The Smartest Horse in Texas (The Traherns #2) (8 page)

Dawn got up and started clearing the pie from the table. Her
face was set, as if she was holding back her emotions while she took the plates
back into the kitchen.

“I’ll teach her in the evenings,” I said. “After work.”

“Not while you’re working for me,” he growled.

I didn’t have to work for him.
“Did you find a new bookkeeper?” I asked.

“The fellow at the bank recommended a man, but I told him I
already had one.”

“Then you’d better send for him. I told you I would work here
until you found a replacement. I straightened out your books, brought them up
to date, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

“You were hardly here long enough to draw a wage. Especially if
you spent the time teaching Marianne.” He said her name with so much contempt,
I had to hold myself to keep from flattening him on the spot.

“Mr. Cummings, I brought your books up to date, spotted a thief,
caught him for you, and saved you a goodly amount of money. I deserve both a
wage and a reward and I expect to get both of those. I’ll leave in the morning.
Count my money out for me now.”

The other hands got up and left, and Cummings stomped into his
office. I stopped for a moment at the pantry, for something didn’t ring true to
me. Dawn was a better reader than that, to make such a simple mistake.

Cummings unlocked his safe and handed me ten dollars.

“That should do it,” he said.

“Plus the reward.”

“I didn’t put up...”

“Yes, you did.”

He swallowed, handed me twenty more.

“Thank you.”

I turned to leave and just about ran into John as he charged
into the room. “Marianne’s gone. She took the filly.”

Cummings jumped to his feet. “How could she? She knew I was
planning to breed that mare.”

“Where do you think she went?” I asked.

“Back to the Kiowas, I reckon. She used to try to run away when
we first got her back. She won’t find them. They’re gone.” He paced to the
front porch and looked off into the darkness. “Stupid, worthless woman.”

“I’ll go get her,” I said.
For myself, not for him.

“She’s not worth it. But if you can bring the filly back, I’ll
give you two dollars.”

“What’s the mare worth?”

“Ten at least. It’s a good horse.”

I pulled out one of the ten dollar gold pieces he had just given
me and handed it to him.

“This pays for the filly. If I find Dawn, we’ll not be coming
back.”

“So it’s ‘Dawn’ now, is it? Get off my place.”

“Gladly. But first write me out a bill of sale for the filly.”

We went back inside and he did, muttering all the time. I took
the paper, read it, folded it and took it out to the bunkhouse. I had a
courier’s pouch I had kept over from the war. I’d placed all my important
papers in it, as it was oilskin and nigh perfect waterproof. I took long enough
to put Misty’s bill of sale into it before I packed my things.

I gathered my gear, filled my canteens, made one brief stop to
grab my Bible and Dawn’s notebook, and rode off down the road. I wasn’t that
far behind her, but the dust was already settled and I stopped Hero, wondering
just which way to go. The stars were showing by now, their brilliance
increasing as the night deepened. Starlight actually gives off enough light out
in the open for a horse to travel by, and there was a glow in the east, like a
small fire, that told me the moon would soon be a rising.

Hero pulled on the reins, eager to go, and I remembered that the
filly had just come back into heat.

I eased the reins and let him have his head. He turned west on
the trail headed toward the mountains, and I just let him go.

She had a good start on us, but ever so often I’d check the trail.
Misty’s unshod hoof prints stood out atop all the others. Hero trotted fast, I
think faster than he’d ever gone before, and I just eased back in the saddle
and let him run under me.

She had probably gotten a half-hour’s start on us, so I didn’t
look for her at first. After an hour or so, Hero nickered and started to
gallop. I could smell dust now, so knew we were closing in.

More dust than a single horse would make. I topped a rise and
looked out over the flat prairie in front of us, now lit by the bright moon.

There she was, surrounded by nine Indians.

Were they helping her or had they captured her?

The flat plain was a flood plain for the Brazos. I could see it
moving down the middle of the valley like a huge, wide snake.

They were headed straight for it. Was it shallow enough to
cross?

I urged Hero into a flat-out run, hoping we could reach them in
time.

There. They’d seen me. Some were pointing at me while others
were going down the riverbank.

As I drew close I could see that someone had built a two-horse
ferry. They were taking the horses across on this, Misty and Dawn included.

I got to the river’s edge just as the last of them ferried
across. I looked at the rope system that had been set up. The ropes appeared
good and stout and I took hold of them to pull the ferry back over to my side.

It was not to be. Laughing, they cut the ferry loose and let it
drift away on the river. Then they waved to me and rode away.

Dawn hadn’t waved. She had looked at me, but hadn’t moved her
hands. I figured they were tied down.

That river was flooding, carrying a huge volume of water. It was
not shallow nor was it tame.

I dismounted and waited until the Indians had ridden off with
their prize. They figured I couldn’t cross here. Well, maybe not, but I would
die trying.

I pulled off my boots and tied on my moccasins, then tied my
boots and guns to the saddle horn to keep them as dry as possible. I waited
while Hero’s breathing steadied down. I’d do Dawn no good, getting river
drowned.

He pawed impatiently at the ground, so I climbed on and headed
him into the water.

“Well, Hero, do you want that filly bad enough?”

He leaped out and in with a big splash, then started swimming. I
kicked my feet out of the stirrups and slid off his tail, grabbing it and
hanging on, letting him pull me across. As soon as my weight was off him, his
back rose out of the water and he swam easily, strong, powerful strokes that
carried him out into the middle where the current was stronger.

