High Rider Part 2

At supper, over a plate of biscuits and beans accompanied by a gla.s.s of fresh milk from the Coles' milk cow, John had a chance to look around the house. A big wood-burning stove dominated the centre of a large open s.p.a.ce that included a kitchen and living room. At each end was a bedroom with a low loft above it. John could not help but notice the thickness of the front door and the equally thick shutters on the insides of the windows. The shutters each had loopholes in them, and to John, they made the place appear like a small fortress. He asked Amos about them.

"Comanches, first off," Amos said, "but they're not so much of a problem anymore, as a lot of 'em were wiped out by the pox. Even so, there's still outlaws to worry about. Bad hands who think Texas is a playground and that they can get away with murder. They sometimes do. Used to be we had the Texas Rangers looking out for us, but they up and called it quits during the war. The Federals do a fair job now but only in the towns, and they'll be pulling out soon. Anyway, as far as the shutters go, maybe we don't need them, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Besides, when it gets real cold, we close them and it helps keep the heat in."

Ellie made tea after supper, and John learned more about the Coles. It turned out that Amos was actually seventy-two years old and Ellie sixty-eight. They had come to Texas from Franklin, Tennessee, a few years before the war, because they wanted some breathing room, and they wanted a ranch. They got their ranch, but the war came along and took their twin sons, Emmett and Thomas, away.

"Joined the Second Texas US Cavalry," Amos said. "Never did think that one man ought to own another. Don't seem right. Anyway, Thomas was one of the last men to die in that crazy war."

John saw in the Coles' eyes the sorrow that only a parent who has lost a child knows. Amos shook his head. "Weren't supposed to happen that way, him gone and us still here, but there's no accounting for human folly. Been a d.a.m.ned hard road to ride. The war dragged off most of the men capable of working and spending what they earned, and the markets for just about everything dropped faster than rocks down a well. Times are getting better, though. There's still a long row to hoe to real prosperity, but the town's building up again and there's a bit more cash money around to put in a merchant's pocket."

Amos explained that he had one hundred and sixty acres, but only five, around the house and outbuildings, were fenced. Beyond his property, most of the land was unclaimed and therefore considered open range. He kept three hundred head of cattle. There were also a dozen horses running wild there. In fact, Emmett would round them up on his way back from a Cattlemen's a.s.sociation meeting in Waco. They would have to be broken, but Amos was certain that some of the animals would be good enough to merit training as trotters for harness racing in Fort Worth. Meanwhile, there was plenty to do, with building extra stalls, a corral, and an adjacent holding pen, and installing a snubbing post in the middle of the corral, as well as a host of other jobs. John would earn his keep and more.

And so the following morning they went to work, and Amos liked what John was about so much that he put him on wages at the end of the day. Toiling side by side, each man got to know a little of the stuff from which the other was made. John saw a man who judged him by his work and how he handled himself, rather than by the colour of his skin. Amos learned from John something of what it was like to be a slave, and he understood even better why he had been an abolitionist. He saw in John an intelligent man, unable to read or write, but eager and quick to learn, so he talked of more than just ranch work. He spoke of the stars and the planets and how they all worked together, and about the plant life and wildlife around them, and he began teaching John some rudimentary reading and writing and basic arithmetic.

"You need to know how to sign your name, John. One X looks pretty much like another, and you don't want to be paying for something that ain't your responsibility. It don't hurt to know your numbers in that regard either."

At night, when John wrapped himself up in his bedroll in the barn hayloft, he felt a new kind of power-that which comes with knowledge and contentment. Granted, his friends were few, but he was happy in his mind and was not opposed to spending time there. He reckoned that he had arrived at a special place in his life.

As for the cattle, they were longhorns and pretty much looked after themselves. They took longer to develop than their northeastern cousins and were not sent off to market until they were at least four years old. "We check on the calves in the spring," Amos told him, "brand 'em and remove the fries from the bull calves-you ain't tasted good food until you've had a mess of Ellie's fried bulls' b.a.l.l.s-then round up the payers in the fall. The chickens require more tending to than those beeves."

