On the Mountain (9 page)

Joe brought his horse next to Wade.  “The men are ready whenever you give the go ahead, boss.”

He looked toward the homestead.  “We’ll just give Prescott a few more minutes.”

“Right.”  His lead hand replied, but Wade knew what he really thought about his brother and had to agree.  Where the wilderness was concerned, Prescott always seemed out of place.

“Listen, have you noticed the boy visiting Lucy’s pen nightly?”  Ever since that first evening, he had stepped out onto the large porch circling his house and looked down the hillside to the paddocks.  Each night, he had seen a lone figure in the paddock with the filly.  From the shape and form, he knew it was the boy.

“He bin givin’ Lucy a hard time?”

“No, of course not,” Wade said.  “More like they were sharing some type of communication.”

Joe frowned.  “How so?”

Wade looked over at the boy.  “For one thing, I’ve never seen a man capture and hold eye contact with a horse for so long.”

The lead’s brows rose in surprise.  “Can’t say I ever seen it either, but I’ve heard of an ancient craft where they say men were able to whisper to animals.  Likes they were talkin’ to ‘em.”

“The boy is a mute.”  He reminded him.

“So’s the horse for that matter.”  Joe grinned, turning to tighten his horse’s girth.  “But if ya like, we can have the boy give it a shot.  Maybe he’ll get that youngin’ broke by mind control.  Or hell, maybe he even got some spells and magic charms up his sleeve.”

Wade ignored his wrangler’s sense of dry humor and said, “I don’t think it can hurt.”

The man grumbled but turned away at the same moment Prescott finally made his appearance.  At last the group headed out with Wade leading the way.  Prescott and Joe were next as point riders, Neil and the rest of the wranglers rode flank and swing, while the boy rode drag behind them all.  The sun was high in the sky and not a trace of cloud could be seen.  A chilly breeze swept down the valley escorting the men on their way.  October had slipped away and November had arrived.  Soon the snow would follow and the great earth surrounding his ranch would be covered in a blanket of white.

Behind him the men rode quietly except Prescott, who talked the ear off any wrangler willing to listen.  Wade turned in his saddle and saw the boy the victim of his brother’s latest ramblings.  He grinned and turned his attention back to the trail.

“Some of the men have asked that they be allowed to visit the saloon in our layover in Lantern,” Joe said.

Wade nodded, knowing that even though his roundups were rather relaxed, the men couldn’t let loose like they truly would have wanted.  “Just remind them they still represent the Circle H.  I don’t want no brawls or looting.”

“I’ll let ‘em know, boss.”  Joe pulled the reins on his horse and rode back to some of the ranch hands.

Wade offered the warning out of routine rather than need.  Though the men enjoyed their ale and their woman, the majority of their time was spent carousing with the other patrons at the saloon.  The odd man even had a sweetheart on the side and would take the opportunity to sneak a visit.

He thought of Marion.  In fact, he had been thinking about her a lot in the last couple of days.  To be exact, since the incident in the filly paddock with the boy.  He wasn’t counted in the numbers eager for a stopover in town, but this trip was an exception.

He could hardly wait to see Marion.

Chapter 8

Anna rode silently next to Prescott.  The man was by far the friendliest in the group, but admittedly, was boring her to tears.  She thought she had heard all there was to hear on the subject of the apparently flawless English society.  Her inability to respond only urged the man on, but also provided Anna with an escaped outlet.  She was certain he wouldn’t even notice if she enjoyed the view around her rather than his company.

“All British nations share certain distinguished traditions and customs that are often cited as being elements of a shared English culture. Example, a love of polo.  I had the good fortune of learning the finer elements to the game while studying abroad in England.  But, unfortunately, there are not many opportunities to play the sport here in Canada.”

Anna spotted the horns of a mule deer in the distance and smiled to herself.

“I really ought to teach you, Peter,” Prescott said.  “I think you would be a natural.  Wade never took an interest.  Actually, he really never cared for any of the English customs I tried to instill from our family’s heritage.  Ranching and this land were the only love he had.”

She turned to look at him, her interest finally caught.

“Our father was the same way.  You probably would have never guessed as much, but he was actually born an English gentleman.”

Her brows rose, admittedly surprised.  Prescott, yes she would have guessed his roots originated in England.  However, Wade, he was as far from what she perceived as an Englishman as she could imagine.

“According to our mother when she met him, he was a spoiled and bored aristocrat’s son.  Being the daughter of a dignitary made her an acceptable partner.  They married and took residents at Cuthbert Hall.  Kathleen and I lived there when mother sent us to England to receive a proper English education.  I’ve been lucky to be able to return at least once a year ever since.  It’s a home like none other around here with majestic towers and the most beautiful stained glass windows.”

Anna listened closely, wondering idly who Kathleen was.

