Pins (34)

 

He set Abigail aside and crawled out of the shade of the tree, lying flat on his belly and scoping the plains. A thick cloud of dust was sweeping up from the south. He screened his eyes with his hand. As he did so a rider galloped past before him. Emmett scrambled backwards, but the rider turned his head and looked right at him. The man hauled on the reins and sawed left, turning full circle and riding back towards the dust cloud.

Emmett cursed and crawled back to the tree. He cut Buck loose whilst Abigail packed up their small camp. He was looking to the mountains, searching for cover and trying to work out which way to bolt, when a large cattle herd came pounding over the plain. He reckoned perhaps five or six hundred head at a glance. The scout that had spotted them loped over to the elephant tree. Another man on a large black mare rode alongside him, hollering at the riders galloping past. 

The two men drew up beside them. Emmett threw down his bedroll, walked over to Abigail, and took her hand. An avalanche of cattle tore across the flats, their hooves pounding and churning up a wall of dust. 

The man on the black mare loosened his bandana, looked at Emmett, and raised his palm. His thin face was weathered, and his hair and moustache were grey. There was something in the way he motioned, some ease that settled a fraction of Emmett's rising anxiety. Abigail looked up at him, and followed his gaze out onto the plains.

Riders galloped past on either side of the herd, hazy and indistinct in the rolling clouds. They rode recklessly, and gained a step on the cows. The man on the black mare wiped a smear of dirt from his face, and yelled into the flurry. 

The riders at the head, now distant specks, fell back and turned. As they did so the cattle followed them spontaneously, turning in on themselves with a thunderous roll, as if they were all of them, man and beast, partaking in some strange, ritualistic dance. The riders curved the herd in a loose and chaotic circle, which narrowed in on itself in ever-tightening loops, until the cattle were turning wildly within a compact ring of earth. 

The riders slowed, cajoled and eased the cows, and the man on the black mare leaned down and loosed a jug tied to his saddle. He winked at Emmett and took a long swig. When the cattle were milling around and grazing on the scarce vegetation the plain had to offer, he swung off his horse, stretched, and looked at the rider to his left.

'Well, I guess I chose the right man to scout ahead,' he drawled. 'Sniffed out a pair of real nefarious bandits here.'

The scout dismounted. The older man stepped forward. His boots were pointed, and he wore chaps over his canvas trousers. 

'Name's Alston. And this here is Pickles,' he said, thumbing in the direction of the scout. 'Who might you two gunslingers be? You weren't fixin' to steal my cattle, were you?'

Emmett felt calm enough to lead Abigail out of the cover of the elephant tree.

'No, sir,' he said.

'That's good,' Alston said. ''Cause I done just stole them myself.'

Emmett held his eyes. Abigail blinked in the sun, and let go of his hand.

'We're headin' way out west,' she said. 'Looking to git to the ocean.'

Alston studied her and scratched his head. 

'Are you now, ma'am?' he said. 'That is quite an undertaking indeed. You know this is dangerous country here, right?'

'Everywhere is, sir,' Emmett said.

'He means everywhere we've been recently, sir,' Abigail said. 'We've been to Roseville afore, and it wasn't dangerous. We got rhubarb pie.'

'Sounds mighty fine,' Alston said. 'Mighty fine indeed. You blind, boy?'

'No, sir,' Emmett said. 'I got problems with my eyes, but I ain't blind.'

'No,' Alston said, gazing at him and swinging his jug. 'I didn't think you were.'

He looked back across the flats. A chuckwagon was stationed near a towering saguaro. The cattle were milling and grazing. The riders had strung up a rope pen around them, and were spreading their bedroll around a group of skinny, scarecrow-like boojum trees. Alston looked up at the scout. 

'Pickles,' he said. 'Why don't you go see if you can find anymore gadabout children lurkin' in them there boojums, and if you cain't, see if that darn coosie's gettin' our dinner ready.' 

The scout nodded to Alston, Emmett, and Abigail, and turned towards the makeshift camp. Alston waved his jug as the rider departed.

'Fetch me some more tarantula juice, too,' he shouted.

When the scout was out of range Alston hobbled the black mare, and laid out his bedroll beside the elephant tree. It was cooler in the late afternoon, and streaked cirrus clouds separated an emerald-green glow in the sky from the golden hue closer to the horizon. The saguaro were strange pointy silhouettes. Emmett and Abigail settled down beneath the trunk-like branches again. Emmett could see riders stationed out in the distance, watching in every direction.

'Well, partners,' Alston said. 'I don't think we can do you any rhubarb pie, but you're welcome to whatever debatable fare the coosie whips up tonight. I can certainly promise you some buttermilk.'

'Aces,' Abigail said. Emmett looked round at her. Her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. He wondered if the day might turn out to be a 'five' after all.