Emmett returned several days later with eleven horses, having lost one to a broken ankle. He drove them into the holding pen. John was in the barn pitching hay down from the loft for the milk cow's manger when father and son entered. He climbed down to meet them. There was no mistaking the younger man's heritage, for he was the spitting image of his father, minus the wrinkles and goatee. In his early forties, he sported a full brown beard and eyes that had seen more in a lifetime than most men care to. He extended his hand to John when Amos introduced them. "Pa tells me you're a good man to have around."

John deflected the compliment. "Well, your pa's a good man to be around."

Emmett threw his head back and laughed in a way that reminded John of Ellie, and clapped his grinning father on the shoulder. "The man could charm a rattler into thinking it should have its fangs removed."

It was from Emmett that John began to learn about horses: how to sit a Western-style saddle and how to use it working with cattle. He told John, "You're gonna need a new pair of boots with higher heels before we begin to break the horses. You slip through those stirrups on a bucking horse that throws you, it'll drag you until you're skinned raw or dead. Maybe both." So he and John hitched up Connie to the buckboard and went into Fort Worth. They ignored the malevolent stares that too often came their way.

"We're going to Van Zandt's dry goods store," Emmett said. "You won't have any trouble there. He's not the kind of man to let skin colour get in the way of a business transaction." Indeed, John found the proprietor respectful and courteous, and came away the proud owner of a new pair of high-heeled leather boots.

Emmett taught him some drover skills, even how to throw a rope, which John practised whenever there was spare time, until he could duplicate or do better than anything his mentor did. Emmett also introduced him to tobacco. He rolled John a smoke and handed it to him. "Try this. It's good for what ails you and helps you relax."

John choked and coughed on the first one but persevered because he was keen to fit in. He was soon rolling his own with one hand, as Emmett did. Seeing John show off his skills one day prompted his friend to say, "You know, John, you always seem to need to prove yourself better than me. Let me tell you that you've more than proven yourself here, and this ain't no contest we're in. You're no less a man than I am and I consider myself a good one."

"Part of me knows that, Emmett, but the other part says that I'll always have to prove myself. The colour of my skin makes that the plain truth for me. Maybe not with you and your folks, but it won't hurt none to practise some here so that I got it right when I need it."

Emmett gathered in the comment and nodded.

Two days before Christmas, John rode the first of the wild horses to a standstill while Amos and Emmett looked on in bemused amazement. John dismounted and, knowing he had impressed both men, suppressed a smile as he asked, "You got any real wild ones?"

The Coles laughed and Amos fetched another animal that John rode into submission as well. Amos shook his head and chuckled. "They say that seeing is believing, but what I'm seeing I can scarcely believe."

Emmett said, "Well, I ain't asleep and I ain't dreaming, so it must be real."

The day before Christmas, while John did ch.o.r.es, Amos and Emmett took Connie and the buckboard out and returned a couple of hours later with a rather scrawny pine tree. They set it up in the house, and that evening Ellie decorated it with handmade paper ornaments and bows made from ribbons. It was a custom new to John, and Amos said that it was new to them too, but their German neighbours a couple of miles down the road did it and the Coles had liked the idea. Afterwards, they drank eggnog and sang carols, and before bedtime, Amos read from Charles d.i.c.kens's A Christmas Carol. John had never had anybody other than a preacher read to him before, and he got lost in the story. It seemed as if d.i.c.kens had personally known Sebastian Chambers, although he did not think it likely that his old slave master had found redemption as Scrooge had.

On Christmas Day, the Coles' neighbours stopped by for a visit, as did some acquaintances from town. The Coles introduced John as if he were part of the family, and it felt as strange to him as it probably did to the visitors. They feasted that night on beef, potatoes, and carrots, roasted in the same pot, and had apple cobbler for dessert. Afterwards, they moved to the cane chairs in the living area with hot whiskies.

They chatted for a bit, and Ellie said, "Amos, you'll do the honours, won't you?"

"I surely will." He rose and went to the Christmas tree, where he retrieved five packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbons. He gave two to Ellie, one to Emmett, a large one to John, and kept one for himself.

