Chapter Five
The first day of summer vacation. No bus to catch. No last-minute homework to finish. No fighting Sara for just five minutes out of her long-term lease on the bathroom. I was going to sleep and sleep and sleep…
“Bobbie Jo! Get out here right now.” It was Dad’s voice and he sounded like he meant business. I unglued my eyelids and stared at the figures on the clock radio. Seven-fifteen. Seven-fifteen on the first day of the holidays? Give me a break, Dad. “Bobbie Jo!” The volume was rising.
I muttered something that started in my brain as “I’m coming,” but came out of my mouth more like “Mmph hmhm.” I managed to get my sweatshirt on backwards. Then it took three tries before I stopped trying to fit both my legs into one leg of my jeans. Finally, I staggered to the kitchen.
Dad was the only one up. He usually got up first to get the cows in the barn and fed their grain. Either Mom or I went out a little later to help with the milking. Princess Sara did not involve herself with cows. They smelled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Dad pointed out the kitchen window. “Take a look out there and you’ll see what’s wrong. That crazy new horse of yours.”
I looked out the window expecting to see that the roan had jumped the fence and was grazing in the pea patch or something. But she was right there in the cow pasture where I’d left her. The only problem was that she had all thirty of Dad’s prize Holstein cows cornered in the far end of the pasture. She was standing in front of the herd like a prison guard or something. As I watched. one of them made a halfhearted attempt to start toward the barn. Instantly, the mare flattened her ears and made a dive in the cow’s direction. The cow made an ungraceful retreat back into the bunch.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. What did the mare think she was doing? In all Patchy’s years of grazing with the cows, the worst thing he’d done was steal the juiciest clump of clover from some slow-witted cow. Now I’d gone and got a horse who thought she was a cowgirl.
Dad’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You’ve got exactly two minutes to get that horse out of…”
I tore out of the house and the slamming of the kitchen door cut off the end of his sentence. I grabbed a halter out of the barn and raced across the pasture. Racing up to any horse you plan to catch is not exactly brilliant. Racing up to this horse sent her galloping to the opposite end of the pasture. It didn’t get me one bit closer to catching her, but at least the milk cows escaped. They went streaming gratefully off to the barn for the morning milking.
I got the roan mare cornered. She and I looked at each other. “Whoa,” I growled between my gritted teeth. The mare stood still, trembling a little. I took another step toward her. “Whoa,” I said again. As I reached out to slip the halter rope around her neck, she swung around on her hind legs and took off across the pasture again. As she went she gave a light little whinny. It sounded an awful lot like a laugh to me.
I wasn’t laughing. I was sweating and puffing and saying unladylike things under my breath. Dad told me once when I was little that to catch a horse you had to be smarter than the horse. That didn’t say a lot for my IQ. I charged across the pasture, trying to cut her off at the pass. Suddenly my foot hit something slippery and shot out from under me. Next thing I knew, I had landed on the seat of my pants in a pile of very fresh, very wet and very smelly cow manure. Slowly, I picked myself up, wiped off the thickest of the stinking mess and then washed my hands off on the dew-wet grass. I kept thinking that if I had just minded my own business, that blue roan mare might be in a can by now.
I set my teeth and started after her again. She was standing in the corner by the barn. By now I’d lost all idea of the smart way to catch her. I just plodded straight toward her. She didn’t move. I knew she was waiting until the last second for a flashy getaway. I kept plodding. She kept standing. I was within reaching range. Slowly, my hand went out. She didn’t move as I slipped the halter over her head and fastened the buckle. That’s when I took my first breath in quite a while. I had her.
I stood glaring at her. No horse had ever put me through anything like that before. She deserved…What did she deserve? A good beating? Or maybe she’d had a few too many good beatings. Maybe that was why she wasn’t about to trust anybody. But one thing was for sure, abusing a hard-to-catch horse wasn’t going to make her any easier to catch next time.