'Much obliged, sir,' he said. Alston looked back towards the camp. 

'We cain't stay long,' he said. 'Maybe a few hours. Not that I think them darn creoles'll be after us. But we got another two thousand head to meet at Tombstone, and then it's on to Yuma. Git them beasts to the railheads.'

He clapped his hands and grinned at them. He had several gaps in his teeth. The scout reappeared bearing a load of stacked pots. Another skinny cowboy wobbled behind him with plates, tin cups, cutlery, and canteens. 

'Thank you, boys,' Alston said. 'My regards to the cook. Pickles, you make sure them boys don't get too corned on this stopover.'

'Yessir, Captain,' the scout said. He nodded politely to Emmett and Abigail again, and walked back to the camp with his colleague. Alston handed out the plates and cutlery, and dished them up generous servings from the pots: salt pork with onions, potatoes, and corn-meal mush. Emmett and Abigail set about the food with relish. Alston watched them as he ate.

'We'll stick it out here,' he said. 'They're good fellas, but there ain't much goin' on on these plains, and they get inquisitive and excitable.'

'We saw a scorpion,' Abigail said. Emmett remembered the huge shape of the bear, but said nothing.

'I've crossed this darn desert so many times, I know the lizards by their first names,' Alston sighed.

When they had finished Alston poured them out some buttermilk, refilled his jug from a canteen, and lit a roll-up. The plains had grown dark and quiet. Abigail had buttermilk on her chin. Alston blew out smoke and pulled his cotton duster tight.

'I can tell there's some story here,' he coughed. 'It's written all over you. I don't want to appear meddlesome. You're entitled to your boundaries. It's important to keep some things just for yourselves, and some stories it just don't do no good to relive. But you understand, it don't sit comfortable with me leavin' two children on their lonesome out here in the desert. Chance plays a big part in our lives. Perhaps we was meant to meet. Perhaps there's a way I can help you. There's plenty more scorpions in this land, and worse.'

Emmett was silent. He felt conscious of his eyes. Abigail put down her buttermilk.

'You could work for me,' Alston said. 'I could find you suitable work. You could travel with us, and be safe. I ain't tryin' to exploit you here. But it would stay with me if I didn't do nothin'.'

Emmett looked at Abigail. She looked happy, beautiful, and alive, and he saw other lives, other possibilities open up for her. His heart felt like a dead weight. 

'That's awfully good of you, sir,' Abigail said. 'But we cain't. We have to git to the ocean. We have to find some place called the Farm.'

Alston bowed his head. He took a swig from his jug and nodded.

'Well, I don't understand that, but I understand you have your own path. I respect it. But it seems to me there ain't no reason we cain't see you as far as Yuma. We need to git the cattle up that way prompt. And it looks like you've rode your old horse there down to the bone. He's lookin' at you right now and sayin' 'listen to that darn old cowboy.''

Emmett and Abigail looked round at Buck. The grey horse was grazing beneath the elephant tree. His skin was stretched tight around his ribs. Alston drew on his roll-up. Emmett looked at Abigail, and she smiled at him. There were tears in her eyes.

'I guess that sounds real good, sir,' Emmett said. 'We thank you kindly, and offer you our services.'

Alston rubbed his hands together and grinned.

'We've been missin' some chief scorpion spotters,' he said. 'Probably an army of them things crawlin' over the plain after us.'

Emmett shifted on his bedroll. Stars milked from the gloom above. 

'We have had a hard time,' Abigail said, suddenly.

Alston swung the jug and leaned forward. 

'Sometimes life can be like that,' he said. 'Sometimes it goes on for longer than you might hope. But it cain't always be this way.'

Abigail started crying. Emmett moved closer and held her.

'I ain't been much of a companion,' he said, looking at Alston. The old man drank and watched him.

'I ain't got a sunny disposition all the time neither,' he said. 'And I ain't much inclined to try and be that way. I know that we all got our animal instincts, and that's mostly what keeps us on this darn rock. But I also know that ain't all. It ain't enough. You got somethin' in you that no-one else has got, and so do you, and so do I. We all got somethin' in us that no-one else in the history of time's had. That's pretty darn miraculous.'

He paused, smoked, and looked intently at Emmett. There was noise and movement around the camp out on the plains. Abigail looked up at Alston and wiped her eyes. The old man flicked his roll-up, and ground it under the heel of his boot.

'And you met each other here,' he said. 'You have that.'

Emmett lifted his hands from around Abigail, and rubbed her back.

'No, sir,' he said, 'she's my sister.'

Alston stood, moved forward, and tousled his hair.

'But you met each other here,' he said.

He turned and strode into the darkness. Riders were already moving around the rope corral. A low rumble carried across the desolation as they drove the cattle out into the night.
 

 

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