by C. S. Adler
* * * *
When Mel woke up in her own bed, her mother was sitting beside her. “What happened?” Mel asked.
“You got knocked unconscious when you fell off that mustang. Why did you ride off on him without even telling anybody where you were going? Do you realize that you could have been killed?”
“Where's Cheyenne? Is he all right?”
“Mr. Jeffries put him in his pasture. He was the one who found you. He took you to the doctor and called the ranch. You were lucky it happened near his place.”
“That's where I was headed.” Mel tried to sit up, but her mother wouldn't let her.
“You have to keep still. The doctor says we need to make sure you don't have a concussion. He doesn't think you broke anything. Jeb was right about that horse. He is too dangerous. I told Mr. Jeffries to keep him. I don't know if you'll get any money back, but even if you don't, you're not going to ride that beast ever again.”
“It wasn't Cheyenne's fault, Mom. He got hit by a bomb, a dirt bomb from a stupid dump truck that was speeding. Naturally he reared. I mean, what else was a horse to do? It was so sudden. And it hurt him.”
“No, Mel. I know you think you tamed the animal, and maybe you did partway. But he can't be trusted.”
“Mom, you didn't hear me. It wasn't his fault. And you had no right to hand him over to Mr. Jeffries. He's my horse. I paid for him. Anyway, I was paying for him.”
“We'll talk about this later.” Her mom left her lying there, fuming, until she fell asleep again.
In the evening, her mom brought her a tray with soup and pizza that the cook had sent. “You've got a visitor.”
“Sally?”
“Sally came by earlier. He left this for you.”
Sally's gift was a hand-tooled black leather belt with turquoise worked into a silver buckle on it. “Wow!” Mel said.
“That man really is fond of you,” her mom said. “He made the belt himself, but he must have paid plenty for the buckle.”
Mel nodded, too overcome by Sally's gift to speak.
“So do you want to see Mr. Jeffries?” her mother asked.
“What's he doing here?”
“I guess he came to see how you are. You better thank him for picking you up off the road.”
“Mom!” Mel protested. “I do know some things.” Enough to be polite, she meant.
“Not as much as you think,” her mom replied.
Despite his white hair and wrinkles, Mr. Jeffries looked trim in a pearl-buttoned western shirt and fitted jeans. His belt buckle was almost as beautiful as the one Sally had given her. It was silver with inlaid red, black, and turquoise stones in what Mel recognized as a Zuni Indian design. Sally's head appeared unexpectedly at Mr. Jeffries' shoulder.
“Can I come in, too?” Sally asked.
“Sure,” Mel said. But there was barely enough room for both men to squeeze in. Sally fitted himself into a narrow space next to the dresser. Mr. Jeffries stood at the foot of the bed, his tan felt hat in his hands.
“So how are you feeling?” he asked.
“Okay,” Mel said. “How's Cheyenne? Did that dirt bomb that hit him cut him?”
“Huh? The horse was fine. Did something hit him?”
“Yes, that's why he reared. It was a big chunk that fell off a truck. I bet Cheyenne's bruised bad even if it didn't cut him.”
“Well, no signs of any damage on that feller. You should have seen him when I showed up. That horse was standing over you like he wanted to help and didn't know how. If he'd had hands, he'd have been wringing them. And I've never seen a sorrier expression on a horse. He looked like a kid who's done something he's ashamed of. I didn't know a horse could feel shame, but that one sure did.”
“It wasn't his fault.” She explained again so that everyone would be sure to understand. “He reared because of that stupid dirt truck driver.”
“Yes, well, don't you worry about Cheyenne. I'll keep him in the field with the other mustangs until you're ready to take him back.”
“I don't know if I can take him back,” Mel said. “That's what I was coming to talk to you about when the truck got us, Mr. Jeffries.”
Sally cleared his throat. “Umm, I spoke to Jeb. He's holding to his offer. If you want to take my place next season and lead trail rides on Cheyenne—just the family rides, the easy ones—you've got the job.”
