RUDY LOOKED AT his watch. Barney must have started off pretty early to have biked in from the ranch already. And he’d obviously gone straight to Ty’s house without even stopping off to see Rudy first. And now the two of them were on their way downtown, and as they passed Rudy’s house, laughing and talking, it almost looked as if they weren’t even planning to slow down. But when Rudy yelled, “Haybarn!” they skidded to a stop. At least Barney did. Ty went on almost half a block before he braked and circled slowly back.
“Hey, Rudy-dudey.” Barney rode out the skid and then jumped off at the last second. He was wearing faded jeans and unlaced L.A. Gear sneakers and his usual wide-angle grin. Leaning his bike against the fence, he jumped over the gate and started up the steps to Rudy’s veranda. But Ty didn’t. When he finally came to a stop in front of the fence he just yelled, “Yo, dude,” and went on sitting on his shiny new twenty-one-speed Klein.
After Barney had grabbed the edge of the hammock and pretended he was going to dump Rudy, they roughhoused for a minute before he sat down on the railing. “Cool it, poodle,” he said to Ophelia, who was jumping around and barking her head off.
Ophelia, who, like everybody else, was crazy about Barney, immediately shut up.
“Yeah?” Barney said, making it into a question.
“What’s up?” Rudy got out of the hammock. “As in—where are you dudes off to?”
Barney grinned. “Shopping,” he said, “and scrounging.”
“Yeah, and we’re in a hurry,” Ty called. “I got to get back home to do some stuff for my dad. Come on, Barn.”
“Shopping?” Rudy asked.
“For some stuff we’re going to need for—” Barney lifted an eyebrow. “You know.”
Rudy knew, all right. “Like what?”
Barney lowered his voice. “Rock picks. And hard hats, if we can find some. Ty thinks he knows where we can get some real miners’ helmets. You know, the kind with the light on the top. Want to come along?”
A picture began to flash in Rudy’s mind. A faint wavering light… an oozing rock wall… and beyond that, darkness…. It took all his strength to keep from wincing as he said, “Oh, yeah? Where you going to find miners’ helmets? I don’t think they carry them at K mart.”
Barney laughed. “Not K mart. Old Jake’s. Ty saw some there.”
“Yeah.” Ty had given up on getting Barney to leave immediately. He leaned his bike against the fence and was on his way up the steps. “Jake has a bunch of them. In that back room where he has that kind of museum of old mining stuff.”
“They’re like antiques,” Barney broke in, “but Jake has a lot of them and Ty thinks we can fix them up with new…” His eyes focused on something out past Rudy’s shoulder and his voice trailed off into silence. From the glazed look in Barney’s eyes and a moment later in Ty’s, too, Rudy guessed what was happening before he turned around and saw her—Heather Hanrahan.
Heather Hanrahan, eighteen years old and terminally gorgeous, had been Rudy’s neighbor all his life. It didn’t surprise him at all that both Ty and Barney seemed to have gone into shock. Heather had that effect on some people. Like, just about every male in Pyramid. Rudy, himself, could hardly pretend to be immune. It was just that having grown up practically next door to Heather, he’d more or less gradually gotten used to her and… He stopped grinning at Barney, glanced back at Heather—and lost his train of thought.
She was dressed in some kind of western riding outfit—high-heeled boots, tight jeans, and a snug plaid shirt open at the neck. The Heather who had once been Rudy’s baby-sitter and who had helped him learn how to read had always been good-looking, but this glamorous cowgirl was something else again.
She came closer, awesomely slender and at the same time curvy in her tight outfit. And it wasn’t until she looked up toward the veranda and smiled that Rudy got it together enough to say something. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her stop and talk to him. For one thing, it would give him lots of points with Ty and Barney. But there was beginning to be another reason, and even though it was still vague and undeveloped, he already felt it was going to be very important.
Closing his mouth, which must have been hanging open a little, he gulped hard and called, “Hey, Heather. Wait a minute.”
She stopped, smiling calmly. She’d always been that way, calm and unflappable and not the kind of person you could put anything over on. Not even when you were a kid and she was your baby-sitter. He’d learned that in a hurry, and after they’d worked that out they gradually developed what you might call a neighborly kind of relationship. The kind of neighbors who enjoy each other’s company but who know exactly where the fences are.
Heather had always appreciated Rudy’s impersonations, so now he sauntered toward her doing his Windy Dayes bit. A few feet from where Heather stood he paused, hitched up an imaginary gun belt, spraddled his legs and said, “Well, howdy there, ma’am. You fixin’ to ride on in to Dodge City?”
She laughed and Rudy gulped. A laughing Heather—even white teeth, red lips, and crinkling long-lashed eyes—was really mind-boggling. Even to an old neighborhood friend like himself. He could just imagine what it was doing to Ty and Barney.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready for Dodge City yet. Next month maybe.”
