Dude Ranch (10 page)

W
HEN MORNING CAME
, there was just a short ride before the herd arrived at the ranch. The riders brought the herd into the corrals at The Bar None before lunchtime. The girls watched while the wranglers cut and counted the herd and while the calves were
branded with The Bar None symbol. Stevie thought she could tell which calf she’d carried across the creek, but when she saw another almost like it, she wasn’t so sure.

“Come on, let’s go shower and change our clothes before lunch,” Kate suggested to her friends.

“Why?” Stevie asked. “We’ll just ride again after lunch, won’t we?”

“Probably,” Kate agreed. “But would you really want to sit next to yourself at lunch after two days on the trail?”

The girls laughed. They
did
smell like horses, and cattle, and dust.

“I guess a shower isn’t such a bad idea after all,” Stevie agreed. “And, of course, a change of socks!”

“I
CAN’T BELIEVE
how hungry I am!” Lisa said, looking at her plate. “Why, I must have had two helpings of everything!”

“You had
three
helpings of rolls,” Carole teased. “But don’t worry, I did, too. Everything out here tastes so good.”

“That’s because you can really build up an appetite herding cattle,” Kate said. “I told you so, didn’t I?”

“I think I’ll give herding a rest for a few days,” Stevie said, “but I’m ready to go for another ride. When shall we go out?” she asked.

Kate, Lisa, and Carole exchanged looks. Stevie wondered what
that
was about.

“I think I’ve done enough riding for the day,” Lisa said. “I wanted to take some time to send my mother another postcard, maybe take a nap this afternoon. I didn’t sleep all that well last night.”

“Me, too,” Kate said. “Besides, my mom asked me to give her a hand with a chore.”

“Carole?” Stevie asked.

“I promised the little kids I’d show them how to tack up a horse. They want to use the ponies and Eli’s too busy with the cutting and branding.”

Stevie couldn’t figure her friends out. Normally, they’d be happy to ride fifteen hours a day. What was going on?

“Well, then, I’ll just ride by myself,” she said, the annoyance clear in her voice. “Stewball and I will have a wonderful time!”

With that, she pushed back her chair, picked up her plates to clear, and strode out of the mess hall.

“I’m on wrapping!” Lisa announced as soon as the door closed behind Stevie. “I
love
to wrap.”

“That’s okay,” Carole said. “I always get the paper bunched up at the corners. I’ll finish the lanterns I was working on. What are you going to do?” she asked Kate.

“Mom and I have some planning to do on the cake and the rest of the barbecue. Let’s get to work. Time’s a-wastin’!”

A
T FOUR-THIRTY
the next morning, the four members of The Saddle Club awaited Christine’s arrival. They would join Christine on her morning ride and end up at her house for breakfast. Their horses were in the corral. Each had a bridle, but no saddle. Christine was serious about bareback riding!

The girls had ridden bareback before. It was part of basic equestrian training to be able to ride bareback, but they all thought saddles were more comfortable. Still, bareback was the traditional Native American way and if they were going to ride with Christine, they’d do it her way.

They waited in the quiet predawn darkness. Nobody spoke. The only sounds were those made by their horses. Berry whinnied. Stewball snorted.

“Riders up!” It was Christine. She and Arrow had
arrived so quietly that the girls hadn’t even heard them approach.

“You’re something,” Stevie said admiringly.

“Old Native American trick,” Christine said, pretending to speak like a Hollywood Indian.

“Give me a break,” Kate teased. “The county just put fresh dirt on the road and graded it. That’s how you snuck up on us!”

“Like I said,” Christine joked, “an old trick! Come on, let’s go.”

The girls mounted their horses from the corral fence. It was tricky to get on a full-size horse without stirrups, but they found that they could climb on from the top of the fence.

In a few seconds, they were all ready to follow Christine. She led them across the range. Their eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. Although they couldn’t always distinguish a bush from a rock, they could see well enough to navigate—and to follow Christine.

The air was still cool. Stevie could feel goose bumps rise, caused by the breeze that washed over her as Stewball trotted along comfortably. She rubbed her arm for warmth, then leaned toward the horse’s mane, brushing his soft, warm coat.

One of the most important things Stevie had ever learned about riding—and it had taken her a long
time to master it—was balance. A rider had to be careful to be centered on the horse, not too far forward or back, and most important, not to one side or the other. Learning balance had meant learning the horse’s motion because the balance of the horse itself changed with each step as the horse’s weight shifted from one foot to the next. What was a little tricky in a saddle was really tricky without one. Fortunately, all of the dudes were good enough riders to be able to manage bareback. In fact, after a short while, Stevie and the others got used to it.

“This is kind of neat,” Lisa remarked, voicing what was on all of their minds. “I mean, Max is always telling me to feel the movement of the horse, but it’s
hard
with a saddle. Now I can really feel the motion. It’s easier to tell the paces and how they are different from one another. How do you think Max will like it when we want to take his horses out bareback?”

“I think he’ll think we should have our heads examined,” Carole said.

“It’s not the head that can become damaged from riding without a saddle!” Christine teased. The girls all laughed. It was true that one of the other differences was the lack of cushion for the rider’s backside.

“Now, come on up this way,” Christine said. “It’s a little tricky, though, so be careful.”

The path turned out to be a narrow trail that snaked
around one of the hills on the range, rising gently most of the time. However, it had hairpin turns in it, and it was rocky all the way. They walked their horses very slowly so that the surefooted animals could pick their way.

Stevie was paying so much attention to the path that she didn’t realize how breathtakingly beautiful the landscape was around her. When she arrived at the crest of the hill and Stewball drew to a halt next to Arrow, she looked up.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“I knew you’d understand,” Christine said.

