Gib and the Gray Ghost (16 page)

“Gibson,” Mr. Morrison was saying, “these are some of the Circle Bar hands. Len Barker here, and this is ... He went on with the introductions but Gib wasn’t listening too well. Still struggling with a tight throat and eyes that threatened to overflow, he could only nod and pretend to smile as each of the cowhands grabbed his hand and said things about his handling of the gray.

“Nice going, kid,” one of the men said, and someone else added, “What’d you say to that gray devil? Really settled him down in good order, you did.” Gib just went on trying to smile until Mr. Morrison led him away.

Gib had never seen anything like the interior of Mr. Morrison’s house. The main room had an enormous stone fireplace and was paneled with thick slabs of shiny wood. The huge, chunky furniture was covered in leather or cowhide, and the chandelier was a wagon wheel, or at least was supposed to look like one. The kitchen was pretty impressive too, long and wide with table space for maybe eighteen or twenty people.

Right at first there didn’t seem to be anyone around except for a short roundish man named Rafe and a woman who seemed to be his wife. But then some others began to straggle in. The three cowhands that Gib had already met and then two or three others. Rough-looking men, for the most part, with sun-weathered skin and harsh voices. They all sat in a bunch at the far end of the table and, without saying anything to Morrison or Rafe, proceeded to stuff themselves with potatoes and roast beef and thick chunks of corn bread.

Gib liked Rafe right off. While they were eating he talked a lot about horses, particularly about what a fine-looking mare Silky was and how good it was to have the dapple gray back home again, and in such good shape. “Never thought to see him again,” Rafe said. “Not after him disappearing in the middle of that big blizzard.” Except for Rafe, nobody talked about the gray at all.

Gib left the Circle Bar feeling worried about Ghost. About how he’d started fretting the moment they reached Morrison’s spread, as if he was remembering what had happened to him there. Remembering the whipping, of course, but maybe some other things too. Gib hoped it had only been one person who’d mistreated Ghost, and that he’d be fine once he realized that man was gone for good. It wasn’t until he and Silky were alone on the open road that Gib forgot to go on worrying.

Riding Silky out there on the open prairie, everything else just faded away. In places where the sun had melted the ice he let her out a little. Let her stretch her legs and burn up some of that cooped-up, hot-blooded energy. And when the going was slower he talked to her, telling her how fast and strong and purely elegant she was. He went on talking to Silky most of the way home.

G
IB HAD GUESSED RIGHT
about one thing: Livy still wasn’t speaking to him. At supper that night Missus Julia and Miss Hooper had a lot of questions about the Circle Bar. Missus Julia, especially, was very curious about what Morrison was doing on the land that had once belonged to her family. And when Gib told them about the grand new ranch house and all the other buildings and corrals they were very impressed. “I guess it’s true what people are saying,” Missus Julia said. “Morrison has spent a fortune building himself a ranching empire, but ... Miss Hooper finished the sentence for her. “But he doesn’t know the first thing about managing it.”

Gib could tell that Livy was interested too, particularly when he told about Morrison’s fancy new stables, but she didn’t ask any questions. Even though she and Gib would be heading for Longford School on horseback the very next day, she had no questions about that either.

At breakfast the next morning everyone else was talking about the ride to school, even Hy, who’d insisted on coming downstairs to see them off. Mrs. Perry wanted them both to eat extra big breakfasts, and Hy had lots of advice about how they ought to handle snowdrifts and icy patches and what to tell Ernie, the stablehand at Appleton’s.

Gib wasn’t worried about the ride. After all, it was farther to the Circle Bar and he and Silky had handled that just fine. But there were some other things he did wonder about. Like what Rodney and Alvin might be up to these days, not to mention how long it would be before Livy started speaking to him again.

Gib was cinching up Lightning’s saddle when Livy came into the barn. Dressed in her new divided skirt and bundled up against the cold, she was carrying a big armload of stuff that included her lunch pail, books, presents for her friends, and the dressy skirt she would change into once she got to school. But her lips were still squeezed shut so Gib kept his shut too.

He finished the saddling without saying anything, but then he looked at Livy’s armload again and went back to the tack room for a bigger saddlebag. Livy watched him while he fastened it on behind Lightning’s saddle and when he reached for her belongings she handed them over without saying a word. Not a word, at least, until he got to her new pleated skirt. All she said then was, “Don’t wrinkle it.” Those few words turned out to be a kind of hole in the dike, judging by what happened later.

