Pony Dreams (9 page)

“Damnation!” Adam shoved his hands through
his hair. “Hellfire and damnation!”

My eyes widened. I'd heard curses before, but
never one this bad.

“Adam James Weston, don't you dare curse in
front of your sister,” Ma bellowed.

Red-faced, he glanced at me. “Sorry, short
stuff. Okay, nothing for it, we'll have to round up more mustangs.
Abby, don't push yourself too much. Even a grown man has problems
moving after a horse tosses him.” He held up a hand when I opened
my mouth to argue. “Kiddo, it just plain hurts, and you didn't move
all that well when I reached you. Do you want me to repeat what you
said? Let me see, if I remember right?”

I flew across the room and slapped a hand
over his mouth, shaking my head as fiery heat lit up my cheeks. The
rest of my brothers looked from me to Adam with interest.

“One of these days, you'll have to enlighten
us,” Mark said.

“Not unless you want dishwater for supper,” I
said. “The stove is out. I'll need three chickens and dress them.
Don't forget carrots and onions from the garden, Bart, and it's
past milking time. Hop to it, boys, or you won't have supper until
nearly midnight.

Although they gave me strange looks, they did
as I bid them. Mark had the stove roaring with a fire so hot it
turned cherry-red. By the time Bart returned with the chickens and
vegetables, I had started custard with the breakfast milk and
eggs.

The rest showed back up as I tried my best to
conjure up a meal like Ma would have done. My hands flew from pot
to pan as I cooked up a hearty chicken soup, and then made
cornbread. The food smelled good. After we sat and began eating, it
tasted even better than the delectable aroma.

Ma came into the kitchen, after spending a
long time in the wash shed. She sat at the table and leaned her
head against her hands.

“Lord, I don't know what more to do.”

Her frightening words stopped us in the midst
of eating. Spoons hung over bowls, and mouths dropped to the
table.

“You can make them well, can't you?” I
asked.

“Only time will tell.”

I had heard those words once before. Someone
else had said them, and I had thrashed around in a fever. An echo
from my past ran through my head.

“I just don't know, Louisa,” a man had said.
“Only time will tell if she survives. I've done everything I can
for Abigail.”

Chapter Twelve

A familiar and
dreaded voice pulled me out of the memory before I could figure it
out. Ma and my brothers stared at the door in horror, but I was
still lost in the words from a person who sounded
familiar.

“Got a cup of brew for a lonely old man?”

Trapper Andy had the most horrible habit of
appearing just when a person had too many troubles already. He was
sure to have a long tale of woe and mistreatment at the hands of
one of the storekeepers he dealt with.

Then it dawned on me. His was the familiar
voice in that memory!

“Let him in,” Ma said.

She still had her face buried in her hands,
and her voice trembled with resignation. Bart opened the door and
stood back. He wrinkled his nose as the trapper ambled inside. The
rest of us covered our noses at the smell on the man.

“Evening, Louisa, I saw Michael headed in
this direction, but he looked poorly,” Trapper Andy said. “Is
everything all right?”

He lowered himself into Pa's chair and
snatched one of the extra cups. I had set it out without thinking.
Sick folks in the house was new to me. Or was it? All those strange
dreams, and Adam's evasive answers set me to thinking, but I quit
fast when Trapper Andy poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Not today, Andy,” Ma said.

“I tell you,” he said. “Those thieves up in
Carson City will take a man's last hide and claim it's no good. If
I didn't need money for victuals, I'd head for California, and try
my hand at gold mining.” He glanced around the table. “That's a
right nice shiner you have, Abigail. Did you get it running into
one of your brothers?”

Ducking my head, I pressed the skin around my
eye. Sure enough, painful swelling greeted my questing fingers.
With all the other aches and pains, I had never felt that one.

“No, sir.”

I kept my voice low as my brothers snickered.
Mark reached over to pull a braid, and I jerked away.

“Heard a rumor at that saloon Horace Johnson
took Michael into,” Trapper Andy said. “Now, don't you worry,
Louisa. Your beloved didn't partake of any spirits, but there was a
moment or two when he wasn't looking at his cup. A few of the men
claimed Horace sprinkled something in the coffee.”

