"Absolutely."
Their next attempt was successful. As Jesus pulled his lasso taut around the steer's rear ankles, I jumped out of the truck and landed in a patch of mud so slick I had to catch onto the side view mirror to keep my Wellington boots from sliding out from under me.
I leaned over and drove the syringe full of tranquilizer into the calf s shoulder. "Gotcha! " I said. "He should be out in about a minute and a half"
At that point all hell broke loose. The calf kicked straight back with his bound hind legs and caught Jesus right in the crotch. "Madre de Dios!" Jesus howled and grabbed for his groin with both hands.
Thereby releasing the rope binding the calfs rear legs.
The calf surged to his feet and tossed J. L. on his butt in the mud. Ramirez's horse couldn't hold on alone. His line tore free and dangled from the calf s neck. "Uh-oh," I whispered. The calf now had a needle and syringe hanging out of his left shoulder, and the stob sticking up out of his right. He looked for all the world like a fighting bull after the picadors have been at him. He was obviously every bit as angry.
"Maggie, run for the trees," J. L. whispered. "Now." He inched his hand down along the ground toward the line that still hung slack from the animal's neck.
The calf lowered his head and pawed. I spun and ran.
Ahead of me I saw the dead log. If I could get on the other side of that, he'd slow down until the tranquilizer took effect. He couldn't jump over it. He'd have to go around the end.
Somehow I managed to leap the log and keep running.
I glanced back just as the steer cleared that log with the ease and grace of a Grande Prix show jumper. I never knew cows could jump like that. Hell of a time to find out.
The maple tree had grown up into several trunks, all meeting close to the ground. The space between the trunks formed a "v" that looked wide enough for me to pass through. I prayed it wouldn't be wide enough for the steer.
I planted my right boot into the crotch of the tree and prepared to jump.
Then three things happened at once.
My boot stuck in the angle of the tree so that my stocking foot came straight up out of it.
The steer's forehead connected solidly with my rear end and launched me out the far side of the tree. And my right boot flew off and smacked me on the back of the head.
All my life I've heard about accidents that knock people right out of their shoes. Until that moment I had never believed it was possible.
I glanced back over my shoulder just as the calf stared at me with surprised brown eyes and passed out with his nose against my boot.
"Maggie, my God, Maggie, are you all right?" J. L. slid his hands under my armpits and hauled me to my feet. "Can you walk?"
"I can limp, thank you. Jesus, would you mind bringing me my boot?"
I thanked God for the mud and the wet grass. It was embarrassing enough that J. L. and the others witnessed me sailing through the air and out of my boots. I would have been a darned sight more embarrassed if they had realized that steer had literally knocked the pee out of me. The entire back of my jeans was wet.
I cleaned and stitched up the calf, dropped my Wellington boots on the floor of the truck, and laid a plastic bag on the driver's seat of my truck so it wouldn't get wet.
"Come on up to the house," J. L. said, "Let me check you out, give you a little Laphroaig."
"It's too early for me, thanks."
"Me too, but I ain't just been butted in the ass by a bull calf."
"J. L., I will probably freeze in this position in about thirty minutes. I need to drive back to the clinic while I can still get out when I get there. A little horse liniment ought to limber me right up."
The truck jounced and slid to the pasture gate over the mud and wet grass. J. L. and his horse opened the gate for me.
I could feel my rear end swelling. By the time I got back to home it would be sticking out far enough that you could safely rest a pot of geraniums on it.
And it hurt. I hurt. Not just my body, but my pride. I knew better. I should have waited until I was certain J. L. and his boys had the calf under control. I could have caught my foot in the crotch of that tree, not just my boot. I could have broken my wrist when I fell.
I had done a stupid thing and I had paid for it. The whole cow community would know about my ignominious launch before New Year's day. By the time I told the story myself a couple of times, it would sound pretty funny even to me.
But it wasn't funny.
Ten years ago I wouldn't have been so casual. For that matter, ten years ago I could run a whole lot faster.
Suddenly retirement had precious little to do with traveling.
