Lady Luck Chapter Ten: The Horse Whisperer
The next morning, Roy awoke first. He tiptoed outside to fetch fresh water and then set the coffee pot brewing. With Mano's sharp filleting knife, he sliced several strips of bacon without skinning his hand or losing any fingers. He placed the bacon in the skillet, which Buck had cleaned with boiling water the night before. Not wishing to wake the others, Roy waited to cook the bacon. He placed plates, cups, and sugar jar on the table, so lost in his thoughts that he was surprised when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and looked straight at Mano.
"Oh mornin' Mano," Roy stammered.
"Buenos días, Roy! You've been busy this morning, no?"
"Oh this ain't nothin'. I just figgered to get stuff ready for you."
"It is much appreciated, compadre, really. Now let me fry the bacon and warm these tortillas my sister has so thoughtfully provided, and we will have a good breakfast before we begin our work with the horses."
"Hey, that coffee I smell?" Buck mumbled from bed, scratching his underarm through faded pink long johns.
"Ah, Buck, you have awakened. Bueno. But clothing is required for work."
"Huh?"
"Get dressed, amigo, we have work to do—today, hombre!"
"Mano, I thought you said we didn't have to get up at five if we wuz up here at our ranch? Aw right. I'm gittin' dressed, okay? I'm gittin' dressed!"
Buck groaned and stumbled to the back of the bedroom area where he pulled on black pants, black shirt, and boots. He sat down at the table just as Mano served up bacon and tortillas, this time unburnt. Buck wasn't picky. Food was food and Buck liked food.
After breakfast was eaten and the cabin restored to order, something Mano demanded, the three vaqueros walked outside to survey their horses.
"Look like twenty in the main corral, four in the next, four after that, two out yonder," Buck announced. "Mares an' colts, all young. Look like twelve mares, eight colts, all yearlin's, right here in front of us."
"The two in the corral Mano and me made look mebbe to be three year old colts," Roy said.
"Sí, and four mares there," Mano said, pointing at the corral next to the one holding the colts. "And four younger mares here, perhaps two year olds, no?" He said, indicating the remaining corral.
"We got choices to make," Roy observed. "Saddle break 'em and sell 'em. Halter break 'em, gentle 'em and sell 'em. Or just drive 'em down to Tucson as they are."
Buck looked puzzled. Mano did not.
"How much would we get for horses that were gentle, broken to halter, and accustomed to people?" Mano asked.
"At least $30 a head, mebbe $40 if they might make breeding stock," Buck ventured.
"Sí, estoy de acuerdo."
"What's that mean, Mano?" Roy asked.
"Oh, sorry, Roy, it means I agree with Buck. We would make more money with gentle horses than we would make with green horses. Green young horses will probably only bring, oh, $20 a head."
"They's all young so they's quite easy to gentle." Roy spoke softly but without hesitation.
"Oh sure, amigo, and how would we do that?"
"Start with the two colts down in the small corral, 'cause they are probably the herd leaders. They were the ones that took the water first."
"Hey Roy, you're right!" Buck exclaimed "It wuz them two took the first water."
"Roy, what would you do?" Mano tilted his chin up and looked down at Roy, interested.
"Mano, I'd walk in there quiet and let them come to me, give 'em a sweet treat, molasses or sugar, and then just touch 'em gentle like. Couple times like that and then you could get a halter on 'em."
"All right then Roy, you do this thing, hombre. We are in your hands."
"Huh?" Buck wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"Buck, just let Roy try this, and we will watch and see if we can learn his secrets, sí?"
"Okay, Mano, if you say so." Buck sounded unconvinced but if Mano thought this would work, heck, it would be worth it.
"Sí compadre, let him try. I remember that Ruíz, my father's stable master, employed similar methods."
Roy made for the cabin.