"Why don't you go first, Ma," Emmett suggested.

"Oh, no," Ellie said. "It isn't fair to make the rest of you wait."

They all tore at their packages, except John, who picked at his, unaccustomed to either receiving or giving gifts. He saw that Ellie had opened her presents to find a new cooking pot from Amos and a fancy ap.r.o.n from Emmett, while Emmett got a new Bowie knife with an eight-inch blade and sheath from his parents. Amos's gift from Ellie and Emmett was a silver-plated timepiece and chain. They had all finished opening their presents and John was still fumbling with his, almost afraid to open it.

"C'mon, John," Amos urged. "Nothing in there that'll bite."

John got the paper off and held the large paperboard box.

"Open it, for pity's sake!" Ellie cried.

John pulled the top of the box off; inside was a black Boss of the Plains Stetson hat. Beneath it, nestled in a pair of home-knitted woollen socks, were a gold eagle worth ten dollars and a double eagle worth twenty dollars. As grateful as he was for their generosity, he wished that he had had the money beforehand so that he could have bought gifts for them. Amos sensed his discomfort.

"John, your gift to us is your presence here. Besides, the double eagle is this month's wages and the eagle is a bonus in hopes that you'll stay on. Now, I ain't a man for making speeches, but I'm telling you this in the spirit of Christmas and all that it means: I've been on this earth a good many years and I've yet to meet a man who works as hard as you do. Never seen a man with as much glue in his pants when it comes to sticking on a sunfis.h.i.+ng horse either. So like I said, we've never had such a gift dropped in our laps as you."

"What you do around here to help, John," added Emmett, "is more than a body has a right to expect. You do the work of two men, so you deserve every penny of it. The hat, too. It's the biggest size I could get-I hope it fits."

Ellie spoke up. "And if you'd like a lady's perspective, you're more of a gentleman than most of the so-called 'gentlemen' in town are."

John tried the hat on and the fit was snug, but that meant it would stay where it ought to in a stiff Texas wind. He cleared his throat. "Well, if things don't work both ways, they won't work at all. I can't think of nothin' else I'd rather be doin' than what I'm doin' right here. You've made me feel welcome since the first day I come here and that'd rest easy on any man's heart. My thanks to you."

Amos had a look of childlike antic.i.p.ation on his face. "We ain't done yet, John. Why don't you have a look in the loft above Emmett's room?"

His curiosity aroused, and more into the spirit of the celebration, John went to the ladder placed against the wall and climbed high enough to be able to peer into the shadowy s.p.a.ce. He hadn't the faintest idea what he would find there, and it took a moment for the significance of it to sink in. There was a handmade cot topped by a tick mattress, with a folded blanket at the foot and a pillow at the head. Beside the cot was a wooden box on top of which sat an unlit candle in a bra.s.s holder. The realization of what it meant sent a warm sensation flooding through him, and while he had probably shed tears as a child, he had no recollection of it, and had never shed any as an adult. But he now felt them clouding his vision, and a lump in his throat blocked his voice. Behind him, the Coles chorused, "Happy Christmas, John!"

After the brief holiday, Emmett rode south to Waco to attend another meeting, and John broke the remainder of the horses. He and Amos began training two of the best for harness racing. One in particular, a young bay mare, was lightning fast. After John had broken her, he took her out the back gate and let her run. Even carrying his considerable weight, she tore up the furlongs with a speed unmatched by any of the other mounts. Amos commented that she had taken off like a "scalded cat," so Cat became her name.

When Amos. .h.i.tched Cat to a sulky, John told him, "Seems a shame to hobble that horse to a trot, Amos. She loves to stretch her legs."

"Maybe, but most of the racing in Fort Worth is harness racing and that's where the money is. We gotta try her there first and if she don't work out, well . . ." Amos let the sentence dangle there, incomplete.

On the day of the first race meet, people streamed into town from the surrounding ranches and as far away as Dallas, either as spectators or partic.i.p.ants. Emmett, back from Waco, and Ellie joined Amos and John. Unlike the races back east, where horses were bred for trotting, a wide variety of breeds was used here, which made it all the more interesting and entertaining to watch. A festive feeling charged the air and the crowd roared its delight when the races got under way.

