Journey of the Heart Read online

  “Why, right now, if you want. But let’s start out in the corral, just till she gets used to your skirt.”

  They all tramped out to the corral and hung on the fence as Sadie put the mare through her paces. “Oh, Gabe, she’s as easy a ride as I thought she’d be.”

  “She’s a sweet-tempered thing, aren’t you, girl?” said Gabe as he held the mare still for Sadie to dismount. “But she has some spirit too.”

  “Gabe has been working hard for weeks in training her, haven’t you, Gabe,” said May. “I’d say he has a special touch for the ladies,” she added with a teasing smile.

  “I know Molly Preston thinks so,” teased James.

  They all laughed and trooped back to the house for breakfast.

  That night, Gabe sat on his cot, his bedroll half packed beside him. He was heartsick at the thought of leaving his home and family. “I’ve tried my best, Ma,” he whispered. “I’ve taken care of the young ones, like you said. Sadie’s grown now, so she’ll do fine. And the little ones, well, they love May…and so does Pa and that’s why I’ve got to go.” He finished packing up his few clothes and lay back on the bed, using the bedroll as a pillow. He’d have to wait a few hours for the moon to come up before he left. He’d take Jasper, the Roman-nosed dun gelding. He was too big to be a good cow pony, but he had endurance. He’d leave a note for his pa, explaining that he had to be off on his own, that he was sick of cowpunching and mending fences. That he was sorry not to tell him in person, but it was easier on both of them this way.

  He’d ride west, toward the New Mexico Territory. He was sure he could find a place without much trouble. Maybe in a few years he’d be able to come home. Surely, with him gone, May would turn back to Pa. Goddamn, but he didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone in his life, but he hated his father’s wife.

  Chapter One

  Ramah, New Mexico

  Night Sky had wandered a few hundred yards from the other horses. It had been a dry summer, with too many promises of rain not kept, and the grazing had taken the herd farther from the ranch than usual. Sky had been led away by a small patch of grass and then another, until he was almost under the branches of an old cottonwood that brooded over a dry stream bed.

  He was upwind, so it was the shadow of the big cougar that spooked him and saved his life. Just as he was about to reach for a tasty bit of grass, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and he lifted his head and shifted backward a few steps. It was an old cat and she wasn’t quick enough to adjust for the extra distance he’d put between them. So instead of breaking Sky’s neck, she only raked his shoulder. Her claws dug in as she felt herself begin to slide off and Sky screamed as she tore a large flap of skin loose. There was an answering call from the big gray stallion who led the herd and the cat scrambled off and climbed the old cottonwood, reaching the top before the stallion got there.

  The younger horse’s head was down and after rearing and pounding his hoofs into the ground as though he had the old cat underneath them, the stallion turned and nudged Sky away from the tree and back to the herd. Then the stallion drove his herd slowly but steadily back to their home pasture.

  Michael Burke was just sitting down to dinner when Jake, his hired hand, knocked on the door. “Beg pardon, Miz Burke, for disturbing your meal, but the horses are coming in, boss.”

  “It’s early for that and Finn usually waits for us to come after them. I’d better go, Elizabeth,” he said apologetically to his wife.

  “Of course, Michael. I’ll keep your dinner hot.”

  The mares came in first, colts and fillies clinging to their sides. Finn, the big gray stallion, was far to the rear and seemed to be alternately pushing the two-year-olds along and turning back for a lone black straggler.

  “ ‘Tis Night Sky hangin’ back like that,” Michael muttered. He crawled through the fence, making his way back through the milling mares. The stallion came right up to him and pushed his head against Michael’s chest. Then he wheeled around to nip the black’s hindquarters and drive him over to Michael.

  “Dear God in Heaven!” he exclaimed. A flap of skin was hanging from the horse’s neck and withers and dried blood caked his shoulder. “So this is why you brought them in, boyo,” he said to his stallion.

  “My Lord, look at him,” said Jake, coming up behind Michael.

  “Get me a halter, Jake. And some water.”

  “Right away, boss.”

  Michael talked soothingly to the black. All the while backing him up toward the fence. He and the stallion worked as a team, for every time the younger horse would try to get away, the big gray would gently crowd him back.

