Chapter 12.
The black horse whinnied, its eyes wide with alarm, as it raced by. It tried to pull at the rope attached to the halter but the man holding the other end was firm. The animal whinnied again and tried a new tactic of changing direction but again the man on the rope whistled to him, regaining the horse's attention.
"You're just fine," Jim called out to the horse, as it raced by him again, on its circle inside the corral. Jim waved to Winston as the older man nodded, holding the lead rope in the center of the circle. "I'll be quick."
"Take your time," Winston said, spitting in the dirt, as his hands gripped the rope. His laidback attitude didn't disguise the comfortable skill he had working with the stallion.
Jim pulled the corral gate shut behind him and turned to his partner, who was holding out a large mug of steaming liquid. Jim nodded and took the mug, muttering, "Thanks, this is perfect." He sipped at the hot coffee and sighed tiredly. The horse whinnied again beyond the wooden walls and he turned a worried face toward the sound. "First Winston said I should spend a lot of time with the horse," he growled, "and now he said I should take a break or the horse will develop," he paused, thinking back, "Separation Anxiety." He pronounced the words carefully, looking to his partner as if for an explanation.
"Maybe he worried you were going a little too far with the," Artie paused, looking up and down Jim's body, "with the smell like a horse idea. Maybe he didn't realize you would take him so literally."
Jim grimaced and brushed some hay off his shirt. His pants were covered with dirt and smelled worse. His black boots were a dusty tan. "You're just soft, partner, not used to a real day's work." He grinned, the perfect teeth looking even brighter than usual against the filthy face. "It is making it difficult to speak with Zyphelia though. She doesn't come within ten feet of me now." He tried to run a hand through his hair but his fingers got stuck half-way in something he didn't want to think about. He decided to just smooth his greasy hair flat against his scalp.
"I can imagine," Artie said, his nose wrinkling. "You'll have to get cleaned up outside before you can go inside to get cleaned up." Jim chuckled as he sipped his coffee again and they began walking further down the dirt road. "The tack shop is a few shacks down the goat path," Artie said, pointing ahead. "There were quite a few saddles inside, some appeared complete and ready to use."
"You didn't happen to see my old one, did you?" Jim asked. "It would be helpful to know if someone dropped it off for repairs but I suppose they would just say they found it on a dead, deserted horse." They entered a shop, three sides being open to the air much like the nearby blacksmith's shop. The back wall was covered with hanging racks and hooks, full of leather straps and various equipment. The two agents walked around slowly, looking at the saddles of different sizes and styles. Most were western but there were one or two English styled smaller saddles. "He has some of everything," Jim said into his mug. He walked around a wide hand-hewn beam and almost bumped into a man who was standing, arms crossed over a broad chest, watching them. "Good morning," Jim said, taking a step back from the man. He seemed as square and solid as the wooden post he was standing behind.
"Good morning," a deep voice rumbled. He continued to stare.
"I am looking for a new saddle," Jim said, "something…"
"Style won't matter to you, Yank," the man said, interrupting, "your ass won't be in it long enough to get uncomfortable!" He burst out with a loud bark of laughter as Jim stared at him. "I won't even bother to sell you a saddle, since you won't be needing it long," he said, laughing even harder now. He slapped Jim on the shoulder, knocking the smaller man a step sideways, sloshing coffee onto the wooden floor. "Do you really need one for that black already? I heard you were doing wonders with that horse but it's only been a few days." He turned and walked to the back of the shop, talking more to himself now, as Jim turned to look at his partner. Artie just shrugged with a mild look of amusement on his face.
"Maybe something lightweight," Artie said, mocking his more serious friend, "so that it won't hurt when it flies off the horse and hits you in the head." He gave Jim a gentle shove, moving him forward as he continued, "something with a soft seat and extra strong straps." Jim just shook his head in silence, drinking the last dregs of his coffee that hadn't spilled from the mug.
"Here is what you need," the man hollered to them from across the room. Jim stepped closer, moving around barrels of metal hooks and rings. "This is a good, solid saddle. It should be wide enough for that horse and plenty comfortable." He clapped Jim on the shoulder, a wide hand squeezing, and leaned closer to look him in the eyes. "We have all been watching you and have seen how you treat that animal. It's very impressive work, young man. You are very dedicated to the task and show much patience."
