Rowdy Rides to Glory (1987) (4 page)

Yellow tamarisks, smoke trees, and orange-hued rabbit brush brightened the way, bu
t
the mountains became more lonely. As dusk drew on they rounded into a small basin
,
grass-floored and cool, and here Vaho swung down. For all the heat and the lengt
h
of the ride, she appeared fresh. "We'll camp here," she said, indicating the wate
r
hole.

"All night?" he asked.

She looked at him and smiled lightly. "Of course. The devil himself couldn't trave
l
by night where we're going."

"You aren't afraid?" he asked curiously. "I mean, well-you don't know me very well
,
do you?"

"No, I'm not afraid. Should I be?"

He shrugged, not knowing whether to be pleased or deflated. "No, of course not,"
h
e said.

There was plenty of dry wood, bone dry and dusty, most of it. In a few minutes h
e
had wood gathered and a fire going. He picketed the horses while Vaho began to prepar
e
food. He watched her thoughtfully.

"You're quite a girl, you know," he said suddenly.

She laughed. "Why did you think I started this if it wasn't to show you that?" sh
e
asked. "I'm not a town girl, Rowdy. I could never be. Not all the time I was awa
y
at school, nor in all my traveling to New Orleans or New York or Boston did I eve
r
forget the desert."

"I'm glad," he said, although he knew as he spoke that he was not quite sure wh
y
he should be glad. So he added lamely, "Some man is going to get a fine girl. He'l
l
be lucky!"

She looked at him thoughtfully, then lifted the coffee from the fire.

"He will be if he likes the desert and mountains," was her only comment.

When they had finished eating he threw more wood on the fire and stretched out o
n
the sand where he could look across the flames into Vaho's eyes. He felt vastly comfortabl
e
and relaxed, with myriad stars littered across the sky. The black loom of the cliffs
,
the ranch, the rodeo, and even jenny seemed far behind.

They talked for a long time, while in the distance a coyote yapped at the stars.

The grass rustled softly with the movements of the horses as they cropped quietl
y
of the rich green grass.

Daybreak found Rowdy and Vaho moving again, and dippin
g
down into the wide white bowl of another arm of the desert.

Sweat broke out on Rowdy's forehead as the heat waves banked higher around them.

There was no air, no movement save their own, and always and forever the heat.

Suddenly, Vaho Rainey turned her bay at right angles and dipped steeply down a narro
w
path to the bottom of a great sink. It was at least a thousand yards across, an
d
all of two hundred feet from bottom to rim. Against the far wall, walled in by
a
huddle of stones, was a pool of clear cold water, and the dozen or so wickiups o
f
Cochino, the Apache chief.

Rowdy Horn's pulse leaped as he saw the horses scattered nearby, feeding quietly
,
for among them was the tall black horse with the single great splash of white upo
n
his left side Silverside, the greatest roping horse he had ever seen!

His eyes turned again to the village. Nobody was in sight, neither squaws nor children
,
but he was conscious of watching eyes. For years the old renegade Apache had refuse
d
to live on a reservation, instead retreating steadily into the farthest vastnesse
s
of the desert and mountains. At times he had fought savagely, but in the last year
s
he had merely held to his loneliness, fiercely resenting any attempt to come nea
r
him or lure him out. It was reported that his braves were insane, that he was mad
,
that they had eaten of the fruit of a desert plant that rendered them all as deadl
y
as marihuana addicts.

Vaho drew rein. "Be very careful, Rowdy," she said, low voiced. "Make no quick moves
,
and let me do the talking." From behind the wickiups and out of the rocks the Indian
s
began to appear. Attired only in the skimpiest of breechclouts, their dusky bodie
s
were dark as some of the burnt red rocks of the desert, and looked as rough as ol
d
lava. Their black eyes looked hard as flint, as one by one they came down from th
e
rocks and slowly gathered in a circle about the two riders.

Rowdy could feel his heart pounding, and was conscious of the weight of the six-shoote
r
against his leg. It would be nip an
d
tuck if anything started here. He might get a few of them, but they would get hi
m
in the end. Suddenly he cursed himself for a fool for having come here or lettin
g
Vaho come.

An old man emerged from the group and stared at them with hard, unblinking eyes.

Vaho suddenly started to speak. Know ing a few words of Apache, Rowdy could follo
w
her conversation. She was explaining that she was the adopted daughter of Cleetus
,
that he sent his best wishes to Cochino, the greatest of all Apache war chiefs.

The old man stared at her, then at Rowdy. His reply Horn could not interpret, bu
t
Vaho said to Rowdy suddenly, "He says for us to get down. He will talk."

That was no proof of their safety, yet it was something. Rowdy swung down and allowe
d
an Indian to take their horses, then he followed Cochino to the fire, and all seate
d
them selves. After a few minutes the girl took some of the presents they had brough
t
from the bag she had prepared with Rowdy's help. A fine steel hunting knife, a packag
e
of tobacco, a bolt of red calico, other presents.

