Page 19

Max Andros called Sonny just after 9:00 a.m. to update him.

“It’s me,” Max said. “I have two dates. Both of them next week. Either this coming Monday, or Wednesday. It’s taken this long to organize the trip. I and another driver will fly to Amarillo, which takes less than an hour, pick up the two vans I’ve rented, and drive them to Crossroads. We’ll load up and head back home, which will turn into about a six-hour drive to get there. If Miss Brennen is agreeable, I want to take all of what she has finished, thus the reason for two vans. We’ll need to sign a contract for the showing, and a receipt for moving the number of paintings, all of which I will catalog with a photo and a number before receiving them. I want to take that painting of you, too.”

“You can take it, but it won’t be for sale,” Sonny said. “Not that one.”

Jules chuckled. “I figured, but it will be a huge draw for the show, just the same.”

“She’s still waiting tables at the Rose, which is good, because all of her work is in the house in town that she’s still renting. You won’t be driving out to the ranch to pick them up, but I will come to town to meet you. I’m just going to make the decision as to when you come for her. Come Monday, text me when you are leaving Amarillo and I’ll head to the Rose and meet you there.”

“Great,” Max said. “It will be good to see you again.”

Sonny disconnected, thought about calling Maggie, then decided to wait until she came home. No need getting her all flustered and bothered at work.

***

It was just past noon and Sonny was mucking out the mares’ stalls, cleaning the stall mats, then putting down clean bedding, and talking to them as he worked.

Every now and then one of them would knicker at him, or nose his back searching for a treat, and he would stop and rub their bellies, and talk to the babies they were carrying, because he knew that when that foal was born, it would already know the sound of his voice.

He had just finished up when he heard a vehicle coming toward the house. He stored the wheelbarrow, washed up at the sink in the tack room, and was walking up from the barn, when he saw a late-model silver-and-black pickup approaching, then noticed the Dillon Ranch logo on the doors.

When the pickup pulled up at the house, he recognized Garrett Dillon and his son, Travis, who Sonny had met outside Belker’s Grocery. As soon as Garrett parked, he and his son got out and met Sonny in the yard.

“Sonny, don’t know if you remember me. I’m—”

Sonny smiled. Garrett Dillon was hard to forget. A red-headed man with a temper to match. Average height. A little bit bowlegged and built like a weight-lifter from bulldogging in his youth before he went to raising rodeo stock instead of riding them.

“Welcome to Sunset, Garrett. I remember you, but I remember your bulls more. You had some good ones.” Then he glanced at the teen. “Travis, right?”

Travis grinned, pleased the famous Sonny Bluejacket had remembered his name.

“Yes sir,” Travis said.

“Where did you get off to after you quit bull riding?” Garrett asked.

“Home, back to Bluejacket Hollow, near Okmulgee. I’ve been training horses for ranchers there for the past five years, but looking forward to taking it to the next level here.”

Garrett nodded. “I’m here looking for new blood in my herd, and Emmit always had good stock. I kept wanting to talk to him about it, but when we all found out how sick he was, I backed off. Didn’t feel like it was the right time.”

“Understood,” Sonny said. “As you know, I haven’t been here long, but when I arrived, Emmit’s truck was missing, there wasn’t a horse on the place and the horse trailer and tack were all gone.”

“The hell you say! What happened?” Garrett asked.

“Wade Sutton, Emmit’s renter, helped himself to all of it after Emmit passed. He moved the horses onto his pasture, sold four before I got here and was driving the truck all over town like he hit the lottery. I called Sheriff Reddick. He came the night I arrived, and we confronted Sutton. He’d already sold four horses. I finally got all of them back, but haven’t had a lot of time with them, or pick up some steers to see them work. Mostly just trying to put the pieces of Emmit’s world back together.”

Garrett frowned. “Damn, what a mess. I know the man by name, but never had any dealings with him. What happened to the four he sold?”

“I got them back, too. Sutton’s wife told us who’d bought them, and the sheriff found him and my horses. He got arrested for knowingly buying stolen property, and now I have all of the horses back that Emmit had left when he passed.”

Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Can I ask who bought the four?”

Sonny shrugged. “Delroy Kincaid…the son, not the father.”

“Son of a gun! I have to admit, I am shocked. I thought better of Del. After all that, were the horses okay?”

“Yes, just happy to be back with the herd. Did you talk to Emmit about horses in particular?”

“I’ve been looking for mares and maybe another stud. I need new blood in the herd. I knew Emmit had two mares for sale. Do you still have them?”

“Yes, and both due to foal within the next few weeks,” Sonny said.

“Really? Out of Emmit’s big gray?”

