Dude Ranch (8 page)

“This is
fun
,” Lisa remarked, pulling up next to her. “Don’t you think so?”

“I sure do,” Stevie agreed. “I’ve never done anything like this. Can you believe the horses and the dog?”

“Incredible!” Carole exclaimed. “We’re used to horses you have to control at every move. Even though you still have to control these horses as far as riding is concerned, when it comes to herding, I’m beginning to get the feeling they could do this without us.”

“Hey! Dudes!” It was Eli, calling the girls. “Watch out for that little ’un over there!” He was pointing to their left. They looked to see a small calf, limping along. Its mother was nudging the baby from behind, but the calf appeared to have injured his leg, making it difficult for him to keep up with the rest of the herd.
Lisa stayed with the herd. Carole and Stevie turned their horses around and went back to see if anything could be done for the calf. Carole got down from her horse, handing Stevie the reins. The cow eyed her dubiously. Carole gave the mother a reassuring pat on the head. Stevie brought Stewball between the cow and Carole, in case she changed her mind about Carole, but she didn’t think Carole was in danger.

Stevie admired that about Carole. Put her on her feet in the middle of a herd of one hundred fifty cattle, and she’ll still find a way to make friends with a worried cow, Stevie thought as Carole stroked the calf’s shoulders reassuringly.

“What’s the problem?” Stevie asked.

“He’s gotten himself all tangled in strands of dry grass. It’s like he’s hobbled,” she said. “Did you bring a knife with you?”

“The only thing Eli told me to bring was a pair of clean socks,” Stevie said. “But I didn’t listen to him. Sure I’ve got my pocketknife.” She fished deep into her jeans and pulled out her old Girl Scout knife. “It’s sharp, too, you’ll be glad to know.”

She watched as Carole expertly freed the calf from the mass of twigs and grass that had entrapped him. He fussed a bit as she worked, and then tried to nibble at her shoulder.

“Give me a break, will you?” Carole joked to the brown-and-white calf.

The cow tired of waiting. She began to nudge harshly at Stevie and Stewball. Stevie shifted uneasily in the saddle, uncertain what to do. The cow seemed to sense her fear and increased her attack, but stopped abruptly at the sharp report of a dog’s bark. The cow backed off. Stevie looked for Eli’s dog, but she saw instead the bushy coat of a German shepherd disappearing in the dust of the herd. It looked like Tomahawk, but that didn’t seem likely. She shrugged the thought off and turned her attention to Carole’s project, which was almost done.

In another few seconds the job was finished. Carole stood back and watched the cow and her calf. The mother eyed him curiously as he took one tentative step, then another. When she could see the calf was free, the cow nudged him forward again and they were soon trotting along with the rest of the herd.

Carole remounted Berry, who had stood by placidly.

“Where’s the little ’un?” Eli asked, riding up to them as they were ready to proceed.

“Right over there,” Carole said. “He’d just gotten tangled in some grass. I cut it off his hooves. He’s fine now.”

Eli regarded her curiously. “Didn’t the cow give you some trouble?”

“She didn’t trust me at first, but we got along okay in the end.”

“I guess you did,” Eli said. With that, he urged his horse into a trot and got back to the work of herding.

“I think you just got an A-plus in roundups,” Stevie said.

“I think you’re right. I was expecting him to say, ‘Not bad—for a
dude
.’ ” Stevie giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Lisa asked, riding up to join them.

“Oh, it’s just Eli,” Stevie told her. “Carole just practically saved the life of a calf, risking her own at the same time, and Eli just gives her a nod.”

“Way to go!” Lisa said. “You must have been something to get a whole nod from Eli.”

Carole wanted to change the subject. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going to cross the creek a couple of hundred yards ahead. That should be interesting.”

The three girls and their horses hurried to catch up with the others, keeping a sharp eye out for strays as they went.

Stevie could see the creek when they rounded the next hillside. Eli had warned them that some of the calves could have trouble with the water, but this was a shallow crossing. She didn’t think any of the animals would have a problem with the rocks and water.

Like the other riders, Stevie had gotten used to the constant noise of the cattle. It sounded a bit like a traffic jam at rush hour. The moos were like honking
horns, all indistinguishable from one another, all just part of the general herd noise.

But then she heard another honking, this one louder, more insistent, somehow more serious. Stevie looked over her shoulder to where she thought the sound came from. At first, all she saw was a dry patch of brush. Then she saw it wiggle. She turned Stewball around to get a better look. Soon she realized that some of what she thought was just brown bush was actually brown calf. There was a frightened bleating sound as the calf bellowed for attention once again. He was in trouble and he was scared.

Stevie and Stewball rode over to the calf. Before she dismounted, she wanted to have a plan so that she wouldn’t frighten the calf before she could be sure she could help him. She realized that the brown bush was a thorny bush, and that the thorns seemed to have caught in the calf’s soft hair. It was going to take a lot of work to get him loose. She thought she’d better get started right away.

Stevie spotted a place where she could hitch Stewball while she worked. It wouldn’t do to have him wander off. Carole and Lisa were farther ahead, and Kate was riding with her father. Stevie swung her right leg over the saddle and was about to lower herself to the ground when she heard a sound she couldn’t confuse with anything else in the whole wide world.

It was the sound of a rattlesnake, shaking his rattle furiously, about to strike!

Stewball knew the sound, too, and it scared him. He reared in terror, tossing Stevie to the ground like a sack of potatoes, then galloped off as fast as his legs could carry him.

