Moon Horse

ONE

Fiery logs cracked and popped, revealing two eager young faces. Both were terror-stricken and entranced, drawn in by the story the sandy-haired cowboy sitting directly across from them was spinning. Adam Cartwright lifted a hand to his face and pretended to cough to mask his amusement. He'd been here before. Twelve years back – at the tender age of ten – he'd sat in almost this exact spot, under the same wild and whispering trees, listening to a slightly younger version of Dusty McGrew spin a tale that kept him behaving for the next six months. He was older and wiser now, of course. The shivers running along his spine had nothing to do with Dusty's story. It was October thirtieth and winter had knocked early on autumn's door. It was colder than a knot on the North Pole as the old wrangler would have put it. That was why he was shivering.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The campout had been hastily planned when business called Pa away to Hangtown. Normally the four of them would spend the following day – All Hallows Eve – together carving pumpkins, eating gingerbread, and drinking mulled cider by the fire. Hop Sing would prepare a sumptuous repast with wild turkey, Irish potatoes, and every other dish Little Joe loved – very few vegetables among them, mind you – since the holiday was also his birthday. Joe was advancing to the ripe old age of ten this year. 'Gosh! I'm a whole decade!' he'd been heard to exclaim. The normal procedure would be to bring out little brother's presents along with the cake at the end of the day. Adam stifled a sigh as he regarded the little boy. Pa had been moved to tears when he told Little Joe the celebration would have to wait until he got home this year. He'd expected a tantrum – or brooding silence at least – but Joe had taken it like that decade-old man and told Pa he understood.

Of course, after Pa walked out the door, it was another story.

Poor little kid. Joe had done his best, sniffing in his disappointment along with any unshed tears. He and Hoss had tried their best to make him feel better. They'd even offered to give the kid a present or two ahead of time. Still, if the truth be known, none of them had the heart to carry on without Pa. Hoss looked almost as forlorn as Joe.

Until Dusty knocked on the door.

Leave it to Pa. Seems he'd spoken to the older man on the way out and asked the wrangler to check on them. Dusty had been with them for as long as he could remember. Along with Dan Tollivar the old cowpoke had taught him a lot of necessary skills, and was doing the same now with Hoss and Joe. When he asked his pa why, the older man told him how Dusty had lost his own family in an Indian raid when he was young, and had adopted the three of them in an attempt to fill the hole. He was a tough old cowpoke, soft of voice and loud of opinion; as ancient as the desert and spry as a kid. Dusty both loved and hated fiercely. Adam shifted his gaze to the older man, noting how his pale eyes narrowed as he spoke, as if he were looking into the sun even though it was night. The wrangler always wore a hat. In fact, the young man wasn't sure he could remember ever seeing the older man without one. It was rounded on the edges and faded, but still deep blue in places. His guess was that Dusty had been in the army once upon a time, even though the older man denied it. Beneath the shadow cast by the hat's brim were a pair of lips stretched thin as a needle standing up. To look at him you'd think Dusty never smiled, but he did. Not with those lips but with his eyes.

They never shown as bright as when he was pulling someone's leg.

Adam's gaze returned to his ten and fifteen-year-old brothers.

Make that 'two' someone's legs.

"You mean you actually seen them little people, Dusty?" Hoss asked, wide-eyed. "You really seen the Nunnupi?"

The wrangler nodded solemnly. "I seen them little people and that ghost horse they ride. The Comanche call that big old stallion Mua-puuku. He's got other names, Paiute and Apache, but they all mean the same thing."

Hoss' lips formed the word. Mua-puuku.

Moon horse.

"What's he look like?" Little Joe asked. "Is he big and black and scary?"

"He's big all right, but he ain't black." Dusty snorted. "Fact is, he's just about pale as the moon."

His young brother looked up. It was one of those nights when the moon was bloated as the belly of a grizzly after a sumptuous meal. The argent orb hung in the sky just above the trees and seemed close enough to touch.

"So, he's white?" Hoss asked.

Dusty narrowed one eye even further. "You see any white on that there ball?"

"Everyone says the moon is white," Little Joe insisted as he lowered his head.

"Says so don't mean 'is'," Dusty drawled. "That there moon has got a lot of faces. Some nights she's gold as mornin' mist. Them's the nights she smiles and a man looks to her to guide him home." The wrangler dropped his voice and leaned in. "Other time's, she's frownin'. It's then she goes all over ivory as bones and gray as a dead man's skin peelin' off 'em. " He winked at his captive audience. "That there is the night to avoid her. Mua-puuku's the same. He changes color 'cause he don't want to be seen. Them little people, they braid his mane and tale and hide in the knots." Dusty stretched out to full length. "The Nunnupi ain't particular fond of people either."

Hoss was looking skeptical. He was, after all, nearly sixteen.