"Thank you," Jim said, returning the man's steady gaze. "I appreciate that."
"You know McKenzie has been saying he won't let you leave with it though," the man said quietly, releasing Jim and stepping back. "Word is he is supposed to be coming back this weekend to take Zyphelia and that horse, or shoot it if he can't have it."
Jim shot a quick glance back at his partner, and then looked back at the man, "would McKenzie shoot Zylphelia if he couldn't have her?" The man sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Let me know if you hear anything specific, would you? We are going to stay around until the girls head back to New York after Christmas. I don't believe he would follow her north."
"You're good men to help her," he said, nodding now toward Artemus, "we thought you two were just here on official Washington business with the Senator but you seem to stick your Yankee noses into everything." He smiled and smacked Jim again, "and, in this case, we are all grateful." He hoisted the saddle onto one shoulder and charged across his shop, knocking items onto the floor as he moved. "Not that the men here haven't tried to talk to McKenzie but that boy is a spoiled young man. If he had been mine, I would have whipped his…" he dropped the saddle on a rack by the front desk and looked at Jim with a twinkle in his eye, "so when are you going to slap this saddle on that stallion and climb on board, eh?"
Jim grinned, knowing everyone was talking about when he would try to ride the horse. The lessons over the past week had included the halter and long rope, the saddle blanket and bridle, and voice controls. He was running out of equipment to introduce to the horse. The only thing left was the saddle. "I am hoping to have the horse run with the saddle on today and tomorrow," he paused, taking a deep breath, "tomorrow I will ride him. We have to come to an agreement eventually." He grinned as the big man winked at him.
"Do or die," the man barked, laughing again. Then man noticed Artemus looking beyond him, behind another workbench. "I see you spotted that piece of art," he said, proudly puffing out his chest. "It's a work in progress. Would you like to see it closer?"
Jim leaned over to see what his partner's sharp eyes had spotted. The man nodded to them and they walked around the workbench and piles of supplies to move deeper into the building. On a saddle rack was an ebony black saddle partially built. It was trimmed with silver conchos which were polished to a bright shine when they caught the sunlight. The man drew his hand over the smooth leather.
Jim walked around the saddle, his eyes moving from the conchos to the tooled leather skirt. He reached out to touch a concho, tilting it into the morning sun. "You made all this?" he asked quietly.
The man reached behind him to take a bridle off a wall hook behind him. "Look at this," he said, handing it to Jim. The agent took it carefully. "I made that first," the man said, pointing to different parts of the item, "the silver is hammered thin so the look is there but not the weight." He ran his hand over the saddle again, "I have polished the leather to a smooth shine too."
"It is more like a piece of art than a working saddle," Artemus said.
"But it's stronger than my best saddle," the man barked, "and I have added hooks and straps so that it will be useful for whatever you need to do with it."
"Is this for sale," Jim asked slowly, wondering how much something like this would cost.
The man sighed, "No, this one is for the Senator," he muttered, an edge coming to his voice. "And he probably will only use it in a parade while waving to his admirers. That man has many weaknesses; cards, gambling, money, fame," he snapped irritably. "It's fancy, yes, its art, yes," he gushed, waving his arms to his side, "but a saddle like this should be for a working man." His arms dropped, as he sighed and turned away, walking back to the front of the store.
"It's a bit gaudy," Artie smiled at his partner, "don't you think?"
Jim smiled, running a finger over the silver conchos on the bridle. "I like it," he said softly, "it would like impressive on a black horse. Maybe he'd make a second one." He hung the leather back on the wall hook and walked to join the storekeeper. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "but would you consider making a second one for sale?"
"It would cost a mighty dollar, young man," he smiled, "a mighty dollar. But I will think about it, for you." He picked up the plainer brown saddle and shoved it into Jim's chest. Artie jumped forward to grab the coffee mug from Jim's fingers as he grasped the heavy saddle awkwardly, his right arm still in the sling. "But it would be better for a hard working fellow to own, I tell you that! Good luck to you today. I will be stopping down tomorrow to see how long your ass stays into this saddle."
