Ghost Medicine (24 page)

I was surprised when Mrs. Benavidez forgave Gabriel so quickly for missing church and breaking the arrangement he had made with his parents, and especially when she told me, “I don't know what you boys have been doing, Troy, but as long as your father is there, it would be fine if Gabriel spent a few days with you.”

“He'll come to work with me and Tom every day, anyway. And I'll make him brush his teeth.” I tried to smile.

And Gabe nudged me and said, “Shut up.”

“His father's always been trying to get him to work here, so if you boys can do it, he would be very happy,” she said with that frowning, scowling mouth. “I trust you, Troy. But you both better leave before his father comes home.”

It was late afternoon. Gabe and I rode north around the lake to my house. Going home, finally, after what seemed like such a long time.

“Thanks for helping me out, Troy.”

“Well, I hope they don't blame me if you come back skinnier, ‘cause we'll have to cook for ourselves at my house. My dad doesn't do it anymore ‘cause I'm gone so much.”

“Do you know how to cook?” Gabe asked.

“Nope. But I know how to not starve to death.”

“I don't know. Some people say you're doing that right now.”

“Do you know how to cook?” I said.

“I can pour milk on cereal without spilling it.”

“We'll survive these next few days, then,” I said. “You can sleep on the couch in my room that makes out into a bed. You wouldn't want to sleep in the living room ‘cause some nights my dad stays up until dawn. Ever since my mom died, at least.”

Gabe didn't say anything. The horses walked lazily. They liked each other, but I knew Reno would be jealous and act up when we came home and he found those other horses in his barn. I was thinking I'd just keep him and Dusty in the outside corral tonight till he got used to the smell and the company.

I had my shirt with that number seven pinned to it draped over Reno's flank. It was so grimy and dirty now, I'd probably never wash it, just hang it up on the wall in the barn just like that. And that red bandana of Tommy's was still twisted around the horn of my saddle.

We were almost at that little bridge now—the place we had met the day we went out after that lion; the place where Clayton Rutledge stopped me that night. Gabe had his hat way back on his head.

“You really gonna name that little colt Gunner?”

“Yep.”

“After me?”

“Gunner's for you, Gabey.”

“That's embarrassing.”

“Only you and me and Tommy know. It's our joke. It's a good name.”

“I guess I like it. It suits that little colt.” He paused. “When you wanna get ropes on him, let me know. I'd work on ‘em. I know how to do that, I grew up with it.”

“I'd like that. You could help with all of ‘em. We got a few of ‘em, now, that's for sure.”

It took a while for it to sink into my dad that Rose had left all that land and those horses to us, and he got pretty excited. I gave him Wickham's card and told him to call if he wanted to ask him anything.

Mr. Benavidez had called to say it was okay for Gabe to stay with us for a couple days. And he wanted to see me in the morning. I felt a little scared and nervous about that; it sounded kind of ominous.

“And you boys are going to have to make your own dinner tonight, because I've already eaten,” my father said.

“I was just telling Gabe that right before we got here,” I said. “Okay, Dad. Come on, Gabe, let's go put the horses out and feed ‘em all.”

We put Reno and Dusty out in the outer corral, fed them, and brushed them down. I could tell Reno could smell the other horses nearby, the way he was curling his lips and pacing around the corral with the unconcerned buckskin. I yawned; I was worn out and sleepy. We went to the barn to check on the new horses and feed them.

“That little guy sure is pretty,” Gabe said.

“He looks like a zebra with that brush mane of his.”

“He's gonna be mean. You can tell.”

“You think so?” I said. “Well, mean's okay as long as he's not stupid.”

“I'd take mean over stupid in a horse any day, too.”

“You want him?” I asked.

“To keep?” Gabe said, looking at me.

“You can have him,” I said. “I got a lot of ‘em now. If you want him.”

“Thanks, Troy!” Gabe patted me on the shoulder.

“Only you can't change his name.”

“Gunner,” Gabe said. “Can I go touch him?”

“You could try.”

“Thanks, Troy. Thanks.”

“Go get him.”

And Gabe went into the stall and the little colt wasn't afraid at all, but he had to turn that big mare around because she was looking ready to take a kick at him. Gabe touched the colt and it stood there for a second and then, twitching, jerked away.

“If she kicks you, your dad'll kill me,” I said. “Let's go get something to eat.”

I turned off the light in the barn and we went back to the house, Gabe saying “thanks” about a dozen more times before we even opened the door.

Gabe thanked me again for the foal in the morning when we went out to feed the horses after a breakfast of toast and coffee. We rode out in the dark, so we'd be back at the ranch by six o'clock.

I knew Mr. Benavidez would be waiting, so our first stop was at the door of the main house.

“You're coming in with me,” I told Gabe as I knocked, kind of softly, almost hoping nobody inside would hear.

Mr. Benavidez opened the door. He smiled and shook my hand.

“Good morning, Troy.”

Then he kissed Gabriel on the top of the head. “Have you boys had breakfast?”

