Journey of the Heart (3 page)

“If I can find the time. And don’t worry, we won’t be doin’ anything without Cait’s knowin’.”

* * * *

The colt began to heal, and by the end of a week, Michael was able to let him out into the small pasture next to the corral.

“His gait is a bit stiff, but I think that will wear off soon, don’t you, Michael?” said Elizabeth as they watched Sky trot slowly around the pasture, his nose lifted, smelling the wind.

“They’re all back in the far pasture, Sky,” Michael told him as he rattled a bucket of oats. The black approached him skittishly at first, but when Michael put the bucket down, the horse started eating immediately.

“He’s a beautiful animal, Michael. Just look at how he’s filled out in the past week.”

Michael stroked his muzzle. “That’s because he’s been eatin’ oats and molasses and not scrub grass, isn’t it, boyo?”

The horse lifted his head and turning to Michael, rested his muzzle on Michael’s shoulder for a moment, leaving a scattering of oats when he dipped back into the bucket.

“He’s so gentle, Michael. Are you sure he won’t let himself be ridden?”

“He’s tame enough like this, Elizabeth. After all, Caitlin worked with him when he was a colt. And I’m the one who’s been feedin’ him so well. But under a saddle?” Michael ran his hand lightly near the stitches and the black shuddered and pulled back, knocking over the bucket and then spooking at the noise, trotting away to the other side of the pasture.

“We’ll have to tie him again to get the stitches out, Elizabeth,” said Michael with a grin. “ ‘Tis good to see he has some spirit back. But it will be a good month or so before we can try a saddle on him.”

Gabe saw the sheep first, as he came down out of the mountains. It was a large flock, more than he would have expected Mexicans or Indians to own. Certainly more than he would have expected to see in what was known to be cattle country.

After a half mile or so he came to the herder’s camp, a small canopied wagon. A black-and-white sheepdog that had been resting in the shade, jumped up and started barking wildly.

“No need to announce ourselves,” Gabriel told his horse. His right hand held the reins and his left had dropped down to the worn leather holster strapped to his side. Sheepherders were generally peaceful men, but a stranger appearing out of nowhere would put anyone on guard.

Gabe’s hand slid up to the handle of the Colt .45 when he saw an older man emerge from a cluster of pinon pines. He was buttoning up his fly with one hand and in the crook of his other arm rested a shotgun. Anyone who carried his gun just to take a piss was no one to take chances with, thought Gabe.

“Collate
,” the man told the dog sharply.

“Hola, amigo
,” called Gabe. “That’s a fine dog you have there.”

“
Si,
but Chino, he is not too fond of strangers. And neither am I,
señor
.”

Gabe kept his hand on his gun, just in case. “I’m just passing through,
amigo.
And since there aren’t likely to be too many strangers out here in the middle of nowhere, I’d say the trouble you seem to be expecting is from someone well-known to you?”

“You aren’t working for Mackie, are you?” said the sheepherder, lowering his shotgun and leaning on the stock.

“I’m not working for anyone at the moment. Though I’m hoping to be soon. Who is this Mackie? Is he hiring?”

The Mexican spat his disgust. “He is the biggest cattle rancher in the valley. He’s always looking to hire someone quick with a gun,” he added, looking pointedly at Gabe’s left hand.

Gabe shifted his hand to his thigh. “I’m not looking to be anyone’s hired gun,” said Gabe.

“You looking to herd sheep, then?” asked the Mexican sarcastically. “
No creo, amigo
.”

“I ain’t got nothing against sheep myself,” said Gabe with a smile. “But I got to admit, I prefer working with cattle or horses. You’ve got a big flock here.”

“It is big, but it isn’t mine. My boss, he raises the sheep and horses.”

Gabe lifted his eyebrows. “Horses, eh?”

“Mr. Burke, he has a small herd. He breeds a special kind of Indian horse. Appaloosas, he calls them. Sprinkled and dotted on their backsides. They sure are pretty horses.”

“Do you think he could use a hand?”

“
No se
,
señor
,” said the Mexican with a shrug. “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask him.”

“
Gracias, amigo.
How will I find his place?”

“It is the first ranch you come to when you reach the valley, about ten miles west of here. Tell him Eduardo sent you.”