“Next month?” Rudy asked.
“Yes. After I learn how. I’m taking the beginners riding class at Lawford’s. Starting today.”
“Oh, yeah? The beginners class? You mean you haven’t ridden before?”
“Oh, I’ve been on a horse once or twice, but not enough to really learn how,” Heather said. “My folks never could afford lessons.”
That wasn’t a surprise. Heather’s father had never been able to hold a job for very long because he was sick a lot. But then, Rudy’s family had always been even poorer and Rudy had been riding since he was five. But the difference, of course, had been being Barney’s friend.
“So now I’m going to learn how,” Heather said. “Before I go away to college.”
“Yeah. I heard about your inheritance. Pretty neat. Wish I had a rich uncle.”
Natasha had told him about the inheritance just last week, after Heather had been over for a visit—Heather and Natasha had always been pretty buddy-buddy. A great uncle, or someone like that, had left Heather some money just in time for her to use it for her college education. So now she was going to be able to go away to Sacramento State in the fall, instead of living at home and going to the local junior college like she had been planning to do.
“Well,” Heather said, “it ought to get me through school if I’m careful. And pay for riding lessons. I’ve been absolutely dying to learn to ride for years and years.”
At that moment the plan in the back of Rudy’s mind took a giant stride forward. He was beginning to see that he might be able to use his “old buddies” relationship with Heather to get certain people’s minds off certain other things—like gold mining.
“Look,” he said, falling into step as Heather started down Lone Pine. “Why are you taking riding at Lawford’s? From what I hear their horses are in pretty bad shape. Like, one foot in the glue factory.”
Heather smiled. “Oh, they’re not that bad. And the good news is they’ve got a lot of nice, safe, lazy ones for beginners like me.”
“Well, yeah, safe I guess. Unless one dies on you. From what I hear they’re dropping like horseflies. Having a dead horse land on you can pretty much ruin your whole day.”
Actually, Rudy had never ridden at Lawford Stables, but he’d heard Barney and his granddad talking about how riding-stable horses tended to be worn out from overwork and spoiled by having had so many greenhorn riders who didn’t know what they were doing. But his plan was really taking shape now, and part of it was to convince Heather that trying to learn to ride at the Lawford stables was a big mistake.
“Look,” he went on. “How would you like to have some riding lessons on a really great horse? For free.”
Heather stopped walking. Putting her hands on her hips, she gave Rudy an amused yet exasperated frown and said, “What are you raving about now, Rudy Drummond? You don’t have a horse.”
“Hey! You’re right!” Rudy whacked himself on the forehead, like the problem had just occurred to him. Then he mimed an “I’ve got it” expression and said, “However, I know someone who does. And I’m sure something could be arranged by Rudolph Drummond, Private Lesson Arranger, First Class.”
Heather was looking suspicious, but at the same time a little bit interested. “How about it?” Rudy said. “Free lessons on a great horse. You with me?”
“Look.” Heather suddenly looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run. I’m late.” She started off and then turned back. “We’ll talk later. If you’re not kidding…”
“I’m not. I’m not. I’m serious. I’m totally, absolutely…”
Heather waved impatiently and started off down the street.
“I’m serious. Totally serious. I couldn’t be more serious if…” Rudy gradually ran down as he realized that Heather was out of earshot. Watching her departing back, he sighed, and then turned to where Ty and Barney were still waiting on the veranda. As he came up the steps they both stared at him with what was obviously new respect. Especially Tyler.
“Way to go, Rudy-dudey!” Barney said, grinning.
Ty’s eyes were still glassy-looking. Punching Rudy in the shoulder, he said, “Hey, Rudy, baby. What’s your secret? What were you and the Ice Princess rapping about?”
“The Ice Princess?” Rudy asked.
“Yeah,” Barney said. “That’s what Ty calls her.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
Ty only shrugged, but Barney laughed. “Because she really cooled him when he tried to put a move on her.”
“I don’t believe it,” Rudy said to Ty. “I just don’t believe it.” Where did Ty get the idea that an eighth-grade dude could get away with hitting on a senior in high school? Particularly one like Heather Hanrahan, who had not only been homecoming queen and county fair princess, but who was also a straight A honor student.
Ty ran his hand over his bristly haircut, and with a supercool shrug said, “So she iced me. So what? I thought it was worth a try.”
“Worth a try,” Rudy said, trying to keep a straight face. “Okaaay. Got it. And next week you’re going to take a crack at Princess Di?”
That really broke Barney up. Ty laughed, too, but it was clear that he didn’t think it was all that funny. So after a minute or so Rudy cooled it.
“Hey, chill out, Crookshank,” he said to Barney, who was still laughing. “I have news with a capital N. Wait until I tell you what I was talking about with…” He nodded in the direction that Heather had disappeared.
