Lady Luck Chapter Twelve: A Brother's Surprise
John Cannon scowled at the ledger on his office desk. Two weeks. Two weeks and not one blame word from his brother or brother-in-law. What was he running, a hotel at the High Chaparral? Work was piling up and Buck, John had to admit, did more than his share around the place. Sam was hard pressed to get the boys to get it all done with Buck gone. You forgot just how much Buck did till he took off on one of his hunting trips or gallivanting around the country. That brother of his had a wild hare in him. John could just hear him. Brother John, I can't take no more. I'm going to Tucson. Or Tombstone. Or Nogales. Or Lord knows where. An' I'm takin' Mano-lito.
Hmmmph. Manolito. Mano didn't do half as much as Buck, but who else was gonna talk to the Apache...fetch wood for Victoria? Give Victoria someone to yell at? Truth was, John knew, Mano had got to where he did a fair day's work. But no, not now. Not here. Not when I need 'em. Some family.
Cannon took a deep breath, exhaled, and slammed shut the leather-bound ledger book. He rose, scraping his chair on the floor as he did so. He stomped into the living room where his wife sat knitting, a look of concentration furrowing her brow. She was counting.
"Victoria?" John called, his voice edged with irritation.
"Yes, John?" she sighed, put down her knitting.
"Do we have any coffee in there?"
"Yes, John." Madre de Dios, she thought. Can this man do nothing for himself? Is he helpless? Men and the children of men who are children.
"Would you like some, John?" she asked in honeyed tones.
"If I didn't want any, would I have asked?" he barked in a voice that would scare Satan himself.
Victoria sighed again, rose and walked to the small stairway where her very brusque husband stood. She touched him on the arm. He looked off to the side and breathed hard.
"My husband, you again commence a day in a most disagreeable fashion."
"Now look here..."
"I only say this because I love you. But you are cross with me, cross with your men, and lately you have been unbearable to live with."
Here it comes, John thought.
"Would you like me to tell you why?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No, you do not, my husband. You are missing Buck and Manolito and you wonder why they have not returned."
"Well, Victoria, I need them here. Things are piling up. Buck has work to do. I need Mano to make a trip to Sonora to see your father pretty soon."
"But you told me they have mustangs to round up and prepare to sell."
"Yes, but how long does that take? They should have rounded up those few paltry head, driven them to Tucson, and been back long before now. They are just lollygagging. At my expense."
"At your expense? But John, it is their own land they are working, is it not? You are always saying you hope they make something of that rancho and now listen to you. I do not often say this, my husband." Yeah, right, thought John. "But you are being unfair to your brother and to mine. Go and see them. Go and see what they are doing. If they are wasting their time acting foolishly, then you have a right to be angry. But what if they are not, John?"
"Victoria, it does not take two weeks to drive a herd of wild mustangs to Tucson."
"Perhaps they are breaking in those horses first."
"Young mustangs? You must be joking."
"I am not joking! How do you know until you see? There is always work to be done at this ranch. The work will be here when you return. Take Sam or Joe or Wind with you. Maybe they are in trouble up there. Comancheros, Apaches, they could have been massacred to death and none of us would know."
"Now, you don't think that."
"No," Victoria smiled. "But I do think you should go. After all, the last time they went off to work that ranch, they ended up in a fight with each other."
"Well, maybe."
"Not maybe, John Cannon. You will go, and you will come back to me less of a bear of a husband. And I will fix a nice steak dinner and we will eat in peace because you will not be worried about your brother! And perhaps you will bring Buck and Manolito back with you."
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll get Joe to ride up with me this morning. We'll see what they're up to."
"Good, John, I am glad." And relieved, she thought and smiled, reaching up to give him a light kiss.
"Well, now I wish I'd gone sooner," John managed a slight smile in return, grasping her hand for a second or two longer than necessary.
John called Joe to bring their horses, drained the last of his coffee, and kissed his wife goodbye. The men talked little on the ride to the C-Bar-M. Joe could tell the boss was in a foul mood or close to one and Joe was a man of few words anyway. He did not talk just to hear himself talk. They rode past regal saguaros and bushy cholla whose needles would stick to their chaps or pierce their skin were they to brush up against it. The boss seemed preoccupied but Joe's eyes constantly scanned the horizon, alert, watching for Apaches, comancheros, or anything else. The sun warmed them as they rode toward the hills where an occasional cool breeze relieved the heat. In two hours' time they neared the rise overlooking Buck and Mano's ranch.
They paused at the top before edging their horses down. Cannon frowned as he surveyed the scene. Joe kept his mouth shut but looked sideways at the boss.
"Hmmmph," John snorted, his mouth set in a straight humorless line.
