A mile across the flat went quickly and they were headed down toward the creek. Lewis loved the land. The high dessert was every color he had ever found beautiful, every shape that had ever interested him.
On the first steep section of the trail the gelding tried to hold up, but Lewis fought with him and made him go on. Lewis could feel the short fight in his arm muscles. He felt his age.
“They don’t like downhill,” Cyril said.
“They’re fat and lazy. This is good for them.”
“Any idea what we’re looking for?” Cyril asked, following.
Lewis looked back. “No. Anything.”
The trail began a series of switchbacks. The gelding surprised Lewis and performed well. He was glad because he was unsure if he had the energy for a lot of fighting. They stopped at the creek, dismounted, and ate the sandwiches Cyril had packed.
“Good,” Lewis said and took a swig from his canteen. “How’s your daughter doing?”
Cyril looked at him. “Fine. The question is how am I doing. Paying for this stuff is something else.”
Lewis nodded.
“Brown’s a good school though.”
Lewis scratched his chin. “I thought she was at Bennington.”
“What am I saying? She’s at Bennington. B’s, you know.”
“Yeah. What’s her name?”
“Donna.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Tell me about those burns you saw on Martin’s body.”
“Not much to tell. I’m not even sure they were burns.”
“Where’d you see him?”
“I promised I wouldn’t say,” Lewis said.
“Clandestine stuff, huh?”
“I guess.”
“It is strange though. Bizarre wounds, missing animals.” Cyril half-laughed.
They sat and rested for a few minutes more. Lewis studied the sky. There were no clouds. He watched Cyril push the trash into the bag.
“What about your wife?”
“Divorced,” Cyril said. “She’s remarried and lives in Ohio.”
“Let’s ride, partner,” Lewis said.
They mounted and continued along the creek, Lewis leading. After another mile, Lewis turned to find Cyril off the mare.
“Problem?” Lewis asked.
“I think she picked up a stone.”
Lewis stayed in the saddle and watched. Cyril lifted the horse’s right front hoof and studied it.
“Yep,” Cyril said. He took a knife from his pocket and unfolded it. “Won’t take a second.” He put the blade to the hoof. “Hmmm.”
“What is it?” Lewis asked.
Cyril let the leg down, took the reins and led the mare forward a couple of steps. She favored the foot.
Lewis climbed down.
“The rock cut her frog,” Cyril said.
“Is it bad?”
“Not serious, but she shouldn’t go on. The farther we go, the farther she’ll have to walk back.”
“What a time for something like this. It’s never happened before.” Lewis kicked a stone and it landed in the creek.
“You can go on. I’ll walk her back and wait at the truck.”
Lewis looked ahead at the trail. “No, we should stay together.” He smiled at Cyril. “Besides, it’s a long walk back. You’ll need company.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Lewis stroked the mare’s neck. “It’s okay, baby,” he said to the horse. He picked up the leg and saw the blood. It seemed odd that a round stone could make such a wound.
“This sort of thing heals quickly,” Cyril said.
Lewis nodded. “Well, it’s going to be slower back and uphill, too.”
“Good company though.”
“Right.”
They turned back. Lewis led the mare and Cyril took the reins of the gelding. Lewis looked at the limp and shook his head. He hated to see his animals suffer, any animal suffer. He looked at the creek and all the stones. He felt bad for having brought his horses down, but he knew he was being irrational, trying to blame himself.
“I guess I’ll just have to hike down here another day,” he said.
Cyril said nothing.
They left the creek and started up to the ridge.
“How’s your lady friend?” Cyril asked.
“Maggie? She’s as onery as ever.”
“What’s she think about you coming out here? Does she even know?”
“Yeah, she knows. She knows I’m out here with you because I left a note. She was asleep when I left. She doesn’t like it.”
“What’s she say about all this stuff that’s going on, the wounds and animals, all the crazy stuff?”
“She’s scared.”
“Are you scared?”
Lewis stopped and looked across at the far ridge. “Yes, I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can’t stop. Have you ever felt that way?”
“Yes, I have. Lewis, I want you to feel free to tell me anything. I sort of think of myself as being in this with you.”
“Thanks, Cyril.”
They walked on. The climb was hard and Lewis was winded when they reached the top. They started the mile trek across the flat.
“Okay?” Cyril asked.
“I’m not as young as I used to be. The nature of time, I reckon.” Lewis laughed at himself. “What I need now is a hot bath, a cup of tea and a nap.”
“What’s funny is how you talk about yourself like you’re old.”
“Comes with age.”
They arrived at the truck. Lewis lifted large plastic buckets of water from the back of the pickup and let the horses drink. Cyril looked at the mare’s hoof again and put the foot down.
Lewis loosened the cinches and let the horses stand. He stepped away from the truck and looked out over the high dessert. Birds were singing. He saw a hawk many yards away. It was hunting.
“It’s just too dry,” Lewis said.
“It is that.”
“Animals slow down a lot when it’s hot and dry like this, don’t they.” Lewis looked at Cyril.
“I suppose they do. They would have to.”
“What’s on your mind, Lewis?”
“Nothing.”
After the animals had drunk enough, they loaded them and traveled back along the pitted road. Cyril asked Lewis if he wanted him to drive, but Lewis said he was fine.
“How old is Laura?” Cyril asked.
“She’s seven.” Lewis drove high on a bank to avoid a deep rut.
“Where’s her mother?”
“Boston. I hate Boston.”
“I’ve never spent much time there. Are you close, you and your daughter?”
“Sort of. No, not really. I feel closer to Laura.”
“She is a special child. I could see that right off.”
He started Lewis thinking about the child, thinking about pulling the girl into the middle of something that perhaps he couldn’t control. He had a headache.
The highway traffic was heavy into town. “I swear to God,” Lewis said, “there are more tourists every year. Can’t blame them, I guess. Pretty place.”
“Watch it,” Cyril pointed at a Mercedes pulling out from a trading post.
“Thanks.”
Lewis parked in front of Cyril’s office. “Is practice slow or something?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You can just not show up when you want to?”
“I had today scheduled off anyway.” Cyril found the door lever and pulled up on it. “Okay, Lewis,” he said, getting out of the truck. “You take it easy.”
“Thank you for your help, Cyril. I mean it.”
“My pleasure. I’m sorry we had to turn around.”
Lewis shrugged.
Chapter Seventeen
The truck lurched forward. Lewis almost struck his chin on the steering wheel. He looked into his side mirror and saw the trailer swaying a bit. He was jolted again and this time saw in the mirror the front of a dark-colored van or truck, but only for a second because it fell in behind the horses again. The horses were spooked badly. Lewis could see one rear up and hear both of them kicking the walls. Again, a jolt. Whoever it was behind him was ramming the trailer. Lewis stopped looking back in the mirror and accelerated. The old truck didn’t have much to give. Lewis’s hands began to sweat, his heart to pound. Another jolt. The horses were in a frenzy now and the trailer was weaving across the center line. He couldn’t risk his horses. If he stopped, these people might pass by or they might stop and kill him. But as it was, he was going to kill himself and the horses. He pulled off the road and tried to stop, hoping the brakes of the truck would hold out, hoping the trailer wouldn’t upset. He caught a glimpse of a truck at the top of the hill ahead coming his way. There was one more jolt that made the truck and trailer threaten to jacknife, but Lewis got it all stopped. He heard skidding and turning behind him. He also heard the racket of the horses. He opened his door and swung his legs out of the cab, held his face in his hands.