Uncle Daney's Way Page 8

  “Like to do my share for Nip’s hay fund,” he said. “Figure I owe Nip about thirty dollars in wood money, too. I’ve sold a couple cords I wouldn’t have had without him.”

  Cole could have hugged Pop, but not here, in this crowd of men. He was glad to suddenly feel Mom’s arm around his shoulder. She gave him a quick squeeze. “Bill, at least take off your good shirt,” she said.

  In his clean white T-shirt Pop helped Ray West load the log sled with a half cord of four-foot logs. They worked quickly and neatly, fat old Ray West as strong and easy-seeming as Pop. When the wood was loaded, they climbed on the sled, drove it around a course marked out on half the ring, then stopped and unloaded again, stacking the wood in a neat pile. Cloud and Pewter stood quiet and patient, waiting for new orders.

  “I don’t know if we’ll win,” Pop said, coming back to them. His face was bright, and he was breathing hard. “The Allard boys’ll be pretty fast. But their horses won’t stand like that team of Ray’s.”

  Pop looked happy, Cole thought. It was like on the playground when they finally ask you to play ball. He watched Roger Allard help his father, Sherm, load the sled. Roger worked fiercely, never smiling. He and his father were fast, and Cole waited for the results, hoping. But—

  “Ray West and Bill Tatro win the Wood Load Race.”

  “Ray West wins Team Skidding.”

  “Ray West wins Ground Driving. Sherm Allard second.”

  The Allards didn’t seem bothered that Ray won all the time. They laughed and shouted jokes. “They’re used to it,” Ray said when Cole mentioned it. “And I practice a lot. They’re too busy workin’ their horses to stop an’ train ’em.”

  They might be used to it, but Roger wasn’t. Cole couldn’t blame him for feeling bad and keeping to himself.

  Uncle Daney seemed to blame him, though.

  “Kinda thought that young feller’d be more friendly,” he said, and Cole saw how he kept looking over at Roger whenever the talk around him died down or the crowd of old men parted.

  The sun had gone down by now, and the air was cooling fast. People were putting on shirts, and Mom asked Cole, “When do you ride? I want to go get the supper basket, but I don’t want to miss you.”

  “It’s starting now,” Cole said, “but I’m about last.”

  Most of the events were over now. The last team event was the Wagon Contest: driving a wagon as long and red as a fire engine through an obstacle course. When Cole first saw the wagon, he knew it was impossible, but the good drivers did it with very little trouble. Ray West wasn’t going to win this time. One of the obstacles was made of hay bales, and Pewter had picked up a bale in his teeth.

  Now the teams were being uncoupled and some horses unharnessed. Cole envied the way the tall Allard brothers stripped the whole heavy harness off a horse in one smooth motion, as if it weighed nothing at all. Seeing the grateful way the horses shook their bodies when the harnesses were off, he worked his hand under Nip’s harness in several places, lifted it to let the cool air under, scratched. Nip grunted and twitched his upper lip, as if scratching an imaginary buddy.

  Now there were men on big horses, riding around. In the growing dusk, in their green work clothes or bright sweatshirts with the names of volunteer fire departments on the back, they looked like knights to Cole. They were high, and as the horses moved around, the men’s heads and shoulders traced a fine, big motion across the sky. Cole stood beside Nip and watched them.

  “Mount up, Cole! What you hangin’ back for?” Uncle Daney was frowning at him.

  Cole turned and climbed up the harness straps onto Nip’s back. Nip craned his head around to look back at Cole.

  “Now g’wan over there with the rest of ’em!” Uncle Daney said. The first man was starting out with his egg now. The rest were gathering behind the starting line. Cole took a deep breath and rode over to join them. He stopped a little apart. He knew that strange horses sometimes fight if they get too close together. Without reins he’d have no way of stopping Nip.

  A moment later Roger rode up beside him. Cole thought it might be an accident at first. Maybe Roger hadn’t noticed who he was stopping next to.

  “Whoa.” Roger pulled hard on the reins and looked over at Cole. “So why do you bother to put a bridle on at all?” His voice sounded like the beginning of a fight.

