Percival Everett - The Body of Martin Aguilera

“This sort of thing heals quickly,” Cyril said.

Lewis nodded. “Well, it’s going to be slower back and uphill, too.”

“Good company though.”

“Right.”

They turned back. Lewis led the mare and Cyril took the reins of the gelding. Lewis looked at the limp and shook his head. He hated to see his animals suffer, any animal suffer. He looked at the creek and all the stones. He felt bad for having brought his horses down, but he knew he was being irrational, trying to blame himself.

“I guess I’ll just have to hike down here another day,” he said.

Cyril said nothing.

They left the creek and started up to the ridge.

“How’s your lady friend?” Cyril asked.

“Maggie? She’s as onery as ever.”

“What’s she think about you coming out here? Does she even know?”

“Yeah, she knows. She knows I’m out here with you because I left a note. She was asleep when I left. She doesn’t like it.”

“What’s she say about all this stuff that’s going on, the wounds and animals, all the crazy stuff?”

“She’s scared.”

“Are you scared?”

Lewis stopped and looked across at the far ridge. “Yes, I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can’t stop. Have you ever felt that way?”

“Yes, I have. Lewis, I want you to feel free to tell me anything. I sort of think of myself as being in this with you.”

“Thanks, Cyril.”

They walked on. The climb was hard and Lewis was winded when they reached the top. They started the mile trek across the flat.

“Okay?” Cyril asked.

“I’m not as young as I used to be. The nature of time, I reckon.” Lewis laughed at himself. “What I need now is a hot bath, a cup of tea and a nap.”

“What’s funny is how you talk about yourself like you’re old.”

“Comes with age.”

They arrived at the truck. Lewis lifted large plastic buckets of water from the back of the pickup and let the horses drink. Cyril looked at the mare’s hoof again and put the foot down.

Lewis loosened the cinches and let the horses stand. He stepped away from the truck and looked out over the high dessert. Birds were singing. He saw a hawk many yards away. It was hunting.

“It’s just too dry,” Lewis said.

“It is that.”

“Animals slow down a lot when it’s hot and dry like this, don’t they.” Lewis looked at Cyril.

“I suppose they do. They would have to.”

“What’s on your mind, Lewis?”

“Nothing.”

After the animals had drunk enough, they loaded them and traveled back along the pitted road. Cyril asked Lewis if he wanted him to drive, but Lewis said he was fine.

“How old is Laura?” Cyril asked.

“She’s seven.” Lewis drove high on a bank to avoid a deep rut.

“Where’s her mother?”

“Boston. I hate Boston.”

“I’ve never spent much time there. Are you close, you and your daughter?”

“Sort of. No, not really. I feel closer to Laura.”

“She is a special child. I could see that right off.”

He started Lewis thinking about the child, thinking about pulling the girl into the middle of something that perhaps he couldn’t control. He had a headache.

The highway traffic was heavy into town. “I swear to God,” Lewis said, “there are more tourists every year. Can’t blame them, I guess. Pretty place.”

“Watch it,” Cyril pointed at a Mercedes pulling out from a trading post.

“Thanks.”

Lewis parked in front of Cyril’s office. “Is practice slow or something?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You can just not show up when you want to?”

“I had today scheduled off anyway.” Cyril found the door lever and pulled up on it. “Okay, Lewis,” he said, getting out of the truck. “You take it easy.”

“Thank you for your help, Cyril. I mean it.”

“My pleasure. I’m sorry we had to turn around.”

Lewis shrugged.

The truck lurched forward. Lewis almost struck his chin on the steering wheel. He looked into his side mirror and saw the trailer swaying a bit. He was jolted again and this time saw in the mirror the front of a dark-colored van or truck, but only for a second because it fell in behind the horses again. The horses were spooked badly. Lewis could see one rear up and hear both of them kicking the walls. Again, a jolt. Whoever it was behind him was ramming the trailer. Lewis stopped looking back in the mirror and accelerated. The old truck didn’t have much to give. Lewis’s hands began to sweat, his heart to pound. Another jolt. The horses were in a frenzy now and the trailer was weaving across the center line. He couldn’t risk his horses. If he stopped, these people might pass by or they might stop and kill him. But as it was, he was going to kill himself and the horses. He pulled off the road and tried to stop, hoping the brakes of the truck would hold out, hoping the trailer wouldn’t upset. He caught a glimpse of a truck at the top of the hill ahead coming his way. There was one more jolt that made the truck and trailer threaten to jacknife, but Lewis got it all stopped. He heard skidding and turning behind him. He also heard the racket of the horses. He opened his door and swung his legs out of the cab, held his face in his hands.

“You all right?”

Lewis looked up and saw the flatbed truck across the road facing the opposite direction. Then, he found the face of the young white man beside him. “Yeah. I’ve got to check my horses.” Lewis pushed himself to his feet, the kid helping. “Thanks.” He walked slowly to the trailer.

“I saw the whole thing,” the young man said. “That guy just ran you off the road.”

Lewis could see that the mare was bleeding from the nose. He opened the unloading door and let them settle down for a minute. Both were sopping wet with perspiration.

“Do you know who those guys were?”

Lewis shook his head. “I didn’t even get a good look at their truck.”

“I did.”

Lewis looked at him.

“Well, I didn’t get the license number, but it was a dark brown, Chevy van.”

Lewis stepped into the trailer on the mare’s side. The young man looked in behind him.

“Good thing you got them mattresses up there.”

The mare reared a little, but Lewis grabbed her halter and settled her down, stroked her, and made soothing sounds. Both horses were standing well and for this Lewis was grateful. He bent slowly and grabbed the mare’s blanket from the floor, tossed it over her. Somehow the gelding’s cover had stayed on.

“They all right?” the young man asked.

“I think so. Just scared.”

“You want me to go call the sheriff?”

Lewis didn’t want to have to tell Manny where he’d been with two horses that morning. “No, I can make it home now.” He came out of the trailer, but left the door open and stood by it to further assure the horses.

“Thanks for your help.”

“Just being neighborly.”

“Well, thanks a lot.”

The young man nodded and crossed the road to his truck. He waved to Lewis as he got in and again as he rolled away. Lewis said some more soothing words to his animals, then got into the truck and drove home. He became angry as he made his way slowly up the mountain. There was danger to be found. Laura would have to go home. He realized that his lip was split. He held it in his mouth and tasted his blood.

He parked at the corral and began to unload the horses. Laura and Maggie came from the house. Maggie frowned as she came close. Lewis didn’t look at them. He walked the mare to the gate and let her in. She snorted and gave a kick and marched into the pasture.

“Papa, your lip is bleeding,” Laura said.