Sonny nodded. “The mares are already stalled. They’re in the stables. Do you want to see the rest of the herd? I can get them here within a couple of minutes. All I have to do is whistle.”

“This I gotta see,” Garrett said.

“Walk with me,” Sonny said, and headed for the feed room to fill a little bag with apple treats. They took a good look at both mares, then followed Sonny out to the big corral attached to the stables.

Garrett glanced at the covered arena as they passed, then stopped outside the corral.

“This won’t take long,” Sonny said.

He climbed the corral fence and jumped inside, then opened the gate before walking out into the pasture.

“What’s he doing, Dad?” Travis asked.

“We’re about to find out,” Garrett said, and couldn’t help but admire Bluejacket’s stature. He certainly didn’t look like a man who’d died twice and lived to tell the tale.

They saw Sonny stop, then heard a shrill, high-pitched whistle. A few seconds later Sonny whistled again and then pointed to the north.

They began to watch the horizon.

All of a sudden, the horses appeared, coming toward him on the run. Heads up. Tails flying out behind them.

Garrett’s heart skipped. The magnificence of horses never failed to make his heart skip.

“Wow, Dad. Look at them!” Travis said, and then he gasped. “Look! Look at the one coming up from behind. It’s an Appaloosa. Oh, Dad! Look at him run! He’s passing all of them!”

Garrett’s heart was in his throat. He’d never coveted a horse before, but he did now. To own a magnificent animal like that would be a dream come true.

“They’re gonna run over him,” Travis said.

But then they didn’t. Instead, they surrounded him, milling and pushing to get to him and the treats they knew he had. Garrett could hear Sonny talking to them, speaking words he didn’t understand, and realized Sonny was talking to them in his native language, walking through the herd, stroking necks, scratching the spot between their ears.

When Sonny had the herd’s attention, he turned and walked back inside the corral, with every one of them following. As soon as the last one was in, he shut the gate and began moving among them, giving each of them an apple treat, before walking back to where Garrett and his son were standing just outside the rails.

“What do you think? Want to see any of them closer?” he asked.

“They look good, Sonny. Real good. I like that big bay.”

“The one beside it is a full brother.” Sonny said.

“Which ones have you ridden?” Garret asked.

“At first, only the Appaloosa, and that was unplanned, but I’ve ridden all of them now except for the mares. I don’t distress the mamas to be.”

“What do you mean, riding the Appaloosa was unplanned?” Garrett asked.

“I had a pack of coyotes get after the herd in the middle of the night. It was right after I got here. I shot into the pack that night and knew I hit one, but I had to wait for daylight to do any tracking.”

Garrett frowned. “I’ve heard rumors about a big pack running in the southern hills, but they don’t usually mess with a herd unless there are babies,” he said.

“Right, which was why I had concerns,” and then he began telling them the story. “All of a sudden, I’m facing seven of the biggest, strangest-looking coyotes I’ve ever seen. Some kind of hybrids, I think. They had a lot of big dog in them, I think. But I had walked too far away from the truck, there I stood, wondering how many I could shoot before they attacked, when the Appaloosa came flying past me and tore through the pack, kicking and stomping. Now I can’t get off a shot for fear of hitting him, and I’m afraid they’ll tear up his legs, and did the only thing I could think to do. I ran into the middle of the mess, grabbed him by the mane and leaped. Made a bareback landing and started shooting. He ran them down and I shot them. He pretty much saved my life.”

Garrett’s mouth dropped. “You shot coyotes from a running horse without a bridle, or a saddle, and you didn’t fall off?”

“I had a really good incentive not to,” Sonny said.

“No wonder you were so good at riding bulls,” Garrett muttered.

“Are there any horses you’d like to ride? I can saddle some up and take them into the roping arena for you,” Sonny asked.

“Do you mind if I call a couple of guys?” Garrett asked.

Sonny shrugged. “I don’t mind. Tell them we’ll be in the roping arena.”

“The big gray is Emmit’s only stud?” Garrett asked.

“Yes, and the only one not for sale is the Appaloosa. He’s mine for life.”

“I agree with not working mares that close to delivery, but I’d like to see their papers, and saddle up the gray and the biggest bay. I don’t want to sit a horse and feel like my feet are about to drag the ground.”

Sonny grinned. “I can identify with that. Just so you know, he’s damn good at reining, like competition good if you’re into that thing. I’ve been working with him on that a lot. How about I bring them into the arena? The door is unlocked. You two can go on in and take a seat in the bleachers. I think there’s still some cold cans of pop in that old refrigerator just inside the door. Help yourself,” Sonny said, and walked off.

He stopped by the tack room to get bridles for the bay and the gray stud and led them into the stables to saddle up. He heard a couple of other vehicles arrive while he was inside, and assumed it was whoever Garrett had called.

