Ashes of the Red Heifer (23 page)

She planted a kiss on his lips. “First I’m going to pull the coil wire from Melvin’s pickup, then I’m going to open the gate.”

Annie trotted to Melvin’s truck and slid from the horse. She winced when she had to open the cab and the keys in the ignition dinged, sounding like a bank alarm. She snatched the keys, pulled the latch to release the hood and clicked the door shut. Then she waited for the dog to let loose. She counted to ten.

When nothing happened, she slipped around to the front of the pickup and lifted the hood, enjoying the warmth of the engine on her cool skin. She yanked the coil wire and threw it into the corral. “That ought to fix you for a spell.”

Annie remounted and hurried to open the gate into the meadow. So far, so good. David and Moshe had the cattle moving in the right direction, no loud noises, no confusion, all quiet and mannerly.

She put her foot in the stirrup at the same time the doggone dog of Lizabeth’s let out a string of ragged barking and raced to the edge of the yard, snarling and carrying on in a state of apoplexy.

The disruption jangled the nerves of the cattle and their quiet meandering changed quickly to agitation. One raised her head, perked her ears, lifted her tail and veered to the right, running straight toward the cattle guard. The other five followed. If they hit that, they might try to jump it or simply run over the top, their legs slipping between the bars and breaking.

Annie hauled herself to the saddle and kicked her horse, racing to head off the heifers. If she could make it to the cattle guard before them, she could block the catastrophe.

Moshe urged his horse after the cattle, only making them more upset, and they ran faster. David followed behind.

If the dog didn’t let up Melvin would come out and see them rustling the cattle. She leaned forward, jabbing at the horse’s ribs with her heels.

The lead heifer seemed hell-bent to hit the cattle guard. Annie urged the horse faster. The heifers had a straight shot to the opening. Annie came from the north in perpendicular line to their path.

She wanted to holler directions to Moshe and David. Seemed like Moshe figured out her plan; he reined to the right of the herd and kicked his horse. He waved at David, directing him to hang back. It didn’t seem to make any difference to the panicked heifers. Annie flew at them from the north. As she got to the cattle guard, Annie pulled the reins and dug her boots into the stirrups, drawing her horse to a halt with a jerk that would have sent a less experienced rider flying over the horse’s head.

With Moshe’s pressure on the south and Annie in front of the cattle guard, the cattle, like water, took the path of least resistance and moved along the fence, heading toward the open gate.

It was the right direction, but they spilled from the gate into the meadow and scattered in two bunches. Four heifers ran straight north and two angled back toward the road.

Annie took off for the two, waving her arm in a motion she hoped Moshe and David would understand meant to follow the four going north. If she didn’t calm the heifers it would mean more time and they might not make it.

She got around the two, who were so spooky now they ran in opposite directions. Annie flew from one to the other, trying to get them headed across the meadow after the other four.

They finally both turned in a northerly direction and Annie hung back, hoping to give them time to settle. The dog still put up a racket.

The porch light at Lizabeth’s house flashed in the darkness. The door banged open, its crash sending Annie’s heart racing. She was exposed on the open meadow. If she could see the ranch buildings and make out the shape of the dog, Melvin would probably spot her.

She leaned over the horse’s neck. Maybe Melvin would be groggy from sleep and seeing a horse on the meadow wouldn’t alarm him. She held her breath and listened.

She heard clumping, like Melvin walking heavily down wooden steps, then the yelping of the dog. “Shit-for-brains! Keep your damn mouth shut.”

She waited, leaning on the horse and feeling its sides heaving. More clumping, the door banged shut. Annie let out her breath and sat up in the saddle. She searched for the two heifers and saw they’d stopped running and stood facing her. She raised her arms in a shooing motion and one spun, raised her tail and raced over the hill to the north. The other hesitated, then walked north.

Okay, all set for a nice evening stroll. Annie let out some slack on the reins and glanced up for a soul-filling examination of the night sky.

The door banged against the side of the house.

The horse startled and took a few sideways steps. The movement ripped one rein from Annie’s relaxed hold and it dangled free from the bit, brushing against the horse’s front legs.

