Saving Alice Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Matthew stepped to the side of the horse and proceeded to climb on, but he had forgotten his first lesson in mounting. Halfway up into the saddle he realized that he had put the wrong foot in the stirrup again. After going back to ground to start over, Matthew red-facedly looked over his shoulder to see if Chet had seen his mistake. Sure enough, Chet had missed nothing.

“Son, have you ever rode a horse before?”

After clearing his throat just a little, Matthew gave his answer to the question. “Actually, earlier today was, in fact, my first attempt. To be precise, this will be my third time on top of a horse.”

“Then tell me,” inquired Chet with a puzzled look playing on his face, “how is it that you were able to chase after those varmints, and then come all the way back this way if you ain’t never rode no horse before?”

“Well, that first time I climbed on,” Matthew explained, “this horse just happened to be facing the right direction. Maybe it was just running after its friends. I don’t know. Then the next time I just kind of had to figure out all the steering and going and stopping by trial and error.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself in the doings” said Chet as he shook his Head in disbelief. After a short pause Chet went on, “First off, you can put that Bible you is holdin’ onto into that there saddlebag.” Matthew did as he was told. “Now you go ahead and climb on up there and we’ll see if you can get along a mite bit better than your earlier efforts.”

Matthew nodded his head and gave the horse a short look before putting his correct foot into the stirrup. After settling himself in the saddle he stuck both arms out wide and he pulled on the right reign to turn the creature around. Meanwhile the horse was doing what he had done each time Matthew had done his self-styled reigning- it was shaking its head in protest and tossing its tail in agitation.

“Looks like we’re in need of a learnin’ time to get you to ride that horse proper like,” said Chet with the slightest shake of his head. “If you keep doin’ that, you’re goin’ to get pitched right off, sure as spit.

“Now then, keep your arms in by your side real easy like, and hold both ‘em reins in one hand- I’m saying your left, so that your good shooting hand is free… That’s it, Son. But not so tight, loosen up a bit. Give them reins a bit a slack, but not so much that you gotta pull way back before they take hold on the bit.”

“Excuse me,” Matthew interrupted. “But, what’s a bit?”

Silence.

Chet blinked a couple of times as the meaning of the question sank in. “City folk sure are mighty unkowin’,” Chet said with a slight wag of the head. “The bit,” he continued with an exaggeratedly patient tone, “is the metal that goes in the horse’s mouth. It helps to control the horse, but it ain’t absolutely necessary if you get the horse all trained up proper like and the rider knows what he’s about. And I suspect that your horse there is a proper trained horse.

“Gettin’ back to it now. When you want to direct the horse, all you got to do is lay your hand in the direction you be wantin’ to go. Like this…” Chet got his horse moving and demonstrated the technique for directing his horse for Matthew. Matthew watched now in wonder at how simple Chet made it look. After seeing the demonstration, Matthew put his horse in motion and mimicked Chet’s example. To his amazement, the horse actually turned with complete ease. A smile broke out on Matthew’s filthy face at his new success.

“That’s not too bad, and the horse is going to like you the more for it,” said Chet. “But if we are going to be gettin’ after your wife, we can’t stay here all day gettin’ horse lessons. Lets get a move on and I’ll try to learn you as we go.”

“Yes, lets go,” replied Matthew.

Chet gave his horse a kick and set off, his horse setting out in an easy lope into the grass along the trail left by the thieves. Matthew gave his horse a tentative kick to fall in behind Chet. His horse set out in its trot bouncing Matthew around in the saddle like earlier. Chet glanced over his shoulder to check on Matthew’s progress. Seeing his pupil bouncing around, he reined in his horse allowing Matthew to come along side of him.

“You’re goin’ to beat your posterior into a hideless mess, Son. What you’ve got to do is give your horse a get-it-up kick. Not too hard, but a mite more ‘an you’ve done.”

Matthew took hold of the saddle horn, let out his breath, and followed through with a stronger kick. Sure enough, the horse settled into a smooth lope. Instantly his body fell into rhythm with the new gait and everything just felt more fluid.

“That’ll give you some stayin’ time for that saddle.”

“I was concerned that the horse would take off like the first time if I kicked too hard,” admitted Matthew as the two rode side by side.

“Surely it would,” interjected Chet, “if you give the horse a kick like hell was at stake. But you should be knowin’ that when you want to get a bit more speed on, just give a firm kick, and if it ain’t fast ‘nough, then give another. And keep those reins loose. Do you know how to stop your horse proper like?”

“I’ve done it twice so far. I’m not sure if that makes me an expert.”

“Lets start with slowin’ the horse down. All you got to do is gently start pulling back on the reins ‘til your horse is down to the desired pace. If that desired pace is ‘stop’, then pull back a bit more firm like. He’ll come to an easy stop then. But, if you gotta stop quick as a blink, then give that set a reins a good strong pull back ‘til you ain’t goin’ nowhere no more.

