People began leaving the reception hall, going off to their own lives. I dreaded going back to a ranch to face years of memories, but now with a plan in place I wanted to get back to meet Elan. To me it was awful for Chase to bring someone along and then just leave them to their own devices at a stranger’s house. I knew Chase was different from most people and that this was in part due to his being raised in Elan’s environment. The two men didn’t see this like I did, but I still felt a need to get back to the ranch and check things out.
When we arrived at the ranch Zack and Randy had already started their evening chores. I bet they were glad to have a day with minimal chores. There would be no rigorous horse training, just feeding and tending, and lots of talking.
I jumped out of the Explorer, scanning the ranch for signs of a stranger. I scanned the ground for unfamiliar footprints. Rusty smiled, glad to see me almost back to my old self.
I went to the old Bug and picked up Elan’s tracks. I knew they weren’t Chase’s. They were very different. They were slightly smaller and more graceful than Chase’s tracks. They led to the back of the ranch where they wandered a bit. Elan had observed the ranch from the shelter of the trees. He took his time and moved from tree to tree. This place probably looked odd after what he was used to. White fences, close cropped green grass. The bright red barn. The huge ranch house. The house was like a hotel. There was a whole wing of private rooms, each with its own bathroom.
Elan spent the morning observing the movements and people around the ranch. After we left for the funeral he slipped back down and walked amongst the horses. He watched the horses in the pastures and quietly walked from horse to horse in the barn. He had jumped away, startled, when Satan charged the gate to his stall. It was a reinforced gate, because the devil horse had broken the first two, but it made a racket when the 1200 pounds of cantankerous stallion charged it. Elan stepped close to most of the horses, probably petting them. It was hard for a horse person to get near a horse and not touch them. A horse person naturally reaches out to meet a friendly horse. He had kept a respectful distance from the house. I caught up with him in the oak woods in back of the property. He was lying in the grass just waiting and when he noticed movement he sat up. He stood in one fluid movement and walked down the hill to us, smiling. He was short and slim. His black hair, bound in a ponytail, hung down his back. He was a young, handsome Indian man. He stood erect, yet relaxed.
“You bring strangers,” he said to Chase.
“They are only strangers to you,” Chase replied. “This is Rusty. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. This is his wife, Cassidy.”
“It’s good to meet you,” he said extending his hand. We shook hands and he stood, quietly for a moment, then said, “Which of you is the tracker?”
“That would be Cassidy,” Chase said.
Elan raised his eyebrows, “Tell me, where did I go today?”
“You walked the fence, watching the horses, you visited the horses in the barn. The big, black horse charged the gate and made you jump. You walked down the row of stalls petting the horses. You particularly liked the big gray horse and the buckskin. You looked at a racehorse and leaned forward. I don’t know what you were doing. After you left the barn you walked around the outside of the ranch house. Early in the morning you wandered in the hills and after you checked out the ranch you came back here to wait.”
“The race horse has odd looking knees. At first I thought there was something wrong with them but I think, if I looked more closely, they are fine.”
“The man who died? His name was Frank. The horse you were looking at is named Frank’s Choice. Frank could spot the talent in a horse. He knew that horse could run. It’s in his blood. I have ridden him and he is fast. There’s nothing wrong with his knees. I’m willing to bet Frank put his money on that horse because people would see his knees and not bet on him, making him a long shot in the betting booths. That would be just like Old Frank. The horse isn’t ready for the track yet. He’s finishing up his training. The gray horse is mine, although I don’t get to ride him often. The ranch hands work him like they do the rest of the horses while I am gone. The buckskin is just a workhorse around the ranch. I think Steve favors him, too.”
“One horse puzzled me. A little paint. He is like a puppy, following people. Yet he lives away from the ranch in a large pasture. He’s no work horse. He’s no quarter horse. You won’t breed him, yet he is socialized and well trained.”
“That’s my nephews’ horse. Patrick has worked with him. He’s ridden by a kid.”
“I’d like to meet that kid.”
“You will, but first you have to meet my father.”
When Dad got home we gave him some time to get settled. I thought it would be better to get a feel for the situation first, so Rusty, Chase and Elan waited inconspicuously outside. I went to Dad’s office and knocked quietly. He glanced up wearily. It had been a long week for him. I hated to drop ranch work on him.
“Cassidy. You doing okay, kid?”
“Yeah, how are you?” I answered quietly.
“I’ve been better. What did you want?”
“I have a surprise for you. I didn’t know about it until I got to the reception. And I don’t know if you’re going to be happy about it or not. I’d like you to keep an open mind.”
Oops, that made him wary.
“I’m about as open minded as they come.”
Yeah, right.
“What do you think of Chase?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know the man. He looks like a bum.”
“What if I told you he was a retired police officer from San Diego? Would that change your opinion of him?”
“Why does my opinion of your friend matter that much to you?” he asked, not beating around the bush.
“Because Chase has a friend. He brought him along. He’d like to train horses for you. But, Dad, it’s more than that. This man wants to work with Patrick, too. He’s an Indian. He’s related to the man who taught Chase how to track. Chase is the best tracker I’ve ever met.”
