“Rusty!”
She laughed.
The dog pricked his ears.
“How do you know his name is Rusty?”
“I think the real question is, how does she know her name is Rusty.”
“How does she know?”
Mom shrugged. Then we went out on the porch.
Rusty was sitting over to the side, by one of the posts, looking out toward the barn. She did not rush to us when we opened the door but brushed her tail from side to side, and then, when Mom said, “Hey, Rusty,” she stood up and walked over to us and sat down in front of us. Then she looked up at Mom and lifted her left paw. Mom took it.
I said, “She knows tricks?”
“She seems like a well-trained dog.”
“She always looked so wild out there, like a wolf or something. I thought she was a he.”
“Well, I’m thinking she’s half German shepherd and maybe half Australian shepherd. She does have a wolfy look.”
I said, “That’s what I thought last night, when he—I mean she—started running after the cow and the calf. I thought she was going to attack them.”
“Oh, I never once thought Rusty would do that.”
Now I turned and stared at Mom. I said, “Have you known Rusty for a while, Mom?”
She gave me a big grin. “About four months now.”
“That’s since July.”
“Yeah, that’s about when she appeared.”
“I thought we saw her the first time down at the crick a month or so ago.”
“Well, she was following us.”
“What does Daddy think?”
“After last night, your father said Rusty could live in the barn and be an outside dog.”
“Your outside dog.”
“Our outside dog.”
“How long has Daddy known about her?”
“Oh, twelve hours, maybe.”
Rusty was looking at me. She had a very steady gaze and dark golden eyes. Now she lifted her paw. I took it, and then petted her on the head and down her neck. I said, “She is awfully clean for a stray. And pretty fat, too.”
“She’s sleek, not fat. And I brush her, of course. I use one of the old body brushes. It gets through her coat nicely.”
“But she is a little wolfy-looking.”
“That’s just the German shepherd in her.” She petted her and stared at her with a happy look on her face, and I saw right then that Rusty was Mom’s dog, and it didn’t really matter what Daddy thought—Rusty had made up her mind. I said, “What are you feeding her?”
“Oh, vegetables. Leftovers if they aren’t too rich. Rice when we have it. She likes everything. I think she was scavenging before, and I think she was doing a pretty good job. Weren’t you, Rusty?”
Rusty gave Mom her paw again.
The thing is, your mom is someone that you think you know. But Daddy always said about Mom, “Well, there’s more there than meets the eye,” and of course, he was right.
Gate Jump
Rolltop Jump
Gate Jump
Chapter 9
AFTER THE WEEKEND, THE WEEK AT SCHOOL WAS A REAL VACATION. On Tuesday, Gloria, Stella, Leslie, Linda A., and Maria and I all took the same school bus—number 6 rather than number 9 for me—to Alexis and Barbara Goldman’s house to read Julius Caesar aloud. Barbara was going to “direct,” and Alexis was going to read the biggest part, which turned out to be a character named Brutus. The villain, whose name was Cassius, was assigned to Gloria. Alexis and Barbara said that they didn’t invite any boys because when Shakespeare was writing, only boys and men were in the plays (boys played the female parts), so it was only fair that our “production” (which was what Barbara kept calling it) was all girls.
Alexis and Barbara lived just up the road from the school bus stop, in a big house with lots of windows and a garden entirely made of large rocks, what looked like white gravel, and cactuses, instead of a front yard. As soon as we walked in, we saw that giant glass doors opened onto a deck that looked out over a valley to the back. If you went out onto the deck, you were standing on a cliff.
Alexis and Barbara shared two rooms right above this living room—they slept in bunk beds in one of the rooms and had the other for projects. This whole room was filled with shelves and cubbies, and they had two work areas—one was a table with art supplies on it, and the other was for music. Alexis’s piano was there, and a music stand and a chair. Next to the chair was a table where Barbara kept her violin and her flute. I guess they thought that one violin plus one flute was equal to one piano.
