Trouble at the Red Pueblo (9 page)

The men sat as directed, but Laurie said, “I’ll come help, and you can tell me about your symphony.” She followed Amy into the kitchen.

Leaning forward, Karam said softly, “What do you suppose she’s bringing? I don’t drink alcohol.”

Spider set his hat on the table. “We don’t either. I imagine it’ll be lemonade.”

Karam sat back and looked around. “This is very nice.”

The same terra cotta tiles from the living room extended to the covered terrace and beyond, surrounding a small patch of lawn and stretching to a low stucco wall. Beyond the wall lay a well-tended garden, and Spider could see Jack’s tall, gaunt form in the stand of corn at the far end.

Amy appeared with a tray of glasses, and Laurie followed with a pitcher. “Fresh limeade,” she announced, pouring a glass and handing it to Karam.

Just then, Jack emerged from the corn patch holding a cardboard box. He stuck it under one arm and waved. “Welcome.”

Laurie waved back.

Jack held up the carton and quoted in a loud voice,

The fixins in the chuck box

Was gettin’ pretty scant,

And all the Bar X punchers

Were lookin’ mighty gant.

Spider pasted on a wooden smile as his host came through the gate and across the lawn, and he stood when Jack reached the tiled margin. Karam stood as well.

Stepping forward, Spider held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Jack. I’d like to have you meet our friend, Karam.”

Jack shook Spider’s hand first and then Karam’s, continuing with his poem without comment.

The fellas gathered round the pot,

Anticipatin’ stew

‘Til Cookie lifted up the lid,

Revealin’ one old shoe.

Still holding the pitcher, Laurie kissed Jack on the cheek. “I hope you’re not planning on feeding us shoe leather.”

“Nope. Prime Angus, raised right here on Braces.” Jack handed the box to Amy. “Get that corn in the pot right away, and I’ll cook the burgers.”

Amy smiled. “I’ve had water boiling for ten minutes already, waiting on you.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Jack raised the lid of a stainless barbeque unit and turned on the burners.

Spider and Karam sat back down, and Laurie finished pouring limeade. She left the pitcher on the table and followed Amy into the kitchen.

Watching Jack as he pulled hamburger patties out of a drawer in a stainless refrigerator built into the cooking area, Spider searched for some polite comment that wouldn’t engender verse. Karam came to his rescue.

“I am not sure I understand about what is a straw bale house. Is it really made of straw?”

Jack closed the stainless lid over the sizzling burgers. “Why sure it is. Come on in here, and let me show you.” He opened one of the doors to the living room and held it for Karam to pass through. “You, too, Spencer,” he said.

Spider obediently stood and followed.

Jack stepped through and pointed to the casing around the door. “See how thick the walls are? Ever seen a straw bale? That’s how thick they are. And lookie here.” He lifted a picture off the wall. Underneath, a framed Plexiglas sheet formed a window, allowing a glimpse through the plaster to golden stems packed together.

“That is amazing,” Karam said. He stepped back, surveying the wall. “But why?”

Jack frowned. “Why what?”

“Why use straw instead of bricks?” Karam asked. “Will it not fall down?”

“Heck no. The house has a framework of massive beams. The straw bales just fill in the area between.”

“It’s for insulation,” Spider added. “Keeps the house cool in summer, warm in winter.”

Karam smiled. “You Americans. You are so inventive. In my country we can build houses that are cool in summer, warm in winter, but we build them out of mud brick. We’ve been doing it that way for thousands of years.”

“Where is your country?” Jack asked. “You from Mexico?” He put one foot forward, held up his hand, and launched in.

Way down across the border

Beyond the Rio Grande—

“Karam’s from Gaza,” Spider interrupted. Could a guy with that much education be that clueless?

Jack dropped his hand. “Where?”

“Gaza.”

Jack looked from Spider to Karam. “Where’s that?”

Karam answered. “Right next door to Israel.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked. “I don’t know any poems about that.”

“That’s all right,” Spider assured him, opening the door to the patio. “Those burgers sure smell good.”

“That’s because it’s Braces beef.” Jack hurried out, lifted the lid, and shouted, “Amy. I’m turning the burgers.”