I watched upstream for logs or other debris, coming down on us,
but most floated so low I couldn’t see them until they hit us. We drifted
downstream as he swam, so he came out quite a ways down from where he entered.
He clambered up the bank, pulling me along with him, then shook like a big dog,
flinging water every which way.

I looked back at that river. Those Indians probably figured I
was on my way home by now. They wouldn’t be expecting me.

I dropped the reins on Hero and climbed further up the bank,
scouting ahead. It was still dark out, but the moon was full, so I could see
them as easily as they had spotted me earlier.

They were riding out of the flood plain area and into the brush
beyond. I waited until I figured they’d all cleared it, then mounted Hero and
put him back into his trot.

I slowed down as we reached the brush on the edge of the plain.
I didn’t want to barge in there with Hero and give them another horse to steal.

Dismounting, I slipped down the trail, checking it out, then
stopped, my nerves on full alert.

A small glow showed where their fire was. They were laughing and
talking, secure in having left me on the other side of the river.

I counted them. Eight, plus Dawn. Where was number nine?

Glad I had my moccasins on, as I could feel the brush under my
feet, I pulled back from the camp and circled it, looking for number nine. He
was with the horses, stroking Misty.

Now to get Dawn away. I’d probably have to forgo Misty’s escape.

They had tied Dawn to a small tree. I circled around and came up
behind her, took my knife and slit the bonds.

“Matthew,” she whispered, “cut Misty free. Then run.”

It meant me crawling back to where the horses were, but by then
number nine had rejoined the group at the fire.

The horses snorted as I got close, uncertain of who I was. I
untied Misty, pulled her head down, then tied the reins behind her ears so she
wouldn’t think she was ground-tied. I was circling back to the trail where I’d
come in, knowing I was pushing my luck, when a shout from the campfire told me
somebody was figuring things out.

Misty had moved into the middle of camp, and they were standing
there, looking at her. Dawn whistled.

The filly threw up her head, causing the Indian trying to catch
her to miss, then she ran to Dawn who swung on and rode out, headed down the
trail.

I followed, as fast as I could run, being one jump ahead of the
raiding party. As I reached Hero, I turned and fired into the brush with my
rifle. I heard a yelp, and figured I’d at least winged one. I fired several
more times, then mounted and rode off after her.

Dawn rode Misty as fast as she would go, across the flood plain
and up to the river.

She looked around as I joined her. “How did you cross?”

“Hero swam it. We’re going to have to swim back.”

“There’s no way...”

“Get off.”

She jumped off. “There’s quicksand in this river. And snakes.
Water moccasins.”

Now she told me.
I pulled my rope off my saddle and dropped it over Misty’s
head. Lifting one of her front feet, I made it so the noose wouldn’t strangle
her.

We could hear the Indians coming, their yells of anger preceding
them. They had had to go back for their horses, once they saw us ride off.

I took the rifle and shot in their direction, pumping it to fire
as fast as I could, hoping it would slow them down. It made them cautious, and
they backed off.

“Get on the downstream side of Hero and tie one hand to the
saddle.”

She pulled off her heavy skirt, then tied herself to the saddle
as I put my rifle away.

“Go, Hero.”

I grabbed his tail and smacked him on the rear—I’d never
done that before—and he sprung into the river, dragging Misty and Dawn
with him. I got jerked off my feet, but soon we were all in the water, with
Hero headed to the other side.

The Indians came up to the river after we were twenty feet from
shore, and commenced firing at us. I felt a deep, burning sensation in my
shoulder and arm, the side holding on to Hero’s tail, and pulled my other hand
over to grab hold and help support me.

Misty was struggling in the silt-laden river, but the rope gave
her help. Besides this was her first time across and she was not tired.

I glanced back. Some of the Indians were trying to get their
horses to enter the river. They finally gave up, shot a few more times and
left.

I kicked my feet, trying to help Hero out. He was laboring now,
and we were being carried downstream as well as forward.

When we finally reached the riverbank it was too steep for him
to climb out. He turned and started swimming downstream. I wondered if I let go
of his tail, maybe I could get up on the bank and help him. Then the pain in my
shoulder reminded me I was probably going to have to leave it all to him.

The river curved in a large bend, swinging away from us, so we
were on a shallow side. Hero got a purchase on the bed, struggled through some
deep sand, and flung himself out of the water, pulling the rest of us with him.

He was shaking, tossing Dawn about, and I had to grab his head
and stop him long enough for her to untie herself.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

“No. They grabbed me, and I told them in the Kiowa language to
leave me alone. They thought that was a big joke, but they just tied my hands
and led me away.” She shuddered. “I didn’t think anyone was following me.”

She put her head against my chest and her body shook. “I don’t
think I could face that again.”

“I know. I wasn’t about to let them take you.”

She straightened and I let her step away.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I just rode to the fork in the road, then Hero followed Misty.”

“Did Pa send you to bring me back? Cause I’m not going.”

“No. He didn’t send me anywhere. I drew my wages and left.”

“I know it wasn’t right to take Misty, but Lewis would have her
ruined in less than a day.”

“He can’t. I just bought her.”

“Pa sold her to you?” You could tell she didn’t quite believe
it.

“He didn’t have a choice. There’s a bill of sale in my
saddlebags. You own her now.”

“How?”