There were chairs set up in the living room. A tray of cupcakes and a pitcher of lemonade sat on the coffee table. Mrs. Goldman said, “Oh, girls! Just relax and have a cupcake, and let Barbie take over, because she will, anyway!” And then Alexis, Barbara, and their mother laughed. There were also three cats—the two black ones in the house got up and scurried out as soon as they saw us, but the one on the deck stared in through the glass doors. It was an orange cat the size of a pillow. The others were much smaller.
We did let Barbara take over—it was easy. There were a lot more parts in the play than there were of us, so at the beginning of each scene, Barbara would assign each of us a role. Only Alexis and Gloria stayed the same. In the first scene, I played the Second Commoner, and I had to make a joke about shoes that I didn’t understand until Barbara explained it to me. The second scene was where Julius came in—Linda A. played him. Maria played his wife, Calpurnia. I got to be the Soothsayer, who is the person who tells fortunes, and to say, “Beware the Ides of March!” Barbara had me say it in a deep, growly voice, and then Linda A. had to act afraid and repeat my sentence. It was at this point that we started to have fun.
Julius Caesar was not at all like Great Expectations. Even when I read the lines ahead of time and couldn’t really figure them out, once we said them aloud, we did mostly understand them, and anyway, what was going to happen was pretty clear—Julius was going to get killed, and Cassius and Brutus were going to do the killing. Cassius wanted to and Brutus didn’t really want to. There was one scene where Maria played someone named Casca and Linda A. played someone named Cicero. Cicero says hello to Casca, but Casca is very upset. For one thing, there has been an earthquake, and for another, Casca has seen some very scary things—a guy with fire coming out of his hand but his hand is not burning, a lion in the middle of town, and an owl screaming during daylight. Maria made it sound like a Frankenstein movie, and we were all staring at her—Linda A. was staring at her, too, just like she was scared to death. It was really fun.
Barbara and Alexis had been through the play already maybe three times, and they understood it perfectly as far as I could tell, so whenever one of us seemed confused, Barbara would stop things and very patiently explain what was going on. This meant that we did not get through the play on that first day. We only got to the scene where they actually kill Julius, and we did that scene twice, once sitting in our chairs and once pushing the chairs back and acting it out. When we did it this way, Gloria got to fall down and say “Et tu, Brute!” which means, “You, too, Brutus!” Julius was surprised and upset because he thought Brutus was his friend. After that, Brutus and Cassius talk, and then I got to be a character called Antony, who is on the stage at the end with his servant, and he is the only one who is sorry to see Julius get stabbed. Since I was Antony, I had to pretend to go out early in the scene because one of Brutus and Cassius’s friends lured me away so that they could get Julius.
It was dark by the time we were finished, and all of the cupcakes were gone. Mr. Goldman came home, and he and Mrs. Goldman watched us do the last scene, then clapped and shouted, “Bravo! Bravo!” so we were all laughing and excited by the time the parents showed up. Gloria’s mom came in and watched and clapped, too, and then I went to their car, because Gloria’s mom was giving me a ride. All the way to my house, she talked about how great the Goldmans were, and it was true. The plan was to go back Saturday and finish th
e play.
When I got home, it was after dark and Daddy had done all the work. He and Mom had ridden Lester and Sprinkles and Jefferson and Lincoln down to the crick. Lester seemed fine after his busy night Sunday, and Daddy had gotten Black George out and trotted him around a bit to see how he felt after the show. “Perfectly sound and not at all tired, as far as I can see.” Daddy ate a bite of his pork chop. He said, “You sure you showed that horse, Abby?”
“More than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jane—that’s what Miss Slater wants me to call her now—had us jump some bigger jumps in the afternoon. I meant to tell you that, but I was too tired to remember.”
“How big?” said Mom, setting down her fork.
“Well …” I could tell that Daddy wanted to know, but Mom really didn’t. I said, “Maybe … maybe four feet.” I scraped my fork around on my plate where the mashed potatoes had been.
Mom said, “That’s like jumping out of the pasture out there.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Daddy. “Those are four-six.”
“I don’t know—” said Mom, but Daddy said, “How did it feel?”