We only got sugar, Roy thought. Well, it'll have to do. He poured some in a handkerchief which he tied with a single knot and slipped into his pants pocket. He walked out to the porch, chewing on his bottom lip. He shot Mano and Buck a quick look, then headed to the main corral. Aw right, Roy, jes' keep it nice an' easy, he told himself. He opened and closed the corral gate behind him without a sound. Gotta step light, Roy thought, keep close to the rail. The horses turned to watch him with interest, but none moved since he did not approach them and instead edged to the gate in the corner. Roy removed the looped rope, tiptoed through the corner gate, replaced the rope and, ignoring the mares within, padded softly through the corral to the next gate. He repeated the process until he reached the small corral at the end.
Once Roy eased through the last gate, he secured the rope loop with additional care so that the colts could not run out. That'll keep you boys in here, Roy thought. He walked in silence to the middle of the corral and turned his back to the horses.
"He shore move quiet an' slow, don't he, Mano?" Buck whispered, watching motionless from the cabin porch.
"Seguro que sí."
In the center of the corral, Roy squatted and pulled the kerchief from his pocket, unwrapping it and staring at it as if it were full of diamonds and not sugar. He remained motionless and quiet. The colts grew interested in what he was doing. They approached him, but Roy gave no sign that he saw them. Buck and Mano stared in silence. Yeah, you want this, boys, don't ya? Roy thought. You ain't gettin' it yet.
When the colts came up behind Roy, he turned away from them. They approached again, and again he turned away. The third time he let one of the colts push his nose down over his shoulder, but he moved his hand away to keep the sugar out of reach. By then the second colt was nosing in from the other side. Roy stood up and moved away from the horses. As they followed him, he turned his profile to them. They could see his face and he could watch them from the corner of his eye, without looking at them straight on. Both colts snorted, but they were bold and remembered that he had possessed the water.
The bolder of the two, a bright red bay with black mane, tail, and points, sidled up to Roy, nudging his nose towards the kerchief. The colt appraised Roy. This human will do, he thought. Sweet, something smells sweet. Yeah, boy, thought Roy. You know what I got. This time, Roy let the horse lick some of the sugar, but not all of it. The colt licked his lips: sweet, sweet. While the colt licked sugar, Roy laid his open hand on the horse's neck, sliding his hand up toward the ears, touching just behind them. The bay colt twitched a little, but otherwise let the human touch his neck.
The other colt, a jet black horse, slighter of build with a white diamond on his forehead, stuck his nose down and was also rewarded with some of the sugar. In the same way, Roy reached for this horse's neck and ears. The black colt twitched once and his eyes showed white, so Roy removed his hand. Time enough fer this. Better take things slow, he said to himself.
Mano turned to Buck, nodded his head, smiled, and whispered, "Hey, hombre. Mira."
Then Roy put his somewhat damp and now empty kerchief back in his pocket and started to walk away from the horses. They snorted again and ambled after him. He stopped and they stopped. He walked and they matched him pace for pace. He turned toward them and they regarded him without fear. When he stretched out his empty hands they came over to sniff and see if there was more sugar, licking his palms to get the dregs. The bay colt, bolder, put his nose into Roy's hands. This human was soft and had good, sweet, sweet things.
"He is playing a game," Mano told Buck in a low voice. "Getting them to follow."
"He shore is, amigo," Buck rasped back.
And so he was. Roy walked toward and turned away from the horses, till the horses remained beside him all the time. When he walked toward the gate and opened it, they followed him through. They followed him through the other gates into the main corral and right to the outer gate. Here he turned around, petted their noses and necks, and unlatched the gate just enough so that he could squeeze out, closing it behind him.
The two colts stood looking at Roy's retreating figure as he walked towards the cabin. The bay colt stuck his head above the fence. He wanted to follow the human with the sweet hands, the gentle human.
"Whoa Roy, that was amazin'!" Buck exclaimed in genuine admiration.
"Es verdad!" Mano said with a grin. "You really did have those horses eating out of your hand." He laughed at his own joke. "What is next, hombre?"
"The best thing now is to take some simple rope halters and get the horses used to the smell and feel of them. That should only take a little while, but the mares will be harder, because they are naturally more suspicious and more timid than the colts."
"Can we help, compadre?"
"Do you think you can do what I was doing with the sugar?" he asked, looking at both of them.
"Shore, Roy, shore!" Buck smiled broadly. "I kin do that. Which ones first?"