“How many trackers have you met?”
“Well, one, but that’s the point. Tracking is a rare talent. Patrick has it. If he had a person to go tracking with he could easily get better at it than I am. To find a person who is good with horses and knows how to track is a rare find. I’m asking you to give this man a chance.”
“You talk about Patrick like he’s the only one who exists over there. What about Wyatt? I won’t favor one kid over the other like you do.”
“I don’t favor Patrick. Wyatt just hasn’t taken an interest in things around him yet. He barely speaks to me. He stays in the house with Jesse.”
“The door lets people in as well as out.”
“Dad, we’re not talking about me here. I’ll try to pay more attention to Wyatt if you think he needs it, but we’re talking about a horse trainer. I talked to Elan a little bit. Just from the few minutes we talked I know he’s experienced, maybe not with horse racing but with horses. He knows more than Zack. He’d get to know the boys just like the other hands do.”
“And you think I should take Chase’s word on this guy?”
“Yes and no. I admit Chase has a vested interest in Patrick. Chase sees tracking as an art and he worries that it’s fast becoming a lost art. When he sees true tracking talent he nurtures it, much like Old Frank did in me. But Chase lives in San Diego. He can’t teach Patrick like he wants to. So when he heard you might be looking for a new hand he asked Elan if he’d apply for the job. Patrick almost worships Chase because Chase is a walking encyclopedia of animal lore and tracking knowledge. If Chase was around, Patrick would soak up all the knowledge he could. Patrick is a walking information sponge right now and Elan can teach him what he wants to know.”
“But you want me to hire him as a horse trainer.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would give him a chance.”
“And you say he’s here?”
“Yes, but he won’t come in without an invitation from you.”
“This is a hell of a time.”
“I know Daddy, but you’ve wanted to hire someone even before Old Frank passed away. Chase came to pay his respects, all the way from San Diego. I think Elan is from Arizona. The least you can do is talk to them. If you don’t want to do it now I’ll take them riding in the hills.”
“Send Patrick to me,” he said.
Gulp. “Okay, so you’ll think about it?”
“I’ll think about it. Stick around.”
“Yes, sir!” I said happily.
I jogged out the front door and down the lane to Jesse’s house. She answered the door and invited me in.
“Dad wants to talk to Patrick,” I told her.
“Dad does? What did Pat do this time?”
“Nothing. He’s thinking about hiring a new horse trainer and he just wants Patrick’s opinion.”
“Since when is Patrick advising Dad on how to run this ranch?”
“Since about ten minutes ago. He’ll be fine. Dad just wants to talk to him.”
“Well, I guess he better get up there. I know how Dad hates to be kept waiting.”
Jesse found Patrick outside snooping around in the bushes.
“Patrick,” she said. “Your grandpa wants to talk to you. Go on up to the ranch house and be respectful.”
“What’d I do this time?” Pat said.
“Nothing,” I answered. “I’ll explain a little on the way.”
Pat jumped on his bike and I stopped him. “Slow down. I need to talk to you on the way. Grandpa’s going to ask you some questions and I want you to think before you answer him.”
“What kind of questions?”
“You know I can’t second guess your grandpa. Maybe tracking questions. Maybe about what you want to be when you grow up. It might be serious questions and it might be fun questions.”
“Why is he asking me?”
“Because it’s your opinion that matters.”
I sure was right when I said I couldn’t second guess my dad. When we arrived back at the ranch house Dad wasn’t in his office sitting behind his big, scary desk. He was out on the porch talking to Rusty, Chase, and Elan.
“Thank you, Cassidy,” Dad said, then to Patrick, “I need some help and seeing as how you’re affected by this decision I was hoping you could help me make it. This is Elan. He wants a job as a horse trainer. I want to know if you’d hire him.”
“Sir?” Patrick asked totally taken by surprise.
“Show me how to conduct an interview to hire a horse trainer.”
Patrick was embarrassed, but disobeying his grandfather was unthinkable. He tried to keep his expressions levelheaded as he frantically tried to figure out how to follow through on the request. His Grandpa never wanted help with anything. There had to be a catch, but the only way to find out what was really going on was to obey orders.
“It’s good to meet you Elan,” Patrick said nervously. “My name’s Patrick Marshall.” Then to his grandfather, “Grandpa, we can’t do a training interview at the house. We gotta do it at the barn.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s not what I think, it’s what the horses think. If the horses will listen to him that’s what matters most.”
The men nodded in agreement and so we headed for the barn. On the way Patrick walked with Elan.
“We train quarter horses here,” Pat said. “The trick is to know which ones are born to work and which ones are born to race. We don’t breed a lot of horses but we train the few into the best horses around. Unless a horse is obviously born to race we train them to work. That means trail riding, rodeo, herding, you name it these horses can do it. We don’t work the racers the same, ‘cause they don’t think the same. Their brains are just different. They got lots of go and hardly any stop. A work horse needs more stop in ‘em and a thinkin’ brain. Do you agree?”