Cochino looked at them, but his expression was bleak. He lifted his eyes to Vaho
,
and there was a question in them. Slowly, she began to explain. This friend-she gesture
d
to Rowdy-was the friend of Cleetus also. She told how he had taken the old India
n
in, treated his broken arm, fed him and cared for him until he was able to move.

She explained how Rowdy was a great warrior, but that in the games of his peopl
e
he could not compete because his horse was injured, that he was an unhappy man. The
n
she had told him that her friend Cochino, the friend also of Cleetus, had a magnificen
t
horse that he might lend or sell-the great Silverside.

For an hour the talk went on. Following it with difficulty, Rowdy Horn could be sur
e
of nothing. Cochino should have been a poker player, he reflected. His expressio
n
was unread able. Little by little, however, he seemed to be showing ap proval o
f
Rowdy, and of Vaho. Suddenly he asked a question, looking from Rowdy to the girl
,
and she flushed.

Rowdy glanced at her quickly. "What did he want to know?" he said.

She would not meet his eyes, but continued to talk. He listened, straining his ear
s
to get every syllable, doing his best to interpret what she was saying. The old Apach
e
suddenly chuckled. It was a grim, hard sound, but there was a glint o
f
ironic humor in his eyes as he looked from the girl to Rowdy. Finally, he nodded.

"Yes," he said, speaking plainly in English.

Her face flushed with happiness, Vaho turned to Rowdy, putting her hand impulsivel
y
on his arm.

"He says you can have the horse! He gives him to you, and he wishes you luck."

The old Indian got to his feet, and they did also.

"Tell him," Rowdy said impulsively, "that when he wishes, if there is anything
a
friend can do for him or his people, to come to me, or to send a messenger. Ther
e
is only peace and brotherhood between the people of Cochino and Rowdy Horn."

She explained briefly, and the old Indian nodded gravely. "Invite him to the rode
o
if he wishes to come," Rowdy added. Vaho spoke swiftly, and the old Indian stare
d
at them, his eyes bleak. Then he shook his head.

"He says," Vaho explained, "he is too old to give up now. As he has lived, so wil
l
he die."

A long time after that, riding away through the great broken hills, Rowdy glance
d
back again and again at the splendid horse he was leading. And that night when the
y
camped again beside the pool, he talked with the tall horse, curried him carefully.

The horse nuzzled him, eager for affection.

Vaho walked out to them from the fire, and he looked around at her. "This horse i
s
almost human," he said. "Some how he gives a man the feeling of standing near somethin
g
superb, something beyond just horseflesh."

She nodded. "I know. He likes you too, Rowdy. Already that is plain." She hesitate
d
for a moment. "But Rowdy, it has been a long time since he has worked with cattle.

Do you think he will be as good?"

"I've no idea," he admitted, "but he's my only chance, and somehow I think we'l
l
make it. Anyway, it will be a treat to ride this horse."

Yet he was scarcely thinking of that. He was thinking of the girl by his side-tall
,
clean-limbed, and lovely-and he was remembering the long ride through the deser
t
beside her, the calm way she had talked to Cochino, the strange feeling of ease an
d
happiness he had when riding with her, when knowing she was close to him. She wa
s
in his thoughts even as he slept and dreamed....

"Rowdy," Vaho said suddenly the following morning, "there's another trail, a wa
y
through the Rim to the back of your place. Old Cleetus showed it to me when I wa
s
just a little girl. Let's go that way. I think it's shorter."

Turning their horses they cut off through the pines toward the blue haze that hun
g
in the distance, and abruptly, they drew up on the very edge of an amazing canyo
n
whose sides dropped sheer away to the sandy bottom where a small stream slid ove
r
a bottom now of rocks, now of sand. Skirting the cliff, they came to a steep pat
h
and wound their way down. When they and their horses had rested and had drank lon
g
of the clear, cold water, they mounted again and turned downstream.

It was cool in the shadow of the cliffs. When they had followed the canyon for severa
l
hours, Rowdy called softly to Vaho who had ridden on ahead.

"Look here." He drew up, pointing.

In the sand of the canyon bottom were the tracks of several shod horses.

"No Indian ponies," he said grimly, "and no white man that I know of knows this country.

Except one."

"You think it's Rollick?" she asked.

"Who else? Times have changed since the old days, but there's still a market fo
r
rustled beef, and Jack Rollick is supposed to be back in here somewhere."

"The tracks go the same way we're going," she said, "but there's no way out of her
e
now except downstream."

"Let's go," he said grimly.

He reached back and slipped the thong from the butt of his six-gun. His rifle h
e
always carried in a scabbard that pointed forward and down just ahead of his righ
t
knee so that the stock of the rifle was within easy grasp of his right hand. He wa
s
glad now that it was so handy.

Riding cautiously downstream they had gone no more than two miles when suddenly th
e
canyon widened out and the rock walls fell back. They drew up sharply in the scree
n
of aspen and willow beside the trail. Before them was a wide green meadow throug
h
which coursed the stream. The meadow was all of fifty acres in extent. A branch canyo
n
seemed to lead off an immeasurable distance to the right. Within view were at leas
t
one hundred head of cattle, fattening on the grass.