“Black George doesn’t care.” I looked at the two of them, Mom a little white and Daddy a little excited. I wished Mom would start eating again. After a moment, I said, “While we were doing it, I didn’t really realize how high they were. He just gallops down and jumps them.” I thought about the two ways I had felt about those jumps—that they were easy and that they were scary. How could they be both at the same time? So I said, “They were easy.”
“Oh dear,” said Mom. But she started eating again. She took a bite of salad.
It was funny the way her saying that made me both more confident and more scared at exactly the same time. But I thought if she knew I was scared, she would get more scared and make me stop jumping so high. I didn’t want to stop. I said, “You just get in the rhythm. Jane—Miss Slater—said she can’t believe what good horses we have.”
“We’ve had some luck this year, I think,” said Daddy. “Not every year is a lucky one, but the Lord does provide.” When he said this, Mom glanced out the back door. Rusty now had a blanket all her own on the porch and another blanket all her own, an old woolen horse blanket, in the barn. I could see her on her new blanket, her paws neatly together and her chin resting on them, but her ears up and her eyes bright, keeping an eye on things. I realized that that was what she had been doing since I first saw her, keeping an eye on things. Mom saw me looking at her and smiled.
Daddy said, “Which brings me to Lester.”
“Lester is such a good horse,” said Mom.
“I have a buyer for Lester.”
“That’s too bad,” said Mom.
Daddy shrugged, then said, “Jack Louis came down this morning to talk about the fence, and I was grooming Lester. He asked if he’s for sale, and I had to say yes, so he tried him. He liked him a little too much in the opinion of my heart, but just enough in the opinion of our bank account.”
I said, “How much did he like him?”
“He offered two thousand.”
“Gracious!” said Mom.
“Well, he’s a good horse. Chased those cows up the hill and thought nothing of it,” said Daddy. “We don’t get to keep the really good ones, no matter how much we like them.” He caught my eye.
I said, “I know that, Daddy.”
He said, “We all know that.”
Well, we did know that, but it was a lesson I kept having to learn. After supper, I went out to the gelding pasture. I tried to be quiet, but Jack saw me, anyway, and nickered. Even so, he didn’t come over. He and Black George were finishing all the bits of hay they could find from every pile—it was like they were vacuuming. Lester and Jefferson were standing together, switching flies, and Lincoln was having a drink. All of a sudden, Jack reached toward Black George and gave him a little nip, then he jumped backward when Black George snorted and pinned his ears. Then he waited a moment, but when Black George went back to nosing the ground for hay, he stepped forward again and gave him a little nip on the haunches. Black George now pinned his ears and lifted his back end, as if to kick, but he didn’t raise his feet. He was saying, “I could kick you. Don’t make me.”
But Jack seemed determined to make him, because he trotted around to the other side and nipped him again, then he spun and cantered off. This time, Black George seemed to think that Jack was determined to be a pest, so he chased after him a few feet with his ears pinned, and then it looked like he decided to get in the game, because he picked up speed and caught up to Jack and reached out to nip him. Jack immediately turned and reared up, and so Black George reared up, and they tossed their heads at one another and squealed. They lifted their forelegs, but not as if they really meant it, and then Black George came down and galloped off, and Jack ran after him. Once he caught up (and he did that very quickly), the two of them took off around the fence line of the pasture, bucking and kicking.
It made me laugh to see them play, and reminded me that the way I had been thinking of Black George at the show, as my perfect machine of a horse who just goes and goes and does whatever you ask so that you can sort of ignore him, was wrong. I knew right then all over again that Black George had his own ideas of what was fun and how to do his job. I thought that with just one bit of effort, I could see the courses we were jumping from his point of view, and that point of view would be lower than mine, but wider—he would see everything all around us, but nothing right in front of us or right behind us. And he would feel the earth under his feet, and he would hear lots more sounds than I could hear, as he flicked his ears back and forth. And he would feel me on his back.