Elan tried not to snicker. He was half amused and half impressed to see a seven year old take on the mantle of one of the grown up ranch hands.
“Of course, I agree,” Elan said. “To force a work horse into the stress of the track would be cruel. Likewise, to limit the racehorse to the stop and go chores of the ranch would frustrate them. A horse has a mind of its own, just like people, except horses are at the mercy of the people around them.”
We had arrived at the barn.
“I want you to choose a work horse. This is Chet, Mack, Buck and Shasta. Pick the horse you want to work with and saddle him up. Then saddle up Frank’s Choice and take him down to the track.”
Dad pointed the way to the tack room. Elan quickly looked over the horses and chose Buck. He led Buck out to the open area of the barn and carefully saddled and bridled the buckskin. Then he clipped a lead rope to Frank’s Choice’s halter and led the skittish colt into the main part of the barn. The young race horse was antsy. He didn’t know this man. He was a little hard to handle even under normal circumstances. Elan talked to the horse quietly in a mixture of Navajo and English. He ran his hands over him, calming him. He checked his knees, feeling for tenderness or hot spots. He grinned remembering what I’d said about Old Frank’s choice of racehorses. When Frank’s Choice had settled, Elan saddled him and bridled him, stopping when the colt got agitated, patiently working with the motions of the horse. All the while Patrick just watched. Watching how Elan handled the horses. When both horses were saddled he clipped the lead rope to the bridle of Frank’s Choice and mounted Buck. He led the prancing racehorse all the way to the track. Frank’s Choice tried to shy away but a quick jerk and a cluck or two of horse speak and he followed along. Buck, steady as ever, just glared at the spunky colt.
“Now, take him round the track three times.”
“Three times? But this is a quarter horse. He’s not meant to run three laps.”
“I didn’t say run ‘im three laps. I just meant ride him three laps.”
Dad stood there arms folded, taking notes. Elan dismounted and tied Buck to the fence surrounding the track. I watched Patrick. What was he looking for in a horse trainer? He seemed to even note how Elan tied the reins to the fence. Elan led Frank’s choice away from the group to introduce himself to the horse. He seemed to admire the colt’s sleek coat and man and horse appraised each other for just a few seconds before Elan swung easily into the saddle. A slight grin spread across Elan’s face. Every horseman knows the feel of a quality horse when he is in the saddle. There is just a spark there that isn’t in a downtrodden, ill kept horse.
Elan put his heels to the horse and was pleased with a quick response. He let the horse get warmed up and when it was obvious Frank’s Choice was itching to run he pulled him back just a bit. He settled himself firmly in the saddle, crouched down, but not low, a spring ready for action. He gave the racehorse a kick and Frank’s Choice reached out. He accelerated, looking for that perfect speed that ate up the ground and warmed his muscles. Elan pushed him for a little more but didn’t hold him there. This wasn’t a race and he wasn’t going to use up a good horse for a demonstration. He talked to the horse with his hands, legs, feet, and body position, aware that the rider gave the horse a clear message through touch. Elan took Frank’s Choice around three laps but he didn’t run a complete lap. He watched the horse as he rode and responded to its signals. He brought him up to a slow pace to see how the racehorse responded to a restraining hand. Frank’s Choice fought it but in a way this seemed to please Elan. He came back grinning.
“Frank was right. This horse will drive the bettors crazy when he runs his first race.”
Patrick simply turned to his grandfather and said, “Go for it!”
“What?” Dad said. “You’d hire him after watching him saddle two horses and ride around for fifteen minutes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t ask him if he’s had any experience. You haven’t asked him if he’s been to the races. You didn’t ask him if he’s worked at other ranches.”
“Sir, I can tell you, he’s been around horses all his life. He’s never been to an official race, but he’s seen a few on TV. He’s worked with his horses and he’s been around other horses but he’s doesn’t have a fancy… what’s it called? A paper that tells what jobs you had before.”
“A resume?”
“Yeah, if you looked at his resume you wouldn’t hire him. But if you ask the horses, they’d hire him right off the bat.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Dad said.
“He knows more’n Zack. He’s got more experience than Randy, though Randy has a feel for horses you can’t match. I say if he’s as good as what you got and what you got’s good, go for it!”
“So you’d hire him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What if I told you Elan isn’t just a horse trainer? What if I told you he was a tracker?”
Patrick’s eyes got real big. He almost jumped up and down but he restrained himself, gave his grandpa the biggest hound doggie eyes you ever saw and said earnestly, “Grandpa, you can’t let him get away.”
“Thank you, Patrick, you answered my questions. You can go home now.”
“What?! But I got a zillion questions now! I can’t just go home! I’ll drive my mom nuts!”
“Very well, you can stay but let us talk adult talk for a while. Cassidy, would you put the horses away?”
“Sure.”