Barney stopped laughing immediately. Rudy waited until he had their complete attention before he said, “How would you two dudes like to give Heather Hanrahan private riding lessons? With my help, of course.”
Ty snorted. “Riding lessons? What kind of a hairball idea is that? I don’t know anything about riding horses.” He stopped suddenly and looked at Barney, who was nodding.
“Yeah,” Barney said. “Applesauce. Applesauce would be great for a beginner.”
“Sure,” Rudy said. “She’d be perfect. As long as she doesn’t see any barrels.”
Ty was looking confused. “Hey, wait a minute. Would you two dweebs mind telling me what language you’re speaking?”
Explaining something to Ty made a nice change, because usually he was the big authority on almost anything you’d care to mention. But when it came to the Crooked Bar Ranch and ranches in general, he was totally clueless. He’d been out to the ranch a couple of times with Barney and Rudy, but apparently he hadn’t even heard that Barney’s parents were rodeo performers—which was, Rudy had to admit, something Barney tended not to mention very often.
“Applesauce is Barney’s mom’s mare,” Rudy said. “She’s a barrel racer.”
“Barrel racer?” Ty said with his usual scornful snort. “You mean you got horses out there that race with barrels?”
“Not with,” Barney said. “Around. The barrels are turnaround points and you have to go around them at top speed.”
“A good barrel horse goes around those things practically horizontal,” Rudy told Ty. “Like doing a killer wheelie, only on legs instead of wheels. When old Applesauce sees those barrels she really gets hyped. But the rest of the time she’s a real cream puff. She’s got a great mouth and she’s the smoothest ride this side of a Rolls-Royce. After riding those riding-stable clunkers Heather will think she’s died and gone to heaven.”
Rudy could tell that Ty was trying not to look impressed. “You do that too?” he asked Barney. “That barrel racing stuff?”
Barney shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve done it some. But I like roping better. That’s what my dad does on the circuit. My dad ropes and bulldogs and he used to ride broncs when he was younger. And my mom does stunt riding and barrel racing.”
“No way!” Ty said. “You mean your mom stands up on the horse’s back and jumps on and off and that kind of stuff?”
“Yeah,” Barney said. “All that kind of stuff.”
“You mean your mom? The one I met that day out at your place?”
Barney did a slow grin and then said, “Same one. Only one I’ve got.”
“No way,” Ty said again.
Rudy had been about to mention that he’d done some barrel racing on Applesauce himself, but then he thought better of it. It probably wouldn’t be too smart to make Ty feel that he was going to be the only greenhorn or he might back out of the whole project.
As it was, he wasn’t too happy about it. “I don’t know,” Ty said. “I’m not all that stoked about this horse thing. I sure wouldn’t mind getting up close and personal with Hanrahan, but as far as the riding thing is concerned—forget it. Horses hate my guts.”
Then he went on to tell about how, when he was a little kid, he’d been really turned on by cowboy stuff. So his folks hired one of those traveling photographers who come to your house and bring a pony. “One of those black-and-white spotted jobs,” Ty said. “That horse took one look and decided to dog-meat me. I told my mom so, but she didn’t believe me. Sure enough, as soon as they put me on his back that four-legged hit man took off across the lawn and hung me up in the badminton net. The next day I dumped my hat and boots in the garbage and forgot all about growing up to be a cowboy. Haven’t been on a horse since. So how am I going to teach someone to ride when I don’t know how myself?”
“Barney can teach you first,” Rudy said quickly, fighting the grin that was oozing out at the thought of Ty dangling from a badminton net like a fly in a spiderweb. “He taught me.”
Ty looked at him, narrow-eyed. “Then you’re an expert at this horse stuff, too, Chickie-baby?”
“Hey, Lewis!” Barney said in a threatening tone of voice, and Ty got the message. Barney had warned him to stop calling Rudy “Chicken” or “Chickie,” or even “Kentucky Fried,” which he seemed to think was particularly funny.
“Okay. Okay. Rudy-baby,” Ty said quickly. “You an expert, too, or what?”
Rudy shook his head. “No, not an expert. Not like Barney. But it doesn’t take long to learn enough to look pretty good. Barney can give you a lesson or two first, and by the time Heather shows up you can look like an old cowhand. She’ll really be impressed.”
“Sure. Sure she will,” Ty said sarcastically, but a little later he asked Barney if he could really teach him to ride in a hurry. And before they left he had agreed that, in a day or two, he’d go out to the ranch for his first riding lesson.
The whole discussion had taken up so much time that, when it finally ended, it was too late for the scrounging trip downtown. So getting the miners’ helmets was going to have to wait until some other time—which didn’t exactly break Rudy’s heart.