Home Before Sundown

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There wasn’t a reason to push the animals, so it took George and Papa about three hours to reach Woody Draw from their valley, which they still hadn’t named. Papa grinned at him as they rode down the main street. Even in that short span of time, there were fewer tents and more wooden buildings.

“You go on to the livery stable. Here’s what we owe Señor Ike for your saddle.” Papa gave him the coins. “I want to file this claim. Then I’ll stop at the general store and stock up on supplies.”

“And maybe pick up a piece of rock candy?” George asked hopefully. He did love his sweets, and it had been a long time since he’d had anything other than some honey from a beehive in a tree they’d come upon.

“We’ll see.” Papa winked at him, and George gave a wriggle. “I’ll meet you at the stable afterward. Oh, and take Sunrise with you. She started to favor her off front leg a mile or so back.” He dismounted and tapped her right shoulder. Obediently, she bent her leg. “Yep, just what I thought. She’s thrown a shoe. The blacksmith will have to replace it. I’d like him to take a look at her hoof, too.”

“To make sure she hasn’t hurt it?” George reached down and caught up her reins.

“Yes. Smart boy.” Papa patted his knee and gave him an additional coin. “For the shoe. Now get going.”

“Yes, sir.” George tapped his heels against Nightfall’s sides, and the black gelding broke into an easy, ground-eating walk. George didn’t want to put any stress on Sunrise’s hoof with its missing shoe.

No one was lingering outside the Diamond Garter as George rode past, but he heard the sound of a piano and laughter coming from the open door.

He continued on to the stable. As the last time, Señor Ike was mucking out a stall.

“Hola, Señor Ike. Is my saddle ready?”

“Hello, boy. Yes, it is. There’s a mounting block over yonder. You can use it to get down. Then come on over and take a look at your saddle.”

“I can manage without the block.” George slid off Nightfall. “Papa asked if the blacksmith would take a look at Sunrise’s off front leg also. She’s thrown a shoe, but he wants to be sure her foot is okay.”

“I’ll see to it. I’m the town’s smithy too.” He glanced at George. “Did your papa let you ride into town all by yourself?”

“No. He’s taking care of some business. I have the money to pay you, though.”

“Ain’t worried none about that, boy. It’s good you’re not alone. There’s some bad hombres rode into town a day or so back. They don’t learn some manners, we’re gonna have to read to ‘em from the Book.”

“You’re not scared of them?” George suddenly felt cold. No one else in this town spoke Spanish—at least none that he’d heard. Papa often talked to him in Mama’s language so he wouldn’t forget it, but he shouldn’t have used even a few words in front of someone who was a stranger. If word of their location ever got back to Grandpapa…Don Jorge had always—not frightened him, because family wasn’t supposed to frighten you—but Don Jorge did have a tendency to stare down at George from what seemed like a huge height. George always felt more comfortable keeping some distance between them.

He pushed thoughts of Don Jorge from his mind and returned his attention to Señor—George corrected himself. Mr. Ike.

“Nah. Most of the men in this town know how to defend themselves. Some of the old-timers fought the Creek and the British with Andy Jackson back in the day, and the younger ones fought under Sam Houston or General Taylor.”

George kept his mouth shut, but he knew Papa had ridden with the general before he’d been hurt and become friends with Tío Bill.

“So yeah, we’re all handy with a gun.” Mr. Ike flashed that gap-toothed grin at George, and George couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Now, let me get the saddle on your horse, and then I’ll see what’s going on with the mare’s hoof.”

Mr. Ike went to the tack room, and when he came back, it was with the most beautiful saddle George had ever seen.

“I lined it with sheepskin. That’ll give it more of a cushion between the saddle and your horse’s back, and it’ll keep the saddle blanket in place. That friend of mine who came with the leather suggested it.”

George stroked the warm leather. “Pretty,” he breathed. “Here.” He shoved the coins into Mr. Ike’s palm.

Mr. Ike laughed, put the coins in his pocket, and swung the saddle onto Nightfall’s back with casual ease. “Can you cinch him up?”

“Yes, sir.” He reached under the gelding’s belly, caught the cinch, and fastened it. He didn’t have to drive an elbow into Nightfall’s gut—some horses didn’t like being ridden, so they sucked in a bellyful of air when they were being saddled. Then they would blow it out, the cinch wouldn’t be tight enough to keep the saddle on, and the rider would slip off. Nightfall wouldn’t do that, though; Papa had trained him well.

Mr. Ike caught up Sunrise’s reins and walked her a few paces. “Hmm. I see what your papa means. Okay, let me give you a leg up into the saddle—”

“You don’t have to.” George patted Nightfall’s shoulder, and the gelding bowed as Sunrise had done, giving George easy access to his back. He scrambled up onto the saddle, and Nightfall rose.

Mr. Ike chuckled. “Well, okay then. I’ll adjust the stirrups, and you can try it out. Then I’ll take a look at the mare.”

“Okay.” George waited patiently while Mr. Ike made sure the stirrups were the right length for him. Once that was done, he gathered the reins into his left hand and gave Nightfall the signal to walk. George rode him out into the street and circled around a time or two before coming back into the stable.

“Comfortable enough?”

“Yes, sir!”

“I always did have a way with saddles.”

“You sure do! How’s Sunrise?”

“Her hoof’s fine, even though she’s been walking without that shoe for a bit.”

“Papa stopped riding her as soon as he realized something was wrong,” he said defensively.

“No offense intended, boy.” Mr. Ike put the mare’s foot down and patted her right shoulder. “It’ll take me a few minutes to fire up the forge, but once I replace the shoe, she’ll be right as rain.”

“Papa will be relieved to hear that.”

“I’ll bet. A man’s only as good as his horse’s feet.”

