Chapter 4: THERE'S A NEW KID IN TOWN
Saturday, April 10th… 10:00am, Goat Rock, Montana…
With a backlog of laundry to do and a lot of missed sleep to catch up on, Elijah Roman opted to take a break from traveling. After investigating as much of the village of Goat Rock as he could on foot, he strolled over to the stables adjacent to the RV park, intending to renew an earlier conversation with the voluble geezer who owned and operated both establishments. In their brief encounter at check-in, Jack Harper had claimed descendancy from a notorious gunfighter, Jess Harper. Eli was intrigued and wanted to hear more.
All the horses had been turned out and the old man was busy mucking out stalls. Having spent the last seven years around horses and no stranger to the work involved, Eli automatically grabbed a fork and pitched in. If Jack was surprised at the unsolicited assistance, he didn't comment as they worked their way down the row without talking much. Eli knew to refrain from peppering a new acquaintance with a lot of questions—one learned a lot more by letting the other person set the direction and tone of the discourse.
"Ain't from 'round here, are ya?" Jack eventually queried.
"Nope," Eli answered noncommittally. "Just stopped by to visit my cousin at the college but he's already left." Earlier, the old man had not asked the reason for Eli's being in Goat Rock, but it seemed polite to volunteer the information.
"Too bad ya missed 'im. Be movin' on soon, then?"
"Might as well stay until the end of the week as I'm paid up 'til then," Eli shrugged. "After that, haven't decided."
"Reason I'm askin', if yer ponderin' on settin' a spell an' need some pocket jingle, I could use me a part-time helper. Can't pay much but I'll throw in free lot rent."
Eli considered the offer. "Don't really need a job… but I wouldn't mind helping out in the mornings in return for that free rent… and maybe letting me ride some while I'm here?"
"Ya got yerself a deal, sonny," the old man beamed, "Put 'er there!" They shook on it, then ambled over to the rear of the stables to look over the rental stock, bypassing a pasture containing privately-owned boarders. At the rental paddock, Jack pointed out a nice little roan mare he thought would be a good fit for such a scrawny little feller. But Eli's gaze wandered past the enclosure to the field beyond, where a solitary horse grazed serenely in the company of a geriatric Guernsey, a bony white mule and two corpulent donkeys.
A singularly unattractive beast, the gelding's coat color was somewhere between wet cement and undercooked oatmeal, randomly splotched with amoeba-like brown patches. Its skimpy mane and sparse tail looked as if they had been gnawed by rodents. Otherwise, it seemed healthy and fit. Eli's practiced eye racked up its good points, discounting the packaging.
"What about that one?" he asked. "What's he called?"
"He's got some long-winded Injun name but I calls 'im 'Cheetah' on account a all them spots."
Eli considered that, in terms of visual appeal, the pelt of an actual cheetah would be infinitely more attractive than this unfortunately endowed creature. Given a choice, though, Cheetah was his and he said as much.
Jack regarded his new employee with frank reappraisal. The lad had just picked out what in his opinion was one of the finest trail horses he'd ever owned in all his long-past cowboyin' days. However, he explained that, as Cheetah hadn't been ridden in a month of Sundays, he needed an experienced rider with the patience and energy to deal with a fresh horse. "He's li'ble ta throw ya inter next week."
"Just the same, can I give him a go?"
Jack Harper's instinct told him this young man wasn't all hat and no cattle. He made a judgment call. "Ya don't mind getting' a lil bunged up, he's yourn can ya get a saddle on 'im. So, when ya wanna try 'im out?"
"How about right now?"
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When in Rome…
On Saturday morning, Eli had just barrowed out the last load of manure when his new buddies rolled up in a battered rust-encrusted Jeep.
"What're you doing here?" Row asked, surprised. "Thought you'd be long gone by now."
"Decided I'd hang around a while, help Jack in return for riding privileges."
"Oh… great! Pallas and Ronnie and I board our own horses here. We're going swimming and having a cookout. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."
"I don't want to intrude…"
"No worries," Pallas interjected, grinning. "We've plenty enough for four."
"What happened there?" Ronnie cracked, noticing Eli's black eye. "Walk into a door or something?"
"Something like that."
"You seem to have a hitch in your gitalong, too," Rowan commented. "You sure you're okay to ride?"
"I'm good. Thank you."
Rowan and Eli went off to saddle the horses while the girls transferred the contents of canvas totes to saddlebags. Questioning glances were exchanged but comments withheld as Eli led out the spotted gelding and mounted without a lick of trouble. They didn't need rocket science to figure out their new friend and the notoriously cranky gelding had a prior acquaintance. Jack himself no longer rode Cheetah, but occasionally he was annoyed enough to offer the animal to some overconfident self-professed experienced smartass… then busted a gut laughing when the rider went 'arse o'er coffee pot'. He was lucky he hadn't been sued. Allowing a relative stranger to take Cheetah out on the trail was a major conciliation on his part. Eli must have made a good impression. The students certainly were impressed.
They rode for an hour before halting at a bend in the river where the current had carved out a pool deep enough for swimming. Removing bridles, they hobbled their mounts. Eli was taken aback when the others casually skinned down to their birthday suits, but… as they say, when in Rome... Tossing modesty to the winds, he joined the others frolicking in the slightly above-freezingwater, where he considered his reproductive future might be in peril.
Eli-sans-clothing certainly lived up to Ronnie's expectations of Eli-avec-clothes. Afterwards, decorously reclad, they lingered over their picnic before startingthe ride back.