Fool's Gold (7 page)

“Yo, dudes.” Ty came to a stop a few yards away.

Barney shook the saddle to be sure it was secure before he turned around. “Hey, Styler,” he said, and then, cocking his head toward the dust cloud that was still settling down over the yard, “Nice wheelie.”

Ty shrugged. “Yeah, my dad, the hot-rodder. The thing is, he's not exactly a happy camper at the moment. I overslept a little, so I had to get him to drive me. He harshed on me all the way out here. But, as you noticed, I did get delivered, C.O.D. Right to the doorstep.” He grinned. “I've got him pretty well trained, actually.”

“Tell me about it,” Rudy said, pointing to the new boots. “Guess he sprung for those boots too. Pretty awesome. Those puppies must have set him back two or three hundred.”

Ty shrugged and grinned, and circling the horses at a respectful distance, sat down on the edge of the cement water trough.

“So, which one is Applesauce?”

When Barney told him he nodded and then just sat there for a while watching as Barney and Rudy went on with the saddling up. His only comment was when Barney won the minor battle it always took to get Dynamo to open his mouth and accept the bit.

“Way to go,” he said. “Crookshank ten—horse zero.”

Then he got up and walked around the edge of the horse trough, balancing like a tightrope walker. He didn't get down off the edge of the trough until all three horses were saddled and ready.

When they were inside the corral Rudy got up on Badger and watched while Barney started showing Ty how to mount. At first Ty just watched from a distance and kept asking Barney to demonstrate everything over and over again. When he finally agreed to try it himself he kept glancing over at Applesauce's head as if he were afraid she might turn around and bite him. Watching cool, slick old Styler fidgeting around, with his normally half-mast eyes wide open, it occurred to Rudy that maybe panic buttons were pretty evenly distributed after all. He smiled, wondering what Ty's nightmares were. Like maybe he woke up screaming that he was being attacked by the Shetland Pony from Hell.

Rudy's smile turned into a chuckle, but he didn't say anything. Instead, when Ty was finally in the saddle, he just settled the prancing Badger down to a slow walk and rode beside Ty, telling him how great he was doing and how “he looked to have a natural seat and good hands.” Which was a comment that Barney's granddad had made about Rudy when he was beginning to ride.

After Ty had learned a few things about reining and keeping his heels down and his weight in his feet, they practiced walking and then trotting in figure eights. And Rudy went on making encouraging comments even though old Styler's trotting form looked a lot like a bag of potatoes on a trampoline.

“Hey, dude,” Rudy said when Ty bounced and flapped back around the ring for the third or fourth time. “You are one all-time natural at this cowboy bit. Isn't he, Barn?”

Barney grinned and said, “Sure he is,” in a way that Rudy knew meant just the opposite, but Ty didn't notice. His usual cocky grin was back in place and you could see that he was getting a kick out of the way Applesauce obeyed the slightest touch of the reins. Applesauce was good at making any rider feel like an expert.

By the time they left the corral and started off up the trail, Ty had turned into an old cowhand from the Rio Grande—at least in his own mind. On the trail they did some trotting and even a slow, easy gallop and Ty was getting cockier by the minute. But when they were halfway up to the high valley, Barney suggested they'd better head for home.

“Go back?” Ty said. “No way. I'm just getting the hang of this galloping stuff. I mean like, surf's up, let's hang ten.”

He thumped Applesauce with his heels and set off up the trail, bouncing and flapping. Barney did his eyebrow thing at Rudy and then galloped after Ty, grabbed the reins, pulled Applesauce to a stop, and then headed her toward home.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Ty said. “I told you. I don't need to stop. I'm doing great.”

But Barney kept hold of Applesauce's reins. “Look, Styler,” he said. “You may not feel it now, but wait till tomorrow. You ride three or four more hours today and you won't be able to get out of bed in the morning.”

“Not me,” Tyler said. “Don't worry about me. People who get stiff when they start riding probably aren't in very good shape to begin with. I mean, somebody who jogs and skies and surfs isn't going to get drilled by loafing around on a horse's back for an hour or two.”