Amos and Cat were in the second race, which was exclusively for two-year-olds. Cat got off to a good start, trotting nicely, but lost her rhythm around the first turn and broke into a gallop. The rules stated that Amos had to steer her off to the side, slow down, and let her find her pace again. A couple of other horses had problems, too, which allowed Cat to get back in the race, but in the end, she and Amos crossed the finish line in fourth place, with seven carts on the track.

Amos was disappointed. "Believed she'd do a whole lot better than that," he muttered. "Maybe you're right, John. She always felt to me like she wanted to break away, so maybe trotting ain't in her blood." He lifted his hat and scratched his head, as he often did when there was a decision in the offing. "There's an open race after the harness racing's done and if you wanna ride Cat in it, you have my blessing. You can go saddled or bareback, but bareback may be your best bet because you're heavier than a normal load for a racehorse. Anyway, I hope I didn't tucker her out too much."

The prospect excited John. "I don't think so, Amos. I'd wager she's not even warmed up yet."

Besides the betting that went on, all of the ranchers with a horse in the open race pitched into the prize-money pot, which had built up to one hundred and fifty dollars. It was for first place only.

"You don't come in first," Amos said, "all you'll get is to eat the dust of the leaders, so make her give everything she's got, John."

With the harness racing completed, John mounted Cat and they joined eleven other horses and their riders at the starting line. Some of the animals were nervous, and it rubbed off on several of the others, which meant a lot of movement and jostling on the line. Cat wanted to run, but John held her head close as she pranced with explosive energy in the small s.p.a.ce.

With the horses lined up abreast, the starting gun banged and John felt the strength and power in Cat's stride as she surged forward and flew down the track. The sound of forty-eight horses' hooves pounding on the hard earth was thunderous in his ears, and the danger in being in the thick of it thrilled him. He sensed that Cat could have taken the lead but he held her back, hoping that she would be all the hungrier for it in the home stretch.

The pack rounded the first turn with John in fourth place. He looked for an opening to the inside, against the rail, but there was none, nor was there one to the outside. After the second turn and into the backstretch, he felt that the riders around him might be trying to box him in to prevent him from taking the lead and perhaps winning the race. Around the third turn, the horse directly in front of Cat was tiring, allowing John to slip into third place. Now only two horses remained in front and they were neck and neck. He kept watch for room to make a move inside, desperate to find one, but none appeared. Past the final turn, the lead horses were still jamming the rail; it was outside or nothing. John had a quirt but did not use it; instead, he shook the reins and called to Cat to run. She did not need the encouragement. Like a big cat lunging after its prey, she shot around the outside horse and tore down the home stretch. John felt transported to another world in which human beings rode on the wind. From somewhere far away, he thought he could hear the Coles above the crowd, screaming for more speed. But John's work was done. Cat was in control and she wanted the race even more than he did. Later, Amos would tell John that he had crossed the finish line two lengths in front of the nearest horse, the rest of the field s.p.a.ced out even farther back. No one at the track had ever seen a horse run that fast.

"You got a good one here, Amos!" John was nearly breathless as he reined up and dismounted in the winner's circle. "Lord, but she knows how to run!"

"That was some race!" Amos's face was lit up like a gas lamp. "Even men I know to be staunch Democrats were cheering." His smile widened. "I reckon more for the horse than for you, though."

On the way back to the ranch, with the cart in the back of the buckboard and Cat in tow, Amos was exultant. "You earned yourself fifty dollars of that prize money, John. And you know what else?" Neither waiting for an answer nor expecting one, he continued, "A man needs a good horse and a horse needs a good man. You and Cat are a pair if ever I seen one. As far as I'm concerned, she's yours. Enough said, now. I'm deaf as a board to arguments."

That's how it was with Amos Cole. Once he made up his mind, it was futile to contest him. John had himself a first-rate horse and more money in his Levi's than he'd ever had before. He thought, A man might feel that the world has done him a bad turn, that he was born in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he's lucky and he doesn't let it get the best of him, the day will come when such things matter a whole lot less.

