A Tale Out of Luck (5 page)

Jay Blue could only think of one reply. “We’ll get the mare back, Daddy! I promise we’ll get her back!” It was only then that he remembered how seriously his father took a promise.

The galloping gait of the horse made his battered skull and rib cage feel as if someone had dropped burning coals into them, and yet the power of the animal coupled with the relief of his narrow escape filled him with an unexpected euphoria. Skeeter came up beside him, all wide-eyed with the confusion of the whole rude awakening. Jay Blue couldn’t help it. He flashed Skeeter a grin. A second later, a wild yelp of joy burst from his lungs. Skeeter answered it with his own
grito
, and the boys galloped away down the river valley toward town, hollering like liquored outlaws after an all-night spree.

Hank Tomlinson stood back at the mare’s pen with Policarpo and Tonk, watching the boys ride away. “Aw, hell, now what have I done, Poli? Over a damn horse.”

“They’ll come back,
Jefe
. Anyway, they’re going the wrong way. Tonk says the mare jumped the fence. You believe that? Whoever took her, ran her off to the west.”

Hank had a bad feeling about scaring the boys off. His eyes caught sight of the door he had kicked in, and he felt foolishly ashamed of himself. “Well . . . tell Beto to whip us up some breakfast, then we’ll follow her tracks. And, for heaven’s sake, get Long Tom to fire up the smithy and forge some hinges and a latch for that bunkhouse door.”

7

J
AY BLUE
looked back over his shoulder again, scared half to death he’d see his daddy galloping up behind him at any moment, building a loop with which to lasso him right out of his saddle. He and Skeeter had let their mounts slow to a walk, but the horses were still prancing on account of the cool morning and the exciting start to the day.

“I can’t leave you to do one simple thing,” Jay Blue said, a scathing accusation in his tone.

Skeeter was just now getting a good, long look at Jay Blue’s new facial features. “Looks like one simple thing busted you upside your head—about seventeen simple times.”

“I ought to bust you upside your simple head for sleeping through your guard duty.”

“
Your
guard duty. Anyway, it’s a good thing I went to sleep.”

“What? Why?”

“If I had been out there with that mare, those Indians would have scalped me.”

“What Indians?”

“The ones who stole the mare.”

“Tonk said just one horse circled the pen.”

“Okay, one Indian. It only takes one to scalp a man.”

“Well, you chickenshit, you should have been awake and on guard, and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten scalped. Maybe you would have saved the mare.”

“No,
you
should have been awake and on guard. It was your night.”

Jay Blue glanced over his shoulder again. “I had things to do.”

Skeeter rolled his eyes. “What the hell happened to you, really?”

“I was taking up for Jane. One of the Double Horn boys made ungentlemanly overtures toward her.”

“Overtures?”

“He grabbed her ass, so I kicked his ass.”

Skeeter laughed. “It looks like you got
your
ass kicked.”

“There were seven of them. Maybe eight. I got in my licks.”

“No shit? Eight of ’em?”

“Yeah, and that ain’t all. Jane let me walk her home.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not kiddin’.”

“Did you get inside?”

Jay Blue glanced at the road behind them. “She ain’t that kind of gal.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Shut up, Skeeter. I mean it.”

“Okay,
hermano
. Damn. You’re cranky this morning.”

Jay Blue could only glower through his one unswollen eye. “I’ll tell you who’s cranky. The old man. I’ve never seen Daddy that mad.”

“Hey, don’t complain.”

Silently, Jay Blue mouthed Skeeter’s oft-spoken words along with him.

“At least you’ve got a daddy.” Skeeter sighed, like he always did after the lamentation, and slumped in the saddle in abject sorrow.

“Oh, come on, Skeeter.” He slapped his adoptive brother on the shoulder. “Don’t get all blue on me. I need you to help me get that mare back, or I won’t have a daddy who will claim me, either. Let’s trot on into town and get some supplies for the trail.”

They spurred up to a trot as Jay Blue told Skeeter all the heroic details of his eventful night. By the time he had told the whole glorious tale, the town of Luck was in sight, so the boys let their mounts finish the last leg at a walk.

The road led right past the walkway to Jane’s door, where Jay Blue suddenly pulled rein. “Wait here,” he said to Skeeter. “I’ve got to tell my sweetheart I’ll be out trailin’ that mare, and she may not get to see me for a while.”