But Barney just grinned and kept on leading Applesauce back toward the ranch. When he finally turned her loose Tyler jerked the reins, kicked Applesauce in the ribs, and galloped on ahead toward the barn.

Rudy rolled his eyes at Barney. “Can't wait to see the great cowboy tomorrow,” he said, and Barney laughed. But Rudy was careful not to say anything discouraging to Ty.

Let him think he's the world's greatest natural-born horseman,
he told himself.
It suits me just fine. Let him be so crazy about being a cowboy he forgets all about being a gold miner. Please, please, please let him forget all about that.

T
HAT NIGHT AFTER DINNER
Rudy went out to sit on the veranda. Inside the house the beat-up old dishwasher was rumbling and clattering, the M and M's were yelling at each other, and in the dance studio (ex-dining room) Natasha was doing her ballet exercises to a tape of the
Golliwog's Cakewalk
turned up high to drown out all the other noise. The uproar was pretty deafening, but it didn't bother Rudy all that much. He was used to it, and besides, he was feeling good—a little more optimistic about the summer than he had been for quite a while.

Across the foothills the sun was going down in an awesome red-gold sea of clouds. Kicking back on the old plastic chaise lounge that Natasha used for sun-tanning, Rudy watched until the fiery sky cooled to gray. Then he sat up and looked around. He felt restless in a good sort of way. Almost like something needed celebrating.

He knew that nothing was for certain. Heather could change her mind and back out on the riding lessons or at any time Barney and Ty could lose interest in the whole riding school project and go back to gold mining. But the celebration feeling was still there. Maybe he'd call up Barney to see if he wanted to go downtown.

During previous summer vacations he and Barney had met downtown at least a couple of evenings a week. There were always people they knew there and, usually in the summer, something special was going on for the tourist trade. Meeting Barney downtown was exactly what he felt like doing.

Back in the house he made his way through the living room to a loud chorus of “Yes, you dids” and “No, I didn'ts,” and through the dining room to the beat of the
Golliwog's Cakewalk.
In the kitchen the dishwasher had reached its quieter drying phase, so the noise level wasn't too bad. Rudy dialed the Crooked Bar's number and Angela Crookshank, Barney's mom, answered the phone.

“Rudy?” she said in her cool, faraway voice that always made Rudy think she might have forgotten who he was. “Barney?” There was a pause—like maybe she'd forgotten who Barney was too. “Oh, yes. He must be around here somewhere. Just a minute.”

It was quite a while before Barney came to the phone. At first they talked about Ty and the riding lesson.

“He sure turned into one killer cowboy in a hurry, didn't he?” Rudy said.

“Well.” There was a pause and Rudy could picture Barney's raised eyebrow and one sided twitch of a smile. “Well, I guess you could call it that. He's got a ways to go yet, but one thing's for sure. He got over being so freaked out about the whole thing.”

“Yeah,” Rudy agreed. “Tell me about it. And how about those boots? I've seen boots like that down at Raleighs—with that inlaid leather stuff. I wasn't kidding when I said three hundred dollars. That's what they cost.”

“Yeah,” Barney said, “or more. Hey, what's up?”

So Rudy asked him if he wanted to go downtown. There was a long pause before Barney answered, and when he did it was obvious he wasn't too enthusiastic. “What's the matter?” Rudy said. “You always liked to hang out downtown.”

There was another pause before Barney said, “Well, I'd like to, but I'm cleaning up the tack right now. You know, saddle soaping and stuff like that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, couldn't you do that some other time?”

“Naw. I don't think so. I've got all the cleaning stuff out and if I quit now I'd have to put it all away and start over again later.”

Rudy stared at the phone as if he might find some answers printed on the touch-tone buttons. Answers to questions like, Was Barney really that busy or was he just trying to get out of hanging out with an old friend? Instead of a new one, maybe? Rudy was beginning to feel angry, when all of a sudden it came to him what it really was—Heather Hanrahan. Heather was going to be at the Crooked Bar tomorrow and Barney had to have everything just right for her visit. All the tack had to be cleaned and polished, the floor of the horse barn probably had to be swept, and poor old Applesauce was going to get groomed to within an inch of her life.