“
Gracias
, Eduardo.
Hasta luego
.”

Eduardo just lifted his shotgun and waved it as Gabe rode off, muttering, “What he could use, Mr. Burke, though he doesn’t want to hear it, is a hired gun of his own.”

The sun was going down by the time Gabe reached the valley. He assumed the pastures he rode beside belonged to this Burke fellow. He was favorably impressed. The fences were well-mended and as he turned down the road that led to the ranch and approached the house and barn, he saw that all was well-maintained.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around the corral or barn, so he dismounted, tied his paint, and whacked at his clothes with his hat to get some of the red dust out of them. He smoothed his hair back and giving the horse a pat on the rump, said, “Wish me luck, fella.”

Elizabeth was in the bedroom of the ranch house, changing her blouse, when she heard the rap on the screen door and the unfamiliar voice calling out a hello.

“Just a minute,” she responded as she buttoned the last button hurriedly and wondered if she was foolish to be a little fearful. She didn’t think so; tensions between the sheep owners in the valley and Nelson Mackie were running strong, and although Michael kept reassuring her, she was wary all the same. But Michael would be back from town within the half hour, so surely there was nothing to worry about?

When she pulled the door open, the man on the porch took off his hat and greeted her politely enough.

“Good evening, ma’am. I am sorry if I disturbed you, but there was no one around outside.”

“Why, no, my husband and the hired hand are in town. On their way home, actually,” she added, thinking, well, that was foolish, Elizabeth, announcing to a complete stranger that you are alone!

“I met your sheepherder…if this is the Burke place?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, Eduardo said for me to tell your husband that he’d seen me. He seemed to think you might want another hand around the place?”

“We’re not really shorthanded…” Elizabeth started to say.

“That’s too bad, ma’am. Eduardo told me Mr. Burke raises horses and I’m good with horses.”

“What I was going to say was where the sheep are concerned,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get my husband to take on more help with the horses for a while, though.”

“Well, I’d be happy to help you persuade him, Mrs. Burke,” the stranger said with a smile.

“Perhaps you would like to stay and talk to my husband over dinner, Mr.…?”

“Hart. Gabriel Hart. But you can call me Gabe. I would be right pleased to do that, Mrs. Burke.”

“Supper is in a half hour or so. Whenever my husband returns.”

“Do you need anything, ma’am? Wood? Water?”

“Why, no thank you, Mr. Hart…Gabe.” Elizabeth peered out the door. “You can unsaddle your horse if you want and there’s hay and water in the barn. And a pump behind the barn if you want to wash for supper.”

Gabe looked down at his hands and chuckled. “I sure do. Thank you, ma’am.”

Elizabeth watched him from the door. He was a tall, rangy man with silver-blond hair. She wasn’t sure if it was silvered by the sun or whether there was some premature gray in it, for he wasn’t that old. She could tell from the way he talked to his horse as he walked him to the barn that he considered him more than transportation. That’s the kind of man Michael needs, she thought. He seems quiet and steady. And if he likes horses, he might be into gentling them, not breaking their spirits, like so many of the wranglers who had appeared over the years.

After a thorough wash at the pump, Gabe pulled a clean shirt from his saddle roll. There wasn’t much he could do with his pants, unfortunately, but he did his best to brush them off. He found a saddle cloth and gave his boots a good wiping. Just as he came around the barn, he saw the wagon pull in.

A tall, well-built man with curly black hair liberally salted with gray climbed down and began to unload some packages from the back of the wagon. Gabriel watched as Mrs. Burke came out and greeted her husband. The affection between the two of them was strong and real, he could tell, not just by the hug they gave each other but by the way Mrs. Burke quite naturally kept her arm around her husband’s waist as they walked up the steps to the porch.

Gabe saw her gesture toward the barn and figured it was time for him to show his face. He slicked his hair back nervously as he walked toward the house. He’d been wandering for the past three months doing odd jobs for anyone who’d hire him, and he could go on doing that. But he sure would like to light somewhere for a while and there was something about this place that called to him.

“This is Mr. Hart, Michael,” Mrs. Burke told her husband when Gabe had reached the porch steps.

“My wife tells me yer lookin’ for work, Mr. Hart?” said Burke in a soft Irish brogue.