Spider and Karam sat at the table, and a few moments later Laurie appeared with a tray of condiments followed by Amy with the dishes. By the time the burgers came off the grill, the table was set, and a platter of golden corn steamed in the middle.

All through lunch, Jack retold the story of building the house. Karam ate only corn and cantaloupe, but he listened politely. Now that he had seen the house, Spider listened with more interest and a grudging admiration for all Jack had accomplished.

“You’ve done a great job,” he said as he finished the last of his melon. “The house, the way it’s landscaped, your fields, they all look first rate.”

Jack’s cheeks got rosy, and he looked down at his hands. “Thanks. I’ve been working at it for a long time.

Buildin’ up a little place

That I can call my home,

A place to hang my Stetson—

Jack broke off in the middle of his own verse. “You know, someone else musta liked the looks of it ‘cause I got a letter in the mail offering to buy it.”

“Is that so?” Spider tried to sound casual. “I don’t suppose you were inclined to sell.”

Jack snorted. “Shoot, no.”

Spider’s hand went to his shirt pocket, checking for his notebook. Dang. He really needed to get it back from Laurie. “Do you remember who wrote the letter?”

Jack shook his head. “Tossed it in the garbage. It was no interest to me.”

“Huh,” Spider grunted. “By the way, where do you get your water?”

“There’s a spring up where this canyon intersects with the next one over. That’s Martin Taylor’s place. We share the water rights.”

“I read about water rights as I studied American History,” Karam said. “People have been killed here over water rights.”

“Well, I’m on pretty good terms with Martin,” Jack said. “He rents me his shares since he isn’t doing anything with his property. It works out well for both of us.”

“Going back to this person who wanted to buy your ranch,” Spider said. “Was it someone from St. George? Earnest Endeavors?”

Jack made a flicking motion with his hand. “I didn’t even read to the end of the letter. Like I said, I wasn’t interested.”

Laurie stood and took Spider’s plate, stacking it on her own. When she tried to pick up Jack’s, he held on. “Leave that be. I want to show you all something down at the barn.”

Laurie gave up on Jack’s plate and reached for the one Karam handed her. “You fellows go on. I’ll help Amy clean up and join you later.”

“No!” Jack stopped, seemingly abashed at speaking so forcefully. “I mean, I want
you
to see this.”

Laurie continued stacking dishes. “Well, let me at least carry these in.” She disappeared through the kitchen door, reappearing a moment later. “Now. What do you want to show us?”

Jack took her elbow and headed across the patio. “It’s something I think you’ll like.”

Spider picked up his hat, and he and Karam followed. As they walked, a breeze from behind stirred the dust and carried a rust-colored puff away. Nearing the first bank of stalls, Spider heard a horse whicker, and a moment later a buckskin’s head emerged from the open half door, ears pointed forward.

Laurie stopped and turned to her cousin. “Jack, what have you done?”

Alarmed at how pale his wife had become, Spider stepped up beside her. “What’s the matter, Laurie?”

“It’s Taffy. Oh Jack, I thought I’d never see her again.”

“Taffy?” Spider looked at the mare stretching her neck and pushing against the stall door, his mind trying to work out how Laurie’s horse, the one she’d had to sell four years ago when times were so tough, could be here in Jack’s barn.

Jack shrugged. “I heard you were selling off your stock, and I knew any horse trained by Laurie Rowland would be worth the price.”

“Latham,” Spider said. “Laurie Latham.”

No one heard him because his three companions were already at the stall door. Laurie had her hands on Taffy’s cheeks, and the horse’s forehead rubbed against her chest.

Laurie looked back at Spider, and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “She remembers me,” she said.

He joined her at the stable door. “Of course she does. You had her from before she was weaned.”

She sniffed. “Have you got a handkerchief? I need to blow my nose.”

Spider felt in his back pocket, but it was empty. “Shoot. I left it with Neva. Here, use this.” He looked around to see that Jack and Karam had moved to the next stall before pulling his shirttail out and undoing the bottom buttons. As Laurie bent over to wipe her eyes, he said, “I need to be careful about how many weepy females I come across in a day.”

“I guess.” Laurie wiped her nose and re-buttoned the shirt for him. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re a good man to have around.”

Spider tucked in his shirt and then took her in his arms. “Don’t mention it. You all right?”