“Uh huh,” Mel said without enthusiasm.
“You can do it, Mel,” Sally said. “You ride a horse like you been doing it for years.”
Mel shook her head. “I told you, Sally, every time I ride, something happens.”
“Not much use owning a horse unless you plan to ride him,” Mr. Jeffries said.
“You have those horses just to look at, don't you, Mr. Jeffries?” Mel said.
“Well, in a manner of speaking. But I enjoy riding, and I use my favorite horse for that.”
“I can't,” Mel said. “If something happened to Cheyenne—”
Mr. Jeffries cleared his throat and said, “I think I'm in over my head here. What I wanted was to tell you how impressed I am by what you've done with that mustang. You rode him most of the way to my ranch, which says to me that you've got him pretty well trained. So my idea is, I'll take over the rest of the loan from the ranch and you can pay me off as you can, whenever you can, even if it takes years. Would that be helpful?”
“Yes, very,” Mel said. “Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Jeffries.” She sat up and smiled at him. “And thanks for rescuing me on the road.”
Me’s mother came back in the room after Mr. Jeffries left. Mel was fingering the belt and telling Sally how beautiful it was.
“So I take it we're back to owning an outsized pet dog?” Dawn said.
“No,” Sally said. “Mel's going to ride him.”
Mel waited until her mother had left the room before she said, “I'm not, Sally.”
“You don't have much time to change your mind. Saturday's my last day, and I'd hate to leave knowing my girl's a quitter. You said that horse didn't mean to throw you, Mel. If that's true, you got no reason to be scared to get on his back.”
“But things happen, Sally. Every time. Something happens. This time it was just to me, next time—” She turned her face into her pillow to stifle her whimper.
“You want to play it safe, Mel? Never take a risk? Is that the way you want to live?”
“Why not?” She raised her head to glare at him.
Sally frowned. “Because those folk that spend their lives playing it safe, in the end they get cancer or their house burns down anyhow. Things happening makes life interesting. Besides, you're too gutsy to play it safe.”
She pulled the pillow over her head and stayed under it until she heard his footsteps as he left the room.
* * * *
Later in the moonlight, Mel got up and looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn't really see more than the dark outline of her features. Scarecrow. Yes, that's what she looked like. And what was going to happen to her? If she couldn't earn any money, she couldn't invest in a stable with Denise. That was just a crazy dream. She could be a horse trainer, but a horse trainer had to be able to get on a horse's back. So did a wrangler. She thought of what Mr. Jeffries had said, that Cheyenne had acted ashamed of himself. But it hadn't been the mustang's fault. It had been an accident. Trouble comes in clumps, Denise said, and then everything goes right for a while. But how was Mel supposed to know if the clump that hit her had been the last one? No answer appeared in the mirror, and after a while, Mel gave up seeking one and retreated to her bed.
Chapter Nineteen
Mel's head ached. She lay in bed clutching her pillow, feeling not only angry, but confused and betrayed by the adults who had claimed to be trying to help her. On the one hand they were offering her her horse, everyone from Mr. Jeffries who barely knew her, to Sally, who seemed to care for her as much as she did for him. Even Jeb was offering her something most girls would be thrilled to get—the chance to
be a wrangler riding her own horse, a way for her to pay for Cheyenne and keep him for herself.
On the other hand none of them understood that she was tempting fate by riding. Mr. Jeffries said Cheyenne had been sorry for throwing her. No doubt he had. Cheyenne had more human feelings than any other horse she'd ever met. He wanted to keep her safe. Mel was sure he did. But something unexpected would happen. It wouldn't be another dirt truck, just something that would make Cheyenne lose control of himself—something that would make any horse lose control. It wasn't fair of Sally to try and push her into riding again. He should see by now that she was jinxed.
That morning, her mother came in dressed for work in a jeans skirt and sweater. “The doctor said you ought to be moving around now to help the healing process, Mel. I don't think you should be lying in bed all day.”
