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CHAPTER FOUR Maria hummed happily as she worked in her small kitchen, appreciating the coolness of the late summer morning. Her patient was showing a little improvement; he was awake more often but still seemed confused and unable to speak clearly. She had been able to coax him to take broth and water fairly consistently for two days now, and the woman was sure the boy could handle some vegetable soup that night if she fed it to him. The poor soul was still too weak to hold a spoon, and any movement on his part brought severe headaches. Caesar had asked her if she knew his name yet. Maria hadn’t asked because she didn’t think it was right to try and make him speak. When he did talk, he stuttered so badly he became frustrated and a headache would flare, then he would have to lie motionless for hours until it subsided. As Caesar worked his fields, he thought about the man healing in the house and how he could help him. The gold horse was always in his mind, and he felt guilty for leaving the animal out there, injured. He'd gone to find the animal twice, checking two of the three places in that area that had water and coming home without catching a glimpse. Caesar had the growing feeling that perhaps seeing the horse would help the young man, and resolved to find it. He would start out immediately the next morning by looking at the final watering place he knew. The sound of the lunch bell made Caesar smile. He stopped Conejo with a soft order, and the big-eared horse sighed and chewed his bit. "Come, my friend, let's take a break." Quickly dropping the harness and bridle, the little horse followed his master to the house where he dipped his head into the water trough. "Have a nice roll in the sand while I eat!" With an affectionate pat on the sticky neck, Caesar went into the house, where he stopped inside the door and smiled hugely at what he saw. "Well! Look who is joining us for lunch!" Seated at the table looking rather pale and shaky, was the young stranger. He had both hands splayed out in front of him, flat on the table for support, and smiled weakly. "B-b-buenas d-d-dias," he stuttered so softly that Caesar wasn't sure what he'd said. The grimace of pain that followed was quickly controlled as the young man tried valiantly to pretend it never happened. Caesar decided to play along with the intent to make the man feel at ease, and never let his smile waver as he sat. "Our boy seems to have little patience for lying around, mi esposo. He will be back in the fields very soon, I am sure!" Maria hustled around the table and served the men fresh tortillas and scrambled eggs. Caesar knew the menu was geared toward what the boy could eat and made no comment as he dug in, thoughtfully mulling over what she had just said. He and Maria had discussed the fact that their visitor had said nothing about himself or even asked what had happened. Maria said she thought it was best if he brought things up; asking a lot of questions would force him to talk and endure the headaches. It appeared to Caesar that his wife had decided to speak for the young man and he didn't seem to mind. Maybe it was best to let the boy initiate personal information after all, and the idea about bringing the palomino here suddenly didn't seem like a good one anymore. The Cattlemen's Association maps were a good start. There were several new members in the foothills between Placerville and Sacramento and Murdoch and son headed out as soon as Cipriano returned to Lancer. Johnny was now a week overdue. Consulting the map, the men decided to head to the town of Jackson, just north and east of Stockton. It would be the closer town to Placerville for supplies, and they figured to be there in four days. "You know, when we wire the ranch from Jackson, Johnny will have arrived here the day after we left," Scott mumbled. "It would be just like him." "Well, that may be true, son, but look at it this way: We can welcome the three new Cattlemen's Association members while we're there and not waste the trip." The fair haired son snorted a short laugh. "No sense in making Johnny think we were worried or anything, right?" "That's not what I meant!" Murdoch objected. "Of course I'm worried! But if he's home and all right, we may as well do some good while we're up there." Scott ducked his head. "Sorry, sir. I guess I'm just not in the mood to be glad handing strangers." He nudged Charlemagne to catch up to his father's sorrel. "It's all right," Murdoch replied lowly. "We're both just a little tense. We'll find him." With a silent nod from the younger man, both horses were urged into a slow lope. As planned, Caesar headed toward the foothills to check the final watering hole in the area he'd last seen the palomino - a box canyon a little to the north. Caesar thought it was a pretty little canyon, ripe with vegetation, but very isolated. It took several hours to get there, and when they reached