He sipped his coffee. Clasping her throat
with one hand, Ma gasped.

“Are you saying Horace deliberately made
Michael ill?” she asked.

“Just what I heard,” he said. “Boys, ain't
you supposed to be about your chores?”

Everyone at the table gaped openmouthed at
him, but he paid them no mind. Who did he think he was? What right
did he have to order us around?

“We're handling our responsibilities.” Adam
snorted. “What about you?”

“That's enough,” Ma said.

I rose, to clear the table and clean up, but
a sharp pain in my back stopped me halfway.

“Did you get throwed?” Trapper Andy
asked.

“Yes, sir.” I glared at my brothers.

They held their hands over their mouths, but
that didn't stop their chorus of snickers. Even Adam, who had been
so terrified when I flew through the air, had a merry expression on
his face. Ma slapped the table.

“I'm glad the lot of you find it so funny,”
she shouted.

The scornful laughter stopped, but the smiles
remained.

“Sorry,” Mark said, “but Abigail hasn't ever
tumbled off a horse. Pa's always said it's like she's part of the
animal. Now, if we're talking about the monsters, well, they always
fall off.”

“Did something strange happen afore that
bronc threw you, Abigail?” Trapper Andy asked.

Ma stormed away from us and stirred the
broth. The spoon clattered against the sides of the pot. Her
behavior was most unusual, as was that of my brothers. They stared
at their food and never said a word. Another mysterious moment when
no one would tell me what was going on.

“We'll deal with it,” she said. “It's not
your concern.”

He poured another cup of coffee and swiped a
square piece of cornbread. He examined it for a long time before
nibbling a corner.

“Right good. Did you make this, Abigail?”

I nodded.

“Gonna make as good a cook as your ma one
day. Fess up. Did someone chuck something at you afore that mustang
tossed you?”

“We're fine,” Ma snapped. “You gave it up,
remember?”

I stared at them, until Adam pulled me away
from the table.

“Abigail can help with the chickens,” he
said. “If she's not feeling too poorly.”

“I'll check out her bruises after I look in
on Michael and the boys,” Trapper Andy said. “Louisa, you tolerated
a lot from me after Matilda and Grace died. It's time for me to
return to my calling.”

“But I don't know what made them sick.” She
wiped her eyes with her apron. “What good can you do?”

“I figure you've already made a good start,
but I'll check them just the same,” he said. “Lord knows, you've
done well in spite of what life's thrown at you. This time, let me
decide if I've really given it up.” He set down the cornbread and
his cup. “Mark, there's a black bag I'll need on old Betsy.”

Oh no! He brought his smelly mule with him.
Where will we keep it?

Trapper Andy pushed away from the table. He
and Ma went to the bunkhouse. His croaky voice entertained me as I
cleared up the mess.

“The rest of you better take care of the
chores,” Adam said. “Did you get a chance to inspect the
corral?”

“I didn't find anything.” Bart jerked his
head at the bunkhouse. “Is this just his way of sticking his nose
into our business? It's been close to ten years since he did any
doctoring.”

Adam glanced at me. “I don't know how much Ma
wants short stuff to know.”

I was about tired of being treated like a
porcelain doll. Before I could stop myself, I kicked his shin.

“Ow!” He jumped back. “Why'd you kick
me?”

I grinned. “Quit trying to protect me. If I
can survive getting thrown, I can hear about Trapper Andy.”

Mark entered the house with a black bag that
looked like a thick leather envelope with a tarnished golden clasp.
“Where'd he go?”

“Bunkhouse,” Bart said. “I'm out of
here.”

Trapper Andy and Ma entered the kitchen.

“Keep on with the weak broth,” he said.
“Looks like that alkaline poisoning I heard about a few years ago.
You're lucky. They might have died if the boys hadn't ridden out
after them.”

“You just couldn't quit forever, could you?”
Ma said. “Well, come on, Doc. You won't stop fussing until you
check all the children.”

Doc? Was Trapper Andy really a doctor? I
nearly tripped as I moved around my brothers. They stood frozen in
place, as if they would never move again.

“Never really knew myself, Louisa. Thanks for
being such a good sister.”