“We ate at Troy's house,” Gabe said.

Mr. Benavidez stepped out onto the front walk. “Well, I won't keep you from your work, Troy. I wanted to tell you that Carl and Mrs. Benavidez and I will be driving out to New Mexico this afternoon to pick up some horses. We might be gone for a week. I wanted to know if you would like to come with us, of course, if your father permits it. It would be good experience for you.”

I didn't know what to say. “I'd like to, Mr. Benavidez, but my horse just foaled, and I kind of need to stay around here.” It was a terrifying prospect going anywhere
alone
with Luz's father like that ‘cause I knew he'd want to talk.

He just stared at me. He looked disappointed. I could tell he was running through a discussion in his head, maybe the one he wasn't going to get a chance to have with me.

“Well, I'll have Carl leave you and Tom a list of work to do while we're gone, then. Luz and Gabriel will be coming, too.”

Gabe spoke up. “Troy gave that little colt to me, Dad. Can't I just stay with him and you all just go?”

“It's okay with my dad,” I said.

He looked down, thinking. “Are you sure you don't want to come along?” he asked Gabe.

“I really want to stay,” Gabe said. “I already have my clothes and stuff over at Troy's, anyway.”

Mr. Benavidez exhaled. “Go tell your mother.”

Gabe squeezed between us and rushed through the door, running.

“Luz won't want to go, either,” he said.

And he just stared at me, unblinking.

So I stared back, scared.

“I'll tell her you said good-bye.”

“Maybe I'll get a chance to before you all leave today,” I said. I gulped. “If you don't mind, please.”

I did get to say good-bye to Luz. She came out to the barn at lunchtime, her father and mother and Carl all waiting in the big diesel truck, engine running, with a stock trailer hitched up to it. She had been crying. I knew she didn't want to go. Everyone knew that. And we couldn't even touch each other because they were all watching us from that truck. I just kept looking over her shoulder at them.

“It's not such a long time,” I said. “You'll have fun. I'll still be here when you get back.”

She touched the back of my hand, softly, brushing past it with those cool fingers.

“I love you, Troy.”

I looked down and she was gone, disappearing behind the door of the truck. I waved as they pulled away.

With Carl away, Tom and I were assigned the jobs that he usually did, which were better and more fun than our regular chores. So when the afternoon began turning toward evening, we were out in the open pasture pulling a trailer load of alfalfa bales with a tractor to drop into the feeders, which were spaced along an entire length of fence line. And all those beautiful Benavidez quarter horses out there knew the sound of the tractor and the time of day, so they'd come clustered in small herds with their heads and ears up, following us with their eyes as we dropped flakes into one after another of the J-feeders along the fence. Tommy was driving and I was riding back on the flat trailer, cutting the baling line and throwing the feed.

At the last feeder, Tommy turned around in his seat and put his foot up on the big back tire. He spit.

“You know, Stotts, I don't really want to stay in that haunted house by myself,” he said. “Why don't you and Gabey move in while they're all gone? It'd be fun.”

“Fun,” I said, stoically. “A haunted house. A regular vacation.”

Tommy was shaking his can of tobacco. I took some, too.

I said, “If you haul us back to my place so we can get our clothes and stuff, and then in the mornings to feed the horses, I guess it would be okay.”

“I bet you can't stand up on that flatbed all the way back to the barn without me shaking you off.”

“I could try. For money.”

So Tommy lurched that tractor forward, me standing on the trailer like I was riding a huge surfboard over that pasture field and whooping, and every so often one of the Benavidez horses would pull its nose out of a feeder and look at us like we were insane, and then go back to eating. But I never fell off and when we got back, Tom admitted he'd owe me five.

We got back to my house in the early evening and Gabe and I gathered up our clothes. My dad was one of those people who liked being left alone sometimes, so he seemed happy to get rid of all of us for a week, even though we'd be back every day to tend to the horses.

And I already knew he was just waiting to get the chance to talk to me away from my friends, that he was going to say that he wasn't going to let Rose's land and those horses keep me from going to school, so I kept Tommy and Gabe right beside me as I grabbed the things I'd need just so he wouldn't start the conversation I knew we were going to have one day.

My dad said he'd talked to Wickham and that he seemed like a real nice man who was going to work everything out for me and Tom. Rose's funeral would be at the Three Points church the next Monday, and of course we'd all be there for her. We left and drove out to Papa's store to pick up some groceries and then, just as it was getting dark, we all went back to the Foreman's house.

We played horse shoes until it was too dark to see where we were pitching, and Gabe beat us both with that arm of his. Tommy said he'd make dinner the first night, so we ate macaroni and cheese and a box of Hostess donuts. We were all sitting around the big kitchen table, finishing the donuts. Tom and Gabe drank milk, but I had a glass of water. Tommy said he had to show us something and he ran to his room.

Then the phone rang, something that rarely happened at the Bullers', and Tommy called out, “Hey, get that, Stotts, it's probly CB checking up on me.”

I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Just so you know, Buller. That kid you work for is dead. And then you're next.”
Click.