the mouth of the canyon, stout Conejo and the man were both hot and dusty. Smelling water, the bay's oversized ears pricked forward eagerly and his step quickened. Caesar let him have his head, and soon the brown muzzle was dipped in a small pond created by an artesian spring which erupted from the canyon wall. The cold water ran back underground at one edge of a small collection of water the Mexican generously called a pond. The man splashed the cool water on his face as his horse drank, and then stood back to survey the rest of the canyon carefully. A gathering of stunted scrub oak caught his eye; there was movement in the shadows there. He shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted into the reflected glare of the stark rock walls. Yes, something was coming. Conejo even jerked his head up from his drink and focused on the motion. What the man saw broke his heart. The palomino, his head low and set in a bend to one side to avoid the dragging reins, was muddy and thin. The saddle, which Caesar could now see had an 'L' brand on the fender, was scratched, dirty and slightly askew. The saddle blankets hung down on one side, poised to fall off at any moment. Although the horse appeared to be moving better than the last time he saw it, there was still a prominent limp in the hind end. The white mane and tail were now caked with dirt, and the bedroll and saddlebags the man recalled were gone. Conejo rumbled quietly in his throat as he studied the visitor. The gold horse ambled closer, welcoming the company, but stopped a safe distance away with suspicious eyes. Caesar patted the bay's neck and calmly spoke to him in Spanish. "Hold here, my friend. Let's see if I can win dorado uno over." Carefully, he moved to the small pouch he'd tied to his saddle and untied it, then held it out in front of him, low and unthreatening. "Hey there, I brought a gift." He shook the bag, and the unmistakable sound of grain rattled from within. Conejo eagerly stuck his nose toward it. Caesar pushed him away and dropped the reins. The bay ground tied obediently, eyes locked on the bag. "No, this is for our new friend if he wants it. Come on." Carefully Caesar offered the bag, but didn't look directly at the edgy horse. He knew staring would make him nervous, so instead he walked toward the palomino with his eyes directed at the ground next to the horse's feet. He held the grain out at chest level and to one side so the horse could see it clearly. The gold horse was clearly interested and not quite suspicious enough to move away. Caesar got within six feet of the animal then stopped and shook the bag again. He spoke in a soft, singsong tone that was calming and unthreatening. After a few moments he was rewarded when the horse closed the last few feet hesitantly and nuzzled the bag. Moving slowly, Caesar opened the bag. The hungry horse nudged his arm more forcefully and the man laughed. "I can only open it so fast, my pushy friend. Here." He offered some of it in his flat hand and the horse ate greedily. Caesar could see raw marks around the horse's mouth from the bit, and hairless spots from the leather headstall. "Oh, you are in sad shape, amigo. This is a good spot, but you need to be a free of all that. Let me help you." Barranca was too intent of the grain to care about the man who picked up the reins. When Caesar moved to his side, Barranca glanced back, but continued to eat, one ear cocked in the man's direction. The Mexican dumped a little more of the grain on the ground and quickly undid the cinch and pulled off the saddle, wincing at the raw sores that was the result of the horse wearing tack for so long. The horse shifted his weight and continued to eat. Caesar clicked his tongue in sympathy, only getting a slight glance from topaz eyes in response. Anticipating such injuries, Caesar pulled a jar from his hip pocket, opened it, and applied the paste to the sores. He checked the horse's feet, and saw that one shoe was missing and one dangling. Picking up that leg, he pried the shoe off without much effort. The injured back leg looked to be healing and not broken, so Caesar smeared the paste on the scabbed wounds. Swelling still made the hock a little hotter than the man liked, but the animal appeared to be on the mend. He picked out the major chunks of debris from the mane, and rubbed the horse down with his hands. "Next time I will bring proper tools to clean you up, Oro! Meanwhile, I think you are safe here. I don't think your master is ready to see you; I think it would bring him pain." He patted the thin neck. "Without this bridle you can graze better. There is a lot to eat here, but you have to share with the deer." With practiced hands he unbuckled the throatlatch and slipped the bridle from the scarred head. "I will check on you soon. Here." The rest of the grain was dumped on the ground. Caesar stepped back out of the horse’s comfort zone and collected the tack. A nearby stand of