Jim hefted the saddle onto his shoulder and walked carefully out of the shop. Outside, Artie walked next to him. "So the Senator has weaknesses? What did he say," Artie muttered, "cards and gambling?"
"Money and fame?" Jim finished. "Well a Senator often will have all those traits. I hope he enjoys it. Sometimes it isn't what they expect once they get to Washington. And I don't think that recluse of a wife will enjoy it."
"She can sit in a fancy upstairs boudoir there as well as she does here," Artie said. "But at least the people here are speaking to you now that you are working with them. It was an excellent idea, Yankee." Jim grinned and nodded in agreement. As they approached the corral, the horse could still be heard protesting to Winston. "You're new friend still misses you."
"You're just jealous," Jim winked. He stood back as Artie pulled the gate open. Jim walked in and whistled to the horse. The black reared up at the sound, kicking out at the rope. Catching it in a foreleg, he yanked it from Winston's grasp and galloped to Jim, sliding to a stop at his chest. "Whoa, big fella," Jim laughed. "I guess you did miss me." The horse rubbed its soft nose against his hair, sniffing at him. "I brought something new." He turned and let the horse sniff at the leather. The animal stepped back and blew, shaking its head. "That's what you said about the blanket and bridle but you got used to them."
Artie stepped through the gate, saying, "I guess you'll have to sleep with it like you did the …" he backed up a step suddenly as the horse whinnied, its ears back, and stepped toward him. "Hey," Artie exclaimed, moving toward the gate.
"Whoa, big fella," Jim said again, stepping in front of the horse's chest with his shoulder. He rubbed his face against the animal's neck, since his hands were full of leather. The animal calmed and stepped back again, he turned to look at his partner, "I think you surprised him, buddy."
"I guess I did,' Artie said, stepping backwards slowly through the gate. The black horse hissed, the ears going back again. "I'll watch from outside, Jim, before that beast eats me. Besides I have some ideas to run down." He pulled the gate shut and stepped onto a cross beam, looking down now on his friend from behind the wooden wall.
"All right, fella," Jim said, walking back into the corral's center. He clicked his tongue, thinking after that he didn't need to anymore since the horse seemed happy to walk with him now. He approached Winston, "sorry he reared up at you. I didn't know he would do that but it makes me think it's a good way to get him back from someone who might try to steal him."
"As long as he is under your control," Winston said, spitting the black tobacco juice into the dust. "He wasn't happy with you being gone. I have never seen a horse become so attached to a man so quickly and so completely. It must be from the abuse he had here from the other men. He may only trust you from now on."
Jim turned to smile at the horse, "He'll have to get used to my partner. But, otherwise, that's a good thing considering where we go; from crowded city to empty desert. I need him to stick around if we get separated." Jim, nodding to the blanket on the horse's back, "did he pull that off yet?" Winston shook his head no, "good. Well last trick to learn," he said. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his arm from the sling. Gingerly grabbing the back of the saddle with his lame hand, he moved to the side of the horse and gently put the saddle on the blanket. The straps and stirrups hung down, bumping the animal's flank. Feeling the change in weight, and touch of leather, the horse shifted his feet and twisted his head to look at Jim. "You're ok, big fella, just another trick to learn." Jim patted the smooth dark flank and began tightening straps. The horse shifted his feet again and blew nervously. Speaking softly and moving slowly, Jim soon had the straps of the saddle attached. "Good boy," he said, moving to the horse's head to pat its nose. "Let's just go for a walk and get used to that for a while."
"That horse trusts you now, young man," Winston said, nodding his approval, as Jim and the horse walked past him, "admirable job."
Jim walked the inner edge of the corral wall, noticing how many more men had climbed up to watch him. "Artie, you should be selling tickets," he said softly, passing his partner's perch.
"Oh, don't worry," Artie winked, "I will make an extra week's pay on the wagers." Jim scowled at him as he passed by and the horse blew, as if in agreement. "See ya this evening." He laughed and dropped out of sight beyond the wall.
Jim ran a hand down the horse's neck as they walked, speaking softly, "You'll get use to him, fella," he whispered. "He's crazy but I couldn't live without him." The horse whinnied softly and tossed its head.