Scarecrow on Horseback (15 page)

“So anyone want to bet me how long I can stay
on the mustang?” Hague boomed loud enough for everyone within a
mile to hear him.

“I'll bet you a dollar you can't stay on at
all,” one of his friends said.

Everyone laughed.

“Anybody got ten bucks says I can't stay on
for a minute?”

“Me,” said his other friend, and that too
brought a laugh.

Grimly, Mel got Cheyenne tacked up. She was
churning with worry about subjecting her horse to this ordeal for
the sake of money. She hated money, she told herself.  Not
having it caused trouble, and having it probably did, too.

Hague got the bidding up to a hundred
dollars. It wouldn't cost him anything to ride Cheyenne if he could
manage to stay on the animal's back for three minutes.

“I'm sorry,” Mel told her horse. “I'm so
sorry to do this to you.” She kissed Cheyenne's nose and whispered
to him, “Do your worst. Buck him off fast.” Then she left him.

She climbed all the way to the top of the
stands to sit and watch with her fists clenched under her chin and
tears blurring her eyes.

“Hey, isn't anybody going to hold this horse
while I mount?” Hague asked. And he called on Jeb, who was standing
there with his arms folded and his Stetson cocked on the back of
his head. “Come on, play fair. Someone's got to hold him till I get
my feet in the stirrups, at least.”

As if he didn't really want to, Jeb swung
under the fence and slowly walked to Cheyenne's head. The horse
danced sideways, his eyes widening in apprehension. Grant Hague was
agile and strong enough to swing himself into the saddle, but the
instant Jeb let go of the bridle, Cheyenne reared. He reared,
snorted and came down hard on his front hooves. Then he took off at
a mad gallop. The audience gasped because it seemed certain that he
was going to bash himself and his rider into the fence at the other
side of the corral. Inches short of doing just that, Cheyenne
swerved and galloped back. The swerve knocked Grant Hague off
against the fence. He screamed and, when Jeb and Sally rushed out
to help him up, there was no question from the angle of his arm
that it was broken.

Mel jumped down the steps of the rickety
stands and ran to her horse. His hide rippled as he shuddered. His
eyes looked bewildered. “It's all right now, Cheyenne. He won't
bother you anymore,” she told him and stroked his neck until his
breathing became normal.

“Did that man win the bet?” Mel asked Sally
the next morning.

“Grant? No. He was a minute short. Didn't pay
up either. Told Jeb we'd be lucky if he didn't sue. Davis argued
with him. He'd had Grant sign a paper before the ride saying he was
taking on a wild horse at his own risk, but Grant kept threatening
to sue and Davis knows the owner would purely hate that.”

So much for her hundred dollars, Mel thought.
Typical of her luck. “And those guys left?” she asked.

“Yeah, the three of them checked out early
this morning. Good riddance.”

Mel nodded. She'd wait a while before asking
Sally to ride Cheyenne. Give the horse time to get over his nasty
experience. 

The next day when Mel passed the barn,
another batch of late season guests, a family who were friends of
the Davises, were getting the usual demonstration of horsemanship.
Not by the usual demonstrator though. Joy was showing off Sally's
horse. She made Rover smile, the way Sally always did. She petted
Rover and mounted him and put him through his paces while Jeb stood
in the middle of the barn describing what she was doing and
reciting the rules.

Mel dashed off in search of Sally. She found
him working on a horse's split hoof.

“How come Joy's riding your horse?”

“She asked for Rover, and Jeb gave him to
her.”

“But Rover's yours.”

“No, Mel. I don't own Rover. He belongs to
the ranch. I've ridden him ever since I started working here
because he was kind of unpredictable for a while and nobody else
wanted him. But I don't own him. I don't own anything. I travel
light.” He tried to smile, but no light went on in his eyes.

“That's awful, Sally. That's so unfair. I'm
going to tell Jeb off. He's got no right to be so mean to you just
because Joy—”

“No!” Sally interrupted her. “I don't want
you sticking up for me and getting Jeb mad at you again. He's not a
good enemy, Mel.”

“But Sally, you and Rover—”

“Joy's a good rider. She'll treat Rover
right, and the fact is I'm going to have to leave him to
someone.”

“Huh?”

