Rawhide
Incident of the Sterling Fox
Chapter 8
"Did you hear somethin'?" The nervous looking young man, known as Cameron Holt, shifted to a more comfortable position on the log that he sitting against and craned his neck in the direction where he had thought he'd heard something. His right arm, just below the shoulder, was bandaged where Rowdy's bullet had grazed him.
"Aw, your just jumpy is all. We'll be movin' out to a safer place as soon as we break camp." His eldest brother, Bryan, replied casually. He was whittling away at a stick and watching as Seth Holt began tying his bedroll onto the back of his saddle.
He finished tying it securely and now leaned against a very unhappy, sorrel horse. The horse snorted and pinned his ears back. "Hey, you watch it, you flea-bitten nag!" Seth moved off to a safer place, still watching the horse warily out of the corner of his eye. "That is the most cantankerous cayuse I believe I've ever ridden. And top it off, he's missin' a shoe!" His hazel eyes squinted as he glared at Carl Gleason, who was saddling his own stolen horse.
Gleason gave a firm tug on the cinch and turned to face Seth, coolly. "Well, now, you didn't expect me to go around pickin' up all them horses' hooves, now did ya?" He said calmly, but his words dripped sarcasm. "Besides, I'll have it fixed in no time down at Amy's place."
Bryan threw down the cigarette he had been smoking and stomped it out with his boot heel, then turned to Gleason. "Say, uh, what's this Amy like, huh? You sure she ain't gonna snitch and run off for the sheriff?"
Gleason grit his teeth and his jaw tightened. "Amy's not like that. I helped her folks when they was alive and we both figure she owes me a good turn." He continued to do a check to make sure his tack was adjusted properly. The horse he had stolen for himself was a chestnut gelding with a good disposition.
"Well, I sure hope she don't decide to change her mind. You're too deep in this to turn back now, Gleason, so you'd better not do any thinkin' bout telling the law bout us either." Bryan warned.
Carl Gleason turned around slowly but casually and smirked at the eldest brother. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
Bryan's mouth twisted into a snarl. "I don't trust nobody." He spat on the ground and went to his own mount. On his saddle, he placed a heavy saddlebag with a lock on the flap. The contents were known only by himself and his two brothers. He had never allowed Gleason to so much as get within an inch of it.
Wonder what's so all fired important in there, Gleason watched thoughtfully as Bryan Holt secured the saddlebags and checked the lock. Bryan grinned to himself and mounted up.
"All right, boys! Mount up! We're movin' out." The creak of saddle leather and shuffling of the nervous horses' hooves sounded in the still night air, as the two younger Holt brothers and Carl Gleason mounted up. Fox was none too happy about his new rider and made sure it was a known fact. He pinned his ears back angrily and he shifted sideways, when Seth Holt clumsily shoved the toe of his boot into the sorrel horse's sleek side. After a few moments, Fox began walking, following the other horses down the steep, brush-covered trail that led to Amy Jackson's ranch.
Meanwhile, nearing the same ranch, coming from the southwest, rode a lone drover astride a palomino mare. Lolita's coat shined in the moonlight when the clouds moved away from the large milky-colored moon. Her pale mane whipped in the sudden breeze making her appear ghostly and look like the ghost white phantom horse that so many cowboys told tales of.
Rowdy felt a sudden chill. His fever must've been worse than Wishbone thought. Wish I'd brought my coat, he thought miserably. He hunched over in the saddle trying to escape the breeze that was beginning to kick up. Rowdy looked up at the sky. Looming gray clouds were beginning to move quickly and were bunching up. The young ramrod tightened the stampede string on his hat. His chills were coming faster now and harder. His teeth chattered and his body shook uncontrollably. Once he almost slipped from the saddle. I g-gotta stay in the saddle. Gotta find Fox. He urged his horse into a trot.
The palomino lifted her slender head and snorted. Rowdy looked in the direction Lolita's ears were pricked. There was some sort of light up ahead. Maybe a mile and a half or so away. If he could only make it that far!
They were closer now, and Rowdy could make out the silhouette of a ranch house and what he thought was a barn. The clouds rumbled and lights spatters of rain started to fall. They were almost there now. Just a few more strides and he'd at least make it to the shelter of the barn. Suddenly, the thunder shook the earth and the prairie sky lit up for a moment. Lolita whinnied in fear at a rabbit that scurried by looking for shelter from the now pounding rain. Rowdy held on with every ounce of his strength as the frightened palomino reared and pawed at the sky with her hooves. Lolita's fore hooves crashed back down to earth and she sprung back up again, her hooves thrashing at an invisible enemy. "Easy, Lolita! Easy!" Rowdy yelled to be heard over the din of the late summer storm and the mare's screams.
He leaned against her rain soaked neck and sat deep in the saddle trying to get all of her hooves back on the ground. If he could get her to stop rearing, he could make a few tight circles to calm her.
But the mare's eyes rolled in fear and she would have none of it. She threw her head back, slamming against Rowdy's forehead. The impact stunned Rowdy and the pain combined with the bullet wound from the day before, made him see spots before his eyes. Lolita bolted and the ramrod fell from the saddle.