I rode Buck and led Frank’s Choice back to the barn. I unsaddled both horses and put Buck in his stall. I brushed down Frank’s Choice as he danced around. I talked to him as I tried to follow his nervous movements. I looked over his funny-looking knees. Yup, Frank had chosen this horse just to play a joke on bettors at the races. He was fit as a fiddle with odd shadowy spots on his knees that would fool almost anybody. I could imagine the race announcers asking how we could think to race a horse like that. I never listened to the horse races but I became determined to catch Frank’s Choice’s first race.
Patrick hung on every word as Dad took Elan around and introduced him to each of the ranch hands and told him a little about them. Then he showed Elan the bunkhouse. It was one large room with four beds, a table and a separate bathroom. It was like a modern version of the old west bunkhouse. It was heated and air-conditioned. It had hot and cold water, closets and dressers. The hands ate their meals at the ranch house with the family.
The ranch hands seemed very accepting of Elan, but I thought Elan was due for some culture shock. The ranch was very different from where he’d come from. It was even different from most California ranches. Something just set it apart. I couldn’t really put my finger on it but I thought anybody would experience a bit of culture shock moving there.
Dad asked for some time to think and went to his office. I doubted that he was really going to think. He was going to talk to Mom or Steve but we wisely gave him the space he asked for, and found something to do.
Patrick was nervous. “I didn’t know what to do!” he said. “Grandpa pulled a fast one on me!”
“It’s okay, Pat. You did good. You didn’t do what he expected, but you did better. You assessed the situation in your own way and you came to the right conclusion.”
“You could’a let me know how much was hangin’ on it! What if he says no?”
“Then we’ll just have to accept it.”
“I gotta find something to do,” Pat said. “This waiting is driving me nuts. Can we go find those deer tracks?”
“We don’t have time before dinner,” I told him. “We’ll go out there tomorrow.”
He thought for a moment then said, “Aunt Cassidy, do that trick where you cross the whole ranch without leaving a track. See if Chase or Elan can figure out what you did.”
“No, I don’t want you to know how I do it.”
“Aw, come on.”
“No, if you knew how I did it you would try it and it’s not something a seven year old should be doing.”
“When’ll we know something?” Patrick asked.
“I expect him to make a decision before dinner time. He knows we are all waiting and he’ll have to say something at dinner.”
“I know!” Patrick said. “If he’s going to make a big announcement he’ll call mom and make sure everybody’s gathered for dinner. So if he’s going to say yes he’ll call Mom and make sure we’re all going to be there! All we gotta do is go to my house and see if we got invited to dinner. If he’s going to say no he’ll do it in private an’ he won’t want a bunch of people there hounding him about an answer. All we gotta do is see if Mom got a phone call and then we’ll know! He’ll have to call Mom before she starts cookin’ dinner so he should call soon.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to be a detective when you grow up?” Rusty asked Patrick.
We walked down to Patrick’s house and sat under the big oak tree while Patrick went and did his undercover work. He left the front door open and ran into the house.
“Hi, Mom! What’s for dinner, I’m starving!” he said innocently.
“I don’t know. If you’re hungry grab a cookie.”
I could imagine the frustration and the expression on Patrick’s face.
“Can I take one for Aunt Cassidy and Uncle Rusty? And Chase and Elan?”
“Sure,” she said absentmindedly.
Patrick came outside with a sack of cookies and no information.
“I’ve never been disappointed about getting a cookie snack before,” he informed us.
We fell silent, waiting until Patrick couldn’t stand it anymore.
“At least tell a story,” Patrick said.
“I was just here a few weeks ago. I’ve only had one search since then and Chase already heard all about it.”
“Did you see any animals on your search?”
“Only one, but I didn’t tell Chase about that.”
“What kind was it?”
“It was ugly! And it was very small. It ran up my leg and its sting hurt like crazy! Believe me, you never want to get stung by a scorpion!”
“A scorpion! What did you do?”
“I did the worst thing I could have done!” I exclaimed, building up the story.
“You hit it,” said Elan smiling. “It’s the first thing everybody does and it’s always a mistake.”
“Yup, I swatted it good and hard and you know what happened?”
“It stung your hand,” Elan said. “If there’s one thing everybody knows in Arizona, it’s that scorpions are no fun and they can sting you even when they’re dead.”
“Did you kill it?” Patrick asked.
“No, Elan is right, it stung my hand too. Then my leg and my hand hurt like crazy but that wasn’t the worst of it. The poison from the scorpion made me get numb all over. I couldn’t feel anything with my hands or feet. Even my ears and nose were numb and I couldn’t swallow except just a little water.”
“But it didn’t kill you,” Patrick said.
“Obviously. Victor said my reaction was bad but it felt worse than it was. I was glad because what I felt was pretty scary!”
“Now I’ve got the creeps,” Patrick said scratching his arm. “I’m gonna feel creepie crawlies on me for the rest of the day.”
The phone rang inside the house and Patrick leaped to attention and ran into the house.
“Patrick, close the door!” scolded Jesse.
“I’m just getting my tracks book,” Patrick said.
He went to his room and quietly eves dropped on the way.
“No, I haven’t started anything… Sure, I’d be glad to not cook for a day!… All right, we’ll be there… Pat? Can you run out and tell your dad we’re eating at the ranch tonight?”