Horses milled in the main corral and in the next one stood a lone horse. The kid Roy was doing something...walking...they could not tell. John noticed Mano sitting in a chair near the main corral but within eyeshot of Roy. Mano's arms were folded, his chair tipped back and one leg propped on a lower corral rail. Figures, John thought. Hardly working. Lollygagging.
John then spotted his brother, shirtless, closer to the cabin in front of an outside fire over which hung some kind of large kettle. Even from this distance, John could see a red bandana tied around Buck's head. Looked like he was stirring something. What was this?
Cannon turned to Joe. "Let's go."
The two men kicked their horses to a gentle walk and headed down. Mano turned to see them, jumped out of his chair and strode to meet them, raising his hands in a cautionary manner, then moving a finger to his lips and whispering, "Shhh." He stopped them short of the corral and again whispered. "Hola, Big John. Hola Joe. Good to see you. Please tie your horses here for now," motioning to a hitching post some distance from the corrals.
"Mano," John said in his normal voice which could be most loud.
"Shhh, cállate, amigo," Mano reiterated, hissing. "Do not talk, por favor. Make no noise," he whispered through tight lips, steering horses and men to the back of the cabin where they dismounted.
Cannon breathed deeply, containing his temper with some effort. Mano again cautioned quiet with a shake of the head as he saw John's mouth start to open.
"Uh uh. We will water your horses in a little while," he whispered, gesturing with his head for them to follow him to the cabin porch, which they did. Joe removed his gloves and smiled. Cannon scowled but pulled off his gloves as well and trailed his brother-in-law.
Buck looked up as the men approached the porch. "Howdy, Brother John," he rasped in a low voice.
"Buck, what are you doing?" John whispered, keeping a distance.
"Oh, I be washing our sheets and such. Figgered I'd throw in my shirt, too. But John," Buck spoke in a hoarse whisper. His bandana-wrapped head jerked toward the corrals. "Looka there, Brother John."
"Sí," Mano whispered. "At Roy and the last of our mustangs."
Joe was already staring, motionless. In a minute's time, John, too, was entranced as he watched Roy working the horse.
Roy walked with smooth, slow steps around the inside edge of the corral. He stared straight ahead, but his eyes shifted to the side to watch the horse without making eye contact with the animal. You been a tough one, boy, right skittish, Roy thought. Fine'ly starting to trust me, ain't ya? The colt began to match Roy, step for step. When Roy stopped and turned his back to the horse, the young colt shuffled a few paces closer. Roy remained motionless and the colt neared him, pace by pace, snuffling a little at each hesitant step. Finally, the colt stood right behind Roy, who could feel his breath tickling the back of his neck.
At this moment, Roy squatted, pretending to look at something on the ground. He reached into his pocket and took out his kerchief with its sugary treasure. As he unwrapped the kerchief, the colt stretched his neck down until his nose was within an inch of the treat. Yeah, boy, this is whut ya want, Roy thought. He let the colt put his lips over the sugar and snuffle some up. He held the kerchief still and stood upright. The colt did not take his nose out of the cloth still resting in Roy's hand.
Roy now turned to face the horse. The colt's eyes flashed, showing the whites, but the horse did not take a step back, a good sign. Spent too many days on this un, Roy thought. If I kin jes get ya to trust me, you'll be a heckuva saddle horse, boy. Roy lifted his free arm and laid his hand on the colt's neck. He pressed his hand into the colt's neck and then moved his hand further up the neck toward the colt's ears. He kept steady pressure all the time, not hard, not soft, just enough for the horse to feel some power. When his hands reached the back of the colt's ears he increased the pressure a fraction and scratched behind them. Then he moved the hand forward and gathered the whole ear into his palm. He pulled the ear and then let go, moving his hand back down the horse's neck. All the while he kept the sugary kerchief in his other hand where the horse could still suck on it.
Roy cupped his hand to let the kerchief cover a bit more of the horse's nose. He let the cloth cover one nostril and then wiped it down to the horse's lips. He did the same for the other nostril. Then he removed both hands and stepped back away from the horse, turning his body so that he was in profile to the horse. He took one step forward and the horse turned his body to match Roy's. He took another step and so did the horse. Roy walked many steps and the horse followed. He moved about the corral executing a figure eight with the horse at his heels like a faithful hunting dog.
Next, Roy retrieved a rope halter hanging by the corral gate. The horse followed. Roy stopped at the gate and fiddled with the halter, keeping his profile to the horse. The young colt was fascinated and pushed his head toward Roy's hands. Roy let him smell the rope and touch it with his lips and teeth. Then Roy turned and reached up with the halter to the horse's neck, where his hands had touched the colt before. He next maneuvered the other side of the halter so that it rested along the colt's nose. In another breath Roy had slipped one end of the halter over that same nose, and was reaching behind the horse's ears to fasten it. The colt did not move. His eyes stayed calm.