boulders made a good place to stash the equipment for now. He covered it with the tattered saddle blanket, satisfied it was as protected as it could get out here. After being on the horse for over two weeks, he was sure a little time in the boulders couldn't hurt it any more. Caesar returned to Conejo and mounted up. They left the healing horse happily cleaning up the last of his present, his dainty ears perked in their direction as they rode away. CHAPTER FIVE Maria was delighted that her charge seemed to be healing quickly. She noticed that he didn't like to stay still very long, even if it caused a headache. The secret, she found, was to keep him busy. First, she gave him simple things to fix, like harness parts that needed stitching or braiding. Once he seemed to get his fingers under his control again, she moved him on to light chores like cleaning out the stove and small fireplace, sweeping the floors and eventually milking the cow and goat. The work helped his appetite and soon the gaunt look of his cheeks smoothed out. When he wasn't busy, his fingers drummed his thigh or hip bone non stop. One day she gave him her rosary beads, realizing she hadn't used them herself since the blue-eyed young man came to them. Maria was strangely comforted giving the gift, and realized her heart did not seem empty anymore. At this moment, she studied his lean figure as he was standing at the front window, staring out and running the beads absently through his fingers in an automatic action. Maria wondered if he even realized he was doing the repetitive motion. As she looked at him, an amused grin on her lips, he turned his indigo eyes to her and smiled shyly. She instantly felt her heart melt. "I-I-I c-c-can w- w-w- work outs-s-ide s-s-soon," he said softly, the ever present stammer making him duck his head and work the beads faster. She could tell he was hiding the wince and headache that came with talking. His Spanish was otherwise flawless. Maria wondered where he had lived before; she knew most of the families near here and had heard nothing about a missing son or worker. The idea of him going away brought fear to her heart, and she was happy he showed no inclination to leave. In fact, he thought she was his mother and she did not say or do anything to change that thought. God have brought him here for her heart, she was sure. Maria stepped to his side and lifted his chin with her finger. "Miel," she said, getting him to focus his eyes on her own. "It is a little soon for heavy work. When the headaches stop, then you can start a little at a time, all right?" "I-I d-d-don't re-re-remember what t.-t-to do anyw-w-way." He grinned in a sad, self-conscious way and looked away, his eyes in a pained squint. Automatically, his fingertips touched the large bruise and lump on the left side of his head hidden under his thick hair. Maria laughed at the comment; the boy had a sense of humor that showed itself at the strangest times. Maria pulled his hand down from his head and gently combed his hair back with her fingers. She smiled affectionately as the pain lines slowly melted from his face. "Don't rush it, meil." She turned to go, his eyes still on his toes, when he asked the long overdue question that part of her was dreading to answer. "W-what is m-m-my n-n-name?" Maria froze for a long second and then slowly turned back to him, her heart racing as she tried to control the rising panic. What should she tell him? Her mouth opened a bit, but nothing came out. He immediately flushed, embarrassed, and pretended to study the beads as his fingers worked them nervously. Shifting his feet, he mumbled lowly as his forehead furrowed from the ever present torment that speech brought. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, m-m-mama. I d-d-don't r-r-r-rem-m-m-mber. Es-s- stup-pido." The stammering became worse with his embarrassment and self-disgust, and he consciously spat out the last word at the expense of a sharp stab to his temple. Maria realized he didn’t see her hesitation as fear, but as some kind of judgment on his condition. Guilt drained away, and she immediately came to a decision – one based on grief and fear, and yet directly from the heart. “Your name is Carlos, mijo. Carlos Arroyo.” CHAPTER SIX When Murdoch and Scott rode from the town of Jackson, Johnny had been gone for over a month. The worried Lancers had checked every ranch on the roads leading into Jackson, as well as all the mercantile stores and saloons in and near the small town. They spoke with the local sheriff, but he hadn’t heard of any strangers in the area. Murdoch thanked the lawman and wired Teresa about their lack of progress before they rode out. “I figure it’ll take about five days to get to San Andreas if we stop at all the ranches between here and there,” Murdoch calculated out loud. He saw the grim look on his elder son and knew that it must mirror his own. “We’ll find him,” he said earnestly. Scott just smiled