“Sure, Mom!” his voice cracked with the excitement.
“Patrick, are you okay? You’re acting really weird today.”
“Me? I’m fine! I’m even finer than fine. I’m great!”
“Okay, listen for the bell.”
“I will. I wouldn’t miss this dinner for anything!”
“Are you sure you’re okay? I feel like I’m missing something here, like the whole ranch knows something I don’t.”
“It’s okay, Mom, you’ll find out at dinner.”
“I hope so.”
Patrick leaped off the porch and clasped me in a hug then he jumped up and down. He grabbed his bicycle and rushed off to tell his dad about dinner. If there was one thing he wanted it was a dinner befitting a big announcement from his grandfather.
Dinner was a study in contrasts. Half the table was still in funeral mode. The ranch hands were subdued. Dad seemed tired. Mom and Martha were not ready for things to return to normal. They missed Old Frank. Wyatt was his normal, happy, little boy self. The rest of us sat on the edge of our seats, waiting. Rusty was more laid back than the rest of us. He knew life would go on no matter what Dad said but he also knew how much I wanted this to happen. Patrick barely stayed in his seat.
As Martha placed the last bowl on the table, Dad stood. I expected him to wait until the end of the meal to make his announcement, but there were strangers at the table.
“If I could have everybody’s attention, please,” he said. “We have dinner guests and I’d like to make introductions. I’d like you all to meet, and make welcome at our table, Elan and Chase. Elan would like to hire on as a horse trainer. We’ll talk about that further after dinner but it looks like, if he’s willing we’ll see about a three-month trial period. Some folks couldn’t stand us for three months so we’ll see if we pass muster. He may put in his three months and high tail it for Arizona, but we’ll see. Most of you know Chase as Cassidy’s tracking teacher from San Diego. He’s a good friend of Rusty’s family an’ I reckon they know what they’re about. Chase, you are always welcome at our table.”
“Thank you,” Chase said with a controlled grin.
There were handshakes with the people that Chase and Elan could reach and friendly chatter from the rest of the family.
“I want to know why Patrick is so excited about this,” Jesse said. “I’ve never seen him like this before except maybe when he knows Cassidy is coming to visit. So, Pat, tell us, why are you bouncing off the walls?”
Patrick waited, letting the tension grow. This was important to him and he wanted everybody to know. When all eyes were on him he said simply, “Elan can track!”
All eyes swiveled to Elan. “Well,” he said, embarrassed, “tracking kind of runs in my family. My great grandfather taught Demothi to track. In my family the skills are passed down from generation to generation and so, even though the skills for tracking are not needed as they once were, the connection with the land is still there. Demothi thought that if Patrick and I work together we would both improve our tracking skills.”
“Patrick, Elan is not being hired on as your babysitter,” Dad warned.
“I know, Grandpa. But we can be friends, too, can’t we?”
“I would hope so.”
“Who’s Demothi?”
“It is my family’s name for Chase,” Elan said. “It is a Native American word for talks while walking. He was given it by my grandfather because Chase would tell what the tracks said to him as he tracked.”
“Cool! Will you give me an Indian name too?” Patrick asked.
“We will have to wait and see what name you fit. Right now I would have to name you talks always, but I know there is more to you than that. You must earn your Indian name.”
“Oh man, if I gotta earn it, I gotta decide what I want to be known for. That means I need to work on my tracking and my stalking. What else am I good at?”
I could see the wheels turning. Patrick had a goal, to earn the ideal Indian name.
“What does your name mean?” Patrick asked Elan.
“I was named when I was a baby, so I didn’t have the option of earning my name. Elan means friendly.”
“Aunt Cassidy, what does your name mean?”
“I’ve never bothered to find out. I know Grandpa liked it because it was an old west name.”
“You’ve never looked it up?” Jesse asked.
“No.”
“I did. I think the meaning of your name is very appropriate. It means clever.”
“So what does your name mean?” I asked knowing if she looked up my name she surely looked up her own.
“Well, the book didn’t have a meaning for Jesse but it said it was derived from Jessica and Jessica means rich woman.”
Rusty laughed out loud when he heard that. Jesse glared at him.
“What?” she asked.
“Mr. Gordon you sure know how to pick ‘em. Cassidy lives by her wits and Jesse lives at the mall.”
The deer were alert and we really had no chance to close in on them with a party of four riders. Patrick was determined to try and I knew to have four of us out there would be useless. Two, at most, could stalk together, if they shared a common goal and had experience. So I waited with the horses as Elan and Patrick went out together. Patrick knelt before the herd and went through his ritual. At least that’s the way I thought of it.
“What is he doing?” Elan asked.
“He says he is talking to the deer. It’s something he came up with on his own. It’s harmless and it puts him in the right frame of mind so I haven’t stopped him.”
“You doubt him?”
“I don’t believe the deer can hear him. I don’t try to talk to them. But it can’t hurt for him to try.”
“And what do you think the deer think?”