When Roy moved away, he held one end of the rope dangling from the bottom of the halter and kept the other hand on the colt's neck. Then Roy moved faster, lengthening his stride so that the colt had to jog to keep up. Roy started to run, encouraging the horse to quicken his pace by jiggling the hanging rope. When the colt increased the trot, Roy clucked, a soft noise. When Roy slowed down, he hummed and let the rope go slack. The colt slowed down. Then Roy stopped dead and so did the horse. Gotcha boy, he thought.
Once Roy had completed this process going both ways around the corral, he made for the gate. The colt followed on the lead rope as if he had been bred to do it. At the gate, Roy turned and faced the horse. The colt had stopped to watch Roy. When Roy reached up to unfasten and remove the halter, the colt stood stock still and as Roy's hands went behind his ears, he dropped his head into Roy's hands. The halter slipped off and Roy stroked the colt's neck and then pushed him a bit, but the horse did not move away or flinch. Good time to quit, thought Roy.
Roy edged his way out of the main corral, slipping through the gate and shutting it behind him.
"Whew," he sighed. This last mustang had challenged him and he was tired and happy. He carried the soggy kerchief in his right hand and paused to wipe his brow with the shirtsleeves of his left arm. He walked a few steps toward the cabin before looking up to see four men, including Mr. Cannon, looking at him. Roy got a little rattled.
"Good job, Roy boy," Buck said loudly, grinning. "Big John, come say hello to our horse whisperer."
Mano laughed.
John, eyes wide and a smile on his face, all signs of anger gone, strode toward the wide-eyed Roy, who remained frozen in place. Cannon extended his hand and Roy, forgetting he held the sodden kerchief in his right, reached up to shake hands with the boss. In the nick of time he remembered to drop the soggy cloth and wipe his hands on his shirt before clasping Cannon's hand. A few streams of slobber remained on Roy's hand as they shook, but John pretended not to notice and wiped his hand on his pants after shaking.
"Well, boy, that was an impressive display," John's voiced boomed as he leaned back a bit to regard his new hand.
"Uh, thank you, Mr. Cannon. I just move quiet around 'em and I can gentle most horses."
"Oh John, he shore can," Buck echoed. "An' he showed me an' Mano how to do it, too."
"Sí," Mano agreed. No one bothered to mention that Buck, although able to follow Roy's methods, made for a rather noisy and rough horse whisperer, and that Mano and Roy had gentled most of the herd.
"Looks like you've got, oh, twenty head or so here," John remarked.
"Sí, but we took a string of ten to Tucson to sell last week," Mano told him.
"Total of thirty?" John raised an eyebrow, impressed.
"Yeah, John. We hadda to go to Tucson fer supplies anyway. An' a course we needed money fer that," Buck added.
"Seguro," Mano nodded. Then, reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced a small paper. "Oh, and by the way, John. From our proceeds we have deposited $200 into your account at the bank towards the repayment of our loan. Here is the receipt." He handed the paper to John, whose eyes widened in surprise.
"Well, I didn't expect," John stopped as Mano continued.
"I believe that with the mavericks you have already taken, we owe you now, oh $400, no?" Mano continued.
John nodded, disbelieving. "Sounds about right."
"We should be able to discharge this debt when we sell the last of the herd," Mano continued.
"Yeah, Brother John. He's right." Buck grinned.
"Er, do you prefer your payment in cash or shall we make another deposit?" Mano asked, enjoying each word.
"Bank'll be fine," John said, deep voiced, business like. "But, ah, I might be interested myself in some of your stock, if the price is right."
"Why do we not all go into the cabin for some coffee and to discuss matters?" Mano smiled as he and Buck glanced at each other.
They all followed Mano in, but Roy stopped and filled a bucket with fresh water. Making coffee was now his chore. Mano pulled out the chairs and motioned for John and Joe to take a seat before sitting himself. With a wry grin verging upon a frown, John settled his large frame into a chair. He pretty well knew he was being set up for something. Joe sat beside him. Pulling on the shirt of his faded red long johns, Buck ambled to the table and sat next to Mano. Roy filled the coffee pot and set out the cups, sugar, and spoon on the table, before fetching a crate and sitting down beside Buck. It had not been a deliberate maneuver, but Buck, Mano and Roy were ranged across the table from John and Joe, which made John even more uneasy.
Buck broke the silence. "Brother John, what stock you interested in?" His eyebrows rose and he kept the smile off his face with difficulty.
"Well, that bay colt in the end corral looks pretty good to me and those young fillies are not too shabby, either."
"Sí, the three year old fillies are quite nice, John, and would make fine breeding stock for you, no? They are already well handled and in a year or so could be backed for riding, although if I were you I would keep them with your mares and let them mature a little more before breeding them."
"Well, Mano, that's sound advice, but I was thinking of taking them all off your hands."