Reluctantly Mel got up. She dressed and went to the main building in time for breakfast. Talk at the staff table was about Sally's going away surprise party Friday evening. They were passing around a funny card for everyone to sign and planning how to decorate the room for him. The new cook said she'd serve his favorite menu, which was grilled steak and chocolate mousse cake. They were all chipping in for a gift certificate to a western clothing catalogue.
“Clothes for Sally?” Mel asked in surprise.
“Well, he shouldn't go back to his wife in the same clothes he left in, should he? And my guess is he hasn't bought himself anything new in years,” Mrs. Davis said.
“Besides all his duds smell of horse even after they're washed,” the cook said as she put down a platter of eggs and sausage. That got a laugh from the rest of the staff.
“I expect he'll own his father in law's ranch one of these days,” Mr. Davis said.
“His wife's the one that'll own it when her father dies,” Mrs. Davis pointed out. “Anyway, he's going back for her, not the ranch. He really loves that woman.”
“We're going to have a hard time finding a wrangler to fill Sally's place,” Mr. Davis said. “He's as good as they come.”
Mel shut her ears to the chitchat. She still wanted to give Sally a special present to remember her by. What could she get him that would be as wonderful as the belt he'd given her? It couldn't cost too much because she didn't have any money to spare. All she had was needed to pay down what she owed on Cheyenne.
After breakfast Mel followed her mother into the office. Dawn was already seated at the computer terminal. “Mom, I need to give Sally my own gift, a really nice one.”
Her mother swiveled her office chair around and said, “I'm sure he'd appreciate anything you give him, Mel. How about we borrow a camera and take a picture of you and Sally together?”
Mel shrugged. “Maybe.” But she wasn't taken with the idea. For one thing, she hated having her picture taken. For another, it seemed vain to expect that her picture would mean much to him once he had returned to his wife.
* * * *
On Thursday Mel went back to school. Except for her homeroom teacher, no one seemed to notice she'd been gone. But at lunch Maryann, a dark-haired girl with blue eyes and broad shoulders said, “Is it okay if I sit with you and Denise?”
“Sure,” Mel said. She was glad when it turned out that Maryann owned a horse she had raised from a colt. She wanted to hear all about Cheyenne when Denise said that Mel had tamed a wild mustang.
“Wow,” Maryann said. “You must be very good with horses.”
“She's a real horse whisperer,” Denise said proudly.
School seemed less demoralizing now that Mel could credit herself with a talent for something. Even if she was a flop at math and English, she was good at taking care of horses. She was even improving in the art of making friends.
That evening at dinner, plans for Sally's party got extended because the owner was making an unexpected weekend visit to the ranch accompanied by eight of his children and grandchildren. He'd be arriving after the party, but he'd be there Sunday morning when they said their farewells. Besides, Mr. Davis said the owner had asked to have the typical introduction to the ranch that guests would get.
“Got to take them out to the big barn, and Jeb can maybe have Sally demonstrate horsemanship on Rover before he leaves us,” Mr. Davis said.
“Seems unfair to make Sally perform,” Mrs. Davis said. “He ought to be an honored guest seeing as it's his last day.”
“How about Mel does the demonstration,” Sue said. “That's what you're going to be doing next season when you take Sally's place, isn't it, Mel?”
They were all looking at her. Most had heard that Jeb had offered her a regular job for the following spring, but they also knew that Cheyenne was down at Jeffries' pasture and that Mel hadn't ridden since her accident.
“Sally'd like that, Mel being his student so to speak. He's the one who taught you about horses, isn't he, Mel?” Mr. Davis asked.
“Yes,” Mel said. True enough that Sally had been the one who convinced her she had a talent worth something.
“Mel's not riding that horse again,” her mother said.
“That so, Mel?” Mr. Davis asked.
“I don't know,” Mel said. She imagined herself riding Cheyenne around the ring, the indoor ring, a confined space. That would be safe enough, wouldn't it? And to ride Cheyenne again for Sally. She could do that much, couldn't she?
* * * *
On Friday afternoon Mel hitched a ride with Sue who was on her way home.
