Boy Made of Dawn

by R. Allen Chappell

  Thomas ran his hand down the horse’s off hind leg, picking up the foot and examining a crack in the hoof wall. “This crack’s going to get worse if it don’t get trimmed up and shod. He’s overdue by a good bit.” He shook his head. “I’m surprised Hiram had him up in that rough country with his feet in this shape.”

  “They probably weren’t in this shape when he took him up there. This horse had some miles put on him up there.”

  Thomas stepped back to look at the horse. “Not a bad put-together old boy…for a using horse. I wonder who bought him last night?”

  “I think we’re about to find out,” Charlie said with a push of his chin up the alleyway.

  An older, thin-lipped white woman in a cowboy hat and faded Levi jacket was coming up the alleyway with a halter slung over her shoulder and an inquiring look on her face. This woman obviously spent a lot of her life out in the sun, and Charlie couldn’t put a number on her age.

  “Howdy,” she called, “how do you boys like my new horse?” She was not quite smiling when she said this but appeared to be of a good humor.

  Charlie stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “My friend and I like him just fine. We were just saying it’s a shame he has that cracked hoof.” He threw a sad look at the foot as he said this.

  Thomas smiled to himself and turned back to the horse. Charlie meant to buy this horse if he could. Thomas was no stranger to horse trading, and he could read where this was going.

  Charlie’s grandmother had been quite a horse trader herself after his grandfather had passed away. She was Charlie’s sole support and had not been afraid to step into the family business. Charlie learned a lot about horses and horse trading by the time he left for college. His grandmother insisted he go, however, telling him, “There is no future in horse trading anymore.” Well, he wanted this horse, and here it had nearly fallen into his lap. Someone or something was looking out for him.

  The woman in the hat nodded at his name and shook hands. “Aida Winters. I must be getting old,” she grinned. “I’d have caught that foot back in the day. Easy fix though—a set of shoes and a little pine tar will set him right pretty quick, I imagine.”

  “Damn,” Thomas thought to himself. “A woman horse trader!” Women often made shrewd traders and drove hard bargains. He himself preferred not to deal with them.

  The woman looked them both up and down. “You boys wouldn’t be interested in him, would you? I got plenty of damn horses already; don’t know why I put my hand up on this one. Just seemed like a good pony for the money, I reckon.” She lowered her eyes demurely. “I dabble in stock from time to time, though lord knows I usually come out on the short end of the stick.” As she talked she moved to the horse and with a little pinch behind his ears caused him to drop his nose into the rope halter she was holding. She brought the tag end smoothly around the top of his poll, securing it in a neat knot behind his left ear.

  Charlie nodded but secretly doubted this woman ever lost much money on a horse. “We like him alright, if the price works for us.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t even be looking at horses today. I’m up here on other business.”

  “You in the law business? I saw you flashing a badge at that old hide in the office.” She was grinning outright now, looking at him with what might have been a glimmer of respect.

  He passed her a card and nodded, opening the gate as they talked. The two men walked along with her as she led the horse to the checkout station. She twirled the short end of the lead rope as she walked to keep the horse’s mind on his business. “There’s a farrier up there at the cafe having lunch; he owes me a favor. I’ll see if he can throw a set of shoes on this pony while I buy you boys a burger.” She paused and winked. “I’ll write it off as a business expense.”

  She passed the horse by the gate attendant, who barely looked at her receipt. She was, apparently, well known there. They crossed the parking lot to her stock trailer and tied the horse alongside several others with auction tags still glued to their rumps. She turned toward Charlie. “I heard you asking about Hiram Buck over in the office. He must have been in bad need of money yesterday. I’ve tried to buy this horse off him before, but he wouldn’t even talk about it.”

  Charlie missed a step. “You know Hiram Buck?”

  “Everyone hereabouts knows Hiram. I live not far from him…as the crow flies.” She frowned. “We’ve had dealings in the past. He’s not going to be happy with me getting this horse, and cheap at that.”

  Thomas now interrupted by clearing his throat. He had been admiring her string of horses and spoke for the first time. “It looks like you made quite a haul last night.” He knew from the quality of these animals that Aida Winters knew her business and wasn’t one to trifle with in a trade.