I drove all the way into Collierville, picked up two dozen hot doughnuts at the drive-through so I didn't have to get out of the truck, drove home and coasted the last few feet into my garage.
Now, if I could just sneak up the back stairs and climb into the shower...
"Mother," Sarah said from the open door of the guest room. "Whereon earth have you been at this hour?"
I held up the doughnuts. "Breakfast."
She walked out into the hall and stared at me. "That's not all. You are covered in mud! You're filthy." She sniffed. "And you're starting to smell. You've been out on a call, haven't you?"
I shrugged. "It was an emergency out at J. L's."
"What kind of emergency? How did you get in such a mess?"
"Tell you later." I wanted a hot shower. I did manage not to limp or whimper on my way upstairs. When I climbed out of my massage shower twenty minutes later, I felt fairly normal until I caught a glimpse of my naked rear end in the mirror.
My right cheek was imprinted with an almost perfectly square bruise from the calfs forehead.
Not big enough to pot geraniums, but I could probably manage a pansy or two.
Chapter 49
In which Maggie settles an argument
"Perfect Christmas weather," Nathan said as he kissed me good morning.
"Lisa's still asleep." He grabbed a doughnut and poured himself a cup of coffee. "What's it like having a -houseful of family again?"
"Morning Nathan," Sarah said from the doorway. Evan stood behind her. He and Nathan introduced each other, and Sarah poured two cups of coffee.
"What're you up to this morning?" Nathan asked. "Lisa and I thought we'd maybe catch a matinee, get out of Mother's hair until the party tonight."
"What movie?" Evan asked.
"I don't know what's playing."
Nathan reached for the morning paper, and the telephone on the kitchen cabinet rang.
I raised a hand to tell him not to answer it, but too late. He spoke, listened, and handed the phone to me. "It's some guy about a crazy horse."
"I'll take it upstairs. Hang up when I answer, will you, Nathan?"
Upstairs I listened to Orville Pinchow rant and finally beg.
"I can't give my granddaughter a horse that's gone crazy," he said. "Maggie, I know it's Christmas Eve and all, but you got to come out to my place and check this mare over. Please."
I pulled on work clothes and boots, then limped down the back stairs and into the kitchen.
"Sorry, guys. I have to go out. Shouldn't take long. Do whatever you're going to do without me."
"What about the party tonight with the Militia?" Nathan asked.
"Everything's done. I just have to put the roast in this afternoon. I'll be back long before that. An hour at most."
"If you're really only going to be gone an hour or so, why don't you take Sarah with you?"
"Good idea," Evan said. "You haven't really had a chance to be alone, you two," he said. He kissed heron the cheek. "Go."
As we drove out the driveway, I said, "You haven't ridden along with me for years."
"I wanted a chance to talk to you too, Mother," Sarah sounded serious. As a matter of fact, she sounded exactly the way Morgan used to when he sat down to lecture me about something. I felt my shoulders tighten.
&nb
sp; "Before we leave, Nathan and I need to sit down with you and get your life back in order."
"My life is in perfect order, thank you very much."
She shook her head. "We could be stopped by the police right this minute because the registration for the truck is out of date." She pointed to the sticker above the driver's seat. "It is also nearly four thousand miles past the date for its regular service. Now that Daddy's not here..."
"The truck is working fine, thankyou." I flipped on the radio. "We can talk later. I want to hear the Nine Lessons and Nine Carols from King's College at Cambridge."
My mother told me that sooner or later positions are reversedparent becomes child, child becomes parent. I wasn't ready for that yet.
"When was the last time you balanced your check book?" she asked.
I stamped the gas. The truck slid around a ninety-degree corner and barely avoided taking out somebody's mailbox. "My checkbook is none of your damned business," I snapped. I hadn't balanced it at all since Morgan died, actually. "I know how much money I have, thank you, and my accountant will continue to do the taxes the way she has for years." She started to say something else, but I interrupted. "Not now. I have a crazy horse to treat."
"Here we go. I warn you, Orville's a character." I turned off the highway and drove down a long gravel drive toward a medium sized horse barn.