For John, that day had come; he felt himself to be a lucky man.

FOUR.

No reason for you to stay.

The years folded easily into a decade, as soft b.u.t.ter folds into flour. Amos was now in his eighties and was a little stooped, the rifts in his face a little deeper, but he still had the energy of a man twenty years younger. Ellie hadn't changed much and seemed unaffected by the pa.s.sage of time, while Emmett's greying beard grew on a face even more burnished by the Texas weather. John's beard, which had been like a mere shadow on his face for so long, had thickened and looked full and respectable. His relations.h.i.+p with Emmett had blossomed from one of employer and hired hand into one of brotherhood. As for Amos and Ellie, they may as well have been his parents.

Emmett said to him one day, "John, you've learned a lot about what it takes to be a good cattleman, but you ought to come to Waco with me for the next meeting of the Cattlemen's a.s.sociation. You'll see that ranchin' ain't all cattle and horses."

The idea did not appeal to John in the least. "I ain't one for meetins, Emmett. Amos never goes to 'em, so maybe he'd like to go with you. Me and Ellie can look after the ranch while you're gone."

"Pa don't go to those meetings because he don't need to. Besides, he's gettin' too old to go even if he wanted to. But it'd be good for you, John. You'd learn lots."

"Well, if you think I oughta go, Emmett, you'll get no more arguin' from me."

They set out the following morning and were two days on the road, traversing the flat landscape between Fort Worth and Waco. They crossed the Brazos River over a new suspension bridge, paying a small toll, and entered the town during a bl.u.s.tery late afternoon with the dust flying.

"I don't know about you, John," Emmett said, "but my mouth needs a good rinsing out. A friend of mine usually meets me at the Ranch Saloon, and that's where we're headin' first. He always goes to the meetings with me too, and if he's true to form he'll already be there gettin' a head start on us."

The men liveried their horses, walked through the town square to the Ranch Saloon, and pushed through the shutter doors.

"Emmett!"

The voice belonged to a knife blade of a man standing at the bar. Gangly, like a marionette come to life, and redheaded, he sported a huge moustache that tumbled over his upper lip like a waterfall. Coffee had stained the ends brown, and John could see something lodged in it that may have been remnants of his lunch. Emmett introduced John to Seamus Duffield, better known as "Duffy" to anybody who felt they ought to call him something. The two friends exchanged pleasantries and Emmett bought a bottle of whisky. The trio sat down at a table near the rear of the saloon.

They drank the remainder of the afternoon away, with Emmett and Duffy doing most of the talking. Emmett pulled out his pocket watch. "Well, best we get ourselves something to eat before the meeting. They always seem to last a lot longer than everyone intends."

In a restaurant around the corner from the Ranch, they ate a supper that was disappointingly inferior to one of Ellie's home-cooked meals, and washed it down with coffee. Emmett pulled out his watch again. "Just enough time to get over to Two Street, where the meeting is." Looking at John, he asked, "You ready for this, brother?"

Filled with whisky and food, John felt more like going to bed than to a meeting and admitted it.

Emmett laughed. "I think you'll find it quite spirited. Anyway, we should go. It's a walk over to Two Street and we don't want to keep everyone waiting."

He paid the bill and led the way three blocks to Two Street. The wind had died, the dust had settled, and the evening was pleasant. They came to a two-storey building shaped like a T with the stem at the rear. As they walked through the front door into a large foyer, a curvaceous blond woman who looked to be in her late forties greeted them.

"Mr. Cole! And Mr. Duffy! It's always good to see you! I see you've brought a friend this time, but not to worry, we can accommodate the three of you. Come! I'll see that you get refreshments." She led them into a room furnished with a sofa and wingback chairs. "Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. The ladies will be here shortly with your drinks."

She hustled off.

John did not quite know what to make of the place but was impressed. The cattlemen in the district apparently spared no effort to make their meetings as comfortable as possible. A few minutes later, three women entered, dressed in less clothing than was common for the period, each bearing a drink. John was mystified. One of the women walked straight to him and, after handing him a drink, slid onto his lap. She put her arm around his neck, kissed his cheek, and said, "I'm Abby. What shall I call you?"