  “Yep, this dry spring is making for a lot of bargains. People can’t afford hay anymore.” She went to the tack compartment at the front of the trailer, opening it to display five or six used saddles and a pile of bridles and other tack. “I could suit you boys out today at prices you would be hard pressed find anywhere else…assuming, of course, you’re in the market.”

  Thomas hung back, admiring a big piebald gelding with a glint in his eye. He liked a lot of “spirit” in a horse, and this one looked like he might serve that up on a daily basis.

  Aida did not fail to notice Thomas’s interest in the horse and called back to him, “That one’s a bit salty yet. He might not suit you.”

  Thomas just smiled.

  In the restaurant, Aida went to talk to the horseshoer while the two men found a table against the back wall and began studying the menu. Charlie leaned over and asked Thomas, “What do you think that sorrel horse is worth…not that I have any business buying him of course.” He wondered what Sue would think about him messing around with horse deals when they were supposed to be looking for Sally Klee and Thomas’s daughter. He could see Thomas had been thinking the same thing.

  Thomas put his menu down. “You know, this woman might be exactly who we’re looking for in the way of information about Hiram Buck. I don’t have any problem mixing business with business.” He glanced over at Aida. “I don’t know how much that sorrel horse you want is worth, but I do know that woman will skin us like a couple of ground squirrels if we’re not careful.” He looked up at the ceiling a moment. “I’m going to say he’s worth about twelve hundred dollars, but I doubt she has more than eight in him, including the shoeing.” He squinted his eyes. “Nine hundred ought to buy him—he hasn’t even left the sale yard yet, for God’s sake.

  Charlie agreed. “I’m thinking a couple of saddle horses might come in handy up here. For one thing I would like to take a look at that place where I got shot at.” He rubbed his chin. “No telling where this thing is going to lead us.”

  “Whoa!” Thomas exclaimed. “I’ve only got fifty dollars on me. I doubt Aida Winters does any horse financing for such as me.”

  Charlie looked thoughtfully over at Aida, who was still deep in conversation with the farrier. “You might be surprised,” was all he said.

  Aida got back to the table at about the same time the waitress made an appearance. Business was brisk and the woman was sweating. Blowing a wisp of straggly brown hair from her eyes, she looked at the unlikely trio. “What’ll it be, folks? We’ve got the chili cheeseburger on special, and that comes with fries and a drink.” She looked at the two Navajos. “We got fresh cherry limeade too, but its twenty-five cents extra on account of us using real limes instead of that phony bottled crap.”

  After they ordered, Aida mentioned the farrier was going to get right on the sorrel gelding. She figured he could have him done by the time they finished lunch. “See,” she assured them, “just as easy as that!” She looked from one to the other and continued, “Now what do I have to do to fix you boys up with those horses? I’m already throwing in a free set of shoes.” She turned to Thomas, raising a finger as she saw he was about to say something. “That piebald already has a good set of shoes on h
im!” Thomas had been about to ask if she would throw in a bridle but now thought better of it.

  Charlie hesitated only a moment before deciding to lay it all out for her. “We are up here looking for Thomas’s daughter and her mother Sally Klee,” indicating Thomas with his chin. “Hiram Buck is related to them and might know where they are, though he’s not apt to tell us anything. There must be other people who know as well. We are just going to have to ferret them out, one way or the other.” Here he rubbed his forehead as though pondering what next to say. “We might be interested in those horses if the price was right.” He paused. “And some saddles too, but first we need to find a place to camp for a few days while we check things out.” He said this while looking directly at Aida. Thomas was appalled at so direct a ploy and looked away.

  Aida, for her part, was not much taken aback but rather appeared surprisingly interested in their plight. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made her proposal. “I’ll let you boys have those horses for not much more than I gave for them.”

  “Honest Injun?” Thomas asked with a grin.

  Aida chuckled. “I don’t have any feed in them yet and very little else. I want nine hundred for that sorrel. Six fifty for the other. Not just anyone will be able to ride that piebald,” she cautioned. “Not for very long anyway.” She hesitated and then went on, “You can pick out a couple of saddles to use while you’re up here and decide later if they suit you enough to take home. If I can’t trust the law, who can I trust?”