"Better to start with the older horses, cuz they're usually less afraid." Roy felt funny telling these men what to do, but they was askin'.
"Muy bien. Let's get some sugar in our kerchiefs and get to work. Remember, we need to have these horses broken to the halter, not necessarily to the saddle...gentle enough that they can be worked by whoever buys them. That way they will fetch the highest price."
"Yup, Mano, they shore will!" Buck chuckled as they went into the cabin in search of sugar.
The work of gaining the trust of the young horses went on until the sun got high and hot.
Buck wiped sweat from his brow with a shirtsleeve, removing his hat and shaking it, spraying small drops on the ground. "I done had it for now, boys. Let's take us a rest." Buck grimaced as he looked at his hands, sticky with sugar. He took a quick lick which no one saw, then headed to the lake to rinse his hands. The others followed him to the water.
"Siesta entonces!" Mano agreed. "Let us take a nap while the sun beats down and then we can begin afresh once the shadows have lengthened."
Since this was the most sensible way of working and allowed the men to use water as enticement for the horses in the afternoon, Buck, Mano, and Roy followed this pattern for days. The horses soon began to realize that none of the men would hurt them, that they always brought something good to eat or drink, and that the ropes were only odd and funny smelling, but didn't hurt.
Roy showed the other two his little trick of stretching his hand up the necks of the horses and scratching just behind their ears. He also pointed out that it was best if the men did not make eye contact unless they wanted the horses to turn away from them. He demonstrated the body language that the horses understood and explained that it was a language they used among themselves.
Seven days passed.
"Roy, you are one clever hombre!" Buck clapped him on the back as the three friends walked back into the cabin late one afternoon. The horses had become pleased to see them when they went outside in the mornings, especially the bay colt that nickered when Roy came out and stuck his head over the fence when Roy went into the cabin. The men fed and watered the mustangs, gaining their trust and getting them used to a routine at the same time. Their herd was going to make big bucks in Tucson, Buck reckoned.
"Roy, if you will fix the coffee, I will prepare a stew, and Buck, if you would, could you peel some potatoes, please?" Mano asked once they were inside.
"Mano, I hate peeling taters." Buck complained.
"But you like to eat them, amigo, no?"
"I don't mind doing it, Mano." Roy chimed in.
"No, Roy, I want to show you what ingredients go into the stew, so that you can prepare it another night."
"Sure thing!" Roy's smile was wide and warm. He was happy with the way Mano trusted him to do so many things. Mano was a better friend than Honch had ever been.
"Aw right, I do it," muttered Buck as he fetched the bucket and knife, pulled the potatoes out of the sack, and sat down to peel and wash them. Big ranch owner, hidalgo, peeling taters. But Mano was right, he purely loved eatin' 'em.
Like the horses, the men had fallen into their routine, too, enjoying the regularity of eating and drinking. The cabin was tidy, the beds made each day. Roy had stuffed straw inside an ancient mattress Mano had scrounged. Laid upon two old crates as a base, it made a comfortable pallet. Blankets and pillows they had so no one slept without cover. Roy made the coffee every morning and cut the bacon for Mano to fry. Buck tossed tin plates and forks on the table. They discussed plans for the day at breakfast.
"You know, even when Ma and Pa was alive, we never all set around talkin' 'bout what we wuz gonna do. An' Honch come along an' he just told me what to do," Roy said one morning. "I ain't never lived this way. I kinda like it." Buck, mouth full of tortilla and bacon, gave him a wink. Mano smiled.
Mano found Roy an excellent help around the cabin and his knowledge of the ways of horses surpassed both his and Buck's. Perhaps having Roy in my custody is not such a bad thing, Mano reflected. It occurred to him that Roy's talents might be put to good use many places. The Rancho Montoya perhaps? There was a great wild horse herd that Papá had intended to round up one day. That day had not yet come. If he took Roy into Sonora he could certainly find an outlet for his talents, and a profitable one at that. Buck would have to go, of course. And John would have to allow this. Mano did not wish to return permanently to the Rancho Montoya. The venture would require tact and diplomacy. He smiled as he thought of Papá who so often uttered those words.