“Gabriel, or Gabe. Well, yes, sir, I am. I met your man Eduardo and he said you might need someone good with horses.”

“If it isn’t Elizabeth, it’s Eduardo,” Michael complained with a grin. “Now they’re both after me to take someone on. Where are you from, Gabe?”

“From Texas originally, sir. But I’ve been working in the New Mexico Territory for the past ten years.”

“Texas, eh? Are you one of them break ‘em or bust riders?”

Gabriel cleared his throat nervously. He could sit and spur a mean horse with the best of them, but that wasn’t the way he liked to work. “Well, Mr. Burke, I sure do know how to sit a bronc. And there are some horses that I guess need to be broken, but I prefer to work more gently with a new horse, given the chance. I find it works just as well, though it takes longer.”

Michael smiled. “Sure and that’s a philosophy close to my own heart, Gabe. I’m willin’ to try you out for a while.” Michael put out his hand and Gabe shook it firmly. “Now, come on in for some supper and after we eat, I’ll show ye around.”

* * * *

“That was the best meal I’ve had in months, ma’am,” said Gabe as he wiped up the last of his green chile stew with a fresh tortilla.

“Why, thank you, Gabe. I like to try my hand at chile from time to time. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

“No, thank you. I think I’ll just help myself to more water to cool my tongue!”

“What brings you to this part of the territory, Gabe,” Michael asked as they walked down to the corral a few minutes later.

“I’ve been a bit of a wanderer these past few years, Mr. Burke. Hiring out a few months at a time here and there.”

“And do ye like that ‘here and there’ kind of life?” Michael asked curiously.

“I do…and I don’t,” Gabe answered slowly.

“Do ye still have family in Texas?”

“My father and a sister and two brothers I haven’t seen since I left. I do try to write to them though, and Sadie, my sister, she keeps track of me somehow.”

“Here’s where we work the horses,” said Michael as they leaned on the corral fence. “I only have a small herd: Finn, my stallion, six mares, three colts and three fillies and a few yearlings. And three two-year-olds,” he added with a heavy sigh.

“The two-year-olds are a problem?”

“Only one. He shouldn’t be. He was one of the brightest, sweetest-tempered colts we’ve ever bred. He belongs to my daughter; he was her sixteenth birthday gift. She had him following her around like a puppy before she left for school.”

“Sometimes they do change when they get older. Was he gelded?”

“Sure and I hated to do it, let me tell you,” said Michael. “But Finn still has quite a few good years left in him and I can’t have two stallions squarin’ off at each other, now can I?” he said with a grin.

“No, sir,” said Gabe with an answering smile.

“The horses don’t run wild, ye understand, but Finn keeps them in the far pasture for the summer, which is way out to the southwest. He brought them in a few weeks ago because of my daughter’s horse. The poor bugger had been attacked by a mountain lion. She must have been an old one or he must have scented her, for he got away, but not without having part of his neck and shoulder torn away.”

“And now he won’t let you near him,” stated Gabe.

“Oh, he’ll come to ye for oats or water. Let you pet him. But the slightest move toward his back or neck and he shies away.”

Gabe shook his head. “It’s that fear of having their necks broken that makes them hard to break in the first place. But if this horse has lived through that nightmare…well, I don’t know, Mr. Burke, that anyone can tame him.”

“I know. ‘Tis a damned shame, for he’s a beauty. And my Cait will be heartbroken if I have to put him down. She’ll not understand that I can’t afford to keep him in oats and hay during the winter.”

“I’d be happy to work with him, Mr. Burke.”

“If you have the time and energy after working the yearlings and the other two-year-olds, ye’re welcome to try, Gabe. My daughter will be home soon and, though I don’t want to upset her, if ye can’t do anything with him, well, then, we’ll have to deal with it.”

“Eduardo said you raise a special kind of horse, Mr. Burke?”

“Appaloosas. Originally bred by the Nez Perce in Idaho. I was lucky enough to win myself a mare many years ago. I started my herd with her. I had no stallion then, so they’re not all purebred. But I made a trip out once, years ago, and got me another mare before it was too late.”

“Too late?”

“Aye, boyo. Not only were the Nez Perce driven off their land, but the army started killin’ their horses, too. So many years to breed them for color and endurance, and then so many good animals destroyed….”