting too strong.”

She frowned. “How come you know it?”

“My ma was a school teacher. She made all of us memorize the
entire constitution. And the Bible. Large parts of it anyway. And we had to
know the meanings of all the words and what the writer meant.”

“You looking for a job?”

“Got one. Going there.”

“Where?”

She sure was full of questions, for having refused me water
earlier.
“Here abouts. I got to find the place. Gent told me to go to his ranch and
wait.”

“What was his name?”

“James Cummings.”

“My pa.” She looked me up and down. “Why’d he hire you?”

She made it sound like I was the last person she’d ever hire and
I wondered if I was even going to get a chance at this job. “I can calculate.
Man wanted someone to keep his books for a spell.”

“Elmer does our bookkeeping.”

“Man said Elmer’s eyes were failing him.”

“I don’t know about that.” She looked down at the ground. “I
can’t read. Or write.” She sounded like it was a flaw in her character.

“You’re never too old to learn.”

“For a fact?” It was the most interest she’d shown so far.

“Right. I’ll teach you.”
Maybe then she wouldn’t be so prickly
.
“Didn’t they have a school
near here?”

“Not where I was. Take your horse to the barn. I don’t know when
Pa will be back.”

 I led Hero to the barn. He walked along behind me, right
happy. “They caught the man they were after,” I said, as I opened the gate.

She brightened at hearing that. “Did they string him up?”

“No. The kid wanted to.”

“My cousin? I don’t blame him. That man killed his pa. My
uncle.”

“Did anyone see it?”

“Yes. My aunt and I. He’d robbed the store and was being chased.
He demanded my uncle’s horse, and shot him when he wouldn’t give it to him.”

“Why didn’t he get it saddled?”

“We saw it happen from the house and I grabbed my uncle’s rifle
and put a shot near him. If I’d been a better shot, I’d have brought him down.
He didn’t stay, just jumped on the horse and took off.”

We reached the barn and I led Hero in, removed my saddle and
hung it on a rail that was there for that purpose. The barn was made of adobe,
blocks of sun-dried mud that produced a cool but dark place for the livestock
and grain storage. Poles supported the roof, which was finished off with cut
blocks of sod.

I started rubbing Hero down. “You have any grease I could put on
these wounds?”      

“Yes.” She started to turn away, then turned back again. “Where
are your spurs?”

“I don’t use spurs on Hero.”

“Then?” She looked puzzled and pointed to the deep spur marks on
his side.

“Your murderer did that. He took my horse and left your uncle’s
horse with me, half dead.”

“Oh.” She put her hand to her face, pushed back a stray lock of
her long blond hair. “No wonder things weren’t making sense. I couldn’t
understand why my father would hire a man who misused his horse.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“Your horse had those terrible spur marks, yet you were wearing
moccasins.”

“I wear ‘em when I have to walk.”

“I didn’t see you come in. So you were walking, not riding.”

“Your killer just about ruined your uncle’s horse, then took
mine. I was chasing him when your pa showed up.”
And he made a quick
judgement, just like you did
.

“Well, I’m glad that’s straight,” she said, and held out her
hand. “Welcome to the C Bar C.”

She actually smiled and the change in the air around her was
enormous.

“You thought I did this?” I motioned towards Hero’s legs and
sides.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I should have said something. Especially after
watching the show you put on. Impressive.”

“How long were you there?”

“She was running in circles around you. Where did you learn how
to tame an animal like that?”

“My father showed me.”

“Most men don’t have the patience.”

“The main thing is to let them have their run. And never look
them straight in the eyes. They don’t like that.”

“The piece of rope?”

“To keep them running until they’ve had their run out. Now I
just need to get Misty to know what I want her to do.”

“Should be easy now.”

“Yes.” She handed me some ointment to put on Hero’s side. It
looked like grease, but smelled like pitch.

“What is this?’

“Bear grease mixed with tree sap. It heals fast.”

I’d never tried it, but it was better ‘n nothing, so I smoothed
a little on the deep cuts the outlaw’s spurs had made.

“What’s your name,” she asked. 

“My full name is Matthew Joseph Mason Trahern.”

“Now that’s a handle to live up to. Are there any more of you
out there?”

“Lots of us. Or at least everyone who survived the war. I know
my cousin Trey was a major on the Union side. I don’t know if Trey is alive,
but I’d bet he made it. Traherns are hard to kill.”

I got Hero cleaned up and bedded down with a scoop of grain for
supper. He ate that, then lay down in that hay like he would sleep till Monday.

I helped her feed and water the horses. “What’s your name?” I
asked as she led the way to the house.

“Dawn.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you. My father chose it. He said my hair reminded him of
the golden streaks of sunshine in the sky just before sunrise.”

The ranch house was like most, showing that it had been built
small, then added onto. It was sprawling, built out and not up. It was pretty
impressive for this area but would have been looked down on from southern
plantation standards.

She gathered the milk buckets and milked the three cows while I
fed the rest of the livestock, some pigs and goats and chickens, then helped
her carry the buckets of milk back to the house. She strained the milk through
some cloth and put the full jars into the cooler.

The leftover milk we carried back down to the pigpen and poured
it into a narrow trough as slop to the hogs.

She did it all with the ease of habit, and we were just finished
when two riders appeared.

“That’s John and Lewis,” she said, speaking for the first time
in a while. “They’ve been checking the amount of pasture left up river.” She
watched them ride closer. “You can bunk with them.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll eat as soon as they’re ready.”

I put my gear into the bunkhouse, cleaned up, and joined the two
men as they came in for supper. Dawn put out some good cooking, and I wondered
anew why she wasn’t married.

I was attracted to the quietness of her, and the grace with
which she did things. Had her pa not liked her suitors, or had she run them all
off, treating them like she had me? Or had she loved a man who got killed in
the war? There were many war widows in the land.

 One more thing was a puzzlement. The men called her
Marianne and she answered to it.

They also bossed her around with a lack of the respect they
should’ve showed any woman, much less the boss’ daughter. I was getting my
curiosity all worked up, but knew better than to say anything while I was new
here. After dessert of dried apple pie, the men sauntered down to the bunkhouse
for a game of poker.

They invited me, but I begged off, saying I had no money. The
sun was setting and I needed to get some sleep. I was looking forward to that
bed.

“We’ll play you for that horse of yourn,” Lewis said.

“And your saddle,” John added.

“Then I wouldn’t have nothing, would I?” I said and moved over
to sit by the fire they had going in a small pot-bellied stove. “Count me out.”

Now one thing my Ma taught me, was to not put on airs. She told
me when I speak to folks who hadn’t much education, I should slip in a little
of my Tennessee mountain talk, so they’d feel comfortable. I’d done it all my
life and it came more natural to me than speaking like I had me an education.