George bit back a laugh and watched as Mr. Ike found a shoe that would fit Sunrise. When he set to work filing the hoof to get it ready to have the shoe nailed to it, George reined Nightfall around to go back into the street to test his saddle again. He kicked Nightfall into a trot. After a minute or so, he urged the gelding to canter, all the while rocking easily in the saddle.

Finally he returned to the dim coolness of the stable.

Mr. Ike looked up. “How do you like it?”

“It’s great. Thank you for doing such a good job on it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, boy. And you’re welcome.” He gave George a shrewd look. “You’ll be staying around long?”

“Oh, I reckon that’s up to Papa.” George liked Mr. Ike, but he wasn’t going to spill their plans, not unless Papa said it was okay.

“Hey, Ike.” A man came rushing into the stable, saving George from having to say anything further. “The ladies down to the Diamond Garter want the wagon harnessed. They’re going on a picnic. Don’t that beat all?”

“I reckon it does, Ned. Help me get Duke and Duchess. I’ll be back shortly,” he said to George.

“Okay. Papa should be here any time now, but he gave me the money to pay you for Sunrise’s shoe. Is this enough?” He handed Mr. Ike the last coin Papa had given him.

“It’s fine, thanks.” He pocketed the coin. “Most folks say they’ll pay me on Tuesday, and then keep telling me they forgot.” Mr. Ike patted George’s leg, and then he and Ned went out to the corral behind the stable, and through the open double doors, George could see them lead away two horses that were so huge they dwarfed the men.

For some reason, Sunrise began to shift, her ears going forward before flattening. She was nervous, but why? Could the new shoe be bothering her? George kicked free of the stirrups, swung a leg over Nightfall’s neck and slid down the gelding’s side. He caught up Sunrise’s reins and rubbed and patted her muzzle. “What’s wrong, girl?”

“That’s a mighty fine mare you got there, boy.”

George jumped and whirled around. A man dressed in canvas trousers tucked into worn boots, and a shirt streaked with sweat stood there grinning at him. He carried a pistol in his waistband, and a stained hat sat on his straw-like hair. His eyes—George swallowed and barely kept himself from shivering. Those eyes were small and cruel-looking.

“You interested in trading her?” The man looked him up and down, and George tightened his grip on Sunrise’s reins and stepped back.

“No, sir.” He’d seen that look once before, just before a man tried to grab him. Papa had shot the man.

“No, sir. So polite.” The man chuckled but kept staring at him, and George became even more nervous. “Are you just as polite begging?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t matter. I heard you talk Mex to that s**t shoveler. You’re Don Jorge’s kid, aincha? I been tracking you a good while.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Don Jorge.” George felt sick, and he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He’d gotten too cocky, and now this man was going to try to take him away from Papa.

“It’s a shame your grandpa’s got so much money.” The man licked his lips. “I’d have liked to keep you and have a taste of a sweet little boy like you. Well, maybe after I get you to your grandpa. He promised me a job on his rancho if I found you, and it looks like I have, so I’m gonna be around you a lot.”

“Papa!”

“You can call for your pa all you want, boy. He ain’t here, but I am. I’m gonna shoot your pa. And then I’m gonna take you back to California and get me a heap of cash money.”

George swallowed again and kept backing away.

“Hold still, boy. You ain’t going nowhere.”

George ducked and covered his head with his arms, and the man laughed.

“You a-scared of me?” He looked down at his big fists. “I reckon your pa trained you up right. I’m gonna enjoy—”

George wondered if the man heard the hammer being c****d or the shot that scattered his brains all over the stall’s wall.

“George!”

“Papa!” He scrambled to his feet and ran to his father, who scooped George into his arms.

“Are you okay, son?”

George nodded and tucked his head under Papa’s chin. He’d seen death before, and that wasn’t what bothered him. “He…he wanted to take me back to Grandpapa. I’m sorry, he must have heard me call Mr. Ike señor.”

“It’s all right. We’ll just have to be more careful in the future.” Papa stroked his hair and his back, which made George feel better until he realized Papa was shaking as much as he was.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know—some saddle tramp Don Jorge hired, I suppose. We’d better get out of here.”

“Can we go back to the valley?”

“No. They’ll come after me for shooting that bas—man.”

“Will they send you to prison?”

“No, they’ll figure he just needed killing, but a trial might rouse interest, and Don Jorge would send more men this way.”

George felt his eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry, Papa. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not, and I don’t want to hear you talking like that again. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s your grandfather’s for sending someone like this—” Papa nudged the man’s boot with his toe. “—to get you.” He gathered up George and threw him up onto Nightfall’s new saddle. “Now pay attention to what I’m telling you. I’ve got the title to that land.” He took the money belt from under his shirt and opened it, showing George the paper. “The valley will always be ours. Now. We’re going to head on east, and maybe someday a few years from now, we’ll be able to come back. How’s Sunrise?”

“Mr. Ike said her foot’s fine.” George worked his boots into the stirrups and caught up the reins. “He replaced the shoe. He also said the coin was enough.”

“Then there’s nothing keeping us here. It’s a good thing I got the supplies.” Papa mounted Sunrise. “Let’s go.” He rode out first, watching to see if anyone came running, but oddly enough, no one seemed to have heard the gunshot. Or if they had, they hadn’t been curious enough to investigate.

Sancho Panza stood outside the stable, waiting for them. Papa grabbed the mule’s lead and glanced around a final time.

“The ladies are going on a picnic,” George told him. “Maybe that’s where everyone is?”

“Maybe, son. Wherever they are, Ike is sure to be back sooner than I’d like. We’d better not dawdle.” He kicked Sunrise into a canter and George followed him.

And in spite of everything, he enjoyed the feel of his new saddle under him.