“You bringing your horse up to show him tomorrow?” Sue asked as Mel stowed the tack for Cheyenne in the back of Sue's jeep.
“I'm bringing him up so he'll be ready,” Mel said. She didn't know if she would be or not.
“I heard Jeb ask Sally if you were doing the demonstration tomorrow morning, and Sally said he couldn't say,” Sue said. “So Jeb asked me to do it on Rover. But it's no problem if you want to take over from me.”
“Thanks. I'll think about it,” Mel said.
At Jeffries' gate, Sue stopped and waited for Mel to collect her gear. After Sue had waved goodbye and driven off, Mel lugged the tack along the fence to where Cheyenne was standing watching her. The other two mustangs were grazing on the far side of the pasture as usual. Cheyenne snorted a greeting, ducking his head at Mel as he pranced up to the fence.
“So, hi,” she said. “How are you doing? I was laid up for a while. Otherwise I'd have come down to see you sooner. Is it fun being back with your friends?”
He reached over the fence rail and bumped her arm. “I guess you're glad to see me, huh? I'm glad to see you, too, Cheyenne.” She put her load down on the ground and gave herself over to caressing his head, breathing in the warm bread smell of him. When she kissed his muzzle, his tail swished with pleasure like a hula dancer's skirt.
“Sometimes you do act just like a dog,” she said. “You know that? A horse is supposed to have more dignity. Really, he is. Of course, I'm not very dignified either, am I?” She slipped between the rails into the pasture and got a halter on him. Then she walked him to Jeffries' house to let them know that she was taking Cheyenne up to the guest ranch and would keep him there through Sunday. Mr. Jeffries wasn't home, but his wife, somewhat distractedly, took the message with hands sticky from working her clay.
Walking Cheyenne five miles up the mountain, Mel wondered if the people in the cars passing by them thought she was some kind of fool. She planned to say her horse was lame if anyone stopped to ask why she wasn't riding him, but no one did. She got to the ranch and left the mustang in the little corral with barely enough time to get dressed for Sally's party. Her mother had bought her new pants. They were tan chinos, plain enough to be wearable. Mel ripped the tags off and was pleased to see they fit. In Sally's honor she even wore a new sweater, the one with an Indian design around the neck and shoulders. “Not bad,” Mel told her mirror image and reminded herself to thank her mother for picking so well for her.
Sally's face lit with pleasure when he walked into the dining room and found it decorated with balloons
and banners wishing him good luck. Grinning, he sat down and read the card which showed a man riding a cow. Inside were the words telling him what a great guy he was and how they were going to miss him. He laughed about the gift certificate to the western clothing catalogue.
“You folks trying to tell me something?” he asked.
“We don't want to send you back to your wife looking shabby,” Mr. Davis said.
“She won't recognize me if I dress up too good,” he said.
Mel hugged him then and gave him the handmade card she had spent hours working on, a collage of ranch activities. Front and center was a cut-out photo of Sally with a gold crown on his head. Inside the card she had written, “You are the father I wish I had. Love, Mel.”
Sally thanked her and said gruffly, “Guess you know the feeling's mutual, Mel.”
And she did want to make him proud of her. But she didn't sleep well Saturday night, uncertain as she was that she should do it. Sunday at breakfast, Jeb asked her whether she was up for the demonstration of horsemanship that morning.
“I'll walk Cheyenne into the barn,” she told Jeb, swallowing dryly. “And I'll do the demonstration. But about me being a wrangler next spring, I don't think—”
Impatiently he interrupted her, “If you're not going to work for us, might as well let Sue do the demonstration on Rover, Mel. I don't want to give the owner the wrong idea about our wranglers or about our horses.”
She quivered at his challenge and was tempted to give up and just let Sue do it. Then she could run and hide until Sally had gone. He'd be disappointed, sure. But he'd get over it. But what would he think of her? Mel took a deep breath, “Yeah, okay,” she heard herself tell Jeb. “I'll ride, and I maybe I could try doing the little kids' trail rides next spring.”