  “Here you are, boss.”

  “Thanks, Jake.” Michael took the halter in one hand and holding it down by his side, approached Sky slowly, holding out the bucket of water and sloshing a little over the side. The black’s ears pricked up and he let Michael approach, backing up only a little as the man managed to get close enough to touch him.

  Michael put the bucket down in front of the horse and Sky took two steps forward, which brought him close enough to dip his head and drink.

  Michael squatted down in front of him and murmured softly in Irish and English as the colt drank. He cupped his hand in the water underneath the colt’s muzzle and when Sky lifted his nose out of the bucket and then dipped down again, it was Michael’s hand he was drinking from. In one smooth movement, Michael drew the halter over the horse’s head and ears. It was a moment before the black realized he was caught. When he did, he pulled back and tried to rear, but Michael held firm, and taking the rope from Jake, clipped it to the halter.

  “Hold him for a minute, Jake.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Michael dipped his hand into the water again and whistled to the big gray stallion. “Have the rest of this, Finn. And there will be oats for you and your mares tonight. Yer a fine horse, boyo, a fine horse,” he said as he stroked the gray neck. “Ye do your mother proud.”

  * * * *

  Elizabeth had watched the whole thing from the door. She’d held her breath as she watched Michael push his way through the milling horses, even though she knew there was no need to worry. Michael had an almost magical way with his horses, and the bond between him and Finn was as strong as that between him and Frost, Finn’s dam. But there was clearly something wrong with Night Sky and the two-year-old was her daughter’s own, given to Caitlin by Michael when the colt was two days old. Elizabeth hurried down to the barn.

  Michael had brought the horse in and had him cross-tied in the largest stall and was gently wiping the blood off his shoulder with warm water, taking care to stay away from the wound itself.

  “Oh, Michael, it is Cait’s Sky. What happened to him?”

  “It looks like a cougar tried for him and almost got him. He’s lucky he isn’t lyin’ out there, his bones picked clean by the buzzards. But maybe it would be just as well,” he added, frowning at the horse’s torn side.

  Elizabeth slipped into the stall, and standing beside her husband, gazed at the colt’s damaged neck and shoulder. She shuddered as she saw the flap of skin and muscle hanging down. The colt’s eyes were dull and now that he was inside and tied, his head was drooping.

  “How bad is it, Michael?”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, haven’t ye, boyo?” said Michael softly, as he sponged the black’s leg and side. “But he seemed to be walkin’ all right, just a little stiffly. If Finn hadn’t gotten him in, though…. But the nearest horse doctor is three days away.”

  “Michael, let me try sewing him up.”

  “Do ye think ye could, a ghra?”

  “I can try. This is Caitlin’s horse, Michael. We have to do something. She’d be heartbroken if we had to put him down.”

  “I know, Elizabeth, I know.”

  Elizabeth hurried over to the house and came back with her sewing box. “I’ll have to grease the thread, Michael. And use a heavy needle. Will you be able to hold him?”

 
“He’s worn out, and I’ve hobbled his rear foot, so he can’t move much.”

  Elizabeth shuddered as she lifted the heavy flap of skin and flesh. She stroked the black’s muzzle and Michael had his hand on the horse’s hindquarters. The horse raised his head to look at her.

  “Poor Sky. We’ll do our best for you, boy. Michael, you’ll have to wash around the wound for me. And I brought some basilicum powder to sprinkle on it.”

  Michael sponged the edges gently and Elizabeth matched the flesh as though she were mending a sheet. At the first few stitches, Sky pulled back and Elizabeth almost lost her balance following him.

  “There, there, boy, if you keep still, this won’t take long.”

  It took a good ten minutes, but at last the wound was closed.

  “It looks good, Missus Burke,” said Jake, who’d come in to watch. “Better than the doc’s stitches.”

  “You’ll have to keep him tied, Michael, so he doesn’t roll or rub against the side of the stall,” she warned.

  Michael reached out and pulled her into his side. “Ye did a fine job, a ghra, and I know it wasn’t easy.”