John swallowed and grew hot. There was a white woman sitting on his lap and kissing him. He looked at Emmett for some kind of sign that this was all right, that it was not going to lead to bloodshed, namely his. Emmett grinned and raised his gla.s.s. "Welcome to the Cattlemen's a.s.sociation meeting. The proceedings are now called to order."

Duffy cackled with laughter.

Later, while lolling in a hot bath, John felt complete and utterly satisfied with life. He had never bedded a woman before; indeed, he had never even held and kissed one. He could not for the life of him even begin to describe how wonderful it felt. She was so soft! And her perfume still lined his nostrils, an exquisite reminder of an evening he would not soon forget. Granted, he would have preferred to lose his virginity to a loving wife instead of a wh.o.r.e, but he had not seen a spousal prospect the entire time he had been with the Coles. And tonight went a long way toward unravelling the mystery he perceived women to be, particularly white women, and that was no small step forward.

In the morning, after they had said goodbye to Duffy and crossed the Brazos on their way home, John asked Emmett, "Do Amos and Ellie know about these 'meetins' of yours? What'll I say if they ask me about it? You know I ain't big on lyin'."

"No one's gonna ask. Besides, Pa knows. That's why he never offers to go. I'm sure Ma knows too. She just pretends that she's not interested in what goes on at a boring meeting with a bunch of men, so that's why she never asks about it. But Ma knows everything, most particularly when it's time to mind her own business."

The ranch was much more prosperous now than it had been when John arrived, but 1873 saw the collapse of an economy that had flourished after the war, and the beginning of a long depression. That year was a hardscrabble one for the Coles, and their coffers dipped at an alarming rate. John refused to accept his wages, and even though Amos did not like it, he accepted the refusal because he had little choice. But when John developed a serious toothache in his lower jaw and asked Amos to pull the tooth out for him, Amos wouldn't hear of it. He would pay a dentist to do it.

Fort Worth did not have a dentist, but Dallas did, so the following morning, John, carrying money from Amos, saddled Cat and loped there, the pain intensified by each thud of her hooves. The oil of cloves Ellie had given him did not help much. Dallas did not appear on the horizon any too soon, nor did the s.h.i.+ngle hanging out in Commerce Street that read DR. SINCLAIR, DENTISTRY. And below: PAINLESS EXTRACTIONS.

The dentist was a pasty-complexioned, fair-haired young man of slight build, whose forehead had a noticeably damp sheen. He had a chronic cough, which John did not like because it might be consumptive, but his manner was kind and genteel, his accent that of a Southern aristocrat.

"I can offer chloroform, ether, or nitrous oxide to eliminate the pain," he said.

John shook his head, fearing that he would be rendered senseless and he didn't want that. "Just yank it."

"As you wish, sir. Fortis an stultus. But first we must find it. And I would suggest that you grip the arms of the chair with all the strength at your command. Open!"

John spread his jaws and the dentist tapped the teeth in the area John had indicated until he hit the offending one. Despite his grip, John almost shot out of the chair from the intense burst of pain.

"Ah, the third molar is the culprit." The dentist smiled. "Now, open again."

Once John was able to comply, the dentist grasped the tooth with forceps, which looked to John like a smaller version of the pliers he had used as a blacksmith, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and began pulling. An unrelenting pain more intense than a Sebastian Chambers whipping filled John's head and burst into his entire body. The tooth would not budge.

"It is large and stubborn," the dentist announced, "and will require a different plan of attack."

He wrapped his left arm over John's head, grasping him under the chin, and placed his right knee against the arm of the chair. He began pulling again. This time some sideways movement of the tooth was achieved and the dentist wiggled it back and forth, tugging all the while. To John it sounded and felt like miners were working with pickaxes in his mouth, but at last the tooth came free. The dentist held the offending molar up for John to see and said, "Semper ad meliora."

The constant pain that had plagued John for two days had disappeared. His jaw was sore as h.e.l.l, but the throbbing ache was gone and that was all that mattered. A day or two later he felt fully recovered.