The Wild Bunch 2 Spark

by Deirdre O'Dare

  The cat grunted and then yowled. Lou swung again. This time the wooden stock cracked, the sound audible even above the other noises. At that, the puma lurched, pulled its claws free--the forelegs from Spark and the back legs from the sorrel's rump--and fell away. It rolled and then scrambled to its feet and took off, snarling and hissing.

  After a final pitch, the sorrel staggered to a stop. He stood, head down and sides heaving, shaking so hard Spark thought the saddle would fall off. He realized he, too, was trembling. The fiery pain of the cruel gashes down his shoulder and back began to make him nauseous. He reeled, struggling to stay on the horse. A reddish haze ebbed and swirled around him and he felt himself wobble and start to slip.

  Lou reached out and caught Spark's right arm. "Hang on there. Can you make it on back to the ranch?"

  Spark drew in a long breath and then another. "I--I think so, but I'm not sure if Quatro can. We need to see how deep and where he's cut. I'm not going to force him if they're too bad."

  "I'll try to call, see if I can reach the ranch, see if Jason can come get us with the truck and trailer. It's not too far, is it?"

  Spark gasped in a couple more deep breaths. "That's right, you have your phone. You may not get a signal, but it's worth a try. Maybe we'll have to change that phone rule after this." His laugh sounded forced. Then suddenly he spilled off the saddle. He looked up at Lou as if he wasn't sure how he got on the ground.

  Lou leapt off his horse and knelt at his side. "Come on, cowboy, don't give out on me now."

  Spark struggled to sit up, but his left arm seemed to have no strength. "Call the ranch," he repeated. "At least try."

  * * * *

  Lou strove to keep his panic at bay. What if that damned cat comes back? I shouldn't have dropped the fucking rifle. There, it's right there.

  He half-crawled a few feet to grab it. Then he dug the phone out of his day pack. The signal was weak, but maybe he could get through to the ranch. He had to try. Thank God, he'd set the number on speed dial. His hand shook as he punched the number, listened, waited. When he heard the ring, once, twice and a third time, he caught his breath. Then someone picked it up.

  "Rainbow Ranch. How can I help you?"

  "Is Jason there? This is Lou--Lou Vetrano. It's urgent."

  "Hang on."

  A moment later, Jason's deep voice came over the phone, scratchy and not very clear.

  Lou tried to explain what had happened, but the words tangled in his mouth. By then, Spark had managed to sit up. "Let me talk to him, tell him where we are."

  Lou handed the phone over. After Spark gave a terse report of the accident and where they were, Jason assured them he'd be there as fast as he could.

  "Sit tight. Keep your weapons ready in case that cat comes back, but I doubt it will. Casa and I'll be there in about a half-hour."

  That thirty minutes passed very slowly. Slumping to the ground again, Spark seemed to fade in and out of consciousness. Fear pounded through Lou. He didn't have a light and it had grown too dark to see much, but Spark's back and side felt like he was soaked with blood. Lou touched the other man's body, then drew his hand back, sticky and wet.

  The sorrel gelding stood, still shivering, head down. Lou could not tell how badly the horse was hurt either. His own mount shuffled, clearly anxious and scared, but it didn't try to bolt or struggle. He clutched the reins, wondering if he should try to ride down and meet Jason.

  Finally, a beam of light reached up toward them from a quarter mile or so away. Lou shouted. The answering shout assured him Jason and Casa would be there in a few minutes. Soon they appeared through the last of the boulders, carrying a bright lantern, a first aid kit, a couple of blankets and two more rifles.

  Chapter 5

  It all felt like a bad dream later, the sequence and details never quite clear in Lou's mind. Somehow they got Spark and the injured horse down to the pickup and trailer. Calm and sure, Jason and Casa loaded the two horses after they got Spark and Lou settled in the pickup. Spark leaned forward against the back of the front seat, while Lou sat beside him, holding compresses against what seemed the deepest of the gashes in the cowboy's shoulder and upper back.