Stevie looked out over the range. From the top of the hill, in the dissipating darkness, she could see for miles in all directions. To the west, the sky was still dim, though the stars had disappeared and the moon was long set. To the east, however, the sun was cresting over the mountains that surrounded the valley, home of The Bar None, Two Mile Creek, and Christine’s family. The sky was a brilliant mix of pinks, purples, and gold, boldly streaking the horizon.

“Look at that orange stripe!” Lisa said. “Isn’t that something?”

“And the clouds that are pink, by the mountain peak there,” Carole observed. “It looks just like cotton candy.”

“Wait a minute, though, and all the colors will switch,” Christine said.

While they watched, the sky brightened and the bold colors of dawn become pale pastels, and, finally, the deep blue of the daylight sky, streaked by high white wispy clouds.

“Look, there are our horses!” Kate said. The girls followed her gaze. The ranch’s horses were in their pasture, perhaps two miles away, awakening for the day. They lifted their heads to see the dawn and then began munching contentedly on the sweet grass of the range.

“And there’s the main house,” Carole said.

“And our bunkhouse,” Lisa added. “They look so small from here!”

“They even look smaller than
my
house,” Christine said.

“Where is your house?” Stevie asked, suddenly very curious.

“Over that way,” Christine said, pointing. “See, there’s a small wood-frame house with an old barn attached. That’s my home. Mom promised breakfast for us. We should get there just as the first griddle cakes go on the skillet.”

“That’s a great idea,” Stevie said. “Because the next sound you’re going to hear is the growling of my stomach. I can’t believe how hungry I am these days!”

“Oh, yes I can,” Christine said. “So let’s get to it!”

Going down the hill turned out to be even trickier
than going up it. At least there was more daylight for the riders to see by so they managed okay. It just went slowly.

When they reached the flat part of the range, the girls first began trotting and then loping along, enjoying the freedom of the open countryside.

Stevie, Carole, and Lisa had never had more fun or felt more joyful on horseback. They were almost sorry when they pulled up to the Lonetrees’ house.

Stevie hadn’t known quite what to expect, but whatever it was, the Lonetree house wasn’t it. They lived in a modern ranch house set near a hillside, with a creek cutting across their backyard. The barn, next to the main house, was home to Arrow and two other horses. There was a small paddock out back of the barn. The girls unbridled their horses and put them in the paddock. They also saw to it that there was plenty of cool water in the trough for the horses, and some fresh hay.

“Our turn!” Christine announced, once the horses had been taken care of.

The girls followed her into the house. It was very modern, decorated in a distinctly southwestern style. The floors were bare ceramic tile, and each of the rooms had tile set into the adobe walls. The tiles were decorated with Indian patterns. There was a big fireplace in the living room, which was also decorated
with linen-covered chairs and a low coffee table, inlaid with more of the decorative tiles.

The kitchen, where they met Mrs. Lonetree, was completely modern, down to the microwave oven. Mrs. Lonetree greeted the girls with a warm smile and a handshake.

“I’m so glad to meet you all,” she said. “Christine told me about how wonderful you were to her when Tomahawk died. I just want to thank you.”

“Thank
us
?” Stevie asked, surprised. “Tomahawk saved my life. It’s him we need to thank.”

“Well, he was a wonderful dog,” Mrs. Lonetree agreed. “Now, are you hungry? I hope so because I’ve made an awful lot of food for you.”

“Starved,” Carole said, speaking for all of them.

“Then have a seat.”

The girls sat at the kitchen table, which had been set for them with beautiful earthenware plates.

“Where did you get these plates?” Stevie asked. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“My mother made them,” Christine told her friends proudly.

“You’re a potter?” Lisa asked. “That’s neat.”

“Part-time,” Mrs. Lonetree said. “Most of the time I’m a teacher. I teach modern European and Russian history at the Two Mile Creek High School. In the
summertime, though, I usually have some extra time on my hands, so I throw pots—”

“Don’t they break?” Stevie asked.

Christine stifled a giggle. “No, Stevie,” she said. “Throwing pots is what potters do when they are working with wet clay on a potter’s wheel. It’s how they make things,”

“Oh,” Stevie said sheepishly.

“See,” Mrs. Lonetree explained, “working with clay is a traditional Indian craft. I learned most of what I know from my mother. I love the work I do and I love to use the traditional patterns of our people when I make pots. These things we keep at home. I also do a lot of urns and sort of primitive bowls. Those I sell at the tourist traps in town. A lot of the dudes like to think they’ve bought something made by an aged Indian woman working in the shade of her mud hut. They’d hate to see the high-quality work I can really do. They’d never pay for it!”

Stevie, Carole, and Lisa grinned at one another.

“Where’s Dad?” Christine asked.

“He had to leave for work early this morning,” Mrs. Lonetree explained.

“Dad’s a research scientist,” Christine told them. “He’s always having to check on his experiments at odd hours.”

Mrs. Lonetree served up the pancakes and sausages she’d prepared for the girls and they dug into them with relish. It was delicious, especially when they covered their pancakes with honey.

Stevie smiled to herself. A week earlier, she could never have imagined herself doing so many of the things she’d done in just the past few days, everything from going on a roundup, to riding bareback before dawn, to gobbling down pancakes in the home of a full-blooded American Indian. Life was full of surprises and a lot of them were pretty terrific, she concluded.

Christine said she wanted to show the girls something and excused herself for a few minutes. As soon as she was out of the room, Mrs. Lonetree leaned forward to speak to The Saddle Club in confidence.

“She’s been heartbroken about Tomahawk, you know, but, of course, she doesn’t blame you, Stevie. She knows these things happen. I’m trying to find a way to console her. I wanted to take her into town yesterday and see if we could buy her a pup from the breeder in town. Christine refused. I don’t know what to do. Do you girls have any ideas?”