CHAPTER 22
Chet had dismounted and examined Matthew’s horse again. He determined that the horse had a deep bruise just below the shoulder. With a few days rest Chet figured that the animal ought to be doing fine, but there was no way that they could pull it along with them. He decided it would be best to escort the animal down to the river and leave it to heal on its own. After he dealt with the situation at hand, he would try to come back and check on the horse.
“Time to get a move on,” said Chet as he turned to his black and white horse. “Too much of the day is been wasted as it is.”
“What should we do with this saddle?”
“Ain’t much we can do with it. Leave it and get yourself up on a horse. We got to get this horse to water.”
Matthew took the two saddlebags and did as he was told, while Chet took the reins of the lame horse and slowly made his way in the direction Jack had been fleeing. When he came up to the dead man’s horse, he gave the animal an expert glance as they passed and saw that the front hoof had been slit and a sizable piece of the hoof had been broken off. Chet shook his head in disgust at the treatment of such a beautiful animal.
Chet was looking for an easy trail down to the river bottom and soon found one. This also turned out to be the very place that Jack had chosen to go. So down they went taking all the time needed for the wounded horse. When they finally reached the bottom Chet dismounted his horse and stripped the bridle from the lame horse.
Not especially wanting to hear Matthew’s voice yet, Chet thought it best to explain himself before he was questioned. “I’m goin’ to leave the horse down here where it can get water, and there is plenty of things for it to much on. He’ll be okay down this a way.”
Matthew took Chet’s explanation as a thawing of his companion and felt like things between the two men was now on the mend. He felt safe to break his own self-imposed silence. “Won’t he need someone to take care of him?”
Chet shook his head at Matthew, but didn’t make eye contact, “There’s all sorts of horses gone to the wild out here. If I thought he didn’t have a chance, I’d shoot him and put him out of his misery.” Under his breath he said to himself, “Being shot is ‘bout the best way out.”
Matthew didn’t make the last words of Chet, but he had sense enough to know better than to ask what Chet said. Instead he asked Chet if they were going to go back up the hill to get back after Jack.
“I’ll be guessin’ you didn’t see,” said Chet as he climbed back into the saddle, still not looking at Matthew, “that cur wolf came on down this a way.”
Matthew hadn’t seen it, but now that he was aware of the information, he looked to the ground and saw that there were indeed tracks heading toward the water.
Chet kicked his horse into motion and started to follow the tracks once again. The lame horse whistled to the departing horses, but stood its ground after taking a few tentative steps. The tracks lead strait to the waters edge and it appeared as though the horse had made a couple of turns as though the rider was trying to determine which way to go. Then the tracks disappeared into the water.
“He done crossed the river here,” mused Chet as he peered across the river to the other bank that was about fifty yards across.
“Alice doesn’t know how to swim,” interjected Matthew.
Chet gave Matthew a cold glance, “How bout you?”
The question was not seeking information, but rather putting Matthew through a test. Matthew understood the deeper meaning of this perfectly. Not wanting to fail yet again, and somewhat frustrated that he was being put to the test again, he answered, “I can’t say that I’ve ever tried to swim, but I might just prove to be a fine swimmer at the first opportunity.”
“Figures,” said Chet looking away. “Well here’s your opportunity.” Then after some thought, and not wanting to see a good horse drown, he went on, “Once you get that horse in the water up to your knees, then slip off and hold onto the saddle horn and let yourself just drag a long side the horse. When you feel the horse get its footin’, then you can pull yourself back into the saddle as he is climbin’ out of the water.”
Without confirming that Matthew caught and understood it all, Chet spurred his horse into the water. Matthew held his horse in check for a moment as he watched Chet move deeper into the water. The idea of being dragged beside this horse now horrified him. Finally the horror of failing at yet another thing today got the better of his fear of drowning. So he tremulously set his horse in motion, with the second horse in tow.
He tried to remember Chet’s instructions about slipping off, but forgot when he was supposed to do it. As soon as the water hit his calf, he forced himself to fall out of the saddle. Instead of being smoothly transitioned from horseback to horseside with the helpful buoyancy of the water, his legs splashed into the water dragging the rest of his body down while his hands lost grip on the saddle horn. Down into the water, both body and head, went he. Kicking his feet frantically to get his head above water, and attempting to get a breath while still underwater, his feet found purchase on the river bottom. He shot his head above water.
Coughing and spitting, Matthew found himself to be about chest deep in the frigid water. Seeing that his horse was now out of reach, he turned to see that the other horse was just passing him. Desperately he grabbed for the saddle horn and missed, his hands slipped over the rest of the saddle, and were now running over the horse’s rump as they desperately searched for a hold. Finally his hands found the tail, and he gripped it with all his might as he was pulled off his feet and dragged through the water while the horses made their way across the river. His head kept dipping below the waterline as he occasionally rolled from side to side trying to find his equilibrium. Mouthful after mouthful of water was being ejected from his mouth as he struggled to get enough water out of the way so Matthew could get air into his lungs and still keep the water out. He was not fully successful.