Orville yanked open my door before I could open it myself. As I climbed out, I said, "Hey, Orville, what's all this about a crazy horse? Oh, this is my Sarah, home for the holidays. I don't think you've ever met."
"Told you, this filly's for my granddaughter's Christmas. You think I'm gonna put a kid on a horse that tried to kill me?"
"Where is she?"
"In the covered arena." Orville swept his Stetson off and pointed to an angry braise and knot on his forehead. "I'm too old to let some damn two-year-old filly dump me in the dirt. Woman was broke to death on Friday, and today she tries to kill me." He led the way down the broad hall of his bam.
"Orville raises cutting and reining horses," I told Sarah. "Wins the futurity in Jackson three years out of four."
"Yeah. I'm too old to be breaking horses, so I sent her down to Jim Bob Buckram a couple of months ago to knock the rough edges off her. He told me she was broke to death when I picked her up last week."
"Jim Bob doesn't lie," I said.
Orville sighed with exasperation. "That's what I have been trying to poke into that pea brain of yours, Maggie. I rode her down at Jim Bob's before I loaded her, and got on her the minute I brought her back home.
"That filly never put a foot wrong. I swear, the woman could turn on a dime with no more'n my little finger on the reins and nine cents left over. She got cow in her ain't been touched yet." He shook his head. "Last Friday I left for a cutting horse show in Dallas. Got back last night late and came down here first thing this morning to exercise her one more time before Christmas."
"What happened?"
"I knowed something was wrong the minute Sanchez put her halter on in her stall. When he tried to groom her, she commenced to roll her eyes and paw the ground. I smacked her a good one on the shoulder. Damned if the woman didn't turn around and bite me!" Orville pushed the sleeve of his sweater up. "Lookee there." He pushed up his sleeve and showed me a bruise on his forearm.
"Anyhow," Orville continued, "I smacked Miss Bar Girl right on her pretty bay nose."
"How did she react?" I asked.
"She acted real surprised," Orville said. He sighed and looked at the beautiful blood bay filly braced on all four legs in the center of his covered arena with real pain in his eyes. "Kicked the stew out of the skirting boards behind her when I tried to saddle her."
"What do you expect me to do?" I asked.
"I thought maybe you'd give her a little tranquilizer, quiet her down so you could check her over."
"Orville, if she's got a brain tumor or epilepsy, there's no way I can tell in a casual exam."
"Just try is all I ask, Maggie. For my granddaughter."
I sighed.
"One week not being rode ain't enough to turn a dead broke filly into a raving maniac," Orville said. "I figured she'd settle down once I was in the saddle. She's so darned pretty I knew Christin would fall in love with her. I had the boys hold her hard while I climbed up on her."
"What happened when you got into the saddle?" Sarah asked. I was surprised. I expected her to be-or at least feign-complete lack of interest.
"Honey," Orville said, "I used to ride bulls when I was young and stupid, and you don t have to do that but eight seconds to get a halfway decent score. I don't think I made five seconds on that filly. Next thing I knowed, I'm flat on my back in the dirt trying to suck some breath back into my lungs, and she's bucking all the way around the arena."
"So how'd you get that goose egg on your forehead?" I asked.
"I tried to catch her as she went by. Stirrup caught me right acrost the eyebrow."
"What'd you do to her?"
"Not a damn thing. Not her fault she's crazy. Figured I'd wait until you stuck some good stuff in her to calm her down before I tried to ride her again." He sighed. "If it weren't for Christin, I swear I'd sell her for fifty cents."
Sarah and I walked over to the filly's stall. A neat bronze plaque over the stall read "Miss Bar Girl" in fancy English script. All the stalls had similar plaques, illegible from this angle.
The filly stopped chomping her hay and came over to nuzzle me -not nip, just nuzzle. I bent down and blew gently into her nostrils, so she'd know I was a friend.
"She's beautiful," Sarah said and stroked her nose.
I barely breathed. Had Sarah even touched a horse since Pride's death?
Orville puffed up. "Red as a sunset, a pure foundation quarter horse.
"She doesn't act crazy to me," Sarah said.