Everyone came out to see them off, even Missus Julia, whose wheelchair had been pushed out onto the veranda, and Hy in his Indian blanket bathrobe. They all waved and Hy and Miss Hooper called last-minute reminders. Miss Hooper wanted Livy to remember to give their study list to the teacher and Hy hollered at Gib to be sure to remind Ernie to put the horses in the best box stalls at the back of the stables.

The first part of the ride, down the long Rocking M drive, was still pretty heavy going, but Livy had done it before. Except for a few squeals when lightning skidded a little, she stayed pretty calm. Out on the main road the ruts in the snow were wider and in better shape. At that point it became possible to ride side by side, and that was when the talking began. Only slowly at first, about tricky places on the road and how much longer it would take to get to Longford. But then, little by little, other kinds of comments began to sneak in.

There wasn’t much farther to go, only a mile or so, when Livy began standing up in the stirrups, trying to see the top of the school’s bell tower. When she noticed Gib laughing she said, “I can’t wait to see Alicia and all my other friends. I don’t suppose you can understand how much I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”

Remembering how much time Livy and her friends spent chattering and giggling together, Gib sobered up and said, “Oh, I think I might be able to understand that.”

A minute later Livy started fussing at Lightning, thumping him with her heels and jerking up on the reins, making the old roan toss his head and sidestep a little. “I can’t wait to have them see me come riding in on horseback,” she told Gib. “Especially Alicia.”

“Why’s that?” Gib asked. “Why especially Alicia?”

“Because she’s had her own pony ever since she was three years old. And she always teased me about being afraid of horses,” Livy said. Gib could understand that too, but he didn’t say so.

A few minutes later Livy started looking at Gib and Silky. Mostly at Silky. She looked for quite a spell at the elegant, high-stepping Thoroughbred mare, before she said, “I do wish I could be the one riding—”

But Gib cut her off on that one. “No, sir, Olivia Thornton!” he said. “No sirree. I’m not going to be the one to give you the say-so to ride Silky.” It must have sounded like he meant it because, after staring at him angry-eyed for a second, Livy smiled sweetly. “I know,” she said. “You’re right I can’t ride Silky. Not yet, anyway.” She sighed and stood up in the stirrups again. “We’re almost there,” she squealed when they made the last turn onto Schoolhouse Road. “I hope Alicia hasn’t gone in yet.”

Livy was in luck. Even though Alicia had gone in, some girls who were still on the steps ran in and brought her out. Standing on the top stair with some other special friends of Livy’s, she jumped up and down, pointing and waving frantically while Livy made Lightning parade back and forth across the school grounds. Gib kept Silky out on the road, and he went on waiting there quietly until he began to worry about getting to Appleton’s and back before school started. “Come on, Livy,” he called finally. “I’ve got to get going.”

After a final flourish, Livy got down off Lightning close to the schoolhouse and began to take her things out of the saddlebag. The old roan waited patiently while Livy’s friends crowded around, making a fuss over him. Riding over to get him, Gib was thinking that it was a good thing Lightning was trained to ground tie, and that he had enough horse sense to know better than to spook at giggling females.

Livy and her friends were just going in the schoolhouse door when the tall blond one named Matilda looked back, pointed at Silky, and squealed excitedly. As Gib picked up Lightning’s reins and headed Silky toward town, he caught a glimpse of Livy as she came out and herded Matilda back inside.

At Appleton’s Livery Gib turned the horses over to Ernie and reminded him about the box stalls. Ernie, who didn’t always pay attention, particularly when he’d been drinking, nodded vaguely until Gib said, “Hy Carter told me to tell you. You know, those nice dry stalls where you used to keep Mr. Thornton’s team.” That really seemed to get Ernie’s attention and he led Silky and Lightning away, muttering something about Mr. Thornton’s stalls.

Gib headed for the school then, hiking as fast as he could on the icy ground. When he ran up the schoolhouse steps and dashed in through the door he almost collided with the tall eighth-grade girl named Betsy who usually rang the bell. He was still begging her pardon when Betsy laughed and waved him on toward Miss Elders’s room. “Get going, cowboy,” she said. “I’ll give you ten seconds.” Gib arrived in the classroom out of breath and with muddy boots, but at least he was in his seat before the bell started to ring.

