Nig's four legs were down between the crossties, and he was thrashing around like crazy. The first thing I wanted to do when I saw him was to run for home, but I couldn't pull my eyes away.
His hind end was toward us and there were big bloody patches on his thighs. He was out nearly twenty feet on the trestle. Between him and us there was more blood on the crossties, and big clumps of white hair. I knew Bill had been in there, too, but he was nowhere in sight. I peeked down into the gulch and there he was—stretched out on a little patch of snow near the bottom. The snow was half covered with dust and tumbleweeds. And big blotches of bright red blood showed between them.
Nig would thrash and jump until he was all tired out, trying to pull his legs up from between the ties. Then he'd fall back and pound his head against the track. I was sure he would kill himself any minute. All the men from the train came running up to the trestle, but Father was the only one who seemed to know what to do.
There was a sign on a four-by-four post beside the track, right near the end of the bridge. Father wrenched it out of the ground, smashed the sign off, and ran out on the trestle toward Nig. I didn't want to see Father kill him, so I covered my eyes with my hands. There was a hollow thud, like a wooden tub hit with a stick. When I dropped my hands, Nig was lying perfectly still.
Father called to the men standing at the end of the trestle. His voice wasn't quiet then, as it usually was, but he didn't yell. It was big and deep like the ring of a church bell. "Bring chains and anything you can find to pry with," he called. "We'll have to hurry a bit; he'll come around in two or three minutes."
All the men started running around like ants when you plow into their nests. In another minute they went swarming out onto the bridge. They were all chattering like magpies, and some were yelling. Father's voice rang through the hubbub, deep and strong: "Run that chain under here! Take a pry across the top of that rail! Here, big fellow, heave up on his head… Wait for the word!" He sounded the way I had always imagined George Washington must have, and I was proud he was my father. I saw him crouch with his back against Nig's hind end. He pulled the long tail over his shoulder and cried, "Up!"
Nig's legs came up through the ties with a rush. He must have come to at the very second they got him up. He thrashed and the men jumped away from him. In another second he toppled over the side of the trestle. There was a dull thud when he landed. It was then I realized that my pants were wet.
Father vaulted over the side of the trestle near our end and disappeared into the gulch. I didn't dare to look down. In a minute or two his voice came up. "No broken legs, and they're breathing well. I think they'll make out all right. Thanks!"
The trainmen didn't seem to care about anything except having the track clear. The engineer climbed back on the engine and tooted the whistle. In another minute the train had gone, and I was left all alone. Father came up over the edge of the gulch and picked me up. He didn't mention my pants, but unbuttoned his reefer and wrapped me inside it. "I'm sorry you had to see it, Son," he said, "but it's that sort of thing that makes a fellow into a man. We'll go get some bandages and see what can be done for them."
Carrying me to the house, he said, "Sometimes these things seem awful hard to take, but maybe they all happen for the best. Now you children will know that bridge is dangerous. It might have been one of you that fell off it." After that he pointed out a jack rabbit that was scurrying away along the track, and to a single, stunted cottonwood tree near the far end of our land. "There," he said, "who says we haven't got a wood lot on our place? Perhaps, with enough irrigation water, it will grow into a fine big tree. It would have been nice if they'd put the house by the tree, wouldn't it?"
When Father brought me into the house, Mother had a fire going in the cookstove, and everybody was standing by it getting warm. She looked up at Father, and her underlip was trembling. "Are they both dead, Charlie?" she asked.
"No," Father said, "they're both living. I don't know how badly they're hurt, but there don't seem to be any bones broken." He didn't unwrap his coat from around me, but whispered to Mother. Then we went into the front room where the trunks were, and she closed the door. They were the only ones who ever found out about my pants. And it never happened again.
While Mother ripped an old sheet into bandages, Father went out to look around the barn. When he came back, he said, "Coyotes. Must have closed in and frightened them about daylight. There's plenty of sign. What have you got for an antiseptic?"
Mother put her hand up to her mouth. "I don't think there's a thing here, except a couple of bichloride tablets."
"Never mind," Father said. "Ralph, you bring the bandages. I've got a can of axle grease in the wagon."