"No o-ffence, John, but I don't think you'd like our price," Buck said, calm, eyeing his brother.
John's eyebrows rose, but his mouth remained closed. Buck continued, "We expectin' at least $35 a head for the yearlin's."
"Thirty-five dollars!" John roared in disbelief.
By chance, or design, the coffee smelled ready at that point and Roy rose to fetch the pot, filling all the cups. As a distraction, it worked. John's anger subsided a little and hasty words that could not be unsaid later were swallowed with the coffee.
"Juano, the yearlings are truly not going to make great cattle horses or even great breeding stock, trust me." Mano was smooth and convincing. "The three year old mares will be an asset as both working cow horses and broodmares, if given time to mature. The bay colt cannot come into our discussion at all, because it is not ours to sell. This horse belongs to Roy, who had no horse of his own. It is part of our, cómo se dice, our contract with him for his expertise." Roy's eyes widened at this news.
"Contract?!" John's voice was incredulous.
"Sí, hombre, we have a contract with our new partner regarding the work he has done and what we are planning in the future. We honor our contracts, John, as do you, no?"
Surprised, Buck and Roy looked sideways at Mano but stayed quiet. Thus Mano became the sole voice setting the terms of the sale. John might not like the deal, but he would have no choice. Joe kept his eyes on his coffee cup, sipping the hot liquid whenever he felt the urge to snicker. Mano and Buck had the boss over a barrel. Joe was pleased. He respected John Cannon, but he was fond of Roy. If Roy was to be a partner in all this, that was just fine with Joe.
"The mares are for sale, John, if you still wish to buy them, but their price is $50 each," Mano said, smiling with everything but his eyes.
"What? That's $200 for some wild horse flesh!" John exclaimed. But he was fooling no one. Mano knew he would agree to that price and that would leave an amount outstanding on their loan of only $200 that would be settled once the others were sold.
And John agreed, extending his hand to Buck and Mano, and nodding at Roy. A momentary twinkle in his eyes and a brief smile were the only signs that he was actually very pleased. The horses would be worth the price, and seeing his kinfolk doing something with their lives meant a great deal to him. He could not wait to tell Victoria.
"Do you think you'll be coming back to the Chaparral any time soon, gentlemen?" John asked. "Work is stacking up."
"Shore will, Brother John. We just need to get the cabin ready for winter, lock things down, sell our herd in Tucson, and we be back," Buck said.
"When can I expect you?"
"Oh, in a day or so at the most, John," Mano added.
"Good. There's plenty to do at the ranch, but I'm probably gonna need you to go to Sonora for me, Mano, pretty soon to, ah, see your father. If you can spare the time, that is," John said.
"I am sure that can be arranged, John," Mano smiled.
"C'mon, Joe, let's get our horses and get outta here before the price goes up," John smiled as well. So did Joe.
It was early evening when John and Joe rode out, each leading two horses that were well and truly broken to the halter. They would get back to the Chaparral in time for a late dinner. The horses would not be traveling in the heat of the day and would have the night to get used to their new surroundings.
Buck felt satisfied, but he also knew the three of them needed to sit down and talk about their new arrangement.
"Roy, would you make sure the horses have hay and water before you wash up for dinner? I will fix us something to eat," Mano said as they watched Big John and Joe ride off.
"Shore thing Mano." Roy hurried to the shed to get hay to feed the horses. He eyed the bay colt. It was his. He could not believe it. He had plans for that boy.
"Mano?" Buck asked.
"Sí, amigo, I know. Let us go inside and discuss things."
Mano had already prepared his argument, which he presented with the same smooth calm he had used when selling the horses to John. He knew Buck would appreciate his idea about a horse breeding operation, perhaps one spanning both sides of the border. After all, the Rancho Montoya would belong to him one day. Until then, the wonderful C-Bar-M horses would make a name for all of them.
Roy's skill would be invaluable, and they must discuss his percentage and a real contract. It would not do for such a great name as his, nor that of his partner, Buck Cannon, to be associated with dishonesty. They would offer Roy a proper partnership with themselves, perhaps only 15% to start with, increasing over the years as their success increased. Mano was certain they would be successful and since horses were far more interesting to him than cattle, this would be an ideal venture and one they could all share.
Buck listened to his argument, speechless.
"Well, Mano, that all sound pretty good. But what'll Big John say? That'll be takin' us away from the Chaparral."
"Not at first, amigo. Gradually, yes. But that will take time," Mano reflected.
Buck nodded, smiled, and they shook on it.
Ay yi yi, what responsibility have you now taken on, Manito, what responsibility, Mano thought. His luck seemed to have run out in Stokertown but now it had returned to him, just like a woman. He beckoned, luck and women followed. Luck was indeed a lady, and that was fine with him.
One thing Manolo Montoya knew was how to treat a lady.