“I wasn't going to tell you until the last
minute, but I'm leaving the ranch, Mel.”

“Oh, no! Sally, you can't do that to me. I
need you.”

“No, you don't. You got your mother and
Denise, and you got Cheyenne. That horse has bonded with you, and
if you don't mess up too bad, you'll own him one of these
days.”

“But why are you leaving? Did Jeb—”

“No. Jeb don't want me to go. That's why he's
taking Rover away from me, to punish me for quitting. See, Clara
called me. Clara, my wife?”

“She decided to leave her father for
you?”

“No. She needs me on the ranch. Her dad had a
stroke. He's incapacitated, can't even talk. Clara's got someone
taking care of him, but she can't handle the ranch on her own.”

“So you're going back to her, just like
that?”

“She's my
wife
, Mel, the only woman
I've ever loved.” He touched her cheek, “Although there's a little
girl I know that's come in a close second.”

“Oh, Sally!” Mel said, and then she burst
into tears and ran for her cabin.

* * * *

The final week of August the weather turned
stormy again. Thunder rolled and clanked around the mountains. Dark
gray brooms of rain fell from bulbous clouds here and there even as
most of the sky stayed blue and clear. Joy and Jeb had a yelling
match one night that Mel witnessed, although not close enough to
hear what it was about. She was communing with Cheyenne, as had
become her custom, leaning against him and talking, telling him how
she wished summer would come back. School was about to start and
she'd be shut in all day taking in a gray mush of boring
information too dull to remember for tests. In the dark where the
trees hid them by the stream, Joy called Jeb something nasty. That
word rang clear over the buzz and click of insects and the soughing
of the wind. Boot heels clattered over the bridge.
No doubt Joy
had ended the fight by running off and leaving Jeb beside the
stream
, Mel thought.

“Those two deserve each other,” she told
Cheyenne.

But the next evening she went looking for her
mother and found her downstairs in the main building at the bar
with Jeb who was saying, “That a new outfit? It sure looks great on
you, Dawn. Brings out the blue of your eyes.”

“My eyes are green.”

“Whatever, they're beautiful.”

“Mom!” Mel snapped. “I need you.”

Dawn frowned at her. “What's wrong?”

“Could you just come upstairs so I can talk
to you?”

“You can talk to me here, Mel.”

Mel couldn't help herself. It was out of her
mouth before caution held her tongue.

“Not with him around.”

“Woo, listen to the little firecracker!” Jeb
said.

“Mel, apologize to Jeb. Whatever you're in a
temper about, it can't be his fault.”

Mel opened her mouth to tell her mother she
was a blind fool when it came to judging men. She checked herself
before saying anything and ran out of the dining hall back upstairs
to the cabin. There she stayed, skipping dinner, until her mother
came in later that evening.

“He had a fight with Joy. That's why he was
making up to you,” Mel said.

“I know, Mel, I know. Joy's taken off again,
and Jeb needs someone to talk to.”

“Mom, can't you see past how cute he looks?
He's not a nice man.”

“Jeb's immature but basically good hearted.
He loves Joy, and he's heartbroken that she's left again.”

“Fine. Be a fool and be his friend. You'll
see, Mom.”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,”
Dawn said. “And in the morning when you've calmed down, I expect an
apology. And one to Jeb for being rude to him, too.” She closed the
door.

Mel rolled around in bed unable to sleep. She
was wide awake at midnight, listening to the wind howl and the
trees thrash outside, when her mother returned to sit on her bed
beside her.

“Mel, I know you're upset about what happened
with that mustang. And maybe Jeb could have refused to let that man
ride him, but— Anyway, I want you to know I'm on your side. I love
you. I just want you to be happy. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mel said. As her mother got up to
leave, she reached out a hand to grab hers and said, “I'm sorry,
Mom. I do love you, too—a lot.”

“Good.” The moonlight shone on her mother’s
unshed tears, and with a quick kiss on Mel's cheek, she left.

Early the next morning, Mel was feeding
Cheyenne when Jeb appeared. He leaned on the fence and said, “So,
you in a better mood this morning?”

“Umm. I'm sorry I was rude,” she said
mechanically.

“Yeah, okay then,” he said. “So what do you
say to letting your pal Sally break Cheyenne?”