I didn't recognize the voice. I was certain it wasn't Chase Rutledge's, though. I hung up. Gabriel was drinking milk, not even looking at me.

I'd heard Chase say that kind of stuff before, too, and never took it seriously. But threatening Gabriel Benavidez was something more ominous than hollow, because everyone who knew Gabe also knew his innocence and goodness. I just resigned myself to keep a better eye on him until his family came back; or until things worked out.

Tommy came back into the kitchen, a tablet of paper in his hands. “Who was that?”

“No one,” I said. “There was no one on the other end.”

Tommy just shrugged. “I want to show you what I drew up,” he said.

He placed the pad down on the table in front of me, sweeping aside crumbs. I could tell right away what it was; Tommy was an excellent artist. It was Rose's house, viewed from above, with plenty of additions around it.

“We'll put a road going down this way, along that creekbed,” he traced with his finger, “and on this side, we'll have a big pasture. Over here will be a smaller enclosed field, maybe for yearlings we're working with. We'll run water lines off that well here and behind the house we'll put the working pens and a big round pen. This'll be a big covered shelter here for a riding arena, and we'll put these shelters out here and here for the winter and to keep the hay. Then the big barn'll be right off the house with ten stalls and a breezeway tall enough to drive a big stock hauler through.”

“That looks awesome, Tommy,” Gabe said.

“We'd have to start small, Tom. Fixing up the house and laying the water lines and putting up the fences on the fields and maybe a few of those stalls and the round pen,” I said. “I like it. It's what I always wanted.”

“Me, too, Stotts. Let's do it.”

I punched his fist. “Deal.”

“Can we start on it this week, you think?”

I suddenly felt so sad for Rose, and I wasn't sure if I even wanted to get back there right away. But there was something always kind of healing and forgiving in Tommy Buller's energy, a renewal of sorts that I just couldn't deny. I envied him so much for that.

“Let's,” I said, and I looked at Gabriel. “As long as Gabey's in on it with us.”

“I'm there,” Gabe said, and wiped a line of milk from his mouth. “And if we were at the fire pit right now, I'd ask you to tell Tommy that story about where you went. About what you did.”

“Aw, Stotts. This sounds like a good one. Sounds like we're gonna be staying up tonight for this.”

We stayed up late and I told Tommy the whole story about what happened to me up on the mountain, Gabe listening intently, because this time I put in more details about that trip than when we were chasing after our clothes just two days before. When I had finished, Tommy looked kind of disappointed.

“How come you never told me that?”

“I never told no one till a couple days ago,” I said. “I guess I was kind of embarrassed, running away from home like some little kid. And then I was going to go back up there when I wanted to quit working at the ranch, but I just couldn't, and I felt real stupid and depressed, especially after getting hit like that by Clayton. And then it didn't matter anymore. But for the longest time I guess I been scared about everything.”

“Damn, Stotts. I don't know whether you're the luckiest guy I know, or just cursed,” Tommy said.

“I never felt lucky.”

“ ‘Cause you don't need it.”

“ ‘Cause things just happen anyway. There's no luck to it.”

“Well, I want to see it,” Tom said. “Let's all go up there before they get back from New Mexico.”

Tom was making coffee in the kitchen when I woke up. It was still dark and Gabe was asleep on the bed he'd made on the living room floor. It was 3:30 and Tommy was already dressed and had his boots on. I got up off the couch and limped into the kitchen, yawning, and sat down at the table.

“You wanna go up there today,” I said.

“We'll need to get a lot of stuff packed up on the horses.” He poured two cups of black coffee. “Then I'll need to set up Ramiro about covering us for a couple days or so.”

I called out to Gabriel. “Gabey, wake up! This crazy fool wants us to get on it right now.”

Gabe just moaned from under a pile of blankets.

We got Tom's gear packed up on Arrow and then drove back to my house to load up Reno and Dusty. The house was dark when we got there so I knew my dad was asleep. Tommy parked the truck and trailer beside our barn. First we went into the house and packed up our clothes. I grabbed my toothbrush and mess kit, my fishing gear and rifle. I got two sleeping bags, one for Gabe. My dad woke up when we were rustling around in there; we were excited and happy, and I guess noisy, too.

I explained we were going on a camp out and would be back in a few days. And I begged him to feed my new horse while I was away, and he said he would as long as he didn't have to get in there with her. I could hear Reno snorting and chuckling from his corral, and figured he knew I was home and was picking up on our excitement.

We brought Arrow out from the trailer and packed up our supplies on Reno and Dusty. Then we went into the barn to feed Ghost. Gabe and I grabbed some hay from the hayshed and walked through the breezeway, tossing some down for the goats, and then crossing the way to see my mare and Gabe's colt.

The mare was standing still, head down, sniffing and prodding her front foot at her foal. The foal was lying on his side. I could see the shaft of a hunter's arrow jutting from his ribs, another in his neck, and a third buried up to its feathers in his belly. There was blackened, glossy blood all over the stall gate and floor.