  Cole shrugged. “Looks, I guess.” Roger didn’t turn away. “Maybe a bridle puts him in a working frame of mind,” Cole said. “Maybe that’s why Uncle Daney does it.”

  “Your uncle trained this horse, right?” Roger asked. “You didn’t do it?”

  “No,” Cole said, and he felt the hard knot in his stomach suddenly loosen. He leaned his forearms on the brass knobs of the hames. “It’s not fair really. If you had a horse trained that way—” He stopped. He had been going to say, You would have beat me, but he didn’t really think that.

  He heard Roger take a large breath and let it out with a whoosh. “Yeah,” he said. “How did he train him? That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

  “I don’t know.” Cole was amazed. All this time he’d been working with Nip, and he’d never even wondered how a horse like Nip was produced. He looked at Nip’s peaceful red ears. How did you teach a horse something? “Ask him!” he said. “I think Uncle Daney’d—”

  They were interrupted by a groan from the bleachers. Cole and Roger looked over. The first man was riding out of the ring, laughing. An official was picking up the egg.

  “Is this hard?” Cole asked. “I haven’t been watching.”

  “Yeah, it’s harder than it sounds like.” They watched the next man go.

  It was easy to see what the problem was. The horse was used to being steered firmly, with two reins. But a rider holding an egg and spoon had only one hand for the reins. The horse was confused, and he didn’t want to go around that stupid course again, anyway. He turned in slow circles, and nothing the rider did could straighten him out. The rider started laughing helplessly as his friends yelled jokes. Finally he laughed so hard the egg fell off, only a few feet from the starting line.

  “Hey, it’s hard-boiled!” Cole said as one of the time-keepers picked up the egg.

  “Next, Roger Allard,” said the loudspeaker lady.

  Roger groaned and started forward. “I’m gonna do so bad!”

  He was right. He never lost the egg, but it took him nearly fifteen minutes to go around the course. The bay horse stopped at every set of cones or went wide around them. For about three minutes he turned in a small circle in the middle of the ring. Roger was red-faced and grinning when he crossed the finish line, and one of his uncles shouted, “That egg must be pretty near rotten by now, Rog! How many points you lose for that?” Roger laughed and rode over to Cole.

  “I didn’t drop it, anyway!”

  They watched Ray West, as small as a child on giant Cloud, ride calmly and smoothly around the course. Cole wondered for a minute if Ray might try not to win this time, now that he knew what they needed the money for. But Ray West, too, had hay to buy. Besides, he was the best. Cole wasn’t surprised to see him do so well, and he wasn’t even really sorry. He was just ready to go out there and try his hardest.

  And suddenly it was his turn.

  “You’ll win, I bet,” Roger said, and he didn’t sound as if he minded. Cole had a warm glow in his chest as he rode up to get his egg.

  “Here you go,” the timekeeper said, handing up the egg on the spoon. Nip turned his head to look at it. “Keep your thumb on it till you cross the starting line.”

  Cole settled himself securely and gripped one of the hames. “Walk, Nip.”

  He crossed the starting line, and the timekeeper said, “Thumbs up!”

  Nip moved at a steady amble. Not fast enough, Cole thought. Nip had gone faster pulling the log. “C’mon, Nip! Walk!” They passed through one set of cones, two, and now there was a long straight stretch. Did he dare trot? Cole looked at Nip’s ears. They were moving, forward and th
en back, sometimes both together, sometimes one at a time. Nip was thinking about something—

  Suddenly, as if an iron bar had dropped in front of him, he stopped. Cole lurched forward, and the egg rolled off the spoon.

  Instantly Nip put his head down. Cole heard a groan from the thin crowd in the bleachers and from the crowd of drivers. And he heard Nip’s big breath whooshing as he hunted for the egg. Then he heard the sound of eggshells crunching, a disbelieving pause, and a shout of laughter. Above it all rose Uncle Daney’s high-pitched cackle.

  Cole sat there. He had to wait until Nip finished the egg. He heard somebody yell, “Wouldn’t he rather have a little salt and pepper?” and he knew he should turn and laugh, as Roger had, make a joke of his own. But he felt like crying. To everybody else this was a game. He was the only one who took it seriously, and he had just lost.