Still, he was Hoss.

"I thought you said them Nunnu people was around two feet tall?"

"Sometimes, boy, sometimes."

"You mean they can change size like their ghost horse changes color?" Little Joe asked, his voice squeaking up at least a half-octave.

Dusty nodded solemnly. "Sure can, boy. The wild people, that's what the Comanche call them, can be small as they want. They gotta be to fit into tree holes and rabbit warrens and such. Fact is, they look a lot like rabbits. Every one of them is hairy from his head to his toe."

"That can't be right," Little Joe countered. "Girls ain't hairy. They gotta have girls to have boys."

As Adam pondered just where his ten-year-old brother had picked up that information, Dusty went on. "I gotta admit, Little Joe, I ain't never seen one of their wimmen, so I guess I cain't say for sure."

"Why do they go in rabbit warrens?" Hoss asked.

"To hide. Like I said, they don't like humans much. 'Specially little boys."

Here it came.

"How come?" Little Joe asked.

Dusty puffed out a breath that showed as a cloud on the crisp night air. He eyed each of his brothers in turn – settling at last on Joe. "Stands to reason. Little boys don't do what their elders tell 'em too."

Joe swallowed hard. "So they run away when they see them?"

The wrangler shook his head. "The Nunnupi got these little arrows, see? They look like the thorns on a wolfberry bush. They got little bows too, made of pine branches, and they use them to shoot the arrows. If a naughty little boy takes one of them arrows, why, he ain't got a chance."

"Do they kill' em?" Hoss asked.

"Nah. We'd call it kidnappin'. They put 'em up on that ghost horse of theirs and take 'em away." The wrangler's lips curled slightly. "They keep little boys down in their hidey holes 'til they're grown up or have learned their manners."

Hoss was looking more and more skeptical, but Little Joe had bought Dusty's tall tale hook, line, and sinker. In fact, he'd spent the last minute or two examining his brown jacket for thorns and appeared to be immensely relieved when he didn't find any.

"So, if they put them in the earth…. Is that like burying them in a coffin?" Joe asked.

Dusty thought a moment. "I guess you could say so."

Little Joe paled. "Do they take good little boys too?"

"Nary a one," the cowpoke replied. "Them little people know mas and pas need good young'uns to help them. Any good young'un can lay his head down at night in the forest and fall asleep knowin' he's safe."

His youngest brother seemed to think that over. "Dusty? "

"What is it, boy?"

"Do you think I'm good?"

The wrangler frowned. "I'm afraid not, son."

Adam blinked. What?

Good Lord! He hated to think of the nightmares to come!

Dusty held his scowl a second longer and then one of his rare smiles appeared. He caught Joe about the shoulders and drew him into an embrace.

"You ain't good, Little Joe," the old cowpoke said as he rustled the youngster's hair. "You're the best!"

He had to pee.

He really had to pee.

Little Joe shifted from side to side in his bedding as he considered the whispering sea of black that surrounded him and just what it might hold. He could hold it. He knew he could. It wasn't that long until morning. Joe's gaze flicked to the sky. Two…maybe three hours at most. He'd had to hold it longer than that in school since he didn't want to admit to Miss Jones that he needed to go. Pa'd scolded him once and told him that talking about that kind of thing in front of a lady was 'ungentlemanly'. Ladies never admitted they had to pee. They always said 'I'm going to visit the lilies' or some such thing. Some of them even planted lilies around their outhouses so they could say that and not be tellin' a lie! He didn't know about Miss Jones, of course. She never went to the privy. She said she had a 'water closet' in her house and wouldn't use anything else, though how you could keep water in a closet when you had to open and close the door all the time, he couldn't figure out.

Joe crossed his legs and concentrated. He could hold it. He could….

No, he couldn't!

Quietly, so as not to wake up his brothers or Dusty, Joe crawled out from under his blanket and walked over to the trees. He was just about to enter the dark space beneath them when Dusty's story about the Noonoo-pee and that ghost horse, Muu-ha-poo-koo, came back to him. After the wrangler gave him that big old hug, he'd told him and Hoss that he was just funnin' with them on account of it was almost All Hallows Eve. Dusty said there wasn't no such thing as the Comanche's little people or their big white ghost horse. The old cowpoke said he'd told the same story to Adam when he was little just to make him behave. Adam had nodded his head and said it was true before he rolled over and went to sleep.

Joe eyed the creaking, groaning trees.

Still….

The little boy looked back toward their camp. Everybody was asleep except him. He could just drop his britches and pee right where he was. Still, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly of him, would it? Did you have to be a 'gentleman' with other fellers, he wondered? Seemed like you did 'cause all of Pa's ranch hands and his brothers always stepped into the trees. The outhouse was, after all, called a 'privy' on account of it was something you were supposed to do in 'private'.