At that instant, the little calf broke loose all by himself and trotted off to find his mother.

Stevie landed in the dusty earth by the thornbush. She landed hard on her side and hit her head on the ground. She was dizzy, and sore, and confused. For a moment, the world was a haze in which there was the distant bellowing of an unhappy calf, the vague pain in her ribs, and the sound of a horse’s hoofbeats, retreating. But one thing was clear. The rattling hadn’t stopped. When Stevie turned her head, she saw it.

There, not two feet from her, coiled to strike, was a diamondback rattler.

And his target was Stevie!

T
HE ONLY SOUND
Stevie could hear was the viper’s rattling. The mooing of the herd and the thump of their hooves on the dry ground faded to a distant sound, insignificant compared to the insistent danger warning of the snake.

Then she heard a dog bark. Stevie’s eyes were riveted on the snake’s, and his to hers. She couldn’t see a dog, she was only barely aware of its presence. The dog growled.

The snake rose up, as if to see better. Every instinct Stevie had told her to flee, but she had the feeling that this snake liked moving targets. She was frozen where she sat in the dust, just a few feet away from the deadly creature.

The dog barked again. This time it was very close.
Stevie could hear him panting excitedly as he approached her and the snake. She didn’t even dare to turn and see what kind of dog it was, but there was something familiar about the bark. And then, there was something even more familiar about the whistle that followed it.

Tomahawk barked again and then growled at the snake. The dog crept between Stevie and the snake and bared his teeth at the rattler.

Stevie looked up and behind her. Christine Lonetree was there, on her horse.

“It’s a rattler,” Stevie said. “Please help me!”

“You’re going to have to help yourself,” Christine said. “Back up slowly. Get out of the snake’s range. And get out of Tomahawk’s way.”

Stevie inched backward slowly but steadily, keeping her eye on the dog who stood between her and the rattlesnake. When she could, she stood up and retreated, still watching the two animals face off.

When she was about fifteen feet away, she circled the scene, standing near to where Christine was holding her horse still. Even the horse could sense danger. His nostrils flared and his ears lay back almost flat on his head.

When Christine was sure Stevie was safe, she whistled for Tomahawk. The dog’s ears flicked at the
sound, but his body didn’t move and his eyes never left the snake.

Christine and Stevie watched in horror.

Tomahawk took a step forward, sniffing. The snake backed up. Its tongue flicked out. When it moved forward again, Tomahawk withdrew. The snake held still. Tomahawk advanced again. The snake remained where it was. Tomahawk growled. The snake snapped backward. Tomahawk bared his teeth. The snake shifted forward again. Tomahawk barked. The snake stood still for a second, then shifted backward.

It was like a primitive dance, acted out between ancient enemies. Neither seemed to want to strike. Neither seemed to want to back down.

The snake shook its rattle harder. That distracted Tomahawk. He glanced at the creature’s tail and reached forward with his nose. But this time he’d gone too far.

In an instant, the rattlesnake shot forward and punctured the dog’s shiny black nose with his deadly fangs. Later Stevie wondered if she’d actually seen it happen, or if it had been too fast for the human eye.

Tomahawk yowled, first in surprise, then in pain. He shook his head violently while the snake hung on, injecting his deadly poison into Christine’s German shepherd.

“Oh, no!” Stevie screamed. “It can’t be!” She wanted to run to the dog to help him. She wanted to kill the murderous snake with her bare hands. She wanted revenge.

“Don’t move!” Christine commanded.

Stevie froze.

It was over in a few seconds. The snake removed itself from Tomahawk, sank to the ground, and slithered off into the underbrush. Tomahawk, already weak from the poison, stumbled over to his mistress. Stevie was closer to the dog and caught him before he fell. She sat down and held the dog’s head in her lap.

“You saved my life, boy!” Stevie said to Tomahawk, patting him gently on his shoulder. Tears came to her eyes. “The snake got you, not me. You saved my life!”

The dog panted, breathing irregularly. He looked up into Stevie’s eyes and blinked. It almost seemed as if he were trying to reassure her, to tell her it was right that he should die and she should live. Then he shuddered.

Stevie cradled him gently, patting him, talking to him. Christine knelt next to them, frozen in shock, listening blankly to Stevie’s comforting words to Tomahawk. Stevie didn’t know what she was saying, but she wanted the dog to know that he was with someone who knew what he’d done, how he’d chosen to die in her place, and how thankful she was.

His tongue came out once to lick her hand. And then his eyes closed forever.

There was a silence then, more profound than any Stevie had ever known in her life. She held the dog as his life left him. Tears streamed down her face.

“He’s dead,” she told Christine when she looked up. “Tomahawk died saving me. He was a wonderful dog, and now he’s dead,” she finished desolately.

Christine’s face was filled with the same deep sadness that Stevie felt. Christine didn’t even
like
Stevie, but her dog had given up his life for hers.

“I’m sorry,” Stevie said. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was the only thing she could say.

Slowly, Stevie stood up. She lifted Tomahawk’s limp body, still warm with the life he’d lived so joyously. She carried the dog solemnly over to where Christine had hitched Arrow. “You’ll want to bury him, won’t you?” Stevie asked.

Christine nodded.

Together, Stevie and Christine lifted the dog’s body carefully and placed him across the horse’s back.

“One of the wranglers will have a shovel,” Stevie told Christine. “I bet Tomahawk would like to rest on the shore of that creek over there. There’s a nice green patch at the base of the hill.”

Christine was silent.