I hadn't expected him to take me with him after my accident, and pulled my coat on as fast as I could. I was afraid both horses might die before we could get back, and wanted Father to run, but he wouldn't. You could ask him all the questions you wanted to; he never got cross. So I said, "Why didn't it kill Nig to pound his head on the track? Do you think Bill pounded his head, too? Father, how did Bill get out when Nig couldn't?"
"Well," Father said, "Nig hadn't been in there long enough to do himself much damage. The blood was all fresh and bright, so they must have fallen in less than fifteen minutes before we got there. Nig pounded his head because he was frantic. Bill had no reason to do it, because he could get out. From the marks on the track, I'm sure that one of his hind legs didn't go through at all, and that he braced himself with his head to pull his front legs out. I'll show you when we get there."
Father whistled when we got near the edge of the gulch. Ho was so much taller than I that he could see down into it sooner. I ran to the edge. Bill and Nig were cropping grass around a wet spot. Nig was limping, but Bill didn't seem to mind the blood that was oozing from torn places on his thigh and forelegs.
As soon as Father saw that the horses were up on their feet, we went over to the trestle. He picked me up and, after looking up and down the track, walked out on the bridge. Then he scrootched down and showed me all the marks on the crossties. "Almost everything that happens leaves its telltale marks," he said. "If you teach yourself to see all the marks, you can always read the story." Then he had me wait while he went down into the gulch and led the horses out. He said that since they were on their feet, we could do a better job of dressing them at the house.
Mother came out to help with the horses when we got back. She was always good when there was sickness. She took scissors and started clipping hair from around the torn places on Nig's forelegs. "I'm worried about this one, Charlie," she said. "He must be badly hurt to limp so."
Father was poking his fist up against Bill's belly. "I'm not worried much about him," he said, "but I'm afraid this one may be done for. I don't like the way he's drawn up in the loin."
FATHER had just led the horses back to the barn when a man drove into our yard with a pair of fast-stepping bays. He drove right past the house and swung around in a circle. His horses didn't slow down all the way around, but pulled up beside us with the pole of the buckboard pushing their collars way up high on their necks. The man wasn't quite so old as Father, but he was as tall, and a lot heavier. He stepped out of the rig without putting the lines down, and held his right hand out to Father. "I'm Fred Aultland, your next-door neighbor, a mile up the line," he said.
After Father shook hands and told him he was Charles Moody, Mr. Aultland held his hand out to me. I tried to take hold of it as Father did, but it was too big, and I only got hold of three fingers. "And mine's Ralph Moody," I said; "I like you." I did like Mr. Aultland right from the start.
"And I like a man that speaks his mind," he told me. Then he said to Father, "Hear you had a little hard luck with your team, and thought I'd drop in to see if I couldn't lend a hand. I got half a dozen teams standing around eating their heads off at this time of year. Better let me lend you one till yours gets back on its feet again."
Father said, "Thank you, Mr. Aultland, but I believe we'll make out all right. Of course, these fellows will be stiff for a few days, but I haven't got much hauling to do, and I don't think the black is hurt very bad."
Mr. Aultland said, "Hell, Charlie, don't call me Mister; my name's Fred." He stepped over near Bill and pushed his thumb down hard on his back along toward the hip. He looked at Father and lifted one eyebrow. All he said was, "Kidney?"
He and Father talked about horses and kidneys for a while. Then Mr. Aultland said he was going to Fort Logan, and asked if there was anything he could bring us. Father sent me to ask Mother, and she told me the name of some kind of salve for the horses, but when I got back outside I had forgotten it. Mr. Aultland was already on his buckboard. He said, "Never mind, I'll get you some stuff that works wonders with galls and wire cuts." Then he let the lines go loose just half a second, and his team was away like Santa Claus's reindeers.
When Mr. Aultland came back, his horses were still running as fast as they were when he left. He drove around the circle, as he had before, and pulled up right beside the back steps. Father had gone to see if he could find the stakes that marked the corners of our land, so Mother went to the door. Mr. Aultland gave her a quart jar of blue-colored salve, a big square package, and a
Denver Post
. He said, "Tell Charlie to lay this stuff on over those sores good and heavy. It's got blue vitriol in it, but tell him not to be afraid of it. It'll dry those sores up quicker than anything else."