  Time lurched at an uneven pace as the truck rocked and twisted back down the rough forest road and then sped along a two-lane highway back to the ranch. When they reached the headquarters, Spark lurched out of the truck, clutching the side of the bed to stay on his feet. He insisted they call the vet at once to come look at Quatro. He would not get back into the pickup until he heard Dr. Bradfield was on his way. He wanted to wait and hear how badly his horse was injured, but Jason put his foot down.

  "Hell, no. Casa can take care of the old sorrel. That hoss knows him almost as well as he knows you, and you know Doc B. will do everything that's needed. He's the best vet in Grant County. Get your ass in the truck. We need to get you taken care of. Cougar claws leave nasty wounds for man or beast."

  Spark obeyed, meeker than Lou had expected. He knew the cowboys all respected Jason, and observing the tall man's quiet, positive leadership, he understood why. As soon as Casa unhitched the trailer, they took off for Silver City, the nearest hospital. Lou insisted on going along. Although he could not blame himself for what had happened, he was more concerned about Spark than he cared to admit, even to himself. He wanted to know at once how serious the cowboy's injuries were. At first he thought Jason might refuse, but after a moment, the rancher had shrugged.

  "Suit yourself. Get back in. We're going to be back real late though."

  The ER doctor irrigated and then stitched the wounds, checking for nerve, muscle and tendon damage in each deep, jagged slash. Then he ordered an x-ray, which revealed Spark's shoulder was dislocated. After he eased the joint back in place, the doctor rigged a sling to hold it stable for a few days and then gave the cowboy antibiotics and a tetanus shot. He assured them Spark had not lost enough blood to be in real danger, but he did suggest the Texan stay overnight for observation. The blond cowboy balked at that.

  "Hell, no. I've been bunged up a lot worse than this when I was rodeoing. I don't do no fucking hospitals unless I'm out too cold to object."

  Lou wanted to insist, but when Jason didn't, he decided he'd better keep his mouth shut. After all, what stake did he have in this game?

  Still, the gashes looked terrible and the darkening bruises around them made the injuries appear even uglier and more dangerous. Despite that, Spark refused to take anything stronger than ibuprofen. To Lou's surprise, he also seemed to bounce back from the initial shock quickly and swore he'd be right as rain in a few days.

  Still, he did lean on Lou and Jason as they walked him back to the truck, one on each side. Jason found a spare jacket, which Spark draped around his shoulders since the remains of his shirt and jacket now reposed in an ER trash can, blood-caked and shredded beyond repair.

  On the way back, Lou rode shotgun, while Jason drove and Spark sprawled in the rear seat. He braced his right shoulder in the back corner of the cab and stretched his legs across the bench. Except for a faint grunt or two when they hit a few hard bumps, he didn't make a sound, not a gasp, whimper or curse.

  "You saved my ass, Lou," Spark said after a lengthy silence. "Quick thinking to beat that damned puma off with the rifle. There was no way I could turn around to shoot him, and he weighed too damn much to throw him off. Ol' Quatro tried, but the cat hung on like a goddamn burr. At least we were jolting around enough he couldn't get a bite on either of us. Damn lucky there. I'd ride the range with you any time after this, though."

  Spark's praise embarrassed Lou, but it also made him feel good. He'd met a real Wild West-type challenge with manly force and courage, maybe even saved the day. Spark sounded pretty impressed and that meant a lot.

  Jason agreed. "Yep, Mr. Vetrano, it could've been a whole lot worse. I know most of our guests would've lost it, freaked out and made the situation a real ass-buster instead of better. We owe you one, without a doubt. Normally, I offer to reimburse a
guest part of the cost if something goes wrong. What do you think?"

  "No fucking way! I've got a story to tell now, better than any of those old movies and TV shows I watched as a kid. There I was, just like John Wayne, with the reins in my teeth and a rifle in my hands. I came back for more adventures and this time I got one in spades."

  Spark chuckled. "Damn, you're as crazy as I am, Lou. But then I guess a mafia don has to be tough, too, tough as a rawhide cowboy, eh?"

  Since Jason was listening, Lou decided discretion would serve him best. He held back the smart ass remark he might have made under other circumstances. It was after midnight when they drove back into the ranch yard. He jolted out of a light doze when the truck bounced across the cattle guard at the entrance.