  Charlie was always amazed at the power of a badge and a business card. He didn’t even have jurisdiction off the reservation.

  She frowned suddenly, remembering their mention of Hiram Buck. “There’s no love lost between me and the Buck clan. I grew up here and have lived across the valley from them most of my life. You will want to be very careful dealing with Hiram Buck. His wife passed away a while back. That would have mellowed most men, but it just made Hiram meaner.”

  Charlie nodded and then looked over at Thomas, raising a questioning eyebrow. Thomas nodded assent, and the deal was struck for the horses. Charlie had his checkbook in the truck. This was going to take a good chunk out of the down payment he was saving for that little place in the country.

  The brand inspector was still on the grounds, fortunately, and reissued bills of sale with only a little grumbling about private horse deals in the parking lot. This after-sale horse swapping was wearing him down; his feet were tired and he wanted to go home. As he walked away he called back, “Aida! If you see Hiram Buck, you tell him there’s a cow up here he’s going to owe a feed bill on if he can’t explain how he got her.”

  Aida nodded to him and then turned to the boys. “Hiram brings some cows down from his relations on the Uinta Reserve now and again.” She looked off into the distance. “The paperwork’s always a mess.” She pointed after the brand inspector. “Dan always has a time with those brands. Hiram’s relatives up there are a pretty wild bunch from what I’ve heard. They all had the same great-grandpa as the Bucks, I guess.” She smiled. “The nuts don’t fall far from the tree, I expect.”

  She told the boys they could turn their horses loose in her corral and maybe camp out in her barn for a few days should they be of a mind. Charlie concluded this woman was a straight shooter and could be trusted. Thomas did not know what to think but was ready to do whatever it might take to find his daughter.

  ~~~~~~

  Later that afternoon at Aida Winters’ place, Charlie and Thomas pitched in to help put her new horses out to pasture. She thanked them, though they knew she could just as easily have managed by herself. Thomas offered to buy a couple of bales of hay to see them through their stay, but she waved him off saying, “If you boys could just restack them loose and leaning bales, that will be payment enough.” Before taking her leave, she mentioned that Hiram Buck’s place was just across the back pastures. “If you keep to that timbered ridge running along the north side, you can’t miss it.” She went on to say her place bordered one corner of the Buck property, and the precise property line, among other things, had always been a bone of contention. With a glance at the lowering skies and a quick wave, she made her way to the house and was not seen again that night.

  Charlie and Thomas stacked their gear in one of the stalls and ate a cold dinner out of cans. Thomas said he would just as soon spread his blankets outside to sleep, but Charlie thought it might rain and felt it best they take advantage of the comforts of this barn while they could. It really didn’t matter to Thomas; he could sleep anywhere. After restacking the hay they stood at the open barn door catching their breath and looking out across the land.

  This seemed a fine country to the two Dinè. Wooded draws coursed through high meadows, sprinkled with ground-watered swales, gradually falling away to the dark canyons of federal land. The people in this country raised pinto beans and the hard, red winter wheat so favored by the Mormons. They were dry-land farmers, for the most part. The area had become quite famous for its beans. The land was well suited for it. The Anasazi farmed corn and beans here for more than a thousand years. The ruins of their ceaseless building dotted the countryside in profusion, causing modern farmers to plow around them to avoid the buried rock walls. Nearly every bean field had a sagebrush-covered mound, hiding what used to be a thriving little complex. It was generally thought the population was actually greater in those times than it was now.

  The men turned their horses loose in the corral and stood watching them. After only a minute or two of fidgeting, Thomas grabbed a saddle and bridle and went into the corral to get acquainted with the piebald gelding. “I expect I might be better off trying this horse out now than in the morning when he’s fresh.”

  Charlie, feeling himself well enough acquainted with his own horse, watched amused as Thomas’s efforts to catch the piebald stirred up the dust. “You want some help?”

  “Nahhh, I’ll get him!” The gelding knew some tricks, but so did Thomas, who soon had the halter and lead rope back on him, snubbing him up short to the post set in the center of the corral. “He’s a little ouchy from that trailer ride…just has to get his mind right.” He whistled to the horse to keep his attention. “These snubbing posts are a handy thing to have.” In his opinion, tying a green horse to a fence rail had been the cause of some serious horse wrecks.

  The piebald stood fairly still while Thomas shook out a saddle blanket around his head and flopped it back and forth across his withers and then flanks. Charlie came over to help him get the saddle on, but it really wasn’t necessary. The two were almost disappointed in just how easy it all was. Thomas put his weight in the near stirrup a couple of times before climbing aboard and setting his feet deep in the stirrups. He was confident in his ability to ride this horse and did not feel the need to edge into it. Charlie released the bull snap on the lead rope. The horse knew instantly he was free and gathered himself for a mighty leap—straight up. He nearly swapped ends at the top of the jump and came down with a bone-jarring crash, nearly unseating Thomas, who was lucky to grab the horn on the way up. The horse stood there a moment, head down, legs splayed, and then calmly shook himself, straightened up, and walked off, head high, as though such a display was quite ordinary and to be expected.

  Charlie slapped his leg and laughed. “Do you suppose he does that every time?”

  “I hope not. I’m a little out of practice these days.” Thomas managed through clinched teeth, “I just think he was testing me.” Reaching down and patting the horse’s neck, he added, “I hope I passed.” Thomas himself was grinning now and proceeded to put the horse through a few basic rollbacks and figure eights before pulling him up short in front of Charlie. “Acts like he remembers a thing or two. He just forgot his manners for a minute, is all.”

  Charlie could see he was pleased with the horse despite the rough start.

  Thomas did like the horse and thought Charlie’s money well spent. “I’ll get you the cash when we get back home,” he said half seriously from atop t
he horse as though not paying him back had ever been an option.

  “That’s good,” Charlie grinned. “I’d hate to have to beat it out of you.”

  It was almost dark, but Thomas had Charlie open the gate and took the gelding for a lope around the pasture, bringing him back breathing hard and sweating around the eyes. “This horse will do,” he smiled. “At least people won’t be borrowing him all the time.”

  Up at the house Sally Klee peered out from the edge of the living room curtains. “I see Thomas can still ride,” she told the woman at her shoulder. “Not as good as when he was drinking though.” Aida Winters nodded but said nothing.

