Chapter Eighteen
Cyprus’s ears were pricked forward, his whole body straining to attention as he stared at the small herd of cattle in the corral with him. The cows stared back, their brown eyes wide, nostrils flaring as they waited to see what would happen next.
Aidan shifted lightly in the saddle, bringing his left leg more fully into contact with Cyprus’s side. Instantly, the horse shuffled to the right. One of the cows took a chance and darted out from the crowd.
Aidan had Cyprus wheeled about, his hooves kicking up a cloud of dust as he sprinted after the cow, catching up and overtaking it easily.
With his ears pinned back, Cyprus nipped at the cow, bringing the surprised animal to a halt.
It took only the slightest encouragement to get the cow turned around and trotting back toward her fellows.
Though the Two Dog was a horse ranch, they raised a small herd every year in partnership with a neighboring outfit. It gave them a little reliable income, and more importantly, stock to train the horses on.
Aidan reached down and slapped Cyprus on the neck, murmuring approval. Cyprus snorted, clearing the dust from his nostrils, and shook his head with a horsey grunt.
A second pair of hooves came trotting up behind Aidan. “Golly,” Danny said, perched on a brown cow pony, a veteran of many cattle drives. He pulled his horse up next to Aidan. “He was off like a rocket!”
Aidan nodded his agreement, unable to keep himself from smiling. “He’s pretty peppy, isn’t he?” Aidan gave Cyprus another pat on the neck. “Seems to have good cow sense, too; wasn’t sure when he first came out here.”
“Because he’s from a big city?” Danny inquired.
“Just so,” Aidan said. “But he’s found his feet under himself well enough. Now we just need to get people interested in him.”
“You’d sell him?” Danny asked, alarmed.
“No, not if it could be helped,” Aidan answered with a shake of his head. “But we want people to buy his colts. To do that, they need to think he’s got qualities they want.”
Danny absorbed this. His horse lowered his head abruptly, ostensibly to look for an errant patch of grass to nibble, nearly throwing Danny forward out of the saddle. Aidan reached over and took one of the reins and hauled the horse’s head up.
“Don’t let him boss you around,” Aidan instructed. “He’s here to work for you.”
Danny nodded, gathering the reins back up in his hand. He looked down at the horse. “I just don’t want to be mean to him,” he muttered.
“It’s not about being mean,” Aidan explained. “It’s about being a leader. Of the two of you, who do you think makes better decisions?”
“What do you mean?” Danny asked.
“Just what I said: Would you trust old Bill there to find his way to the train station? Or to buy a sack of flour?” Aidan asked.
Danny grinned. “No,” he said, laughing.
“What about through a flood? Or a fire?” Aidan asked, his tone growing more serious.
Danny’s face fell, and he looked down at his horse. “Maybe,” Danny admitted. “I mean, he’s been doing this longer than me.”
“True,” Aidan agreed. “But which of you do you suppose is the smarter?”
“Me,” Danny answered instantly.
“That’s right. You can see and understand things that he can’t.
Now, you should always listen to your horse, but you’re there to keep both you and him safe.
If you were stuck in a burning building, who would you listen to?
A timid fellow who is weak and unsure, or someone who’s pointing the way to the door with authority? ”
Danny seemed to be listening. The boy squared his shoulders, sitting a little taller in the saddle. He put his heels gently but firmly into Bill’s sides, reining him over in the direction of the fenceline.
“Let’s go, Bill,” Danny said, his voice sure.
The horse immediately set off, walking purposefully in the direction that Danny had pointed him.
“Well done!” Aidan called after him. He put his own heels into Cyprus and trotted to catch up with Danny and Bill. “You seem to have the hang of riding well enough,” Aidan commented. “Why don’t you come with me to take these cattle over to Thornton’s?”
“Like an actual cattle drive?” Danny asked excitedly.
“I’m not sure I’d call it a cattle drive, but why not? I could use an extra pair of hands, and Antony’s busy taking a pair of horses over to the other side of town,” Aidan said.
“You mean it? Of course! Let’s go, right now!” Danny said, wheeling his horse around to face toward the cattle.
“Easy there, cowpoke,” Aidan said, holding up a hand to stop Danny. “Before you set out, it’s important to make sure that you’re prepared.”
“Prepared how?”
“Well,” Aidan said, gesturing to Danny’s saddlebags, “you have any provisions with you?”