“So, anyway, when news spread across Britain about vast land in Canada virtually untouched and unclaimed, father made his way across the Atlantic.  It was love at first sight.  He would never return home again to England.  To the chagrin of our mother who very much would have loved to return to her beloved homeland.”  His horse tripped over some uneven terrain, causing Prescott to pause in his story. 

Anna waited for him to continue. 

“Obviously, money was not an obstacle for my parents, but even with all his means for funds, father was only able to obtain a fraction of what he had envisioned before leaving England.  At the time, the Hudson’s Bay Company was still in charge and controlled how much land settlers were able to purchase.  He wasn’t able to buy up as much land as he would have liked.  Five years later, however, he succeeded in securing all of the property which now constitutes all of the land under the Circle H.  The house was for my mother.  She wanted the grandest and most sophisticated home from all around.  Most of the additional buildings Wade had built after he took ownership.”

Unconsciously, her eyes shifted toward the front of the men.  Wade rode alone, tall and proud in his horse and looking very much a king of his own domain.

“Wade was born during those first years.  I followed eight years later and Kathleen two years after that.”  He paused to give his horse a rub on the neck.  “There was another child between Wade and myself, but died of smallpox.  The same illness that took my wife.”

Anna was surprised.  She had no idea Prescott had been married.  A warmth of compassion overcame her.

“We had met in England.”  He smiled, recalling the memory.  “The perfect English rose.  I knew mother would approve.”

Anna smiled as well.

“If she couldn’t return home she wanted her children immersed as much as possible into the English culture.” 

Anna thought of what Prescott had already told her and couldn’t remember him mentioning Wade being sent to England for what their mother believed was a proper upbringing.

“It’s really quite sad, actually.  Her never returning to her beloved homeland.”

She watched a sad little look cross his face and knew he had shared a special bond with his mother.

“Even after father’s death, she never went back.  As per his wish, she buried him on the land he loved so dearly and refused to leave his grave.  Kathleen and I were studying abroad at the time, but we came home after we heard of his death.  In some odd way, she had changed after that, I can’t really explain other than she was no longer filled with—passion.”

Anna felt a nagging but familiar tug. 

“She never mentioned returning to England again.”

“Prescott.”  Wade’s voice out of nowhere startled her.  He had come back from his position at the front and was now riding alongside Anna.  “Time to switch leads.”

“Right.”  Prescott became all rancher suddenly and pulled his horse up to the front of the cavalcade.  Anna felt a jolt of disappointment.  She had wanted to hear more about their mother.

“I hope my brother hasn’t been boring you with our family history.”

Truthfully, she had found Prescott a terrible bore, that was until he started talking about Wade’s family.

“It hardly seems fair,” he said.  “You know all about me, but I know nothing of you.”

A picture formed in her mind.  She could see her mother and father as well as her siblings.  Another face came to mind, but just as swiftly her memory shut down.  Anna frowned hard.

“No matter, kid,” he said, obviously having witnessed the expression on her face.  “I think I’m beginning to form a pretty good idea.”

He smiled gently across at her and Anna felt her heart melt.  She wondered what was it about this man which made her react in a way she never had before.  True, he possessed a magnificent set of blue eyes and a chest as broad and rugged as the mountainous terrain.  But he was at least twenty years her senior, and different from any man she had ever met.

“Wade!”  Prescott called from up front and they both turned their heads in unison to look.  Joe had taken his position once again as second in command and, like Prescott, was looking ahead into a clearing.

Wade rode up ahead to investigate.  The three men took their horses and rode over to what looked like a dog sleeping in the bushes. She watched the three men kneel on their haunches to get a better look at the animal.  Without thought, Anna swung her leg over her horse and jumped down.

* * *

“Damn cougar.”  Joe growled under his breath at the sight of the dead calf.

Wade glanced up at him and remembered what he had found in the holding pen in the village in the mountain.  He hadn’t told anyone of his discovery.  Not even Prescott.

“Certain?”

“Hell, ya.”  He gestured toward the guts ripped out of the animal’s side, one of its forearms missing.

Wade rubbed his beard, then noticed someone approaching.  He tilted his chin and saw the boy advance toward them.  Frowning, he got to his feet.  His movement caught the other two men’s attention who turned at the arrival of the boy.

“Peter, you ought to go back to your horse,” Prescott said.  “We’ve got things covered up here.”

He ignored Prescott and continued to approach until the dead animal came into view.  Wade thought he heard him gasp, but wasn’t entirely certain.  Though it surely would have matched the expression on his face.  He thought of sending him back, but found himself instead taking a step away and letting the boy kneel beside the animal.  His small hand came out and stroked the calf’s head and Wade was suddenly reminded of the filly.  It was becoming abundantly clear the kid had a soft spot for animals.

