Gib and the Gray Ghost (10 page)

When he came back he was moving more slowly, turning his head from side to side. Gib ducked his head and crouched lower. Unable now to see what was happening, he could only wait and listen, hoping to hear something that would let him know the gray’s whereabouts. Time passed and Gib went on hiding, holding his breath and stretching his ears to listen. Silence. No sound at all except for a faint munching noise from the other end of the barn, where the other horses had gone back to their hay. At last Gib lifted his head very slowly and peeked out. A few feet away the gray was standing perfectly still just outside the newly stocked stall. Perfectly still except for his busy ears and eyes.

“Go on, boy. Go on in,” Gib told him silently, behind clenched teeth. As if in answer the big horse finally moved forward into the stall and across it to the manger. He was busy with the oats when Gib closed the door, but as the latch slid into place with a thump the gray whirled and charged. The door held as the angry horse crashed into it, but the bared teeth just missed Gib’s face as he ducked away.

The horse had gone back to his oats but Gib was still standing in the middle of the aisle, gulping and catching his breath when, at the other end of the barn, the main door creaked open.

“Gib,” a whispery voice said, and there she was. Livy Thornton, bundled up like an Arctic explorer and frosted with snow, was standing in the wide open doorway.

Something, the shock perhaps of how close he’d come to having his face bit off, along with relief that his plan had worked, set off a kind of explosion somewhere in Gib’s brain. Marching toward Livy, he began to tell her a thing or two in a tone of voice he didn’t even know he had.

“Livy Thornton.” The words sizzled like a boiling teakettle. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing? You could have gotten me killed, or gotten killed yourself. I just this minute got him shut up. If you’d come in half a second sooner he’d have trampled you flat as a pancake.”

But Livy only stared at him, her expression going from shock to curiosity and then on to indignation. “Don’t you yell at me, Gib Whittaker,” she said. “I went to all the trouble to get bundled up like this and into these awful snowshoes just so I could help you out by taking care of the chickens, and all you can do is yell at me.”

She whirled around then and started off through the snow, but after she’d gone a few steps, wide-legged and wobbly on the outsized snowshoes, she turned around and came right back.

“I want to see him. It want to see the ghost horse,” she said. When Gib started to shake his head she added, “Why not? You said he was shut up now.” Without waiting for an answer, she sidled around Gib and started down the aisle. He caught up with her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to a stop.

“All right,” he whispered, “but stay back of me and be quiet.”

At the gray’s stall he pulled Livy to a stop, pushed her behind him, and tiptoed forward. The gray was at the manger eating hungrily, but he stopped long enough to snort and toss his head. Peering around Gib’s shoulder, Livy gasped and then stared wide-eyed and openmouthed until he pulled her away.

Walking backward, still staring toward the gray’s stall, Livy was babbling. “He’s so big and beautiful,” she said. “He’s so—silvery, and the dapple spots are like snowflakes. Like snowflakes on silver.” She stopped to look back again. “But what are those marks all over his back? Like something scratched him?”

As Gib opened the door he said, “Yeah, I guess something scratched him. But you listen to me, Livy Thornton. Don’t you ever come out here again unless I know you’re coming. You hear me?”

As Livy listened her eyes squinted up and her lips tightened and tipped down at the corners. “And you listen to me, Gib Whittaker. You’ve got no right to tell
me
what to do. And you know why.”

Gib knew why, all right.

O
N THE THIRD DAY
of the storm it was still snowing, and the telephone wires were still down. Out in the barn the big gray horse went on being as wild and threatening as ever, and inside the Rocking M ranch house, the people around the kitchen table were tense and nervous. They were all anxious, first of all about Hy, who was still very sick, but also about Gib and the dapple gray.

Ever since that first morning when Gib was so late for breakfast the ladies had done a lot of fussing about the mysterious visitor. Fussing and insisting, at least Miss Hooper had, that she must see the animal that was taking up so much of Gib’s time. Gib had thought up a lot of good excuses, the best one being that it was snowing too hard.

