Ghost Medicine (23 page)

“Let's bring ‘em home, Tom,” I said.

“To your place?”

“I've got four stalls off my barn. I need to take better care of ‘em now, I can't just leave ‘em here.”

“What about that big one?” Gabe asked.

“I think we should try to get him, too,” I said.

“Let's let ‘em go,” Tommy said. “I'll catch him again.”

I looked over at Tommy in disbelief, and he repeated, “Let's let ‘em go, Stotts. So he can run around on Rose's land again.”

I said, “You could catch him again. I know.”

And Tom Buller looked sad and proud at the same time when we opened the gate on the stallion's side of the pen and stood back as that horse took off, scattering the smoke of black ashes and dust away from his hooves. Tommy didn't say anything else about it, he just quietly watched that horse galloping away. It seemed to me that Tom Buller was setting a piece of himself free, too. Tommy walked to the truck, looking away from me, and backed the trailer through the gate on the mare's side of the pen while Gabe tied a little rope halter for the colt.

“I don't know if you can get it on him, but if you do this should work,” Gabe said, slinging the halter over the top rail of the corral. “You might just have to pick him up and carry him in and hope he doesn't bang around too much.”

Tom parked the truck and I opened the gate to the trailer as he came around into the corral. Gabe stood behind the big trailer gate so he could shut it, and I grabbed the mare's halter and lead rope.

“If I can't lead her in, we'll flag her in with our hats,” I said.

“That'll do,” Tom said.

I worked that black mare on a long lead rope, so I could use it like a longe line. I had it attached to the bottom of her rope halter, with the lead coiled up beside it in my left hand. She saw the rope when I started moving toward her and she walked away, escorting her foal with her. I had to walk around, leaning this way and that for a good ten minutes before she would stand still and let me get up close enough to her. I got her to turn her head toward my chest and I stroked her neck and talked softly to her, telling her she was good. I got the rope over her neck and she moved a little, but she knew that rope meant stand still. And she saw the halter coming up below her face and started to move her head just a little, but I brought it up and then reached around her neck with my right arm to tie it off. Then she started to run away, but I just gave her some slack and followed her at her shoulder, keeping that lead loose in my left and waving at her hips with my right until she calmed down and turned her head back toward me. All the while, the colt trotted along with her, making a squeaking kind of whinny.

“I'm gonna try and lead her on first, Tom,” I said.

“Maybe the little one'll follow,” he said.

She hesitated and froze up right by the door of the trailer, but Tom got behind her and waved his hat at her and she went right in. The colt wanted to follow her, but Tommy stopped him up so I could halter him. The colt didn't like that halter at all, and struggled against it. It was amazing how strong he was and how fast he could move those gawky legs, but I managed to tie it on so at least I could hitch him next to his mom at the front of the trailer. When they were both inside, the mare clattering her hooves back and forth, from side to side, and him just trying to hide his face in her belly, Gabe shut the door.

Tommy punched fists with us.

“Good job,” I said.

“Thanks, Gabey,” Tom said. “Let's get ‘em over to Stotts' place so we can get back before noon.”

Well, my dad was quite surprised about my new additions to our barnyard, but he didn't mind because he knew I was the one who'd take care of them. We got the trailer backed up to the open breezeway door and I went in the barn and opened up a stall for the horses. Gabe manned the trailer door again. My dad stood by the gap in the breezeway.

“I don't think you should watch us get them off, Dad,” I said. “It's pretty scary.”

“We might need him,” Tom said. “If you just block that gap between the trailer and the barn, she won't run at you.”

“What if she does?” my dad said.

“Don't fall down.”

Getting that mare off the trailer was a lot more work than putting her on. She just refused to pass over the tail end. I pulled from the front, Gabe held the door, Tommy spun a lead rope at her butt from the back, and she lifted up, pulled back, spun around, and even kicked at Tom. When she finally came down, I just let go of the lead and let her run down the breeze-way. Since the one stall was the only open doorway at the end, she charged right in and the little one followed right behind.

“Oh my God!” my dad said. I knew it would take at least a year to get him on a horse after seeing that.

Tommy went in the stall and took off the halters and leads and Gabriel closed the trailer back.

“We'll make it back to the ranch in time, I guess,” Gabe said.

“Do me a favor,” I said. “Please get them some food and water so I can get about five minutes to go in and shower off and get some clean clothes on. I've had these on for three days.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “Believe me, I know, Stotts. Okay, five minutes.”

We made it through the main gates of the Benavidez ranch well before noon, so I knew Carl wouldn't be mad at us for taking too long. We drove right past the Foreman's house and up the drive toward the big stable, Tommy chewing tobacco and spitting out the window as we passed Reno and Arrow in their stalls out back. As we came to the top of the hill, all three of us gasped simultaneously, and I could feel Gabe and Tom turn icy alongside me.

“Shoulda never given you the chance to take that shower,” Tom said. “I bet you changed out of those lucky boxers of yours.”

Deputy Rutledge's black-and-white Bronco was parked at the stables, and he was standing there, watching us.