“They think the grass is good here or they wouldn’t keep coming back.”
“Maybe you need to listen to the deer.”
“I enjoy the deer. I like being with them but I have never heard a deer speak.”
“Maybe you listen with the wrong ears.”
Patrick stood, still focused on the deer. We stood watching and he stepped forward not waiting for an adult to guide him. He needed supervision because of his age but he trusted the deer. As Patrick walked we all looked at each other.
“Have you done this before?” I asked Elan.
“Not with this kind of deer, only animals in general.”
“Go ahead, Patrick will surprise you.”
And so Elan followed Patrick out into the clearing. They had to walk a ways before they came within stalking range. As they grew closer their posture gradually changed until they were in a stalking crouch. I wanted to try it, too, but I knew Elan and Patrick needed to learn to work together.
It was a lazy day. It felt good to sit back and listen to the hills. I was content knowing Patrick was in good hands, able to get out and investigate the world around him, ask questions, and find answers. I was glad Patrick had possibilities before him instead of sorrow over Old Frank. I knew by the time Patrick was my age Old Frank would be a distant memory but Old Frank’s influence on Patrick’s life would last a lifetime.
Elan let Patrick lead, observing the youngster’s movements and the way he read the deer. When they got within a hundred feet the deer didn’t let them get closer but they didn’t run away either. They simply kept out of reach, like they knew these slow humans were no match for them. The two were able to observe the deer from close quarters but they were never able to close to the gap. Patrick returned jubilant. He’d spent time with the deer. Quality time when the deer could get to know him. He felt it was important that the deer know him so they would get used to him and let him get closer next time. Before he left he mixed up the plaster and filled a clear deer track with plaster of Paris. He marked the spot so he could come retrieve the dry track later.
We rode back, Patrick cheerfully talking all the way. His little horse looked happy and perky listening to his chatter. When Patrick’s voice rose Snoopy’s ears swiveled.
“Do you like stalking the deer?” he asked Elan. “I can only come out here with an adult so I have only done it two times. My mom and dad don’t care about the deer and Steve and Randy are always too busy. And Zack can’t stalk ‘em worth beans. He doesn’t have enough patience. Grandpa is too busy being the big boss. Even if he isn’t doing anything he’s being the boss of the ranch.”
“What does your grandfather do with you?” Elan asked.
“He’ll talk to me, if I go talk to him. He will tell me stories, mostly about Aunt Cassidy and my mom and ranchin’ in the old days. He likes maps. If he’s got a map out he’ll ask me to do things he thinks are hard, like find a town in this and so county, or which way is north, or name three towns on highway five. If I do something he disagrees with he’ll call me into his office and give me heck for it. That’s why I was scared to come when he wanted me to interview you. I thought he caught me on the barn roof.”
“I told Steve to cover those meters so you couldn’t do that. I told him you’d figure it out, since you knew it could be done,” I said.
“Yeah? Well, he didn’t do it fast enough. Did you know you can spy on half the ranch from up there?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Chase just smiled as everyone quietly lived up to his expectations.
“You’re not mad at me for goin’ up there?”
“Do you know how to walk on the roof without being heard? Do you know how to walk without falling off?”
“Yeah, I wear my moccasins and I walk like I’m stalkin’, feeling my way like you taught me and then my steps are nice and quiet.”
“Then I’m not mad at you, but you’re taking a chance doing it. Sooner or later you’re going to get caught.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait. I bet Steve says, ‘There you go again. You’re just like Cassidy.’ He says that a lot. I got a lot to live up to. What can I try next?”
“Come up with your own adventures.”
“Aw, but if I try your adventures and come up with my own then I get twice the fun!”
“A kid can only take so much fun without killing himself,” I said. “I’m lucky I grew up.”
We all rode to the barn and I automatically went through the motions of unsaddling and brushing down Shasta.
“It’s a rule at this ranch, you ride a horse, you groom him. Unless it’s just a walk to the track and back like you did with Buck, the horse gets unsaddled, brushed out, anything it needs you take care of before you put him back in the stall. After a while it’ll be second nature. I’ve come off the trail barely able to walk but I still groom my horse. I think the only one that’ll give you any trouble is Chet. He doesn’t like his hooves messed with. He’s still manageable but he’s fussy. And don’t do anything with Satan. He’s earned his name. He isn’t rideable. He’ll turn on you, charge you, kick you, and bite you. Don’t even try to pet him.”
“This seems a very pleasant place to live,” Elan said. His English was too precise, too refined. It seemed odd to me.
“Yeah, that’s one reason I don’t live here. I can only stand so much pleasantness before it grates on me. Don’t be surprised if it grates on you too. When Rusty, Chase and I go home things are going to get mighty quiet. I can’t wait to get my hands on some unpleasantness. Rusty’s got an interesting case. I’m going to pick his brain and I’ve got some ideas to try.”
“What kind of a case?” Chase asked.