Sister? Sister! Trapper Andy was Ma's
brother? Never, ever, had I considered him anything other than a
pesky man who couldn't take care of himself.

“So, I guess we have to call you Uncle Andy
from now on,” I said. My voice sounded strange, as if I hated the
idea. And I did hate the thought of calling him Uncle Andy. But a
little acceptance came through my immediate distrust.

* * * *

His pained expression vanished, as did the
rest of the room. I found myself looking at my family, but they
were much younger.

Grace, David, and I sat under a tree
lightning had hit. As the scene played out in front of my eyes, I
realized I had unlocked a memory that scared me a lot.

The adults sitting on the porch stood. Pa,
Trapper Andy, and the pretty lady holding his arm went into the
house right off. Ma leaned over the railing.

“You children stay right where you are,” she
called. “I don't want you going anywhere near the corral.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I waved at her.

She had promised to make me a pretty dress
just like Grace's if I behaved. Even though I loved touching the
horses, I wouldn't do anything to upset Ma. When she decided to
create a dress, she made wonderful ones even though it took her a
long time.

She gave me a soft smile. “We'll start on
your dress tomorrow, Abigail. I wish I could today, but we don't
work on Sunday.”

Adam, Bart, Charles, and Mark ran into the
barn with Peter and Paul on their heels. Their whoops and hollers
made David, Grace, and me curious. We started to walk toward where
they were playing.

“Bet we can pet a couple of horses and get
out of the corral afore anyone catches us,” David said.

He was Mark's twin. No one suspected David
had an evil streak, one where he challenged others to do stuff Ma
and Pa had forbidden. Then David would stand back and look
innocent, leaving his victim to face our parents’ wrath. I wouldn't
let him get me into trouble today, not if it meant losing that
pretty new dress.

“No.” I shook my head. “You heard Ma.”

“What she doesn't see won't hurt her,” he
said.

He and Grace slid under the corral fence. I
started after them, determined to stand outside the fence and
holler until they came out. Then I laid eyes on the most horrible
sight in the world creeping under the rails on the other side of
the corral—a coyote.

Drool dribbled from its wide-open jaws. The
animal lurched from side to side. It focused on Grace and David. My
heart thudded hard against my chest as I looked around for an
adult.

Aunt Mattie came out onto the porch and
frowned when she saw where I was.

“Coyote.” I pointed at the corral. “David and
Grace are in there.”

Terror etched into her face, she ran off the
porch and toward the corral. The slim skirt of her dress slowed her
down as she raced toward me.

“Stay here, Abigail,” Aunt Mattie said as she
bent double to get into the corral. “Call your pa or your uncle.
Hurry, baby.”

My feet rooted themselves into the ground
when the coyote leapt at David, knocking him down. He hollered and
tried to stop the animal, but it bit him on the face and neck.
Grace yanked the coyote's tail, and it turned on her. Her pretty,
store-bought dress shredded under the animal's attack. Thin,
high-pitched screams came out of her throat when the coyote
attacked over and over again.

“Michael, Andy!” Aunt Mattie screamed. “Rabid
coyote in the corral.”

The whooping and hollering in the barn
stopped. A door banged against the wall of the house. No one else
was close enough to help except me when the coyote started biting
Aunt Mattie. I ducked under the fence.

Horses whinnied and ran in circles. Whenever
I got close to one, it reared. One did it right in my face. I threw
up a hand to protect myself, but the steel shoe on his hoof bit
into my neck. Warm blood trickled onto my dress, and I fell
down.

Adam and Pa skidded to a stop outside the
corral. Each raised a rifle and fired. The sound echoed against my
overdrawn nerves, making me scream in fear for the horse. A thump
close by made me look. The coyote had fallen not two feet from me.
Just beyond him, Aunt Mattie, Grace, and David lay in unmoving
heaps.

“Bart, find a shovel and take that creature
out behind the barn,” Pa yelled. “Douse it with kerosene and burn
it.”

He and Adam raced past me.

“Andy, look out for Abby,” Pa ordered. “Don't
touch the others. Charles, bring our gloves.”

Uncle Andy knelt beside me and wrapped a
large, soft cloth bandage around my neck. I looked up at his
frightened face.