“Sally's leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah, but Sally's good at breaking
horses. It wouldn't take him long. I'm trying to help you, Mel.
Davis says he promised to rent the horse from you if we can use him
on trail rides next spring. But someone's got to break that horse
first.”

She almost blurted out that she had already
decided that Sally should do it. Instead she said, “And then what
after Sally breaks him? No way am I going to let Cheyenne be used
for hackwork. He deserves better than that.”

“You can ride him yourself next spring if you
want to sign on as a wrangler.”

“I can't,” she said, unwilling to tempt fate
that far.

“Still too scared to ride, huh?” Jeb said.
“Well, I'll tell you what I'll do for you, even though you treat me
so mean. If Sally gets the horse broke good, I'll let you pick
which wrangler rides him next spring. How's that sound?” He grinned
as if he'd handed her a gift.

Mel sighed. One way or another, she and
Cheyenne were going to have to earn their keep. “I guess that
sounds okay.”

“Okay!” he said indignantly. “Don't I even
get a thank you?”

“Thank you, Jeb,” she said without
enthusiasm.

He groaned and walked off shaking his head as
if he couldn't understand her grudging acceptance of his offer.
What she didn't understand was how he could expect her to be glad
to let someone else, anyone else, ride her horse.

Chapter
Seventeen

The news that Sally was going to try to break
Cheyenne was all the staff talked about at meals. A college boy,
who didn't much like Jeb, wondered if his boss had set Sally up to
make a public fool of himself. Mrs. Davis worried out loud that
Sally might break some of his own bones in the process of breaking
Mel's horse. Some of the younger staff considered the trial
exciting enough to delay going to town, their usual destination on
their day off.

Mel had told Denise why she couldn't see her
that Saturday, and Denise had said she'd try to get to the ranch to
watch with Mel. “I'll hold your hand,” Denise had offered. She knew
without being told how anxious Mel was about Sally's task. It was
to take place after the last guests of the week had departed. By
Saturday afternoon their cabins would have been cleaned, bed linens
changed. The staff would be free for the rest of the day, except
for the cook who dished up leftovers for anyone remaining on the
ranch Saturday evenings.

The gossip disturbed Mel. She had faith in
Sally's expertise. He'd be gentle and firm and Cheyenne would
accept his weight pretty easily probably, but then again, when
Grant Hogue tried to ride Cheyenne, look what had happened.
Catching up with Sally on his way to the barn on a cold, windy
morning late in the week, she asked, “How come Jeb doesn't show off
what a hotshot rider he is by riding Cheyenne himself?”

“Yeah, well, there's a history to that,”
Sally said.

“So what's the history?”

Sally considered. “I guess there's no reason
not to tell you. See, Jeb was head wrangler here a few years back
when I first came, and he got thrown hard trying to ride a horse
that wasn't properly broke yet. Hurt himself bad enough to get laid
up in the hospital. Someone had to fill in for him. And me being
the senior wrangler, age wise anyway, they asked me to do it. So
then when Jeb got back, it ticked him off that I went and did his
job good enough for the manager to notice. Mr. Davis told Jeb he
should take lessons from me on handling people and horses. That
kind of set Jeb against me for a while.”

“You mean he's scared to ride Cheyenne
himself?” Mel asked. She was thinking of the times Jeb had teased
her about being afraid to ride.

Sally chewed his lip considering. “Not so
scared he couldn't be shamed into doing it. Why? You'd rather have
him ride your horse than me?”

“Of course not. I would never trust anybody
else but you on Cheyenne,” she said so fervently that Sally
laughed.

“I'm glad you've got such faith in me,” he
said.

* * * *

Twice before Sally was to put on his
performance, Mel awakened in the middle of the night and slipped
out to talk over what was going to happen soon with Cheyenne. He
had become sensitive to the lightest pressure of her hands and pull
on his mane. She could turn him easily any way she wanted and lead
him around the small corral as if they were walking companions, and
he acted as if he enjoyed her company.

“You're not going to give old Sally a bit of
trouble, are you, Cheyenne?” Mel asked him before she left him on
Friday night. She could just imagine the chagrin on Jeb's face when
Sally managed the “wild” horse with ease. She stood and scratched
behind Cheyenne's ears while he muttered his pleasure into her
neck, tickling her with his warm breath.