“Go ahead and give your horse the slow down… No, Son. Don’t pull them reigns up to your chin. Pull straight back to the old mother attachment- your belly button…. Good. Good. You got some real hope for being a regular horseman. Now let’s take a look at this varmint.”

The two men had come upon the first of the two slain thieves in the field. “Looks like someone’s got to the guns here,” observed Chet as he looked over the body. “Must a been one of those fellow coach passengers you were a company with this morn. Look there- that’s a boot print alright, and it ain’t the biggest boot I’ve seen.”

“Had to be Jim Watson, our shotgun rider. He was on the shorter side,” offered Matthew. “He’s the one that shot this man.”

“Well no use gawkin’ here. We’re not lookin’ for the dead ones.” With that simple summation, Chet spurred his horse back into motion. They didn’t stop to examine the next corpse, but simply gave it a glance as they made their way further on the trail.

They hadn’t gone far when Chet came to a stop and dismounted. Walking back a short distance he stooped down and looked closely at the high grass. Matthew had also stopped but stayed in his saddle. Inquiringly Matthew addressed Chet, “What do you see there?”

“Did you say that one of your men may have hit another with one of his volleys?”

“I think he said something to that effect.”

“I’m seeing a bit of blood here on this grass. This here is a herald of glad tidings, so to speak. Your group of bandits is gettin’ whittled down from a stick to a twig. Especially if this blood means a real hurt has been put on one of them.

“Tell me,” continued Chet after straightening up and turning to Matthew, “you already said that they was all wearin’ dust cloths about their faces, but can you say what that leader of theirs look like.”

“He is a big man, stood a good three or four inches or so taller than me. And round in the chest. He also had a scar across his forehead.”

At that Chet raised an eyebrow. “Was it a sloping scar goin’ up into his hair?”

Nodding his head, Matthew affirmed the question, “Yes, it went from his eye brow and then across his forehead.”

“There ain’t but one man like that here abouts. Son, we’re in for a tough game.” Chet twisted on his heels and climbed back on to his horse.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I ain’t never met him before, but I been told a lot of stories. Jack Higgs, or Flash Jack as some say. He is fast on the draw, and just as fast with his temper. When he’s mad he gets vicious like a wolf. I should a guessed it when you said he shot one of his own men. He’s done it before. I’m told he shot one of his own one night for nothing but snoring too loud.”

Matthew had anticipated that his partner would set out directly, but the two men sat their horses for a moment. This hesitation started to worry Matthew. He was beginning to fear that Chet was having second thoughts now about helping him.

“Does this change things for you?”

Chet gave Matthew a sideways look, “Are you askin’ if I ain’t goin’ to help rescue your wife now that I know who we is chasin’?”

“Well,” answered Matthew, “it’s just that we’re still sitting, and earlier we were moving. Yes, I am wondering if you’re thinking of going your own way now.”

Chet eyed Matthew with a hard stare. “Son, the only person I ever run from was my Pa, and he only let me do that once. I’m stickin’ to this Jack, and we are gettin’ your wife back.

“I was ponderin’ you actually. You are about as green a sprout of city growth I’ve done seen. I’m afraid that you might just step into the next land before the days out. I’d hate to save your Alice only for her to stand by your restin’ hole with the hymns bein’ sung. I’m thinkin’ that maybe we ought to think bout keepin’ you out of the fray.”

Beneath the grime on his face, Matthew was flushing red. “Are you saying I am a coward?”

“Not even a hint,” soothed Chet. “You done proved you’d ride to hell to save your wife. I’m sayin’ that you ain’t no match for the likes of them. You ain’t never shot no gun, you barely stay set upright on that horse, and you being from the city and all, you may be squeamish when it comes to killin’ a man.”

“There is no way I’m not going after my own,” said Matthew defiantly. “As far as my shortcomings go, I am well aware of them. ‘When I am weak, He is strong.’ The Lord will be my help.”

Silence crowded in between the two men for a moment as they eyed each other. Chet was the first to speak. “I s’pose I’d be feelin’ the same as you. I won’t get in your way to save your wife. And lets pray that the Good Man up yonder does come to your aid. I’m here too. How bout we get a move on again.”

Chet turned his horse to go, and Matthew followed. They hadn’t taken but a few steps, when quick as lightning, Chet snapped his gun from its holster and fired it at the ground just a few feet in front of him. Matthew’s horse stepped to the side in response to the gun’s explosion, nearly spilling Matthew from his perch.

“What did you do that for?” exclaimed Matthew who was a bit rattled by the display.

“Snake!” replied Chet.

“Was it poisonous?” inquired Matthew.

“Don’t know. Don’t rightly care!” returned Chet with a faintly edgy tone and accompanied by a string of curses. “I can’t stand snakes. I wish they was all dead!”