  “No, but I’ve had a little experience,” she said with a smile, reaching over and patting Michael’s hand, which had a long, crescent-shaped scar from a wood-chopping accident.

  “Do you think he’ll heal, boss?” asked Jake.

  “With Elizabeth’s good stitching and some tonic in his oats, I think he’ll come through, Jake. But I doubt he’ll ever be of any use to us,” he added with a sigh. “After he’s had a big cat on his back, he’ll never let anyone ride him. And a horse that can’t be ridden…well, he’s no use to Caitlin or to me. Finn might have saved him for a time, but we can’t afford to feed a useless animal.”

  “Oh, Michael, you couldn’t destroy him after all this,” his wife protested.

  “ ‘Tis the last thing I’d want to do, you know that, Elizabeth.”

  “Caitlin will be home from school in a few months. Why, Sky used to follow her around like a puppy when he was little. And surely you can work with him after he heals?”

  “If I can find the time. And don’t worry, we won’t be doin’ anything without Cait’s knowin’.”

  * * * *

  The colt began to heal, and by the end of a week, Michael was able to let him out into the small pasture next to the corral.

  “His gait is a bit stiff, but I think that will wear off soon, don’t you, Michael?” said Elizabeth as they watched Sky trot slowly around the pasture, his nose lifted, smelling the wind.

  “They’re all back in the far pasture, Sky,” Michael told him as he rattled a bucket of oats. The black approached him skittishly at first, but when Michael put the bucket down, the horse started eating immediately.

  “He’s a beautiful animal, Michael. Just look at how he’s filled out in the past week.”

  Michael stroked his muzzle. “That’s because he’s been eatin’ oats and molasses and not scrub grass, isn’t it, boyo?”

  The horse lifted his head and turning to Michael, rested his muzzle on Michael’s shoulder for a moment, leaving a scattering of oats when he dipped back into the bucket.

  “He’s so gentle, Michael. Are you sure he won’t let himself be ridden?”

  “He’s tame enough like this, Elizabeth. After all, Caitlin worked with him when he was a colt. And I’m the one who’s been feedin’ him so well. But under a saddle?” Michael ran his hand lightly near the stitches and the black shuddered and pulled back, knocking over the bucket and then spooking at the noise, trotting away to the other side of the pasture.

  “We’ll have to tie him again to get the stitches out, Elizabeth,” said Michael with a grin. “ ‘Tis good to see he has some spirit back. But it will be a good month or so before we can try a saddle on him.”

  Chapter Two

  Gabe saw the sheep first, as he came down out of the mountains. It was a large flock, more than he would have expected Mexicans or Indians to own. Certainly more than he would have expected to see in what was known to be cattle country.

  After a half mile or so he came to the herder’s camp, a small canopied wagon. A black-and-white sheepdog that had been resting in the shade, jumped up and started barking wildly.

  “No need to announce ourselves,” Gabriel told his horse. His right hand held the reins and his left had dropped down to the worn leather holster strapped to his side. Sheepherders were generally peaceful men, but a stranger appearing out of nowhere would put anyone on guard.

  Gabe’s hand slid up to the handle of the Colt .45 when he saw an older man emerge from a cluster of pinon pines. He was buttoning up his fly with one hand and in the crook of his other arm rested a shotgun. Anyone who carried his gun just to take a piss was no one to take chances with, thought Gabe.

  “Collate,” the man told the dog sharply.

  “Hola, amigo,” called Gabe. “That’s a fine dog you have there.”

  “Si, but Chino, he is not too fond of strangers. And neither am I, señor.”

  Gabe kept his hand on his gun, just in case. “I’m just passing through, amigo. And since there aren’t likely to be too many strangers out here in the middle of nowhere, I’d say the trouble you seem to be expecting is from someone well-known to you?”

  “You aren’t working for Mackie, are you?” said the sheepherder, lowering his shotgun and leaning on the stock.

  “I’m not working for anyone at the moment. Though I’m hoping to be soon. Who is this Mackie? Is he hiring?”

  The Mexican spat his disgust. “He is the biggest cattle rancher in the valley. He’s always looking to hire someone quick with a gun,” he added, looking pointedly at Gabe’s left hand.