  Casa and a couple of the junior wranglers waited for them and came off the veranda around the front of the main house together.

  "How's Quatro?" Spark asked the important question before his boots hit the ground.

  He'll be all right. He's got two sets of claw marks on his rump, but only one is very deep. Doc stitched up three of them, gave him a tetanus and a penicillin shot and left some salve to put on them."

  Spark let out a relieved whistle.

  "Doc said the old hoss might take it easy for a few days. He's gonna be kinda sore. So what happened to your tough ol' hide?" Casa eyed the sling and kept a close eye on the other cowboy as they talked. Jason seemed to make sure everything was under control and then he headed off for the main house.

  Lou stood aside, tired to the point of exhaustion, yet reluctant to leave and miss anything. He felt a twinge of jealousy as Casa took Spark's sound arm and started to lead him toward the bunkhouse. Still, he sensed more of a fraternal than a sexual or romantic connection between the two men.

  From what Spark had said, the three cowboys had been together for years. They'd have a lot to tell Stace who apparently was gone for a few days. Another twinge twisted through him when he realized anew how difficult it would be to split Spark away from his buddies and try to plant him into a new life.

  To do so would be completely wrong, although Lou wanted to find a place for the Texan in his life more than he'd ever wanted anything. What a fucking can of worms. I'm too goddamn tired to sort it out right now, though. He called goodnight and headed for his cabin, the keen awareness of his solitary state dogging him like a shadow.

  * * * *

  Spark took a couple more ibuprofen tablets and washed them down with a shot of Jack Daniels before he went to bed. Casa hovered around him like a grandma until Spark almost got mad. "Fuck it, Cas, I'm okay. Got a few cat scratches. Cut out the nanny act, okay?"

  Casa laughed. "All right. Chill. I know--we've all gotten the shit kicked, clawed and stomped out of us a dozen times. We're tough, and you're in no danger of dying on us. Get some sleep. I'll handle the feeding and stuff in the morning with some of the younger wranglers. Jase said you had a day off coming. With Stace gone, we'll be a little short, but no worries."

  He left Spark's room and closed the door quietly behind him, and Spark was asleep almost before the light from the hall cut off.

  When he awoke, the angle of the sunlight streaming in his window told him the hour was much later than his usual reveille. He started to roll over and had to snap his mouth shut on a groan. His back and shoulder hurt like hell. He managed to get his feet free of the tangled bedding and made his way down to the bunkhouse latrine, took a leak, and studied himself in the mirror over the row of sinks.

  "Ya look like the morning after a bad drunk," he told himself. "But I've lived through a few of those, too. Can't keep a cowboy down."

  He got dressed and went looking for some coffee and breakfast. The clock in the dining hall said it was ten-thirty. Dough Boy heard him come in and wandered out from the kitchen.

  "Boss man said you had a tangle with a bad kitty. Don't you know better than to try to jack off a wildcat in a phone booth?"

  Spark had to laugh, even if it hurt. "Just a dumb Texan, Cookie. How about getting me some coffee?"

  The older man shook his head as he turned back to the kitchen. Still he emerged soon with a plate full of biscuits, bacon and eggs, and a dollop of strawberry jam in one hand and a big mug leaving a trail of steam in the other.

  "Your boyfriend was looking for you a bit ago. I think he's out at the barn now with Casa and that new kid, Juniper. He sounded real worried."

  Spark felt his face redden. "Mr. Vetrano ain't my boyfriend. First off, he ain't a boy and second, he's just another customer, one who happens to be in my charge for his visit."

  "Tell it to the marines," Dough Boy taunted. "You could do a lot worse."

  "Shut the fuck up and leave an invalid in peace."

  With a rude cackle, the cook turned around and headed back to his sanctuary. Spark managed to down his breakfast using only one hand and refilled his coffee cup from the big thirty-cup urn that almost never ran dry. After that, he figured he might be able to face the world, even if it contained Lou Vetrano.