We walked to the house ready to see if Rusty was bored to tears. He wasn’t. I stopped. I knew I shouldn’t have turned my back on him for more than an hour or two. He sat on the porch swing and next to him acting her voluptuous self was Misty Montague. Rusty was pleasant to her. He wasn’t uncomfortable with her advances, but hardly anything made Rusty uncomfortable. He was at ease in any situation. I had to check my actions. One of Misty’s biggest assets was the jealousy of others. She would undermine the wife. Make her look bad. I had to be pleasant and assertive and I couldn’t let her beat me down. I needed to be self-assured. My family and the hands were nowhere to be found. They knew they would have a hard time being pleasant. Rusty stood and walked down the steps. He smiled and wrapped me in a hug.
“Did you get to stalk the deer?” he asked.
“I let Elan go out with Patrick. I just had to show them where the deer are found.”
“Wow, that took self-restraint. I thought you’d be the first one out there.”
“Elan wanted to go and he needed to see what Patrick was capable of. They did pretty good, and had a lot of fun doing it. I can stalk deer at home.”
“I can’t believe it,” Misty said. “You look the same as you did in high school.”
“Thanks,” I said, although she didn’t mean it as a compliment.
I was dusty and windblown and smelly and there was Misty in a fancy pants suit, fresh from the cleaners, diamonds sparkling. Her pedicured toes poked delicately out of high heeled sandals. Her fingernails matched her outfit.
“Do you ever change?” She asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve changed a lot.”
“Oh really? Tell me.”
And I realized she wasn’t interested in the ways I had changed inside. She wanted to know if I drove a fancy car, if I could go to the department stores and buy whatever I wanted. It made me mad.
“I’m a survivor. You drop me anywhere and I’ll find my way home. I’ve been beaten and lost and I’ve lost loved ones and no matter what happens to me I bounce back.”
“You were like that in high school, too.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t like that either.
“Well, I must be going. Will I see you before you leave?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how long we’re staying.”
“Toodle-oo,” she said and did her runway walk down to her white Mercedes. She got in gracefully and waved to Rusty on her way out.
That woman made me so mad. We were opposites in every way imaginable. In a man’s eyes, she was everything I wasn’t, and it made me mad, but I couldn’t let it show. I wasn’t jealous of her. I felt sorry for her, but sometimes the difference was hard to distinguish.
I took a quick shower and changed clothes for lunch.
After lunch Dad called a meeting in his office. He wanted the rundown. Chase, Elan, Rusty, Patrick and I sat in front of his big desk.
“Elan, you want to train horses here? You know it’s going to be a lot of manual labor. There’s a lot of dirty work involved in running a ranch. Are you up to it?”
Elan had been taking notes. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“You’ll do as you’re told? Steve is your supervisor. He’s a fair and reasonable man. Do you anticipate any problems?”
“Do you?”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Gordon, I won’t make trouble for them if they won’t make trouble for me.”
“You’re used to a little opposition.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll not get it here. If you do, let me know.”
“Sir, these things are not solved by an iron hand. I’m used to proving myself. All I have to do is show them I am a man, the same as them, and they will learn. We may hit it off just fine. It may take all three months. It may take longer, but as long as the ranch is running smoothly I have no need of help.”
Dad nodded. “Patrick?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m telling you again, Elan may know how to track but he is not here to baby sit you. He has a life of his own. If he goes tracking with you, that is his gift to you. You don’t ask for a gift, do you?”
“No sir.”
“You will not ask Elan to take you tracking. You may ask him questions, just like you do all the ranch hands. I do expect you to ask reasonable questions. You are growing up into their job so I expect you to learn it gradually and take on responsibilities just like Cassidy and your mom did growing up here. When you get old enough I’ll hire you on. Right now you’re still learning. Do you understand your position here?”
Patrick got right to the heart of the matter that was on his mind.
“Sir? I know I got a job to do. An’ I know Elan’s got a job to do. An’ I know Mom and Cassidy pulled their weight. An’ I plan to do that, too, but can I be a grandkid, too?”
Dad’s eyes softened a bit. “You most certainly can.”
Patrick relaxed a little.
“So,” Chase said to Elan, “you really want to stay?”
“I do,” he answered.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Chase told him. “I call up here every few weeks anyway.”
Dad raised an eyebrow again.
“Patrick has tracking questions,” Chase explained to him.
“He keeps tabs on lots of people, in his own quiet way. He calls Lou Strickland and Schroeder,” I told Dad. “I’m used to it.”
“How did you know?” Chase asked.
“I just know. You leave tracks,” I said.
Chase loaded up his things after the meeting, shook hands all around and headed back to San Diego. Elan watched Demothi drive away and turned to survey his new home. He was on his own in this strange, new place. He took his things to the bunkhouse and settled in.
Monday the ranch was pretty much back to normal, except for the obvious absence of Old Frank. The ranch felt settled and peaceful. I decided it was time I became acquainted with my other nephew. I walked down to Jesse’s house and knocked. She came to the door and invited me in. Patrick was at school but Wyatt ran out and peered at me from around the wall of the hallway. He was as quiet as his brother was talkative. Jesse was on a scrap booking spree and Wyatt was using the little bits and pieces of paper that were left over to glue together a collage. If the shape wasn’t quite right he snipped at it to his liking, but he talked very little. I decided to get down to his level while I visited with Jesse. So we talked and I glued.