  Gabe shifted his hand to his thigh. “I’m not looking to be anyone’s hired gun,” said Gabe.

  “You looking to herd sheep, then?” asked the Mexican sarcastically. “No creo, amigo.”

  “I ain’t got nothing against sheep myself,” said Gabe with a smile. “But I got to admit, I prefer working with cattle or horses. You’ve got a big flock here.”

  “It is big, but it isn’t mine. My boss, he raises the sheep and horses.”

  Gabe lifted his eyebrows. “Horses, eh?”

  “Mr. Burke, he has a small herd. He breeds a special kind of Indian horse. Appaloosas, he calls them. Sprinkled and dotted on their backsides. They sure are pretty horses.”

  “Do you think he could use a hand?”

  “No se, señor,” said the Mexican with a shrug. “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask him.”

  “Gracias, amigo. How will I find his place?”

  “It is the first ranch you come to when you reach the valley, about ten miles west of here. Tell him Eduardo sent you.”

  “Gracias, Eduardo. Hasta luego.”

  Eduardo just lifted his shotgun and waved it as Gabe rode off, muttering, “What he could use, Mr. Burke, though he doesn’t want to hear it, is a hired gun of his own.”

  The sun was going down by the time Gabe reached the valley. He assumed the pastures he rode beside belonged to this Burke fellow. He was favorably impressed. The fences were well-mended and as he turned down the road that led to the ranch and approached the house and barn, he saw that all was well-maintained.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone around the corral or barn, so he dismounted, tied his paint, and whacked at his clothes with his hat to get some of the red dust out of them. He smoothed his hair back and giving the horse a pat on the rump, said, “Wish me luck, fella.”

  Elizabeth was in the bedroom of the ranch house, changing her blouse, when she heard the rap on the screen door and the unfamiliar voice calling out a hello.

  “Just a minute,” she responded as she buttoned the last button hurriedly and wondered if she was foolish to be a little fearful. She didn’t think so; tensions between the sheep owners in the valley and Nelson Mackie were running strong, and although Michael kept reassuring her, she was wary all the same. But Michael would be back from town within the half
hour, so surely there was nothing to worry about?

  When she pulled the door open, the man on the porch took off his hat and greeted her politely enough.

  “Good evening, ma’am. I am sorry if I disturbed you, but there was no one around outside.”

  “Why, no, my husband and the hired hand are in town. On their way home, actually,” she added, thinking, well, that was foolish, Elizabeth, announcing to a complete stranger that you are alone!

  “I met your sheepherder…if this is the Burke place?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Well, Eduardo said for me to tell your husband that he’d seen me. He seemed to think you might want another hand around the place?”

  “We’re not really shorthanded…” Elizabeth started to say.

  “That’s too bad, ma’am. Eduardo told me Mr. Burke raises horses and I’m good with horses.”

  “What I was going to say was where the sheep are concerned,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get my husband to take on more help with the horses for a while, though.”

  “Well, I’d be happy to help you persuade him, Mrs. Burke,” the stranger said with a smile.

  “Perhaps you would like to stay and talk to my husband over dinner, Mr.…?”

  “Hart. Gabriel Hart. But you can call me Gabe. I would be right pleased to do that, Mrs. Burke.”

  “Supper is in a half hour or so. Whenever my husband returns.”

  “Do you need anything, ma’am? Wood? Water?”

  “Why, no thank you, Mr. Hart…Gabe.” Elizabeth peered out the door. “You can unsaddle your horse if you want and there’s hay and water in the barn. And a pump behind the barn if you want to wash for supper.”

  Gabe looked down at his hands and chuckled. “I sure do. Thank you, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth watched him from the door. He was a tall, rangy man with silver-blond hair. She wasn’t sure if it was silvered by the sun or whether there was some premature gray in it, for he wasn’t that old. She could tell from the way he talked to his horse as he walked him to the barn that he considered him more than transportation. That’s the kind of man Michael needs, she thought. He seems quiet and steady. And if he likes horses, he might be into gentling them, not breaking their spirits, like so many of the wranglers who had appeared over the years.