But that morning the sky cleared a bit and right after breakfast Miss Hooper announced that she was going to bundle up and go out to the barn to see the mysterious creature for herself. When Gib realized that Miss Hooper had made up her mind, he felt pretty frantic. Actually the horrible welts that crisscrossed the gray’s body had gone down a bit already, and most of the bloody scabs had disappeared. In just a few more days the marks would hardly be noticeable, but they weren’t there yet. Miss Hooper’s sharp eyes were sure to spot them, and then she’d surely tell Missus Julia that the poor tortured animal in the barn would always be crazy with fear and anger.

Gib knew there was no stopping Miss Hooper when she got that look in her eyes, so he gave up and agreed. “Just let me go out first and pack the path down a little with my snowshoes,” he insisted, and Miss Hooper agreed to that much of a postponement. That much, but no more. But those few extra minutes just might be enough for the plan Gib was working on. He was heading for the storm porch when, to his surprise, Livy said, “Me too. Wait a minute, Gib. I want to help pack the snow.”

What made Livy’s announcement especially surprising was that it was the first time she’d spoken to Gib since he’d ordered her out of the barn three days before. For a minute he thought his plan was ruined for sure, but then, remembering how long it always took Livy to get into her boots and snowshoes, he decided he still might have time to give it a try.

“All right come on then,” he told Livy. Then he broke every existing record getting into his barnyard gear, across the yard, and into the barn. Once there, he managed to get out of his snowshoes and climb up to unscrew the lightbulb nearest to the gray’s stall, and then get back into his snowshoes and out the door before Livy came stomping across the yard.

The dim light was the first thing Miss Hooper remarked on when, bundled up to her eyeballs and galumphing along in a pair of men’s wading boots, she made it out to the barn. “Awfully dim in here. What’s wrong with the lights?” she said, and then, “And where is this mysterious animal of yours?” Gib was still pointing out the bulb and explaining that it must have just gone out, when they reached the gray’s stall and the subject got changed in a hurry.

Even in the dim light the show the gray put on was pretty impressive. Obviously terrified of the unfamiliar people and voices, he pressed back against the far wall of his stall, snorting and pawing the earth, and now and then making threatening rushes toward the door.

Miss Hooper backed away, gasping loudly. “Good heavens,” she said. “Dear me! Are you sure that door is strong enough to hold him, Gib? He seems completely wild.”

Livy gasped too, but the things she was saying were quite different. What Livy was whispering was, “He’s so beautiful. So fierce and beautiful.” When it was over Gib thought it wasn’t a very successful visit, but at least no one had mentioned the bullwhip scars.

Back in the kitchen there was a long discussion about what should be done. Even after Gib explained how he’d worked out a safe way to feed and water the horse without getting near him, Miss Hooper kept saying that that wild animal should just be turned loose. “It’s ridiculous,” she said, “expecting Gib here to take care of that dangerous creature along with everything else he has to do. That horse came here from somewhere, and if he were turned loose he’d surely go back where he came from.”

Gib shook his head. “He won’t,” he said. “He won’t go back.” But of course he couldn’t say why. He couldn’t say the poor horse would never go back to the place where he’d been beaten half to death. Not unless Gib wanted to risk being forbidden to go anywhere near the gray ever again.

But at last Missus Julia said, “I agree that it’s a terrible responsibility for Gib. But the horse may not be able to go back to his owner, and if he doesn’t he’s quite likely to starve to death. Apparently he’s not of prairie stock, and if he was stable raised he’d never make it on his own this time of year. Especially now when the snow is so deep.”

Gib nodded hard. “That’s right,” he said. “He’d starve to death for sure. And he’s not too much work for me. I’ve got lots of time now that we’re not going in to school every day. And as soon as they get the phone lines up again we can find out who owns him, and they’ll likely come to get him.”

But Miss Hooper only snorted. “Hmmph,” she said. “That is, if you manage to live that long.”

Gib grinned. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “I’m not going to take any chances. Besides, I think he’s beginning to calm down a lot. Like as not he’ll be gentle as a kitten in a few more days.”

Miss Hooper humphed again and then Mrs. Perry, who’d been stoking up the fire in the kitchen range, got in on the conversation. Giving a big sigh, she said what a shame it was that Hy was sick, right now when he was needed so badly. “If Hy was only well enough to take care of things, or even to tell us what to do about Gib and that crazy animal, everything would be all right.”

