Ширли Мерфи - The Sand Ponies

“But what’re you doing this for, Charley?” Tip sounds as if he is standing right by the door to the feed room. Karen finds Tom’s hand in the darkness and holds it tight.

“Listen, you guys got what you came for. This is my business. I’m gonna master those critters. Say they’ve never been broke, do they? Well, I’ll break ‘em, all right.” Charley hacks and spits loudly.

“Ain’tcha gonna feed ‘em, Charley?” Ed says.

“Naw, feed ‘em later. Make ‘em gentle, go without long enough. Give me a hand, get those ropes off ‘fore you go, Ed.”

“Not me, man. You’re crazy. Them ponies’ll kill ya.”

“I said, help me get those ropes off. You, too, Tip.” There is some muttering, growing softer as the men move away, then a good deal of banging, some dull thuds, swearing, and finally, “Did ‘e hurt ya, Charley?”

“Didn’t hurt me, the little–––-! Better clear out of here, now. Got your directions’?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Get going.”

The voices cease, the truck starts and drives away, and soon the barn is quiet once more.

“My gosh,” Karen whispers. The children listen for a long time, but they cannot tell whether Charley has left or stayed in the barn. “We’d better not go out,” Karen says softly. “I think he’s still there.”

“Maybe I can see if I open the door a little. We’ve got to get out of here before he decides to feed them.”

“He won’t. Didn’t you hear him?”

“Yes,” Tom says with disgust. “I’m going to look, Karen.”

“Be careful.”

Tom inches the door open until a crack of light shows through. “I don’t see him. I’m going to look around the corner. You stay here.” Karen doesn’t say anything.

In a minute Tom is back. “He must have gone in the house. I can hear water running.”

“Clear from here?”

“Yes. I think the kitchen must be on this side. It sounds like it’s running into a sink or a tub.”

“But he won’t give the horses a drink.”

Tom shakes his head. “Listen, Karen, something’s …” Just at that minute they hear a car drive up and Tom jumps hack into the feed room.

There is the slam of a car door, faint, as if it comes from near the house, then silence. For a long time the children listen, but hear nothing. “We could leave now, maybe,” Karen says finally.

“What about the horses?”

“Are you thinking we should turn them loose?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I thought you’d say that was stealing!”

“You know better than that!” Tom growls.

“I’m sorry. I’m just edgy, I guess.”

“I know. So am I. But we aren’t leaving without turning those ponies loose. We may have to wait until tonight, when we won’t be seen.”

“But what will happen if we turn them loose, sick like that?”

“They’ll eat. They’ll have a better chance than here. Didn’t you get the idea they were wild?”

“Yes. I wonder how he caught them. And wild ponies, Tom? Here? I never heard of such a thing.”

“It does seem funny. But everything about this place is funny. No stock. Only crops. Maybe the horses were let run loose on the grazing land until they got too wild to handle.”

“Well, whatever it is, you’re right. We can’t leave without turning them loose,” Karen says.

“Shh, I hear something.”

Outside there is a low murmur of voices, a sound as if a bolt is being slid, then more talking, louder. This time there is a woman’s voice. “Listen, Charley, I want that last bundle moved right away. And Tip’s got to work tonight. So do you. Put this stuff in the feed room till you’re ready for it.”

Karen and Tom slip quickly away from the door, and feeling their way, crouch behind the grain sacks. There is a soft scuttling, and Karen stiffens. There are mice there, all right. She bites her lip.

Just in time the children are hidden. The door opens, and a dark figure heaves a heavy package into the room. Behind him, in the patch of light, stands a thin, dark woman. Then the door slams shut.

“Tom, that was the woman from the Black Turtle!” Karen whispers.

“Yes, and I thought I recognized the man, too, from the bar.”

“My gosh.”

They can hear little else from this spot behind the grain sacks, and finally they creep to the door again, but all is quiet outside.

“They said tonight,” Karen whispers. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Listen, Karen, if I can get that back door open we can take the horses out that way. There must be a side door. I’m going to try to get outside.”

“Tom?”

“What?”

“There wasn’t any other door. Maybe this was the side door, once.”

“You mean they closed it in? I’ll have a loot.” He begins to feel along the wall. Mice scurry toward Karen, confused. Karen holds her breath. One runs over her foot. They’re only little, she says to herself. They are more frightened than I. That doesn’t help much, but soon Tom is back.

“There’s a door back there in the corner,” he says. “I slid the bolt.”

“But the ponies’ll never drive through the feed room.”

“No. I’ll go around and unbolt the back barn door from the outside.”

“Now, while it’s light?”

“The sun will start to set soon. When it’s dusk I’ll go. Meantime, I’m going to feed those ponies.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Karen knows better than to argue with this.

“Help me rip this bag open, Karen. They’ll have to eat on the ground.”

“My gosh, Tom, there might be mouse nests in there.”

“All right.” Tom takes out his knife and starts to cut the sack. Soon Karen is helping him.

Finally, carrying a good amount of grain wrapped in a piece of sacking, Tom opens the door and peers into the dim barn. The way is clear.

He goes to the corner and looks around. The barn is quite empty. Karen holds her breath until she has heard him dump grain into five stalls, making a small shooshing noise each time and riling the ponies until she is afraid they will be heard from the house. Finally he is back with her, the door tightly shut behind him. “It’s cooling off a little; the sun is low. It won’t be long.”

“Did you see anything?”

“No one. No noise from the house. The new ponies are something! Both roan, both small. Funny. Like mountain horses. These are fat and nice, but devils! Ran at me when I put the grain in. Cute as they can be.”

“Suppose they’ll run at us when we let them out?”

“Maybe. Until they see they’re free.”

“Yes.”

“I’m hungry. Any peaches left?” “Two.”

“Let’s have them.”

“What do you suppose is in that package?”

“Maybe I can tell by the shape.” Tom feels around until he finds it, then announces, “Cans of something, small, but heavy. They have labels, if only we could see.”

“Here,” Karen says. She has peeled a peach for him. “How’ll we know when it’s dark?”

“The mice’ll dance.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, and giggles.

“I hear something,” Tom says.

Karen listens. “They’re coming back. Oh, Tom, what if they see the grain?”

“Shhh.”

“I hear walking.”

“A bolt slid,” Tom whispers, then stiffens. There is a squeal from one of the horses, then crashing and a slam, then swearing; a good deal of swearing.

There is nothing more for a minute; then they hear a soft groan, and minutes later, a slow scuffling walk toward the house.

“That pony hurt him,” Karen says, delighted.

“I hope he hurt him good!”

“Listen, Tom, if we let them out back, won’t there be fences?”

“My gosh, there might be. It’ll have to be the front.”