I've seen ghosts, too, Tommy. Only the ones I seen follow me everywhere.

“Stop the truck!'' Gabe said.

“It's too late,” Tommy said. “He's looking right at us.”

Gabe slumped, putting his face in his hands, elbows on his knees.

“Just don't say anything, Gabey,” I said. “Don't tell him anything.”

“It'll be okay,” Tom said. “We're the tribe, remember?”

He held out his right hand and we all grasped and shook, not one of us taking our eyes from that black-and-white and the deputy standing beside it. Tom pulled the trailer up in front of the stable and parked the truck, facing Rutledge's car. The deputy was hatless in the shade of the stable's façade, his receding hairline thinly topping a broad, sweating forehead. With that belly spilling over his belt buckle, he always looked hot and uncomfortable. Standing beside him was a thin, small man with collar-length stringy black hair, parted in the middle, wearing black wire-framed glasses, dressed in a white shirt, un-buttoned on top with rolled up sleeves, tucked into black jeans. He looked almost Asian, pale, with nearly gray lips.

“I guess this is it,” Tom said. “I hope they feed us in jail, ‘cause I'm hungry.”

He opened the door and spit on the ground.

“You gonna open your door?” I asked Gabe.

Gabe, holding his hat by the brim with both hands like he could hide behind it, sighed and got out. I slid out after him. Rutledge looked at me, then at Gabe.

“You Tommy Buller?” the deputy asked Gabe.

“I am,” Tom said, his voice real steady like we were about to be in a shootout.

“You're not Art Benavidez' boy, Gabriel, are you?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. You don't look Mexican.”

“My mother's from Italy,” Gabe said.

“I thought she was a Mexican, too!” Rutledge said, shaking his head. “Damn! I bet she can cook good.”

“Questioning like this'll make you confess to just about anything, I guess,” I whispered to Tommy.

“What'd you say, boy?”

I didn't think he heard me, but I wasn't close enough for him to take a swing, either, this time. “Nothing.”

Tom spit.

Carl came out of the stable doorway and leaned against the truck, lighting a cigarette.

He sucked in a long drag. “I put a list on the whiteboard in there,” he said. “You better get on it as soon as you're through here ‘cause it's a good two days of work there.”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke up above his head and looked at the deputy.

Rutledge scratched his neck and said, “This fella stopped by my office a bit ago. I told him I'd take him out here. He's a lawyer for that woman with them goats.”

“I'm Cliff Wickham,” he said, holding out his hand to me.

“I'm Troy Stotts,” I said, and looked at the showered-off smudge of black on my hand where I had written his phone number, “and this is Tom Buller.”

Tom shook his hand.

“Well, like I told you this morning, Troy, not two weeks ago Rose came in to see me and had me draw up a will in which she left all of her property and savings to you boys. She's got a bit of money in savings, probably enough to pay for her burial, but the property and livestock is substantial, almost thirty acres with a house and several outbuildings. You probably know that, I guess,” Wickham said. He seemed real calm and sincere.

Carl puffed another drag. “That's quite a bit.”

“We been to her place,” Tommy said.

“She gave us those horses,” I said.

“She really liked you boys. She talked about you every time I'd see her,” he said. I noticed he was looking at my shoes.

“Yeah. My shoes.”

“Her only husband died over fifty years ago. She didn't have any family,” he said. “It's a simple matter of filing the paperwork and changing the title. It should be all cleared in a couple months tops. Here, let me give you boys my card.” And he handed me and Tommy his business card.

“Can I have one of those?” Rutledge asked, holding out his hand.

Wickham looked embarrassed. “I only had two.”

Tom and I put the cards in our pockets.

“And I didn't think that woman even had any friends,” the deputy said. “You'd never see her around.”

“We helped her do stuff. We brought her things,” I said to Wickham. “She was real nice to us. We went and got her out of there the day of the fire, but I guess it was too much for her. Anyway, the place burned real bad.”

“We'll fix it up, though,” Tom said.

“Well, if you need to draw up some kind of partnership agreement…”

“We already did that,” I said.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat.

Gabe was just standing there, looking pale.

“Mr. Wickham,” I said.

“Cliff.”

“Well, uh, about the funeral and all. If you'll make the arrangements I'll see to it that it gets paid for if there wasn't enough money in her accounts. And I'll pay you, too, for what -ever you need to get done on this,” I said. “I could give you five hundred dollars right now.”

My dad was still holding on to my winnings from the biathlon.

“Really?” he said. “Well, I'll let you know, Troy. And thank you.”

“Thanks, Cliff,” Tommy said, then turned and spit.

Wickham turned to open the passenger door on the Bronco.

“Hey!” Rutledge said. “That reminds me. About that race …”

I looked at the deputy. And I thought,
This is it
, as I felt the blood draining from every part of my body.

“Any of you boys seen Chase around? I haven't seen him since Saturday night.”

I glanced at Tommy, both of us with our mouths part open, both of us wondering which would tell the lie, and relieved, too, that Chase hadn't shown up around Three Points yet.