“Atta girl,” I whispered, swallowing my fury. “See, nothin’ bad happens to you when you get caught.” I turned to run a soothing hand along her neck. As I did, something caught my eye. A beat-up old black truck parked halfway down the lane. Cole McCall’s truck. And the great Cole McCall himself was sitting on the hood watching me. He looked like he was taking in the wild-horse race at the Calgary Stampede. And he was laughing.
Chapter Six
For a minute I was too stunned to do anything but stare at him as he strolled over to the fence. By the time he got to me, I wasn’t stunned any longer. I was furious. “What do you think you’re doing here?” I blurted out.
He checked his watch. “Working. In about ten minutes, if the job starts at eight like you said it did.”
“Job?” I echoed. “You said you didn’t want the job.”
He shook his head. “Wrong again, Blue Jeans. I said I didn’t like your reasons for offering it. I didn’t say I wouldn’t take it.” He gave me a strange look and sniffed the air. “Interesting perfume you’re wearing. What’s it called? Cow Pasture Memories?”
I felt my face do an instant replay of the recent sunrise. “Cole, if you don’t get out of my sight in the next…” But before I could finish he bent over and ran his hand down the mare’s left front leg, the one she limped on. The mare laid back her ears and I could see she was getting ready to take a bite out of his backside—and I was going to cheer when she did. But Cole read her mind and straightened up in time to catch her with her teeth bared and nowhere to bite. He gave her a slap on the neck. “Knock it off, horse. You’ve got a worse disposition than your owner. Part owner, that is. How much did we pay again, Blue Jeans?”
I glared at him. “I paid $680 and you’re taking your lousy $8.75 back.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I think we could’ve done worse. I’m stayin’” He started back toward his truck. “That’s just a strained muscle in her leg. She’ll heal up pretty fast.”
Oh, right, now Mr. Know-It-All was a horse doctor, too. I ignored him and started for the corral with the horse. Halfway there his voice stopped me again. “Hey, Blue Jeans, aren’t you supposed to wear the picture on the front of your shirt?”
I soon found out that having Cole working for Dad didn’t mean that I was going to spend the summer polishing my nails. Dad found plenty of work for both of us. Actually, I was glad he did.
I’d spent seventeen years being Dad’s right-hand man. I wasn’t going to quit just because there was a guy around.
Right after supper was the first chance I got to spend some time working with the mare. As soon as we finished eating, I excused myself and headed outside. To tell the truth, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Good old Mom had decided that since Cole was working here right up until suppertime, he could just as well eat with us. Two meals a day across the table from that mocking grin was enough to spoil even my appetite.
I caught the mare easily enough in the corral and tied her up. Then I got my saddle and blanket. “Easy girl,” I soothed, letting her sniff the blanket and then laying it on her back. Then the saddle. No reaction. Not even when I pulled the cinch up tight. I led her around a little. Okay, there was only one thing left to do. Get on her and find out what she planned to do about it.
I lined her up facing into a corner. If she did decide to explode, I might at least have a chance to get settled in the saddle first. “Whoa now, roan. Be nice, okay?” I took the reins in my left hand and got a firm grip on the saddle horn with my right. Then I started to put my foot in the stirrup. That’s when I caught a glimpse of something over my sho
ulder. I brought my foot back to earth and spun around. “You work here, Cole. You don’t live here,” I said, giving him a nasty look. “You can go home now.”
He just grinned and stepped up a rail higher on the corral fence. “I’ll get there, Blue Jeans. Just wanted to see how our horse was coming along. Go ahead and get on. Unless havin’ me here distracts you too much.”
I rolled my eyes. “You couldn’t distract me if you ran through the pasture in your underwear throwing away hundred-dollar bills. But if you’re gonna hang around, at least shut up so you don’t distract the horse.”
“My lips are sealed.” He climbed up on the top rail and made himself comfortable.
I sighed and turned back to the horse. I tried to recapture the confidence I’d worked up a few minutes before but to tell you the truth, I was distracted as all get-out.