Annie reached forward to grab it. The report of a rifle tore into the night.

The horse jumped and Annie feared it had been hit. Instead, it threw its head and leaped as if it were the bullet. It took off running for its life. And for Annie’s.

TWENTY-TWO

       The horse lunged forward, terror fueling its stride, its hooves pounding on the prairie and sending sod flying. Annie’s exaggerated pulse kept time with the thundering hooves.

She clung to the horse’s neck, feeling the muscles ripple against her cheek. Wind crashed in her ears like the sound of an engine and the horse’s mane stung as it whipped her face. Annie had one rein clutched in her right hand as she bent on the horse’s left side.

The other rein danced and flipped, kicked by the hooves and the wind generated by the run. Annie wrapped her right fingers in the horse’s dark mane and stretched as far as she could for the loose strap of leather. It was like a snake, sliding from Annie’s grasp before her hand could close on it. The horse thundered up the sloping hill and dropped down the other side. Now she’d be out of range of Melvin’s gun and not far from the shipping pens.

The horse showed no signs of calming but stretched its neck and legs for an all out race against the demons of hell. While Annie reached, her fingers straining to touch the leather, the horse stepped on the loose rein. The horse lurched and buckled beneath her. She gasped, her heart clogging her throat, and grabbed the animal’s neck with both hands.

The hooves stuttered along with the unexpected twist of its body. Its head snapped down. Annie lost her grip and was airborne for what seemed like minutes, her body preparing for impact with the hard ground.

The horse flipped forward, head tucked under its body in a wild somersault. The fall melded together sights and sounds into a bold watercolor of abstractions. The wind, the grunting of the horse, the rush of her blood crashing in her ears. Her eyes lost focus as images tumbled by, the night sky, the saddle, a tangle of tail, Annie’s own bluejean-clad knee.

Before her thoughts caught up with the action, Annie and the horse lay on the prairie, Annie’s breath ringing in her ears. They both scrambled to their feet like cats dropped in a Rottweiler’s pen. The horse shook itself, setting the saddle slightly to right of center. It stood with its head down, as if apologizing. Its sides heaved.

Annie had no time to nurse pain and bruises. The missing coil wire would slow Melvin, not stop him. There were always old vehicles around the ranch; he was probably scrambling for one right now.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Annie approached the horse slowly, holding out her hand, mumbling low, soothing words. It eyed her nervously.

Annie took hold of both dangling reins and slid a hand along its sweaty neck. Its skin twitched beneath her palm. She ran her right arm over its neck and took one of the reins to get it in position.

“Good boy,” she soothed, moving along his back and checking out the saddle to make sure cinch and buckles all held. Keeping hold of the reins, she reached up and pulled the saddle horn, shifting the saddle to settle squarely on his back. The horse fidgeted, still nervous.

“Sorry, buddy.” Annie placed her left boot into the stirrup and quickly pulled herself into the saddle.

The horse danced, tossing his head and flicking his tail. Annie gave him firm commands with her legs, feet and hands.

Was that an engine in the distance? It didn’t sound loud and powerful, like ranch pickups were likely to sound. Still, it meant someone was out looking for them.

Annie let the horse open up and race over the hills in search of David, Moshe and the cattle. Little by little the horse forgot about his agitation and Annie let him slow his pace.

She topped a hill, hoping to catch sight of David. Instead, she was greeted by the blink of car headlights. She recognized the Silim’s low-riding car, inadequate for the terrain it tried to cover.

The car increased speed toward her. With no clear plan, she jerked the reins and spun the horse around, kicking his sides and shouting. The horse let loose, the wind rushing across Annie’s face. Her life might depend on how well she remembered the lay of the land.

She headed for the sharp rise of a hill close to the headquarters. The car gained on her and honked the horn as if trying to flag down a friend.

They started up the hill, the horse straining as it pulled against gravity. The roar of the engine sounded close but Annie didn’t turn to see. All her energy focused on moving with the horse, helping him up the hill as if her will could give him strength.