“We haven't seen him,” Gabe said. His voice was as steady and calm as if he were in church. “And we've all been together for the last three days, ever since the race.”

“Well, I figured,” Clayton said. “Now that he's eighteen I hardly ever see him. And put money in his pocket like that and he's as good as gone till it runs out. Well, let's head on back, Mr. Wickham. My belly's tellin' me it's getting on to lunchtime.”

They got in the sheriff ‘s car and slammed the doors.

“His belt should be telling his belly to shut the hell up,” Tommy said.

“Thanks again, Cliff,” I said, and waved as they pulled away.

When the car had hit the top of the hill and began to sink down out of sight, I collapsed onto my back in the dirt. Carl just stood there, looking at us curiously, smoking. Gabriel smiled as Tommy slapped him on the back and said, “Damn, Gabey!”

“What's that all about?” Carl said.

Tommy looked at me and Gabe and shook his head.

“I think we better get to work,” said Tom. “Come on, get up, Stottsy.”

And he kicked me once, then held out his hand and yanked me up to my feet.

“You boys can start by cleaning out that trailer, so I can take it up and unhook it. Hurry up now, ‘cause I'm wanting to go get my lunch, too,” Carl said.

“You could take that keg back to George. And bring us something back,” Tommy said. “We haven't eaten anything yet today.”

“Maybe.”

Carl lit another cigarette while Tom and I set to sweeping out that trailer. Gabe stayed to help us, too.

“You're gonna have to go back home eventually,” I said.

“I know.” Gabe pulled a hose into the trailer through the front side door. “Maybe if I beg ‘em enough, I can talk ‘em into letting me stay at your house for a couple nights. I know they wouldn't let me stay at Tommy's.”

“My dad would be okay with that.”

We finished the trailer and Carl drove it off. Then we went inside the big barn to see what jobs he had listed for us on the whiteboard; that was where all the ranch hands got their assignments.

We started with the stalls inside. Gabe took a rake, too; all of us with our shirts off, sweating like it was a sauna, swatting and waving at flies like we were horses with hands. We talked across to the other stalls while each of us worked.

“It says ‘hooves' up there, too,” Tommy said, pointing at the work board. “That means me.”

“I saw that,” I said.

“This one here's hooves are all squashed out,” Gabe called across the breezeway.

“Thanks, Gabey,” Tom said. “And I hope you both know that just because we got lucky right now doesn't mean it's not all gonna fall apart.”

“Well, at least I didn't kill him,” Gabe said.

“I wish you did. Are you done on that side yet?”

“My dad doesn't pay
me
. He pays you guys,” Gabe said. “So I'm quitting.”

“Time for those hooves, I guess,” Tom said. “ ‘Cause I'm done here.”

“You boys want some food?”

It was Luz, standing at the open slider doors, calling to us.

I opened the stall gate and walked out into the breezeway, looking down to those big open doors where I could see her silhouette standing there with a basket in her hands, the sunlight glinting off her hair.

We all ate together, and we talked about the land and horses Rose had left for us. Luz wanted to know what we would do with it, and both Tom and I were kind of surprised because there was never any question or debate in our minds what we would do with it all. When we finished, Luz and I walked out to the back of the barn and stood in the shade and the cool breeze, drying the sweat on my skin. And me, leaning against the wood slats of one of the small corrals so that the top rail pushed against the brim of my hat, trying to look like I was watching the yearling stud colt inside, when I was really looking at her.

“Thanks for lunch,” I said.

“Well, I saw Carl and he said he was going to pick you up something, so I told him not to bother.”

“Your mom and dad mad at Gabey?”

“He'll get it at dinner.”

“Maybe I could tell them about the truck breaking down, and with Tom's horse being lame and all,” I offered.

“That might work.”

“At least it's not a lie, exactly.” I looked right at her. “How are you today?”

“I'm okay. Really,” she said. “I thought about what happened a lot last night ‘cause I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to you so bad, Troy.”

“I couldn't sleep last night, either,” I said. “But I'm worried about Chase. He's going to try and do something real bad now, I think. He's like that.”

“I think he's scared of you.”

“He's scared of Tom. I gotta watch out for Gabey.” I pushed my hat back with the top rail and looked at her. “I wanna see if your folks'll let him come stay at my house with me for a couple days. It's farther away from town, and Gabe'd be less likely to run into Chase all of a sudden.”

The colt came to the railing and sniffed my hand.

“Troy, last night you said that if we were alone you'd—and then Tommy came out. You'd what?”

I looked down. It felt like there was a hard-boiled egg, shell and all, in my throat.

“Nothing,” I said. I looked away. “I'm an idiot.”

She reached through the rails and grabbed my hand. The colt backed away.

“I don't think that,” she said. “I wish sometimes we could be up at that cabin again, Troy. That we could have that night back.”

Then she kissed me real soft next to my ear and turned back toward the barn.

“I better let you two get back to work,” she said. “But stop by the house before you go home, Troy, and talk to my dad about Gabey. It'll make things better.”

Then she whirled into the darkness of the barn and left me there, staring at that frustrated colt.