I gathered the reins and my wits. Then I stuck my foot in the stirrup and swung aboard, making sure to land lightly. There was a long period of silence in which the horse tried to decide what to do about me. “Easy girl, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Whether she was planning to hurt me was probably a lot more to the point. The mare wiggled her ears a little. Nothing else happened.
It finally occurred to me that I couldn’t just sit there on the horse forever. Especially with Cole sitting there watching me with that irritating little grin on his face. Okay, here goes nothing, I thought. I nudged the mare’s sides with my heels—and waited for her to erupt like a volcano.
She moved forward at an easy walk. One trip around the corral and I remembered to start breathing again. Two trips around the corral and I loosened my deathgrip on the reins. Three trips and the mare started tossing her head restlessly. I knew what her problem was. All horses hate being ridden around and around in tight circles.
I glanced over at Cole. “If you’re gonna hang around, you could at least open the gate so I can take her out in the pasture,” I said.
Cole lazily unfolded himself from his perch on the corral fence. “So you think you can handle her out there, huh?” he asked.
“Get real, McCall. This horse hasn’t even twitched. What do you think, I’m scared of her or something?”
Cole shrugged and wandered over to open the gate. The mare moved smoothly out. We made a tour of the pasture. Halfway around, I gave her a little squeeze with my knees and she broke into a trot. I could feel her favoring her bad leg when she trotted so I turned her back toward home.
Near the fence she suddenly gave her head a little duck. In the next instant, her hind hoofs were kicking at the sky. The move surprised me so much it was a miracle I didn’t sail over her head and do a one-point landing on my nose. But I stayed with her and followed my instincts—which were to pull her head up and give her a good kick in the ribs. “Knock it off!” I yelled, too mad to think about what she might do next. What she did was collect herself neatly and fall back into a ladylike trot. One ear cocked back at me and she turned her head enough to glance at me with one calm, dark eye. Just testing, I think she would have said.
I rode her back to where Cole was waiting and got off. “She’s gonna be just fine,” I said. “All she needs is a little time for her leg to heal and then she’ll be ready to start on barrels.”
Cole grinned. “Yeah, either that or saddle bronc.”
“You mean that little crow hop? I hardly even noticed it. You didn’t think she was gonna dump me, did you?”
He gave me a wicked grin. “Well, for a second there I did have hopes. But I guess I must have imagined that big patch of daylight between you and the saddle, huh?”
“Get your eyes checked, Cole.” I started to lead the mare away.
“Hey,” he said. “Hang on a minute.”
“Now what?”
“Just lookin’ at this brand,” he said, running his hand along her shoulder. “Never seen it before. Wonder where she came from.”
“The bill of sale said some outfit called Wagon Wheel Ranches. I figured that’s what the brand was supposed to be—even if the spokes don’t line up very even.”
“Sure is a sloppy job. But what can you expect from somebody who keeps their horses in this kind of shape?” He gave the mare’s thin, scarred-up body one more look and shook his head. Then he checked his watch. “Hey, I didn’t know it was this late. I gotta get home.”
“No kidding? So soon?” I said with a sigh of relief.
Cole just laughed at me. “See you in the morning, Blue Jeans.”
“Not if I see you first,” I muttered as he jumped into his old truck and took off in a spray of dust and gravel.
Chapter Seven
Mom and I were just finishing breakfast the next morning when the phone rang. Mom picked it up. “Hello? Oh, yes, hi, Cole.”
Cole? Now what? Maybe one day of exciting life on a dairy farm had been enough for him. Maybe he wasn’t coming back. That thought should have made my day. I wondered why it didn’t.
Mom was talking again. “No, he’s already gone out to milk. Can I take a message for him?” She listened a minute. “Oh, I’m sure that will be okay. Half an hour won’t matter that much. All right. Bye.” She hung up.
I was going to ask what that was all about when Sara stumbled into the kitchen, still in her pajamas. “Was that for me?” she asked through a yawn.
I jumped at the chance to rattle her chain a little. “No, Princess, it was not for you. Who do you know that gets up before noon?”