  “You don’t have to buy this horse hay!” Pop said when the egg was finished and Cole rode back to them. “You can feed him on egg salad sandwiches!”

  Uncle Daney cackled. “Or baloney! He done that on purpose, y’know!”

  Cole could make himself smile now, and as he slid down from Nip’s back, he saw Roger, across the ring, grin in friendly sympathy. Roger’s grin made Cole’s own smile fit more easily on his face. Still, he was glad to disappear behind Nip and stop pretending.

  It was almost completely dark now. On the other side of the fairground a country band had started to play. Horses thudded up ramps, and Cole went with Ray West to get his grain store certificate and his forty-dollar check. He tried to be happy about it. With the fifty-five dollars from Pop, they had nearly a hundred.

  Still, that was only half of what they needed. Where was the other half going to come from? Sit by a road long enough, Uncle Daney had said, and everything you need’ll come by. But Cole had never yet seen a hundred dollars come walking down that road.

  They all gathered at Ray West’s truck. Ray was going to take Nip home, unharness him, and turn him out to pasture. He’d come back Saturday morning for the cart. “I don’t care much for a band,” Ray said, “and I can see you people do.” Mom’s foot was tapping, and Uncle Daney’s fingers beat time on the arm of his chair. Even Pop’s head was turned toward the music.

  Cole was thinking he might go home with Nip. He might like to sit alone on his bed and think hard about money.

  But the Allards had just finished loading, and now Sherm and Roger came over. Beside his father Roger didn’t look so big, but Cole could see how big he would be in a few years. Both Allards had funny looks on their faces, almost as if they were feeling shy.

  “Daney, Cole, like to talk to you for a minute,” Sherm Allard said.

  “Lou and Bill, you g’wan over to the music,” Uncle Daney said. “We’ll catch up.” Mom looked surprised and a little unwilling, but Pop was already starting. Cole turned back to the Allards. He didn’t understand why they should look nervous, and it made him nervous, too. He leaned on the back of Uncle Daney’s chair.

  “Like your way of handling a horse,” Sherm said after a minute. “You trained him, Daney?”

  “Ay-yup,” said Uncle Daney. “Trained horse and boy both!”

  “Well, it looks safe,” Sherm said, “and it looks a heck of a lot easier than my way of doing things. I ain’t too old a dog to learn new tricks.” He looked hard now at Uncle Daney, as if he was trying to see inside him. Roger stood beside him, stock-still and embarrassed.

  “I don’t know if I should ask you this, the shape you’re in,” Sherm Allard said. “But you think you could still train a horse? I’d like to have one that could skid logs like that, and a boy that knew how to handle him.”

  Oh! thought Cole.

  Uncle Daney swirled his teeth in his mouth. Cole heard them click and settle into place.

  “What d’you mean, the shape I’m in? Still got the use of my brains, don’t I?”

  Cole stepped from behind the wheelchair. “I’ll help.” He saw Sherm Allard’s eyes on him, and he knew how small he looked. Well, he couldn’t help that. Besides, even Roger was too small to hold a work horse.

  “Course, them horses of yours’ve been used all wrong,” Uncle Daney said. “’Twon’t be easy.”

  “I got one at home I haven’t found a mate for,” Sherm Allard said. “Haven’t used him at all yet.” He looked from Cole to Uncle Daney. “If you think you could train him, with two boys to help you, well, it’d be worth something to me. I’m not asking you to do it for nothing.”

  Uncle Daney said, “Oh, I won’t take mon—”

  Cole put a hand on Uncle Daney’s shoulder and squeezed. Uncle Daney stopped in mid-word, and Cole took a moment to work out what to say. He could understand how Uncle Daney felt, proud and generous and friendly. He felt that way himself, with Sherm and Roger Allard waiting for them to say yes. But this was what they’d been waiting for all spring and summer, by the side of that road and in the woodlot and out there in the juniper patch. He couldn’t let the chance go by, and after a minute he knew how to do it.

  “You can pay us in hay,” he said. “If that would be all right.”

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1994 by Jessie Haas

  Cover design by Jessie Hayes

  ISBN: 978-1-4976-6262-9

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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