Everyone sighed and said, “Yes, yes, if only ... And, “Poor Hy. Poor, sick Hy.” Even Livy had something to say. In a low voice so no one but Gib could hear she said, “Yes, and maybe when Hy is better I’ll be able to go out to my own barn again without people yelling at me and telling me to stay away.” Gib knew what she meant even though she didn’t say what “people” she was talking about.

Maybe Gib had been exaggerating a little when he said the gray was beginning to calm down, but by the very next day it looked as how he’d actually been foretelling the future. There wasn’t nearly as much snorting and threatening going on when he showed up that morning. And when Gib let the gray out he right off went looking for an open stall door instead of looking for somebody to attack.

“Hey there, boy, aren’t you the smart one?” Gib told him. “Got it all figured out, haven’t you? All you got to do is move to the next base like you were playing ball or something, and you win a clean stall and a big pan of oats.”

Busy at the freshly stocked manger, the gray only rolled an eye in Gib’s direction. His snort sounded more like a comment than a threat. Not a very polite comment maybe, but not too far from it.

That evening, after Gib spent the afternoon cleaning out all the other stalls, and an extra half hour grooming Silky, he still had to clean out the cowshed, milk Bessie, and take care of the chickens (Livy had quit helping with them) before he could go in and tell everybody the good news about the gray. But before he could even start telling his news he found out that Miss Hooper had some that was even better. Better and more important.

Hy was definitely on the mend. Miss Hooper said he’d finally passed the crisis and was feeling strong enough to start complaining again. “Says he’s starving,” she told Mrs. Perry. “Says he thinks we’ve been forgetting to feed him. And when I told him he’d been too sick to eat he said he’d never been that sick a day in his whole life.”

Missus Julia said, “Thank God.” Mrs. Perry said, “Glory be,” and rushed off to the cellar for the makings for a big new pot of soup. And Gib felt a sudden lightening around his heart as if it was about to float up to the ceiling and take the rest of him along with it. An hour or so later when the soup was ready he asked to go with Miss Hooper when she took it up. But Miss Hooper said no, not yet.

“I know you, Gib Whittaker,” she said. “I know you couldn’t resist telling Hy about that wild horse of yours, and heavens knows you should, but not today. You know as well as I do that it would be just like that rascal to insist on getting up and going right out there to see for himself. So you just wait until tomorrow at least. All right?”

So Gib waited impatiently until the next day after dinner. Even then Miss Hooper made him promise not to stay too long and not to say anything that might worry Hy or encourage him to go out to see the dapple gray. “People who have had influenza often have relapses if they try to rush things,” she said. “And I certainly don’t want to put Hy, not to mention the rest of us, through any more of this sickbed routine.”

So Gib promised, but it turned out to be not an easy promise to keep. The moment he started talking about the barn’s new occupant, Hy’s eyes went from sorry slits to wide and lively, and even his wrinkly skin seemed to take on a better color.

Hy wanted the complete story, which wasn’t easy to do when there was so much that had to be left out. The horse Gib wound up describing was beautiful and hot-blooded, as well as wild and frightened, but that was all. Nothing at all about how fighting mad he was, or the horrible wounds that had made him that way.

Hy chuckled some when Gib told how he’d managed to clean the gray’s stall and keep him fed and watered without ever going near him. “Right smart handlin’,” he told Gib, “and you just be sure you go on handlin’ him careful like. Don’t go pushin’ your luck with a wild one like that. Go on lettin’ him keep his distance until ... He stopped then, and grinned for a moment. “But I’m forgettin’ that you don’t need anybody telling you how to speak horse lingo, Gib Whittaker. Figure you’ll know what to do with that critter better than I can tell you.”

Gib was pleased to hear Hy praise his horse handling, but he was disappointed that Hy didn’t have any idea where the gray came from or who it might belong to. “Never did hear of any hot-blooded dapple gray in this neck of the woods,” Hy said, shaking his head. “Somebody must have brought him in on the train in the last month or so, and judgin’ by what you’re telling me they must have paid a bundle for him.”

And then beat him near to death, Gib wanted to say, but of course he didn’t. Instead he went to look out the window at the snow. He was telling Hy how it had been snowing for so long he could hardly recollect what a clear day looked like, when Miss Hooper came in.