Chet sat in his saddle on the other side of the river watching as the two riderless horses made their way to shore. He stared as Matthew, coughing and sputtering, was dragged like a drowned cat from the water. Chet disgustedly nodded his head in verification of his assessment of Matthew.
Chet dismounted from his horse and took his boots off and drained away the water. He also routed out all the guns and gave them a quick cleaning and drying.
During all the activity Chet had lobbed a one-sentence judgment at Matthew. “Son, I don’t think you are made for all this.”
Matthew, having let go of the horse’s tail as soon as he was on dry ground, had nothing to say in reply as he laid for moment clearing the last of the water from his lungs. Eventually he pushed himself up from his stomach and wearily dragged his legs under himself so he could sit on his backside. Matthew looked over at Chet who was just finishing replacing his boots on his feet. When Matthew saw that Chet was about to look at him, Matthew quickly cut his gaze in the other direction.
He had survived, but he had failed. And he didn’t know which was worse.
Matthew had no need to remove his tattered city shoes for they would easily be drained of their watery contents through the hole in his right shoe, and the flapping soul of his left shoe. Every new challenge was being thwarted by the redundancy of failure due to his utter lack of experience.
Wearily he gained his feet, and went after his horses. Remnants of coughing accompanied as he gained the saddle once again and followed dejectedly behind Chet.
The trail proved to be easy to follow for Chet. He knew that Jack’s horse had to be getting close to being spent after two days of such heavy labor. Chet could tell that the Jack was switching between walking the horse for a spell and then galloping for another. Where the horse walked, Chet could see how the horse was dragging its hooves between steps, rather than picking them up, and Chet knew that was the sign of a horse that was nearly spent.
Meanwhile, their own horses were still relatively strong and had kept up a solid pace since they had emerged from the river bottom. They had been traveling north across the high plains for over two hours when there came into view a set of hills that rose up from the prairie. In another half hour they were cresting the first of the hills and came to a stop to take in the view of what lay ahead.
The entire journey had been made with a load silence. Matthew heard the words that were not being said, and he argued wordlessly with what he knew Chet would be saying if Chet were talking to him. Chet felt Matthew riding behind him and Chet chewed on scene after scene of the past two days and kept coming to the same conclusion of the childly man in tow. How Matthew could have ever proved to be man enough to win a wife was beyond Chet’s understanding.
Finally, Chet reluctantly broke the silence. “I’m s'posin’ that we’ll be comin’ upon them any time now. They been ridin’ that horse real hard like, and its got to be plumb tuckered by now, especially now that they is back in up-and-down hill ridin’.”
He turned his attention to Matthew, “Look here now. You got to keep your ears on and listen to what I’m tellin’ you to be doin’. No more stompin’ and ridin’ where I tell you not to.”
Having argued silently with Chet for their entire ride, Matthew now had nothing to say in retort or defense. The only response Matthew could muster was a simple nod of the head while he looked away.
Chet felt like his words were somehow falling on deaf ears, so he shook his head and set out once again.
Fifteen minutes into the hills and Chet reined his horse to a stop while staring at the ground. Chet saw the telltale signs of a stumble being left in the dirt. This mark was half way up a hill that they were now climbing. The trail that Chet and Matthew had been following was not going straight up and down hill after hill, but rather was coming up and around the hills following a meandering shoulder to shoulder approach to the hills.
Chet told Matthew to wait there as he spurred his horse to the top of the hill so he could get a better view. Cresting the hill, he saw his quarry just two hills out. Jack was just rounding another shoulder of the grass and shrub covered hill. Chet watched as the man came to a stop and look back. Though too far away to distinguish facial features, the two stared at each other for a moment. It was Chet who broke off the stare and turned his horse back down the hill and rode to Matthew.
“I saw ‘em.”
Matthew’s heart forgot all of the frustrations of the past two days with the news. “How far away are they?”
“They ain’t far, and that horse ain’t got much left in it to make a good run for it. I got the idea that it ain’t goin’ to take much to be getting to ‘em.”
Chet eyed Matthew, “There is goin’ to be some pretty hot shootin’ comin’ up. I don’t want that Alice of yours gettin’ hurt.” With a certain amount of reluctance added to his voice, Chet continued, “And I don’t want to be seein’ you gettin’ all shot up.”
“Okay,” said Matthew, waiting for the shoe to drop.
“I want you to stay out of the way. How ‘bout you wait here. I’ll come get you after it’s all done.”
Matthew’s boyish face flushed scarlet. “There is no way in heaven, hell, or earth that I’m staying here. I know I’ve made a few mistakes, but that’s my wife out there. I’ll walk through a thousand bullets, get dragged through an ocean, and travel a thousand miles to get to her. I will not sit back here like some cowardly dog. I’m going. I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll do as you say to a point, but I’m going.”
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