Sanchez called from the end of the arena, "Senor, telephono. Es Senor Jim Bob."
"Jim Bob?" He turned to me. "You figure out how to stick that filly with something to calm her down while I go have a 'Come to Jesus' meeting with ole Jim Bob about what the hell he thinks he's doing sending a crazy filly home with me." He stomped off, hesitated, and said over his shoulder. "Come on, Miss Sarah. You look like you're half froze to death, besides, you'll keep me from saying some cusswords you oughtn't to hear."
"Go on, Sarah," I said.
"After southern California, this is like being inside a refrigerator." She followed Orville.
"Sanchez," I said.
"Si, Senora Doctor."
I pointed to the mare, "Maio al caballo-uh-last week?"
He shook his head. "No malo, Senora Doctor." His eyes were frightened.
"Anybody here-shoot-anybody differento-hermano?" I couldn't remember the word for man, only for brother.
"Me and Ramon." His eyes shifted away from her.
"Who else?"
Sanchez's eyes shifted.
"Tell me, please."
"Mi amigo Esteban-help- bring in horses last night, but he no hurt..." He was whispering, looking over his shoulder toward the hall down which Orville had disappeared to the telephone.
"Okay, easy." I held my hands up, palms facing him, the universal signal of "calm down."
At that point the horses to the right and left of the blood bay filly stuck their heads out. The horse on the left was a deep sorrel-the color of dogwood leaves in October.
I glanced at the horse on the right, then walked over to her to stroke her nose. A second later I began to chuckle. "Damn. I'd bet Orville a thousand dollars I know what made his filly go nuts."
I turned to Jesus. "Quick, now. Get this filly right here out of her stall, throw Orville's saddle on her and bridle her up. Hurry, before he gets back from the telephone."
"Senora Doctor?"
"Sanchez, ayuta me. And quick."
Ten minutes later Orville stalked back into the arena trailed by Sarah. They both stopped so quickly that Sarah ran into Orville's back.
I continue
d loping the blood bay filly quietly around the arena with nothing but my index finger on the reins.
"Lord all mighty, woman," Orville said. "Whatever you done give that filly, I want some for my wife."
I slid her to a halt beside him and hopped down. "Here, Orville, you try her."
He thought about it for a second or two, then he pulled himself into the heavy western saddle and picked up the reins. Sarah and I watched him work the filly for ten minutes. I looked at Sarah and winked, then mouthed,0 "Tell you later."
Finally Orville trotted back to me and dismounted. "Damnation, I gotta go call Jim Bob and apologize," he said. "Is she safe for Christin or is she going to go nuts on me again the minute the drugs wear off?"
"I didn't give her any drugs."
"Then how in hell?"
"Anybody can do it, Orville. All you got to do is whisper the right name."
"Huh?"
"Orville, the filly next to Miss Bar Girl. What's her breeding?"
"She's a half sister to Miss Bar Girl. Name's Miss Bar Queen." He stared at me for a long couple of seconds, then I saw the light dawn. "Sanchez! Ramon! Y'all get your illegal alien butts out here this minute!"
The two men came running. Sanchez was grinning sheepishly, but Ramon, who couldn't have been more than eighteen, was quaking.
Orville pointed to the row of stalls along the wall. "Who brought those horses back in from the pasture last night?"
Ramon pointed at Sanchez.
"Who else?"
"Mi amigo Esteban. He don't read too good."
"Esteban must have mixed up the stalls last night," I said. "They're half sisters and dead-ringers. He put Miss Bar Girl in Miss Bar Queen's stall and vice versa. Orville, honey, you hauled a totally unbroke twoyear-old filly out of her stall, tied her up, threw a forty pound saddle on her back, stuck a cold metal bit between her teeth and plumped your two hundred plus pounds smack in the middle of her back. It's a miracle you're still alive."
"Dang." Orville pulled his Stetson off and slapped it against his leg. "Ifyou hadn't come out here, Christin would'a lost her Christmas present. Woman, you can not retire on us. Without you, who the hell's gonna protect all them supposedly dumb animals from real dumbasses like me?"
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