Wyatt was thoughtful and kind. If he thought I needed something he’d find it in amongst the scrapbooking supplies and I put it to use whether I had that thing in mind or not.
When Rusty came looking for me I felt like I hadn’t made much progress but Wyatt ran up when we went to the door.
“When will you come back?” he asked.
I knelt down and looked into his sparkly hazel eyes.
“I’ll see you before I leave.”
He just said “okay,” and went off to find a toy. Accepting of anything, easy going as his dad, he was his own little person. Someday I’d know him better.
We walked back to the ranch house lazily strolling up the long drive from the highway to the house, hand in hand. The road bordered a large paddock where three horses grazed. It was a quiet ranch day, each person off doing their job in harmony. I thought it was too peaceful for my liking. I was itching to get home, on the trail, anything. I lacked purpose at the ranch. I felt like a visitor. I needed to do something. My job here was finished. I’d come to say good-bye to Old Frank. I’d done that. I was glad the quiet, empty place Old Frank left was filled. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be different in a good way. Chase had pulled a fast one on me bringing Elan along. I hadn’t planned on talking my dad into hiring a new hand. Thankfully, Patrick came through with flying colors.
I heard tires crunch on gravel and Rusty and I moved to the side of the road. A sleek, white Mercedes sports car slid up the road, stopping next to us.
“Need a ride?” Misty asked innocently.
“No thanks, we like the walk,” I replied. She looked like she worked in a jewelry store. She was wearing a crisp, black and white pants suit. Her hair was carefully styled. There wasn’t a spot of dirt on her car. Everything about her looked like it just walked out of a showroom.
She drove on up to the house and dusted off the porch swing before sitting down to wait for us. I was tempted to go back to Jesse’s house but it was too late for that. Misty would know we were avoiding her and take it as a challenge. She looked at my dusty jeans with distain. The only way she would be caught in jeans was if…hmmm, I didn’t think Misty would wear jeans. I wondered what she wore when she was in her cowgirl phase and couldn’t remember. I remembered her in a white hat with a silver hatband, white boots; she had to have worn jeans to ride in. I bet they were specially made for her to accentuate all the right places. Then I remembered the cowgirl phase had happened while I was in the Marines, working in a sea of sand, sleeping in tents, getting up at the crack of dawn, working all day and falling into my cot at night wanting to sleep dead to the world but needing to stay alert. What a contrast.
“What have you been doing today?” she asked as we walked up.
“I was visiting with Jesse and making a collage with my nephew.”
“How quaint. I bought a custom-made collage once to hang over my mantel in my bedroom. It came out beautifully. I like to stand there and find all the pieces of my life in it. It’s made up of photographs and things from my past.”
I bet there wasn’t one unflattering picture in the whole display. No picture of her eating spaghetti as a toddler. No pictures as a nine year old with a big pink grin on her face from eating a wedge of watermelon with her hands. No pictures showing skinned knees.
Misty stayed for dinner and the table was remarkably quiet. Polite conversation floated around but the only real conversation took place between Patrick and Elan. Misty asked Elan irritating and insulting questions and he attempted to answer them without losing his temper. I couldn’t figure out if she was just ignorant or trying to put him down. She asked him if he spoke English and what “how” means. When that backfired she turned to Rusty. She didn’t get the answers she was hoping for from him either. When she asked what he had done that day, he said he and Randy had done target practice.
“I can’t stand the thought of awful guns. They are so loud and violent.”
“Uncle Rusty needs to stay in practice for work!” Patrick said. “He’s a detective and he catches bad guys! And they don’t get away, do they Uncle Rusty?”
Rusty smiled, although he didn’t usually tell people what he did. “Hopefully not,” he told Patrick.
Misty was taking notes. She was plotting something. She just needed time to put pieces together. I didn’t like it.
“Sometimes Aunt Cassidy tracks down bad guys too!” Patrick went on. “If they leave tracks she can follow them!” Patrick rambled on and everybody ate in peace glad for Patrick’s chatter. Everybody, that is, except for Rusty and I. We didn’t appreciate Misty knowing our life story from a seven-year-old’s perspective.
I went back to Jesse’s house the next day, like I promised, and spent some time sitting on the floor again, talking to Jesse and watching Wyatt practice ABCs. He was precise. He didn’t like sloppy letters so it took him ten minutes to do a row of As. If one came out sloppy he erased and rewrote it. Sometimes he had to move to a new spot because he wore a hole in the paper erasing. If Patrick were doing the same thing he’d get it done as quickly as possible figuring if you can tell it’s an A that’s good enough. Then he’d be out the door with his eyes to the ground. Wyatt seemed more accepting of my presence rather than eager for my attention while Patrick saw me as a tracking companion and endless question answerer. I wondered if Elan would last the three months with Patrick tagging along through his afternoon chores.