He ignored Skeeter’s disapproving groan, dismounted, and strutted up to the door. He looked back at Skeeter with a confident smirk, then knocked. He waited. He heard Skeeter choke back a chuckle behind him. Jay Blue knocked harder. His embarrassment was about to set in, when he heard the latch rattle. The huge plank door opened slightly and he saw Jane’s sleepy face looking cautiously outside, squinting at the early-morning light.

“Mornin’, Janie.” He dragged his hat from his head. “I mean, Jane.”

Her voice croaked. “What in the devil’s name are
you
doing here?”

“Well, I’ve got to go after a horse thief and I just wanted to tell you I probably won’t be able to stop by and see you for a while. I’ll be out there on the trail of a dangerous—”

The door slammed abruptly in his face. Slowly, he replaced his hat. He dreaded turning around. Instead, he spoke as if Jane could hear him through the door. “Okay, darlin’, I’ll miss you, too.” He tried to put on a grin when he turned, but he knew he had to look as ridiculous as he felt. He avoided Skeeter’s eyes and got back on his horse.

Skeeter could no longer keep his mouth shut. “She sure seemed tore up about it.” He broke into a fit of laughter.

“Shut up, Skeeter. She’s just shy, that’s all. She would’ve been all over me if you hadn’t been there.”

“Does she sleep all day?” Skeeter asked, a note of disapproval in his voice.

“I told you she was up late with me last night, didn’t I?”

“She seems kinda lazy, that’s all.”

“She’s not lazy. Why do you always have to bad-mouth everybody? Anyway, you don’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, and you do?”

They argued their way on into town and looped their reins on the hitching rail in front of Collins General Store. Sam Collins, the store owner, was also Luck’s justice of the peace, the postmaster, the coroner, and—because he stocked buckets in his store—the chief of the local fire brigade. He was just unlocking his door from the inside as the boys stepped onto the boardwalk.

“Good morning, boys,” he said. “Ouch, Jay Blue, you look worse than I heard.”

“You’ve heard?” He looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even eight.”

“I just had coffee with Gotch at Ma Hatchet’s Café. What brings you boys here so early?”

“Indians stole the captain’s mare,” Skeeter announced.

“Skeeter,” Jay Blue groaned, “we don’t know it was Indians. Somebody on a horse that wasn’t shod.”

“Sounds like Indians,” Sam said. “So, what did the captain send you to pick up?”

“He didn’t,” Jay Blue said, hitching his gun belt a little higher over his hip. “I told Daddy I’d handle this one myself.”

Sam looked at Jay Blue over the lenses of his glasses. “That so?”

“It was Jay Blue’s night to stand guard,” Skeeter added.

“Skeeter!” said Jay Blue through gritted teeth.

Sam took his spectacles off to polish them, all the while shaking his head and making tsk-tsk sounds with his mouth. “Oh, Jay Blue, tell me you didn’t . . .”

“There were circumstances, Mr. Collins.”

Collins nodded. “Yeah, Gotch told me about
her
, too.”

Jay Blue decided to redirect the conversation. “We’re gonna need some grub for the trail, Mr. Collins.”

“On the Broken Arrow tab?”

“I’ll need to start my own account, Mr. Collins. I’m not sure I work on the Broken Arrow anymore.”

Sam Collins sighed. “Looks like you really got your ass in a crack this time, Jay Blue.”

Jay Blue nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, everybody deserves a second chance. I’ll start you your own account.”

“Thanks, Mr. Collins.” Jay Blue roamed the store and grabbed as much as he thought his and Skeeter’s saddlebags would hold. Salt pork, beans, flour, salt, coffee, a small iron pot, and two canteens.

“And some saltwater taffy,” Skeeter said.

“Not on my tab,” Jay Blue argued.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I’ll throw in the taffy.”

As Collins figured up the charges, Skeeter gnawed on his taffy and watched the town wake up through the window. “Hey, Jay Blue,” he said, “look just down the street. Mr. Brennan and the Double Horn boys are crawling out of the saloon.”

Jay Blue stepped to the window. “Didn’t figure that bunch of drunks would be up this early.”

Skeeter turned to reexamine Jay Blue’s black eye and swollen lip, then jutted his face back toward the window as if to get a closer look at the Double Horn crew. “I don’t see one of them boys that looks anywhere near as busted-up as you.”

“I got my licks in. You just can’t tell from this far away.”