She stuck her nose in the air. “Well, at least I have friends who call me. I don’t spend my life looking at, talking to and smelling like a horse. You never have time for people.” Then, with a sly grin, she added, “Except for Cole baby, that is. Are you actually going out with him?”
“You shut up about me and Cole. I wouldn’t go out with him if he was the last…” Before I had the words out I was halfway out of my chair and getting ready to wring her scrawny neck. But my mother’s strong hand landed on my shoulder and plopped me back in my chair.
“Stop it, both of you. There are two months of holidays ahead and there is no way I plan to spend that time as a referee. Get along or, so help me, I’ll have the two of you washing every wall in this house with a toothbrush.”
My mother can and will make good on that kind of a threat. Sara and I sat glaring at each other until Mom broke the silence. “Speaking of Cole, that was him on the phone. He’s going to be a little late for work because he has to drive his dad somewhere. Strange,” she added thoughtfully, “I always thought his mother was a single parent. She waits tables at the Sunshine Cafe, I’ve seen her around town a few times and met her on the road. But she’s never had a man with her.”
Sara narrowed her eyes. “I bet his dad’s an escaped convict and he has to stay home so nobody sees him. Maybe Cole’s gotta take him to meet his partners so they can do another bank job.”
Mom groaned and rubbed her forehead like she might have a headache already. “Spare us, Sara. Since you’re up, hurry and eat and then go ahead and clean up the kitchen. It’s time I was out helping your dad.”
“Yeah, me too,” I muttered. The faster we dropped the subject of Cole McCall and his family, the better I’d like it. Still, all the way to the barn I wondered just what was going on. If Cole’s dad needed to go somewhere, why didn’t he just drive himself? And why didn’t anybody ever see this Mr. McCall around? Maybe he was a hopeless drunk who just sat home drinking up the grocery money and couldn’t drive because he’d lost his license. Maybe he was mean and violent and beat Cole and his mom. Maybe that was why Cole hung around here half the night—because he was scared to go home. I was so busy thinking crazy maybes that I almost walked into a fence post.
Cole came to work before eight-thirty, apologized to Dad for being late and mainly ignored me. He didn’t have any more to say to Dad than what it took to be polite, either. Before I had time to wonder about that, Dad announced what we were going to do. First we had to tear out a big section of old barbed wire fence. Then we’d cut out all the w
illows that had grown up and tangled in the wire, and put in all new posts. Real fun. So much fun that I almost decided to skip working with the horse and just collapse for the evening instead. But I didn’t. Now that I knew the mare was actually going to let me ride her, I wanted to find out more about her.
As soon as I’d shoveled in the last spoonful of dessert, I excused myself and headed for the corral. With the mood Cole had been in all day, I thought I wouldn’t have to bother with him hanging around me. Wrong again. I’d no sooner got the mare saddled up than there he was, leaning on the fence and watching me.
I got on the mare with more confidence this time. She sensed it, too. I could feel a calmness in her muscles. I rode her twice around the little corral. Then I looked at Cole and nodded toward the gate. He bowed like a well-behaved slave and opened it. I trotted the mare around the pasture. The lameness was still there, but a little less than yesterday, I thought.
Then I nudged her into a lope. I felt her muscles tense and saw her head start to go down. “Oh, no you don’t,” I growled, giving the reins a sharp pull and digging my heels into her ribs. She collected herself neatly and moved into a smooth-as-silk lope. Chalk up one round to me.
I tried a couple of figure eights and was amazed at how light on the bit she was. For a beat-up, sour old horse, she reined like she had power steering. I could have loped around there for half the night, but I didn’t dare risk damaging her bad leg. I took her back to the corral and jumped off. Cole was waiting.
“Did you see the way she reined?” I asked, patting her neck and then giving the itchy spots under the cheek pieces of the bridle a rub. “She’s got the most beautiful lope.” I caught myself babbling—and to Cole McCall of all people. But horses sometimes do that to me. I get carried away.
Cole shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah, could be worse.” Then he gave her a long, thoughtful look. “So, you got her named yet?”
Blue Moon Page 3