“Provisions?” Danny repeated, his nose wrinkling in disbelief. “What do we need them for? Thornton’s is only a couple of miles down the road.”
“You never know what could happen when moving livestock,” Aidan explained. “Never leave home without at least a bite to eat and a little water. What if your horse went lame, and you had to walk all the way back? You’d be mighty glad for that drink. Never hurts to take a bandage or two as well.”
He looked down and fiddled with the reins. “Is that what happened to Pa?” he asked quietly.
Aidan could feel the blood draining from his face. He hadn’t meant to imply anything, or even really to bring up Brendan at all.
“No, no,” he said hurriedly. “Your pa was always careful when he went out. He was always the one telling me to slow down and prepare.”
Danny’s brows knitted together. “Then… how did he…”
Aidan’s mouth was dry. He took a moment, then swallowed, tasting dirt. “I don’t know,” Aidan admitted. “But sometimes things happen out on the range that we don’t expect. That’s why it’s always wise to prepare as best as you can.”
It was impossible to judge Danny’s reaction to this little homily, as he turned away from Aidan. His horse stomped and swished his tail, impatient. Danny kept staring out at the range, past the borders of the ranch to where the hills rose.
“Pa used to take us to see Ma’s grave,” Danny said suddenly. “He’d take us on her birthday and Christmas. After church on Sundays sometimes, too.”
“I remember,” Aidan said softly. “You’d all pick wildflowers to take her.”
Danny whipped his head around to stare at Aidan. His eyes shone with unshed tears, but his jaw was clenched tightly. “Pa doesn’t have a grave,” he said from between his teeth.
Aidan didn’t follow at first. Of course Brendan didn’t have a grave—there was no body to bury, something that still ate at Aidan. He’d never imagined that it would be gnawing at the children, too. It made sense, in a way; they’d never had a funeral, no way to focus all of their grief and loss.
He considered reaching out a hand to his nephew, but hesitated.
He remembered what it was like to be poised on the outer limit of boyhood: the desire to be a man, yet still tender as a child.
Instead, he rubbed at his neck, mind racing to find a solution.
It wasn’t like they could have a grave without a body.
“Well, we could set up a shrine of sorts,” Aidan said slowly, the words coming as the idea formed in his head.
Danny tilted his head at Aidan. “A shrine?”
“Sure,” Aidan said with a nod, warming to it the more he considered it. “Some of the Chinese workers on the railroad would do something similar for their family members that they had buried back in China, as a way to remember them.”
“Where would we put it?” Danny asked.
“I tell you what,” Aidan said, “let’s keep our eyes peeled today, see if we can’t find a good place. Somewhere nice, where you and your brother and sister can visit.”
Danny nodded, more subdued than he had been earlier. Aidan, too, was less enthusiastic, but he refused to let it show. As far as he was concerned, the children didn’t need his grief added to their own.
So he kept his own counsel when Danny got his horse moving again, even though the boy looked so much like Brendan from the back that Aidan felt like screaming. He bit his lip so hard he thought it would start to bleed.
Maybe a shrine will be good for all of us, Aidan thought when his head cleared. We all need a place to bury our sadness.
***
By the time the cattle had been delivered to Thornton’s and the two of them had returned home, Aidan was dog-tired. He climbed the step to the front porch, his steps heavy, and pulled his hat off long enough to wipe at his forehead, pushing his hair back from his temples.
“You look in need of a rest, young man,” Lisa said from the porch. She sat in a chair, a crate turned on its side serving as a small table with a bowl on it, where she was shelling peas.
Aidan didn’t replace his hat, dipping his head deferentially to her. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But you know what they say about rest and the wicked.”
Lisa glanced up at him from the peas she was snapping. “Your little jaunt this afternoon must have been more exciting than I thought if it’s made you wicked,” she said with a wry smile. “Maybe I should go on more cattle drives.”
“Why not add cattlewoman to your list of achievements?” Aidan said, leaning on the wooden beam that held up the awning and propping his foot up on the step. “I’m sure you’d have my hands whipped into shape in no time.”
“I would,” Lisa said, “but I find the costume of rancher women to be too unappealing.”
Aidan couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and Lisa joined him. Her laughter devolved into a coughing fit that upset the bowl on her improvised table, sending it tumbling and spilling peas across the porch.
“Dash it all,” she said between coughs. She withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt, holding it to her mouth.
Aidan started to move toward her, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t fret about me,” she said haltingly.