Headlights swathed them, casting distorted shadows running in front of them. The car was about to overtake them as they neared the top of the hill. Annie kicked the horse and slapped at his butt with the tips of her reins. Her heart pounded with his hooves and her mouth went dry. If her plan didn’t work the Silim’s well-dressed goons would be upon her in seconds and god only knew what they’d do. If the plan did work, Annie might end up in even worse shape.

The horse topped the hill. Annie kept urging him faster. She looked down and saw with relief, chased by new fear, that she’d been right. The east side of the hill was nothing but a bowl of loose sand. Sandhillers called it a blowout, a small scar that the wind picked at until it became a hole in the side of the hill that often took years of loving care to repair.

The horse didn’t have time to balk. It had no choice but to bail off the top of the hill into the soft sand. Annie clung to the horse with her knees and one hand tight around the saddle horn. She squeezed her eyes and braced for impact. They were airborne for what seemed like a minute. The horse landed upright in the sand and pawed its way forward, struggling and stumbling. Annie bounced in the saddle, her feet flying from the stirrups. Keeping hold of the reins, she clutched the saddle horn with her other hand, hoping for suction-cup grip even as she felt herself slipping to the left.

The horse lurched forward, getting steadier with each step.

The engine roared above her. She scrambled to right herself and find the stirrups. If they didn’t move quickly the car would fall in on them. She kicked at the horse, but it heard the car, too, and had already started to leap, gaining slow ground in the sand.

If the driver of the Silim’s car saw the blowout and braked, all this would be for nothing. Still urging the horse to the edge of the blowout and onto the firmer prairie, Annie glanced over her shoulder.

The headlights shone in the sky as the car roared to the top of the hill. The headlights suddenly swooped into the bowl of the blowout as the car gunned over the rise and the front tires found themselves with no ground beneath them. Momentum carried the car into the air and then the front tires crashed into the soft sand, burying the front grill. The horn honked loud and long as the back wheels hit. Then silence.

The horse scrambled from the blowout and Annie headed west, to where David and Moshe should be at the shipping pens.

She heard the car door open.

Whether the Silim was better or worse than The Corporation she didn’t know. But The Corporation had Hassan and she hoped she still had a chance to save him. She kicked her horse into a lope. Her time was running out.

* * * *

Annie topped the hill relieved that David and Moshe had the critters in the pen and the stock trailer backed up to the loading chute. That was more than she’d expected.

Annie drew close to the pen and let her horse slow to a trot. Only five heifers. One was missing, probably the one she’d been after when all her troubles started.

She slid to the ground. David ran to her and pulled her against him. Moshe stood behind David, frowning at Annie.

David stepped back. “Thank God you’re okay. I heard a shot and then an engine and didn’t know what was happening.”

She wanted to reassure him that all was well but anxiety ate at her. “Melvin shot from his porch. I don’t know what he’s up to now. I got the Silim boys buried in a blowout, so they won’t bother us any more.”

Moshe searched the hills behind him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Annie wondered if they’d survive this night. She climbed the wooden pen fence and turned to David. “Open the trailer gate and let’s load these ladies.”

The heifers still felt a bit out of sorts, but with scrambling back and forth across the pen and a quick dodge or two from flying back-leg kicks, Annie and Moshe got them into the lane and finally into the trailer.

David slammed the gate with a bang and Annie heard the sound of metal scraping metal as he secured the latch. She scampered up the fence and jumped down the other side. Moshe raised his arms and they slapped hands at a job well done.

A quiet click made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. David must have heard it too, because he spun around.

Melvin stepped out of the shadow of the fence and walked toward them, his rifle cocked and pointed at David. “Where you think you’re goin’ with them cattle, son?”

How the hell did he end up here? Annie scanned the hills behind Melvin and saw a horse hobbled in the distance. He’d trailed David and Moshe on horseback. She didn’t credit him with that much gumption.

She’d left the Silim waist deep in Nebraska sand, surely she could outsmart Melvin. Annie kept her voice low and calm, as if soothing an agitated critter. “Listen, Melvin, we’re going to take these heifers. Dad knows about it.”