  ~~~~~~

  Aida Winters had long been of the opinion the Buck clan had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Most of them, she thought, didn’t have enough sense to pour piss out of a boot, and as a whole, she had seldom encountered a more ill-natured and deceitful family. The one exception was Hiram’s niece Sally Klee, and she was neither a full-blooded family member or, for that matter, a full-blooded Ute.

  Sally, when she was still small, would find her way down to Aida’s place every chance she got, spending time helping Aida with little chores (weeding the garden and such) before her mother would come storming down to take her home. This had been just after Aida’s husband died. She was lonely then and needed something to occupy her time. She became quite fond of the girl, sometimes helping her with her schoolwork and correcting her English when she could. Sally had been caught up in the confusion of learning three languages at the same time. Her mother spoke good Navajo and insisted on using the language to communicate with her daughter when she didn’t want the Buck clan to know what was being said. Sally’s English never really became what Aida thought it should be.

  Aida recently heard Sally was back up at the Buck place, and with two small children too. So it was not a complete surprise when, late one evening well after dark, she heard a timorous knock at her back door. It was Sally Klee, and it was immediately apparent she was in some distress, nearly out of breath and trembling. She stood there looking at Aida, tears welling up in her eyes, wringing her hands, shoulders shaking. Aida opened the screen door and pulled her gently inside. She knew some grave misfortune had befallen the girl and led her to the kitchen table where she nearly had to help her into a chair. After putting on the teakettle, she turned back to Sally, who was wiping her eyes on her sleeves and whimpering to herself like a puppy. Aida set cups and spoons on the table and went back to preparing the tea. Sally, unlike most Indians, had always been fond of tea, probably learned from Aida. In Aida’s experience it seemed most Indians preferred the more robust flavor of coffee.