Nothing had changed much over Christmas vacation. Miss Elders had a fancy new blouse and a different hairdo, but her eyes and voice could still make everyone in the room, including Rodney Martin, sit up straight and come to attention. The schoolroom still smelled of chalk dust and wet wool, Livy and her friends were full of secrets, Graham had his nose in a big book, and Rodney Martin was watching everything Gib did. Watching and waiting for a chance to stare threateningly with squinted eyes while he stretched his lips in his angry-dog grin.

It was during the lunchtime recess that Rodney walked past Gib’s desk and whacked him on the back of the head with a big encyclopedia. Gib had been reading at the time and he was still staring after Rodney in shocked surprise when Graham Archer came over and asked Gib if he’d like to play catch.

Still robbing his head, Gib asked, “Play catch? Right now?” He shook his head gingerly to see if his brains were rattling around before he asked, “Did you see that? Did you see Rodney hit me with that book?”

“Yes,” Graham said. “I saw it. That’s why I think we ought to play catch, right now. I want to explain something to you.”

Out on the icy playground Gib and Graham threw a lopsided baseball back and forth while Graham explained what he called Rodney’s war game. “Oh, he doesn’t call it that.” Graham’s smile was mostly in his eyes. “Actually, no one does except me. But it occurred to me that you ought to learn something about the rules.”

Gib caught the ball and threw it back. “About whose rules?” he asked.

“Oh, I suppose you’d say they’re mostly Rodney’s.” Graham’s smile spread to one corner of his mouth. “Not that he puts them into words. Actually I don’t think Rodney has that many words in his vocabulary.” Graham dropped the ball and ran after it, slipping and sliding on the ice. When he came back he went on explaining. “The rules are that he has to attack his enemies when they’re not looking and—here’s the important part—when Miss Elders isn’t looking either.”

Gib quit throwing and walked up to Graham. “Yeah, but what happens then? Doesn’t anyone tell Miss Elders?”

Graham put on a horrified expression. “What? Tell on Rodney? No, of course not. Unheard of. Nobody tells on anyone, and especially not on Rodney. That’s one of the most important rules.”

On the way back into the building Gib said it all sounded pretty hard on Rodney’s enemies. Graham thought a moment before he said, “Yes, it is, I suppose. It would be even harder, except there is another rule, besides the one about not tattling. The other rule isn’t Rodney’s, and I’m not even sure he’s figured it out yet. But what that rule says is that other people can help the enemy. Rodney’s enemy, that is.”

“How do they do that if they can’t tell on him?” Gib asked.

“Different ways,” Graham said. “Sometimes it’s by warning the person who’s about to be attacked. Or by getting Miss Elders to look in the right direction at the right moment.” His turned-inward smile flashed and disappeared. “For instance, when I first started going to school here in Longford I was one of Rodney’s favorite head-thumping victims.” Graham’s lips twitched and his deep-set eyes flickered. “But then somebody must have decided it wasn’t fair.”

“What wasn’t fair?” Gib asked.

“Oh, it’s hard to say exactly. Maybe they just got tired of watching Rodney sneak up on me. Or else they decided it wasn’t fair to let Rodney go on whacking me over the head when ... The inward smile flickered again. “When it was pretty clear that my brains were all I had going for me.” He took out his watch, stared at it, and put it back in his pocket before he added, “The thing is the other players have to
want
to play on your side.”

Right at first Gib wasn’t sure what Graham was talking about, but after a while it began to make sense. The “other players” were the rest of the class, and they sure enough did help Rodney’s enemies now and then. Like Graham, and little old Bertie too. Like that time the whole class started coughing to get Miss Elders’s attention when Rodney was about to steal Bertie’s lunch. Gib had just started to wonder if anyone had tried to warn him about the encyclopedia attack, when Miss Elders rapped on her desk and everyone quit socializing, and in Gib’s case wondering, and got down to work.

The rest of the day was English and arithmetic, and then came the hike back to the stable to pick up the horses. Gib was almost there when a motorcar went by and there were Rodney and Alvin hanging out of the backseat. As they went by they waved and thumbed their noses but they didn’t yell anything, which probably meant that they didn’t want to attract the attention of the driver, who was probably Rodney’s father.