Sometimes grown-ups confused him. Wasn't one man looked any different from another without his britches on, but it seemed there was something about what a man looked like that he needed to keep to himself.

Things like that made his head hurt.

Anyhow, he still had to pee.

As he pulled his upper lip between his teeth, Joe placed his feet firmly on the ground and eyed the trees once more. He'd seen his pa do that when he was facin' down an ornery bull or stallion. If there were any of those Nunnu people in there waitin' to take him, he had to show them that he wasn't afraid. They would have heard Dusty say he was the 'best' and then seen Hoss and Adam ruffle his hair and tell him he was a 'good boy' and didn't need to worry about being kidnapped. Neither one of them added 'when you want to' or 'most of the time', so even though he knew they both thought that, the little people wouldn't have no way of knowing. He'd gone right to bed without complaining and even said his prayers, so he should be safe for the minute it took to drop his drawers.

After all, what could happen in a minute?

Something woke him. He couldn't say what, but Adam Cartwright's eyes shot open and he found himself staring at the moon's pallid face where it shown through the trees on the western horizon. The sun was just cresting behind him and their combined light transformed the forest into something unearthly and almost terrifying in its beauty. A sparkling dew lay on the land, coating the underbrush as well as each blade of grass. Ice like diamonds encrusted the wrist and forearm of every branch. In the light of such wonder, he could almost believe the fantastic tale Dusty had woven the night before of the Comanche's little people and their ghost horse and the dreadful fate awaiting naughty little boys.

Adam closed his eyes as he drew in a breath of crisp air. It was cold, but not so cold the breath came out as a cloud, so it was warming up – which was a good thing since Pa would skin him alive should either Hoss or Little Joe come down with the slightest sniffle. Still, the young man knew that his father would understand why he'd brought his young brothers into the forest. Not only was it All Hallow Eve, but it was Little Joe's birthday and spending the night in the woods had been one way of giving the little boy a present. After breakfast they'd spend the day hunting, or maybe go explore some of the river caves. On his request Hop Sing had made a dozen cup cakes with a candle each for ten of them. He'd brought them along so they could celebrate. The cakes would be a bit worse for wear since they'd made the trip in his saddlebags, but Joe would understand. After all, it was the thought that counted.

And they'd taste just as good squashed!

The young man yawned and stretched his long arms toward the sky, and then worked his way into a seated position. It was early and Hoss and Dusty were still sawing logs. They'd pitched their bedding on the far side of the fire away from him and Joe, which was a blessing. Adam noted as he rose that Little Joe's bed was empty, so he figured the youngster had gone to relieve himself. He thought nothing more of it as he set about adding logs to the fire and putting a pot of coffee on to boil. In fact, Joe having gone to take a leak was such a natural thing the young man didn't give it another thought until he realized that the moon had vanished and the sun's light was painting the tips of the mountains red.

With his coffee cup in hand, the young man crossed to his brother's bed and examined the ground. Joe's tracks were clear. They led, as he had suspected, toward the tree-line that circled the clearing they'd pitched their camp in. With a glance at Dusty and Hoss, who were still snoring away, Adam took off in pursuit of his missing brother. When he reached the trees he read the sign again. Joe had paused here, most likely contemplating the forest's Stygian blackness before he entered it. Could the little boy have gotten turned around in that blackness, he wondered? Maybe it was so dark Joe had headed in the wrong direction.

Adam put his cup down before heading into the trees. Ten feet in he put a hand to his mouth and called, "Little Joe? If you can hear me, answer me. Joe?" A few heartbeats later he tried again. "Joe? Where are you? Come on, Joe. Answer me!"

Nothing. There was…nothing.

The young man masked his fear in anger. The kid was playing games. That was it. Knowing Little Joe, he probably felt it was safe to be 'naughty' now that the sun was up. The kid wasn't above pulling a stunt like this if he thought it would get him attention.

"Little Joe! You better answer me and answer me now!" Adam drew a breath and waited. "Joe, I'm giving you ten seconds. If you don't show by then, you're going to be in big trouble." He started to count. Out loud. "Ten. Nine. Eight…three, two…"

Just as the count and his patience ran out, he heard it. Not his baby brother, but something else. It sounded like a horse, but not just any horse, and began as a blow or a snort that turned into a bold confident neigh. The cry echoed eerily through the forest, resonating from one ice-covered tree to the next, before ending just as quickly as it had begun. When it did, there was a flash. A beam of sunlight sparked on tall jumble of icy rocks and revealed a sixteen-hand stallion with a dappled coat, ivory and gray as the moon. He had to squint against the light to see it. There was something on its back.

A small still form, whose fingers were entwined in the Appaloosa's braided mane.

For a moment Adam was as frozen as the landscape that surrounded him. Then he began to run.

"Joe!"

To be continued….