Mother looked at the package, and Mr. Aultland grinned. "Just a little baker's bread for the kids. I figured you'd have both hands full without bakin' for a couple of days."
Mother thanked him, and asked how much we owed him. "Forget it," he said. "Bessie or Mother'll prob'ly be down to borrow something off of you before the week's out."
"Thank you ever so much, and tell them I shall be delighted to see them," Mother said, as she turned away.
But Mr. Aultland called, "Say, I don't see any cows around here. What you going to give these kids for milk?"
We were all watching out through the window. Mother's face got red as could be, and she said, "Oh, we have a whole case of evaporated milk; they'll be all right."
"That stuff's only good for chuck wagons," he said. Then he yelled, "Hey, Ralph. Get your jacket on and take a ride with me."
I just got a glimpse of the headline in the newspaper as I was getting my coat on. It said, "Man Killed by Mountain Lion at Moffat." Then Mother put it up on the lamp shelf.
When I climbed on the buckboard beside Mr. Aultland, he reached over and slapped me on the leg. It was a good hard slap, but I liked it. As we tore out of our yard, he asked me if I'd ever driven a team. I told him, yes, Father let me hold the lines when we were bringing out the lumber. He passed his reins right over to me, and said, "Here take ahold of 'em. Better wrap 'em around your hands once; you ain't very stout yet."
He showed me how to wrap the lines around my hands so they wouldn't slip, and told me to hold them up tight. The long-legged bays were running like sixty, and I was scared. I pulled on the lines as hard as I could, but all that happened was that my bottom slipped forward on the seat. Mr. Aultland put his arm around me and held me back so I could pull harder. He said, "Betcha my life you'll make a horseman. If you was my kid, I'd put a box in front here so you'd have something to brace your feet against."
As we got close to his house, he gathered both my hands inside one of his and helped me pull. The bays only slowed up a little, and the hind wheels of the buckboard slewed way around when we turned into his driveway. Aultland's house was four times the size of ours, and there was a big red barn, and corrals, and the fields beyond were knee-deep with brown stubble.
A tall, pretty girl came out to meet us when we stopped by the back door of the house. She had reddish-brown hair, and her eyes were the same color as a brand-new penny. She must have been nineteen or twenty. "Sis," Mr. Aultland said, "this is our new neighbor. There's a whole parcel of kids and they haven't got a cow. How about taking them over some milk? The woman seems to be right nice, and said she'd be glad to see you."
While the girl was asking me what my name was, and telling me hers, Mr. Aultland tied the horses to a hitch rack, and went off to the barn. She said her mother was frying a batch of doughnuts, and asked me if I wouldn't like to come in and have a hot one. I said, "Yes, I would, Miss Aultland. We haven't had any hot doughnuts since we left East Rochester."
She laughed and said, "Don't you dare call me Miss Aultland —that makes me sound like a schoolmarm. You call me Bessie. Come on now, we'll get some doughnuts."
Mrs. Aultland was as nice as Bessie. She wasn't very tall, but fat, with wavy gray hair. When I told her I liked Bessie and her husband fine, she laughed, and tweaked my ear. "That's the finest compliment I've had in years," she said, "but don't you let Fred fool you. He's just my little boy, only he's big. He ain't even thirty yet. And don't you go calling him Mr. Aultland; it'll get him stuck-up. You call him Fred."
Bessie didn't let me drive going back. Maybe she didn't know I wanted to. She and Mother got along fine. I went out to the barn where Father was putting some of the blue salve on Bill and Nig. When we came back to the house, Bessie was saying to Mother, "I'm not going to keep saying Mrs. Moody. What shall I call you?"
Mother laughed and said, "That's just the way I'd like to have it. My name is Mary, but nobody ever calls me that. When I was a girl, they used to call me Molly."
Bessie said, "All right. Molly it is. I'll be seeing you often, Molly." She picked up the reins and was gone.
While we were eating supper that night, the coyotes began to howl. It sounded as though there were dozens of them; some close by, and some far away. It made shivers run up and down my back, and I think it did the same thing to Mother. As soon as supper was over, Father got up and took the lantern from the nail by the door. As he turned up the globe, Mother put both hands up to her cheeks and said, "Charlie, you're not going out there! I won't let you go out there!"