The boy drew his attention to something left of the dead corpse and Wade followed his gaze.  He saw nothing but flattened grass.  Then the boy got up and started to walk away, his eyes downcast as he appeared to study the earth.  Again Wade frowned and found himself following.  Joe and Prescott did the same.

“What’s he doing?” he asked Joe.

“Not sure.”  Then at closer examination he said, “Looks like he’s tracking using imprints in the grass.  An old Indian method used to hunt prey.”

Wade shot a startled look at his foreman.  But it was Prescott who said, “What’s he tracking?”

The trio looked back as the boy proceeded further up the rocky terrain, stopping every so often to study the earth.  Wade turned back to his ranch hands and motioned they remain where they were, then went after him.  The boy had entered a wooded area where the earth rose high in rocky peaks and caverns.  He had been following something only he could see when he stopped abruptly.

Coming up behind him, Wade looked over his shoulder into a small clearing surrounded by a wall of rock.  In the center sat a coyote feasting on the limb of a cow.  More precisely, a baby cow.  Stunned, Wade turned and looked down at the kid with admiration.

“I’ll be damned.”  Joe grumbled and lifted his rifle to take aim.

The boy moved so quickly that he caught everyone off guard.  He lurched at the gun in Joe’s hands and sent it flying against a bed of rocks.  Alerted, the coyote snatched up his kill and scattered away.

“Why the hell did you do that for?”  Joe roared.

For response, the boy recoiled into himself and slid away from the three big men.  Wade watched and took pity on him.  “Get back to your horse Joe.”

“The kid is a nut case, I tell you.”  Joe started ranting, but obeyed his orders and climbed back down the rocky slope and head off toward the horses.

“I thought that was very noble of you, Peter.”  Prescott grinned and gave the boy a friendly pat on the shoulders.  “Don’t you agree, Wade?”

He watched the boy closely, his head full of thoughts.  Not the least being the boy was turning out to be one hell of an enigma.  He had a feeling there was more to this boy than they had ever realized.

When the boy turned and looked into his eyes, Wade’s insides did an unexpected and gut-wrenching twist.  He held the boy’s gaze for a full minute, before finally saying, “Sometimes, we can forget this land belongs to more than just us.  We all need to survive and use whatever means there is to us.”

A look of relief showed in the boy’s eyes and Wade wondered if he was thinking about the stolen cows and realized his words held a double meaning.

They all turned and headed back toward their horses.  By mid-morning they eventually came across the first herd of cattle and Wade cut the animals while his ranch hands began the process of herding them.  Every now and then, Wade shot a glance in the boy’s direction, but always found him following at a safe distance.

The roundup continued much the same for the remainder of the day.  As usual, it was long and hard work and by the time the sun dipped below the western horizon, the men were ready to break camp.  For this three-day trip, Wade had decided Kim wasn’t needed to come along.  Since one of those days would be spent in Lantern he figured the ranch hands could make do with minimum provisions. A mule, loaded with all the necessary requirements, replaced the chuck wagon usually accompanying them on long cattle drives.

Chuck Rhodes led the mule into camp and began unpacking it, but rushed over as Wade leaped from the back of Sty to retrieve the horse and untack him.  Instinctively, Wade looked for the boy.  He was tying his horse to a tree along with the other horses.  Joe had already begun building a campfire and the ranch hands were selecting spots for their bedrolls.  Wade found a decent spot himself and begun unraveling his gear.  Movement beside him caught his attention.

The boy had laid out his own bedroll in the spot next to Wade.  He worked quietly but quickly, which pretty much summed up the boy.  He always appeared out of nowhere, right there next to Wade.

Joe was pretty good at setting up a cooking pit with whatever twigs and branches the surrounding area provided.  He pulled off the black cast iron pot from the mule’s saddle along with some tin cans of food.

“‘Fraid it’s only beans tonight boys,” the lead ranch hand announced.  “Even though we could’ve had coyote.”

Wade shot him a warning look while he removed his chaps.

“Hell, anything sounds good just about now.”  Frank, one of the cowhands said.

Another agreed and the conversation became focused on their empty stomachs.  The beans heated up quickly, which was a good thing seeing that the night had grown cold, and something warm in their bellies would go down just right.  Each ranch hand had a tin cup from their bedroll and helped themselves to the steaming food.  Joe had also put on a kettle of hot water for coffee and in no time Wade had polished off the food and laid back on his bedroll to enjoy the hot brew.

The boy sat crossed legged on the bedroll next to him still eating the remainder of his beans.  Joe had finished his meal and had laid down his hat shading his eyes from the bright glow of the fire.  Across from him, Prescott was attempting, unsuccessfully, to make his bed more comfortable.  The ranch hands were either stretched out on their own rolls or sitting having a game of cards.  Looking around, he thought life couldn’t get any better.  He was where he loved most, with the company of people he respected most, and doing the very thing he enjoyed most in life.