Chapter16
Gabe
Gabe was finally able to pull down the bandana that covered his mouth as the herd of horses reached Highway 211. The two-lane blacktop road was easier to navigate the horses along, but more difficult as well, since there were cars that drove past them. Granted, there hadn’t been that many cars since Highway 211 wasn’t highly trafficked, but still. Some of the horses were shod, some weren’t, but all needed to be kept on the verge between the road and the stretch of barbed wire.
They headed south, Quint out front, Brody along the road, and Gabe behind, where the dust was. He didn’t mind, not one bit. He’d missed this, the sense of teamwork, of working with guys who weren’t going to question orders, or who hadn’t committed petty crimes in the past. Maybe he should do more of this, connect with the guys he used to work with last season just so he could retain his sense of balance, of what the real world was like.
“Hup, hup,” he said, urging his horse to speed up a little to make sure the stragglers knew they were last in line and needed to move along with the rest of the herd.
His thighs hurt, the insides especially, reminding him how long it had been since he’d ridden like this. A bit of his neck he was sure was sunburned, and the skin along his neck itched with dust and sweat. He couldn’t be happier.
They were about a mile out from the cutoff that would take them into the valley and the horses, perhaps sensing water, or that they had been granted some preternatural advice that their twenty-mile journey was at an end, all started to trot.
He saw Quint look back at Brody and shake his head, which Gabe read as the signal to get them to slow down.
“Woah, now, woah,” he said, gently, but loud enough for the horses to hear. They’d all been in pastures with limited shelter, going to the wild in their minds. Some shook their heads as though he were speaking a foreign language.
They were hale and healthy looking enough even after their wintering in Wyoming, but they all needed grooming and lush pastures. New horseshoes, courtesy of Jasper. And maybe a visit from the local vet, depending on what Gabe found when he went over each horse. Maybe he could teach Blaze to help him with that.
“Hup, hup,” he said again, watching where Quint took the no-name dirt road along the edge of the valley.
They were almost at the end of their journey, and in spite of the skill of each man, the horses hurried up into a canter, heads high, manes and tails flaring behind them like flags. They might have been fully wild for all the attention they paid to Quint’s calls, or Brody’s lowshhh-shhh-shhhsounds.
“Damn it,” Gabe said under his breath, and urged his mount to a canter to keep up, at least.
Quint would guide the horses into the valley just fine, and Brody would keep the stragglers in line. All Gabe had to do was keep the tail end of the herd as tight as he could so they would all go through the gate—hopefully open—and they could finally pull up and settle the herd, and make sure they knew where their feed and water was. Then they could close the gate, turn on the generator to power the fence, and go get some well-earned dinner.
Would Quint and Brody want to eat with a trio of parolees? He didn’t know but he would ask, first, however—
As he held his horse to a trot, he saw the truck parked in front of the gully, a flash of silver against the green pine trees. The truck was parked exactly as he would have done it himself.
Blaze stood at the end of the truck, one foot on the bumper, one hand on the tailgate, ready to swing inside the truck bed, if he had to. Wayne was nowhere to be seen, but at this point, that was fine. He’d been a help earlier, for all his lack of enthusiasm.
Blaze waved, which startled a few of the horses at the tail end, but Gabe clicked and urged his horse forward, keeping those few horses focused on the herd ahead of them, till at last all the horses rushed through the gate. They milled about in the field, snorting, trotting along the fence line.
Gabe wheeled his horse, thinking to dismount and close the gate and the rest of it, but Blaze was already rushing to do this very task, dark hair flying about his face, a grin as wide as could be. He fumbled with the hook mechanism, but then secured it, focused, concentrating. Then he turned the generator on, a low hum amidst the tall grasses, and Gabe could finally draw a really deep breath.
“Good job,” he called over to Blaze, feeling warm inside when Blaze did anaw-shuckskick at the dust and shrugged like it was no big deal.
Within the pasture, the horses were a little jumpy, unsure of where they were, hooves clicking against bits of stone, some wandering further out to investigate the grasses, some clumping by the metal watering troughs, drinking their fill.
Gabe went over to where Quint and Brody, still astride, were looking over the herd. He knew they were searching for any horse that seemed to be by itself, or not interested in its surroundings, perhaps limping, all signs that a vet needed to be called in right away, sooner rather than later.
“All of them need new shoes,” said Quint. “It’ll take Jasper all week, four days, at least.”
“Shall we bring them up to the forge?” asked Gabe, thinking ahead to logistics and the priority of tasks already underway, such as clearing underbrush, marking stumps for removal. “Or have him come down here?”
“That’s up to him, I’d say,” said Quint, all business, his eyes hard and focused on the horses. “He might work more efficiently at his own forge, and I know he’d appreciate it if the horses were brushed down before they came to him.”
“I’ll give him a call,” said Gabe, mentally agreeing. “And set up a schedule.”
“Let’s have the vet out anyway,” said Brody. “There’s nothing amiss with this little herd, but it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Agreed,” said Quint, leaning forward in his saddle.
Blaze was waiting outside the fence, perhaps rightly thinking that at some point he’d need to turn off the fence to let the riders out, and then turn it on again. He was alert, looking at Gabe, almost on his toes, in anticipation of the request. Gabe made himself focus on the question of dinner.
“You fellows want to join us for dinner?” he asked, looping the leather reins loosely in his hand.