She nodded. “It was the surprise of seeing her. I’m fine.” She gave him a quick hug and then turned to call to Jack. “Could I take her out right now?”

Jack looked at his watch. “We’ve got time for a short ride.” He thought a moment and then pulled out his cell phone. “I think I can get us another half hour. You all start saddling up while I make a call. Spencer, you can ride that bay, and Karam, there’s a pinto in the next stall.” He took out his phone and walked away, dialing as he went.

Laurie opened Taffy’s door and stepped inside. Bending over, she lifted a front hoof and examined it.

“How’s it look?” Spider asked.

“Great. She’s doing fine.” She put down the hoof and patted the buckskin on the neck. Then she let herself out of the stall and opened a door to the left of Taffy’s stall. “Here’s the tack room.”

Karam tugged at Spider’s sleeve, his eyes wide. “I do not know how to attach a saddle,” he whispered. “I come from the city. This is the closest I have been to a horse.”

“Tell you what,” Spider said. “Let’s run up the canyon and take a look at Martin Taylor’s place.”

Karam looked down at his shoes. “I am not dressed for running.”

Spider’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll take the car.” He turned to Jack, just returning. “Mind if we drive up and look at your spring?”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “You don’t want to come with us?”

“Nah. I’d like to see what’s up that canyon. What time do you need us back?”

Jack looked at his watch. “How about an hour?”

“You got it.” Spider swung by Taffy’s stall and looked over the half door at Laurie as she tightened the cinch. “Karam and I are going up to the head of the canyon,” he said. “We’ll meet you back here.”

She smiled and waved assent, and Spider led Karam around the house to the car. They got in, and Spider drove to the access road, turning right instead of left and heading toward the red sandstone cliffs a quarter mile distant. Huge marshmallow clouds boiled up from behind the red mesas, intensifying the blueness of the sky beyond.

“Those look like rain clouds,” Karam said.

“Maybe so, maybe not. This is the monsoon season. They generally have cloud buildups like that every day.”

The gravel road up to Jack’s circular driveway had been well cared for, but approaching the canyon, it deteriorated to a sandy trail. Spider drove as fast as he could to keep from becoming stuck. The car bounced around and shifted from side to side as he tried to accommodate the Yugo’s small wheelbase to the ruts made by a pickup.

The road dropped into a dry creek running through a canyon about a half a mile wide with red sandstone mesas rising six hundred feet on each side. Rocks embedded in the sandy bottom gave plenty of traction, but as the valley narrowed, the wash grew deeper. Finally, the track they were following climbed out at a place where the bank, though steep, wasn’t straight up and down.

“Hang on,” Spider said as he shifted down and mashed on the accelerator.

“I don’t think—” Karam grabbed the dash and the door handle and watched, wide eyed, as the little car flew toward the embankment.

They made it halfway up before they lost momentum, and the rear wheels began digging a hole. Spider shifted to reverse, and the tires spun, throwing sand. He kept a steady pressure on the gas, and finally, they rolled back down into the creek bed.

Spider turned off the key, got out, and looked around. All he could see ahead of him was the sandy wall where the dry wash made a turn. Raising his eyes, he scanned the flanks of the nearest mesa rising from the canyon floor and saw a trail traversing to the top. He bent down and looked through the open door at his companion. “Feel like taking a walk?”

Karam unbuckled and got out of the car. Following Spider’s pointing finger, he eyed the trail and then turned with raised brows. “Seriously? Now we are climbing mountains?”

“You teach American History,” Spider said. “Think of this as a learning experience about westward expansion. It wasn’t all flat, you know.” He reached into the backseat for a bottle of water and started up the bank. “There’s a clump of cottonwoods up the creek. If you want to go sit in the shade, I’ll be back in a while.”

“No, wait.” Karam dove into the back for the other water bottle and became entangled in the seat belt. “I am coming,” he called, shaking his right arm to free it. He slammed the door, and with shirt untucked and hair hanging over his brow, he trotted to where Spider stood. “Ready.”

Spider smiled. “Good man.”

The sandy track angled toward the base of the hill, and they walked in silence. Spider was grateful for the steady breeze that tempered the heat of the afternoon sun and for the scent of sage that drifted up as they brushed against the feathery bushes.