sadly and nodded, lost in his feelings of helplessness and wandering thoughts. He was quiet most of the day, and when the time came to stop for the night he was ready to talk in an effort to stave off the growing feeling of loss. “You take care of the horses and I’ll start some dinner.” “That’ll be fine.” Murdoch had noticed the subdued manner of his son, but didn’t push. The older man wasn’t too inclined to talk, either, but the idea of a silent dinner was too depressing. The eldest Lancer was glad when Scott began to chatter on his return from bedding down the horses. “There’s nothing like a summer night for star gazing. Look at that sky.” Scott looked up as he stoked the fire, and his father followed his gaze. “It is beautiful,” Murdoch said quietly. “But for some reason it looks even better on Lancer land.” Scott laughed shortly and turned his attention on the coals. “Remember when Johnny and I stayed out at the north line shack for a couple of days last month?” Murdoch settled down next to the fire and began to unroll his bedroll. “That was to fix that footbridge.” “Yeah,” Scott said with a grin. “I tried to teach Johnny some astronomy. I pointed out the constellation of Taurus and he asked me if the flies had a name.” A look of confusion crossed the older man’s face. “Flies?” Scott glanced at his father with eyes sparkling with humor. “Yes, flies. He pointed out a cluster of stars right over what would be Taurus’ rump. Johnny said it looked like flies over the bull’s butt.” Murdoch automatically looked to the sky and found the constellation in question. “The Seven Sisters? He called the Seven Sisters ‘flies over the bull’s butt’?” Chuckling, Scott nodded vigorously and grinned. “Leave it to my brother to see things in a different way!” They both laughed a bit, and then the younger man fell silent. “I miss his point of view, Murdoch.” Serious once again, the elder found his son’s worried eyes and said softly. “Me too.” Then he repeated the mantra that kept their hopes alive. “We’ll find him.” Every time Carlos Arroyo stepped outside he felt completely different; free, energized and ready to work. It didn’t take long for frustration to invade the free feeling as his body failed him within minutes time after time. “You were very sick, mijo,” Maria said sympathetically. “You need to have patience. Your body will catch up.” Carlos always nodded at his mother’s response, grateful she was there to help him and at the same time annoyed that he needed the help. His emotions rose and fell at the drop of a hat and that rankled him, too. It seemed like he was always in some inner, personal war with himself. Talking hurt, so he avoided that. More and more he found himself in the barn caring for the lone cow, the pair of goats, and his favorite, the stocky, big-eared horse. The young man was plagued by a dark void in his mind that made up a lot of his past. He remembered his childhood in small flashes of memory – a dark haired mother with fuzzy features, busy, dirty towns and . . . and something that was always on the edge of the darkness. Carlos felt most at ease when he groomed Conejo; those were the times when his mind seemed to calm. The work was not physically taxing, and he felt a connection with the small horse that had accepted him without question and never asked anything of him except a friendly word or petting. At first, Caesar was completely shocked when he’d found out that Maria had told the boy his name was Carlos. For days he juggled feelings of alarm for his wife’s sanity, guilt that the lie seemed to help her, and affection for the stranger who was quickly worming his way into his heart. He had noticed how good the young man was with the animals, and how he treated his wife with love and respect, and knew he would be a good hand at the ranch as well as a wonderful son. There, he’d said it: son. The possibility that this Carlos could take the place of his dead son both chilled and cheered him. For now, he would let it ride. No one had come looking for the boy, who could be easily described by the blue eyes and decidedly un-farmer like, flashy clothing he had been wearing when he first came here. The fancy silver studded pants and colorful shirt were cleaned and stashed away in the barn with the holster and gun, replaced by the simple clothing of man that worked the land with his hands. Could gaining a son be that simple? Carlos wondered. He also wondered about the other half of the lost pair and knew he’d have to check on the palomino soon just to try and ease his mind completely. The opportunity came when Carlos had been with them for a month. The trio was seated at the small breakfast table, the sun just rising over the foothill and the morning’s light chores finished. Carlos played with his food, pushing it around with his fork in a manner the married couple had come to recognize as a sign that he wanted to say something, but was reluctant to speak. “What is it, son?” Caesar