“Oh, I get it,” Rudy said. “It's because Heather's—”

“No.” Barney broke in. “That has nothing to do with it. My dad's been after me to clean up the tack for a long time. I just decided tonight would be a good time to do it. Okay?”

“Oh, sure,” Rudy said in what must have been a slightly sarcastic tone of voice.

Barney sounded a little angry when he said, “Well, it's the truth.”

“Okay, okay.” Rudy tried to sound sincere. “I believe you.” And then under his breath he added, “And I also believe in the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.”

So Barney said good-bye and no doubt went back to polishing everything on the ranch that Heather might possibly lay eyes on. Which was great actually, when you came to think about it. Nothing could be better than the news that Barney was so wrapped up in Heather's riding lesson that he couldn't think of anything else.

Rudy found that his good mood had returned, so he told Natasha he'd be back in an hour or so and went downtown by himself.

It was a clear, warmish night, and a full moon was hanging over Main Street like a great big outdoor chandelier. In the mingled moon- and lamplight the old wooden buildings with their gingerbread trim and overhanging balconies looked almost as good in real life as they did on the postcards the tourists sent home to Buffalo—or wherever.
Picturesque Pyramid Hill in the Heart of the Sierra Gold Country.

In fact, everything—not only the buildings, but also the trees, flower boxes, window decorations, and even the local inhabitants—looked mysteriously different, as if seen through a magical veil that somehow smoothed out all the smears and cracks and wrinkles. The people, particularly, seemed strangely changed for the better.

There were quite a few people out and about. Not as many as on weekends, of course, when the whole town swarmed with tourists. But tonight some high school kids with guitars were playing and singing in the little park by the city hall, and a bunch of local types were listening, or going in and out of the bar and restaurant at the Grand Hotel. Rudy knew most of them, and for some reason, maybe because he was feeling good or else because of the moonlight, they all looked a lot better than usual.

Hank Edwards, the mechanic who had saved Betsy the station wagon from the junkyard five or six times, went by looking a little less greasy than usual. And then came Sharon Booker, who had been a good friend of Natasha's since they were in school together, and whose peroxide-blond hair, in the moonlight, looked almost natural. And the Wilson Fairweather family—all ten of them, and all smiling for once. And old Mrs. Hopper and her fat cocker spaniel, who waddled slowly past without smiling, but without whining either, which was possibly a first for both of them.

In front of the library he ran into three girls he'd been in school with for most of his life—Julie Harmon, Jennie Street, and last but not least, Stephanie Freeman. As the three girls came around the corner Rudy did an elaborate double take, staggered back against a lamppost, and slithered down to a sitting position, clutching his chest.

“Arrrgh!” he groaned.

Jennie and Julie laughed hysterically, but Stephanie only frowned and looked the other way. Stephanie Freeman, about whom Rudy had invented his big Romeo number way back in second grade, had lots of great qualities. Her brain, for instance—she was an A student in everything, particularly math and science. Not to mention her face and figure. But she did have one or two little character flaws—like not much personality and absolutely no sense of humor.

Stephanie almost never laughed at anything Rudy did—not even his weekly current events report, for which he was practically famous. In the fourth grade he'd started winding up his current events reports with something like, “And now, a back to the future news flash from the year 2001—the famous movie and television comedian, Rudy Drummond, has just announced his engagement to his beautiful childhood sweetheart, Stephanie Freeman.” It got so everybody, even the teacher, sort of counted on Rudy ending up his current events with something about Stephanie. And everyone always fell out laughing—everyone, that is, except Stephanie.

But Rudy had never held Stephanie's personality against her. After all, nobody's perfect, and in other areas Stephanie came closer than most. And, he had to admit, part of the reason his Romeo act had been such a big hit all these years was because Stephanie hated it so much.

Rudy was still collapsed against the lamppost when Jennie squatted down and pretended to take his pulse. “I think he's dying,” she said. “Call an ambulance.”

Rudy opened one eye and then staggered to his feet. “Never mind,” he said, dusting himself off. “It's nothing serious. Only a minor heart attack. I think a Coke at the Parlor would fix me up fine. Anybody for a Coke?”