  First thing, though, he needed to see how Quatro was doing. That big Quarter Horse meant the world to him. They'd been through a lot together over the years. Quatro was the last colt of the old mare Spark had learned to ride on and sired by one of the good studs on the family ranch. Leo blood on one side and Joe Reed on the other. He could recite the horse's whole pedigree if anyone asked for it, right back through all the begats like it came from the Bible.

  He reached the barn and headed straight for Quatro's stall. The gelding had his head deep in the manger. Casa or one of the newer kids had fed him more than enough. Spark eased through the gate and slapped the horse on the shoulder.

  "How ya doing, old hoss?"

  The sorrel raised his head out of the alfalfa and gave Spark an affectionate nudge. He walked on around then to check the hindquarters, where the puma had dug in. The gashes didn't look too bad. Like Casa had said, the vet had stitched some of them and coated the others with a thick layer of salve. When Spark caught a hank of mane to make him move, the horse walked easily, no sign of damage to the muscle or anything. Relief flashed through him. Thank all the powers, the horse was okay.

  He heard voices then at the other end of the barn and headed that way. He saw Lou before the other man saw him, leaning against one of the timbers that supported the barn, just inside the open doors. Lou was talking to Casa. A knife of jealousy stabbed through Spark for an instant. Casa was good-looking and had always been a Romeo. They didn't call him Casanova for nothing, even if it was a play on his real last name of Casanuevo.

  Back off, Casa. Lou's mine. The sudden thought jolted him, even as he recognized how true it felt. He chided himself for being stupid. Casa was simply doing his duty, being polite and friendly with a guest. That was what they all did, what they were all supposed to do. If one cowboy was busy or not around, another would represent the ranch with the best hospitality anyone could want.

  Lou must have heard his boots on the wooden floor and swung around to peer down through the dark center of the barn. "Spark, is that you? I didn't figure we'd see you up and out today."

  "I ain't gonna lay around like some chick that just had a baby. Gimme a break! I may not do a lot of work, but I'm going to get my share of fresh air and sunshine."

  He had reached the spot where Lou stood and halted between Lou and Casa. Casa grinned at him. "Just keeping your guest from getting bored," he explained. "I asked him if he wanted to go riding, but he declined. Not likely to run into any more pumas, though--maybe that's why he said no."

  Lou's dark gaze swept over Spark from head to toe and back. "How do you feel?"

  Spark shrugged, limiting the movement to his right shoulder. "Been worse," he said. "Been a lot worse, for a fact. Not ready to haul a ton of hay or shoe any horses, but I could ride if I needed to."

  Lou nodded. "Not yet. Maybe later. First let's go down to my cabin for a while. I went online this morning and checked out some real estate agents in this part of the state.
Remember what I said about maybe getting a ranch? I want to show you a couple of the listings I found. If you think any of them might be worth it, maybe we can drive out this afternoon or tomorrow and take a look."

  Spark suspected they might be doing more than merely checking on ranches for sale, but he had no problem with that. Oh, he might not be up to any real acrobatic antics, but there were plenty of other ways to tease, please and enjoy each other. If Lou could not come up with any, Spark sure could. He told himself this was not forever, but for the remaining ten days of Lou's stay, he planned to make the most of every minute.

  He caught Casa's quizzical look as he turned to follow Lou from the barn. If he knew his buddy; they were thinking along parallel lines. First Jared Langford came for a stay, took up with Stace, bought property and moved to New Mexico from California. Was Lou going to relocate from Chicago to this region as well? Did his plans have anything to do with Spark and, if they did, how was that going to effect Rainbow Ranch and the friendship among the three of them?

  Spark had to admit to himself he didn't know. In a lot of ways, he did not want to go there, not yet anyway. He'd sooner deal with another puma on his back than drive a new wedge into the decade-plus friendship the three of them shared. And what could happen to Jason and his enterprise?

  Even if Spark, Stace and Casa continued to work for the ranch, would the new relationships Stace had developed and Spark might be on the brink of building allow them to work as they had the past several years? He had to be honest enough to admit the three of them were basically high-class unusual hookers. Permanent partners would likely take a dim view of sharing them with others that way.