said, tearing a tortilla in half. The endearing term slipped from his tongue easily, and he didn’t even know he’d uttered it. Troubled blue eyes looked up at him through dark bangs, and Carlos’s hand dropped in his lap. “I-I w-w-was w-w-.wonderin’ if I c-c-could t-t-try w-w-workin’ w-w-with C-Conejo.” His left hand automatically touched the side of his head, but the pained expression that usually accompanied speech had lessened in the past few days. “You mean in the field?” Maria asked with raised brows. Carlos glanced up, nodded, and looked shyly back at his plate, resuming the rearrangement of his food. Maria looked to her husband and nodded. Caesar smiled. “I don’t see why not. You’re ready to work, aren’t you?” The statement cause the young man’s head to tilt up, his eyes bright with hope. “Y-yes, s-s-sir.” “I’ll help you hitch him up, but you have to promise to stop and rest often, and stop completely if you get another headache. Agreed?” Caesar had to work hard to keep a concerned, fatherly expression directly in the face of the joyous response of the young man. Carlos nodded shortly, and then dug into his breakfast with zeal. After breakfast, they went to the barn and hitched up the small horse together. Caesar stayed by Carlo's side the entire time, coaching him on the details of working a horse to plow. Carlos caught on quickly, but also tired just as quickly. Caesar could see his valiant efforts to hide his pain and fatigue, but just before noon it became too much to ignore. Caesar knew the boy had over extended himself when he went back to the house without argument and was asleep in his room before Conejo was unhitched. That's when Cesar decided to take the opportunity to check the golden horse in the hills. Conejo seemed to know where they were going and reached the box canyon in good time. At first there was no sign of the horse but within minutes Conejo's substantial ears perked in one direction and a flash of white moved in the shade of the oaks. The plain bay rumbled a greeting as the palomino walked into the sun. Caesar was pleased at what he saw. The golden coat had healed nicely, the only indication of the raw spots visible due to the shorter, darker hair growing in. Ribs were no longer as visible, and the limp was practically non-existent, but Caesar's practiced eye could see that one hock was still thicker than the other. Forced, extended rest was the best thing that could have happened to this animal, and for a moment the parallel between horse and owner was clear to the Mexican. "Muy bueno, caballo hermano! You are almost healed. But what are we to do with you, eh? You cannot stay here through the winter and you cannot come to my home yet. Autumn is upon us, you know." Barranca stopped about six feet away, a distance Caesar recognized as the horse's comfort zone. He slid from Conejo's back and dropped the reins in a ground tie, then moved to the saddle bags where he removed a bag of grain. The palomino's ears twitched in interest, but he did not come closer. Caesar walked to the side, two sets of eyes watching closely as he dumped the grain on the ground. The gold horse ambled over and began to eat, one ear toward his visitors. The man went to his saddle bag and pulled out a stiff brush. "You need this, Oro, so stand still." He stepped up to the horse without hesitation and Barranca accepted it. Caesar brushed him firmly as he ate, and even managed to untangle a major part of the palomino's tail before the horse decided he'd had enough by moving just out of the man's reach. The horse seemed to crave his voice, however, and lingered just at the edge of his comfort zone, his ears twitching as Caesar spoke. "I don't know what to do, Oro." Caesar looked down at his hands and fiddled with the brush. "The boy makes Maria happy, and Maria seems to calm the boy. He is like a son and I can't let him go. He . . . he makes us whole. A family." Gold ears faced him as the blond tail swished. "He is good for us. We need him just a little while longer. Do you understand?" The palomino didn't give an opinion one way or the other. He simply enjoyed the cadence of speech with active ears and warm, topaz eyes. Caesar smiled. "I am sure you miss the boy. I can tell. He is doing well, and getting better every day. I'm sure you will be together again, someday." The words made him choke, and he felt his eyes swim. Would he be able to let the boy go when the time came? If the time came? Caesar swallowed hard and turned his back on his attentive audience, moving to the plain mount that was his. He gathered up the reins and swung up, urging the little bay out of the box canyon without another word. Barranca followed the pair at a distance for a little while, then stopped at the mouth of the canyon and watched them until they were out of sight. The horse studied the horizon for a bit longer, seeming to make a decision, then turned on his hindquarters and walked slowly back into his canyon to wait. |