As soon as they were saddled, he mounted the gray and grabbed the reins on the big bay, then headed for the arena, riding one and leading the other.

Within moments of riding into the arena, he heard a whoop, and then someone shout “Bluejacket.” He looked up, saw three men standing up waving their hats at him, and grinned.

Three bull riders he used to compete with. Where the hell had they come from? He rode over to the stands, dismounted, and tied the horses to the railing.

“Garrett, you know you’re running with a wild bunch,” Sonny said, then pointed at the trio. “Thumper. Colorado. Garza. I thought you three would have rattled your brains by now and be sitting in some of those rocking chairs out in front of the Cracker Barrel.”

They started razzing him back. “You’re still as ugly as ever, Bluejacket. I guess that’s why you still ain’t got a woman.”

Garrett laughed at their camaraderie. “I knew they were at the Yellow Rose. People still talk about you, Sonny. You have been missed. Take that gray around the ring a few times for me.”

Sonny got back in the saddle and began putting the stud through the paces, going from a walk to a lope, mimicking all the moves a horse would make cutting a steer out of a herd. Starting at one end and letting him run at full speed to the other end, knowing Garrett was timing it, then rode up to a sliding halt in front of the men.

Without saying a word, he tied up the gray and grabbed the reins on the bay. The horse was already moving when Sonny grabbed the saddle horn and swung into the saddle on the run.

Garrett’s son Travis was so hyped he jumped up, shouting. “Dang, Dad! Teach me to ride like that!”

Garrett laughed. “That’s not happening. Did you ever see me do anything like that?”

Travis turned to the men sitting beside them. “Can you do that?” he asked.

“We ride bulls, son, not rockets. That man is a legend for a reason,” Colorado said.

Sonny put the bay through a whole training set for reining, before bringing the ride to an end.

“Damn, Sonny. You’re right. I was timing that bay. His stops are spectacular. He’s built like a tank, but light on his feet.”

“Any other horses you want to see?” Sonny asked.

“I know he’s not for sale, but would you ride the Appaloosa?” Travis asked.

Garrett frowned. “Now, Trav, we don’t want to bother him—”

“His name is Fancy Dancer. I call him Dancer. You want to see him do his thing?” Sonny asked.

Travis nodded. “Like you did when you killed the coyotes?”

Sonny laughed. “Sure kid, but only if I don’t have to chase coyotes down again. Let me get these two back to the stables and I’ll bring Dancer back.”

He leaned over and untied the gray’s reins and this time rode out on the bay, and leading the gray.

Thumper got his nickname because of a nervous habit. Every time he sat down, his knee started bouncing, which made the heel of his boot repeatedly thump on the floor. It was bouncing up a storm as Sonny rode out.

“What does he mean, chasing down coyotes?” Thumper asked.

Garrett began repeating the story Sonny told them. “He said the horse saved his life.”

Garza was a short, stocky man in his early thirties, who had a scar on the underside of his jaw, and a nose that had been broken so many times it no longer healed straight. He was quiet through the whole story, trying to imagine what it would take to run into a pack of wild coyotes, never mind holding a rifle and trying to mount a kicking, stomping horse with one hand, and without a saddle or bridle. He wanted to deny the truth of it, but it was Sonny Bluejacket. He’d seen his last ride. He’d heard about Sonny’s heart stopping twice during surgery. In Garza’s world, living through that was nothing short of supernatural. Hell, maybe it wasn’t the horse. Maybe Sonny was the one with the magic.

And then they saw Sonny entering the arena with the Appaloosa walking beside him. No lead rope. No bridle. No saddle.

Travis scooted all the way to the edge of his seat and leaned forward.

Then Sonny turned, grabbed a handful of that black mane and with one long leap, flew up and landed on Dancer’s back. For the next ten minutes, he rode Dancer at a lope, steering him only with the pressure of his knees or boots, darting across the arena, from right to left, from one end to the other, and then running him all the way back to come to a sliding halt in front of them.

Garrett sighed. “That’s the fastest horse I’ve seen off a racetrack. He’s magnificent, Sonny. I’d give a king’s ransom to own him, but I’m thinking he’s a one-man horse.”

Sonny slid off Dancer and took an apple treat out of his pocket. Dancer took it from his palm and crunched until it was gone, then Sonny winked at Travis.

“Are we good now?”

Travis was so enamored with the man and the horse, that all he could do was nod.

“Let me get Dancer put up and then we’ll go up to the house. The registration papers are there. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are welcome to come, too.”

His bull-riding buddies burst out laughing. “After that remark, you better have a beer waiting,” Colorado said.

Sonny grinned. “Meet you all inside. Back door’s open. Go on in.”