The best thing about Black George—I thought I should always remember this—was that all those sensations that he had were fun for him. So he was not a machine, but a horse who enjoyed himself most of the time, even when, as now, Jack was racing toward him with his head down and his tail down, as if he were going to run right into him. But he didn’t. The two of them just reared up again and galloped past Lester and Jefferson, who pinned their ears and insisted on being left alone. So I called Jack over to the fence, and Black George came with him, and I gave them each a piece of apple. Then the others looked at us and decided that they had to know what was going on, so in about two seconds, I was surrounded by horses and handing out everything in my pockets, which wasn’t much.
It was Thursday when the next letter arrived from Mr. Brandt. It was a long one, and when I brought it in from the mailbox, I really wanted to open it. It made me nervous. But I was too nervous to open it, so I didn’t carry it out to Daddy. I set it on the table and went to my room to put on my riding clothes.
We worked three horses each. It looked like this was going to be Daddy’s last ride on Lester, so we took him and Happy up the hill to see the cows. The fence was really fixed now—five strands of wire and some extra posts all along the section where they got out, because they never forget where it was that they did that once they’ve made it. Daddy said, “Some cows can jump, you know, just like a horse, but maybe these haven’t figured that out.”
I said, “Happy could really take to that cow-chasing thing.”
“That’s my next project, roping off of her.”
“I wondered why you got out the sawcow.” The sawcow was like a sawhorse, but it had sides painted like a cow, and it had horns.
Daddy said, “We’ll start slow. Something fun to do for a few weeks.”
Then we took Sprinkles and Black George down to the crick, and finally, we rode Jefferson and Lincoln in the arena. The problem with them was getting them going, not controlling them, so at least once or twice a week, we had to make sure that they walked, trotted, and cantered nicely. Jem Jarrow’s way of getting a horse to step under and loosen up was good for that, too, even though Jefferson and Lincoln were never grumpy, just lazy.
When we put them away, I rubbed Jack down while he was eating his evening hay
and Daddy was dragging the hose around to fill the water tanks, and all in all, I just forgot about the letter until I walked in the house and saw that Mom had opened it already, and it was lying there waiting for me. I picked it up. It read:
Dear Mr. Lovitt,
We have made considerable progress in our investigation into the disappearance of Alabama Lady, and I thought that I would bring you up to date on what we have found, as there is a possibility that something we have learned might trigger your memory in some way. We still have not heard from the party who purchased the other mare at By Golly Horse Sales, and now there appears to be a third mare of a similar description who was found somewhat closer to Wheatsheaf Ranch, but we have had little luck in tracing that mare as well.
The story as we now understand it:
Here in Texas, where the Wheatsheaf Ranch is located, October 14 of last year was an unusually hot day—Indian summer, which around here means in the nineties and humid. For this reason, Allan Wilkes, the farm manager, decided to leave the mares out in the larger fields, where they could stay cooler, rather than doing what he normally does in cooler weather, which is to gather them in smaller pens closer to the barns for the night.
The mares, therefore, were given a good feed of hay, and all the gates were checked and found to be locked with padlocks at approximately five p.m. Alabama Lady and four other mares occupied a particular pasture close to the road and some distance from the hay barn. There are three other pastures close by. Each of these pastures contained between three and six pregnant mares.
At approximately midnight, Isabella Marquez, the wife of one of the foaling grooms, whose apartment is somewhat close to the road, remembers waking up to the sound of a truck engine slowing on the road, then stopping, then starting up again. Although this is not an uncommon occurrence near the ranch, given subsequent events, this evidence is considered to be significant in this investigation.
Sunrise the following morning, October 15, took place approximately six-thirty a.m. central standard time, at which point two workers, Mario Marquez and Sergio Marquez, Mario’s son, noticed that one of the pastures was empty. They subsequently found that the fence had been dismantled at the corner closest to the road—the nails holding the boards to the posts had been pried loose and the boards tossed in a ditch nearby. All five mares had disappeared. It was first assumed that all five mares had been stolen and taken away in some sort of trailer or van. Unfortunately, the weather had been dry, and there was no readable evidence in the dirt of the road of who the thieves might be or what their subsequent movements were.