“So, by ‘licks’ you mean you actually
licked
’em with your tongue while they were beating the ever-lovin’ shit out of you?”

Over at the sales counter, Sam Collins laughed out loud.

“I’ll
show
you what I mean if you don’t shut up,” Jay Blue warned.

“No, you just keep your tongue off of me, thank you very much.”

Sam Collins burst into guffaws.

Skeeter continued: “And you said there were eight of them.”

“Seven or eight.”

“There’s only Mr. Brennan and five cowhands.” Skeeter grabbed his chin studiously. “Still, that’s a lot of lickin’, I reckon.”

Jay Blue lunged, but Skeeter was quick, and managed to stay on the other side of a hogshead full of sugar as Jay Blue took jabs at him with his fists.

“Here, now, boys!” Sam Collins shouted. “Jay Blue, come sign for this merchandise.”

Back outside, while packing their goods in their saddlebags, Skeeter asked, “Well, do you have some kind of a plan or something?”

“Of course,” Jay Blue said. “Don’t I always have a plan?”

8

L
O QUE HACE DE NOCHE
, aparece de día
,” Policarpo Losoya said, gesturing toward the mare’s pen.

Hank understood: What is done in the night, shows up in the day. He had cooled off, settled down, and eaten a good breakfast. Now Long Tom Merrick was saddling three horses while Hank, Poli, and Tonk took another look at the evidence around the bronco pen.

“The gate was never opened,
Capitán.
”

“How do you know, Poli?”

“I was the one who put the mare in there, like you told me. I always latch that gate chain the same way, like a snake around those rails, and I always put the fifth link on the nail.”

“And Tonk’s sure she jumped over that rail? That high?”

“Bigger than shit,
Capitán.
Look at the tracks where she landed.”

With Poli, Hank walked around the outside of the pen to where Tonk was crouching, his fingers touching the place where the full weight of the mare had come down on her front feet, gouging fresh soil up from the earth.

Hank had been too damn mad to read sign earlier, but now he let his trained senses go to work. All the old tracks around the pen seemed to fade from view and the fresh hoof marks, the ones on top with keen edges not yet smoothed by wind and gravity, rose to meet his eyes. A lone horse had come from the west, shoeless. It had circled the pen, making the mare frantic enough to actually jump over the rails. As Hank’s eyes took in the marks left on the hard-packed dirt, he began to picture the strange horse. He could see the animal making its sharp cuts; he could judge its size and weight and strength.

“Hell of a ride,” he said, trying to imagine who could have stayed on a horse making such starts, stops, and lunges.

Tonk looked up at him and smiled. “We go see,” he suggested, shifting his gaze down the trail the mare and the horse thief had left toward the west.

Long Tom led three horses out of the barn for them, and the trio of men mounted. The captain and Tonk rode on either side of the trail, both reading the sign. The trail showed the strange horse chasing the mare at top speed, cutting off every attempt she made to return to the ranch.

Now Hank pulled leather as he spotted a long black horsehair snagged on an agarita thorn near his stirrup. A few feet farther downwind was another. “Son of a bitch bit her tail,” he said. “What do we have here, Tonk?”

“You tell me,” Tonk said.

“
¿Que es?
” Poli asked. But neither tracker answered.

They continued to follow the trail until, a mile from ranch headquarters, even Poli noticed the marks of many more horses—a whole herd of unshod ponies.

Hank gawked at his old Tonkawa scout. “Do you mean to tell me?”

“Yup,” Tonk said.

“Incredible.”

Tonk nodded. “Uh-huh. Beats all.”

“
¿Que pasa?
” Poli demanded. “Help a blind man see!”

“That mustang stallion,” Hank said. “The one we’ve heard about . . .”

“El Grullo?”

“Yep. The Steel Dust Gray. He drove his mares to this point right here, and made them wait. He smelled that Thoroughbred in heat. He charged her pen, alone, and impressed upon her the virtues of freedom. After that, he was on her ass like a duck on a June bug, driving her into his herd, and back out yonder.”

Poli shifted in his saddle. “A
horse
took your horse?”

Hank smiled. “Took her breath away and stole her heart.”

“
Increíble
.”

“Beats all,” Tonk repeated.

Hank turned toward Poli. “Who had guard duty last night?” he said.

Poli frowned. He disliked informing on the men, but knew there was no choice. “Izquierdo went out at dusk. But he was covering for Jay Blue.”