“And he was looking for a fight, was he?”
Brodie nodded again.
Eli nodded toward the black-and-blue streak over Brodie’s eye.
“He’s quite a bit larger than you.”
“He whipped him good, Papa,” Ben chimed in. “The miserable skunk..”
“Benny, please!” Maddy said.
“Sorry, Mother. Anyway, he only got one punch in and Brodie-”
“Yes,” the father interrupted. “He whipped him good.” He thought for a moment and added, “Well, I’m glad you won, Thomas. Winning is always preferable to losing. But I have forbidden you both from going into Eureka for just this reason. Are we understood on that?”
They both nodded.
“Mother, have you anything to add?”
Madeline Gorman, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, looked up from her dinner.
“I don’t approve of brawling,” she said softly. “But sometimes it is a matter of honor, Eli.”
“Yes, my dear, I understand that. The point is, they weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.” He cleared his throat and added, “Well, enough said of that. Let’s enjoy our dinner.”
The full moon was brighter than the lanterns flittering at the corners of the wide paddock. Brodie had showered off both horses and stabled the brown. Now he stood brushing the white horse in slow, easy strokes, smoothing out his coat and sweeping the tangles from his mane, and talking to him in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Frisky tonight, huh, Cyclone?”
The horse snorted and casually stomped a hoof.
Brodie stroked his forelock, patted his neck, rubbed his soft muzzle.
“Liked that run on the beach, din’tcha? You like runnin’ on the sand.”
The horse growled and bobbed his head.
Behind Brodie, the end of a cigar glowed in the darkness.
“You really love that animal, don’t you, Thomas?”
It startled Brodie, although it was not uncommon for Mr. Eli to stroll down to the pasture for his evening cigar. He never smoked in the house; Mrs. Gorman hated the smell of cigars.
“He’s the first thing I ever owned, sir. Three dollars, imagine that. He’s one handsome fellow, he is.”
“Thanks to you.”
“And you, sir,” Brodie answered.
The white stallion, a horse bred to be ridden, had been hitched side by side with a muscular dray horse, hauling railroad ties in a wagon. The white strained but did not have the powerful legs of the dray. The driver, a big-chested, angry man, was lashing out at the white.
“You lazy son of a bitch,” he roared. “You worthless, good-for- nothing nag. I’ll show you who’s boss.”
He jumped down from the wagon and pulled a pistol from his back pocket. Brodie, who was working on the railroad that summer, jumped down from a railroad car and ran to the man.
“Don’t shoot him,” he begged.
The big man glared down at him. “Who the hell are you?” he growled. “Get outta my way.”
He cocked the pistol, held it toward the horse’s head.
“I’ll buy him,” Brodie cried out.
“With what?”
Brodie had five silver eagles in his pocket, his pay for the week.
“Two eagles,” he said. “I’ll give you two dollars.” He took out two coins and held them in the palm of his hand toward the man.
“I’d rather shoot the lazy bastard,” he sneered.
“I’ll make it three. Is it worth three dollars to shoot him?”
The driver stared at the three silver dollars.
“Christ, yer crazy,” he said. But he took the three bucks and unhitched the horse. “How you gonna get him home?”
“I’ll ride him,” Brodie said.
“You ain’t even got a saddle.”
“I’ll ride him bareback.”
“Shit,” the driver said, and spat a stream of tobacco onto the horse’s neck. “You get on him, he’ll throw you all the way to Albuquerque.”
Brodie rode the horse six miles bareback, using a rope for a bridle. He was thrown four times and he was skinned up, his one shirtsleeve almost torn off and a bruise on his cheek. When he got to end-o’-track he bummed a ride into Eureka on a wagon, with the horse he named Cyclone tied to the back. Then he led the horse the last four miles up the cliff walk and across the top of the hill to the Gorman estate.
Eli remembered the day Brodie came home with the animal. Skinny, its ribs standing out like a museum skeleton, its flanks festered with whip scars, its eyes crazy and fear filled.
“I’ll pay for his food and take care of him,” Brodie pleaded. “You can take it out of my salary.”
Old Gorman had smiled.
“I think we can handle the food bill,” he said. And as he turned away, he looked back and said, “I admire you, Thomas. You have a big heart, which is a gift. But it isn’t much of a horse for three dollars.”
Brodie had nursed Cyclone back to health and, in so doing, they had formed a bond. No one else could ride him, no one else could even climb into the saddle without being thrown head over heels. Horse and boy were devoted to each other.
“You have a natural love for animals,” Gorman said, tapping the ash from his cigar. “I’ve watched you with the other horses and the dogs. I admire that.”
He pointed to the end of the pasture, which was separated from the edge of the cliff by a high, white fence that surrounded the twenty-acre grazing land.
“Let’s take a walk,” Eli said, nodding down the pasture. They strode side by side, with Cyclone clopping slowly behind Brodie.
“Have you thought what you’re going to do when school ends?” Eli asked. “Ben will be going back East to Harvard in a couple of weeks. How about you? The state has a very good college down in Los Angeles. Then maybe take on law school.”
“I ain’t… I’m not smart enough.”
“You do yourself an injustice, Thomas.”
“I make C’s, sometimes a B or an A but mostly C’s.”
“There’s smart and there’s smart. Ben is smart about business. Someday he’ll run mine, he’ll be responsible for this valley. For what happens to it. But he needs somebody who is smart in other ways. Ben is naive about things. He trusts everybody. He needs someone-one person-he can trust without question, a partner who will take care of things Ben doesn’t see.”
“You mean like somebody who can take care of a guy like Guilfoyle when he smarts off?”
“I mean somebody who understands why people like Guilfoyle are the way they are. Someone who understands that and will handle that part of the business. The kind of smart Ben will never be.”
Brodie twisted his apple into two pieces, and held one half behind him. The horse gently took it from his hand and ate it.
“I…” Brodie started to say and then stopped.
“You what?”
“I don’t wanna be a roughneck all my life.”
“I don’t imply you should. What I am saying is that it takes a man of unique talents to handle the roughnecks. My son doesn’t have that kind of talent.”
“And I do because that’s where I came from. That it, sir?”
“You grew up in that life. Now you’ve seen the other side of the coin. I’ll be glad to stand for your schooling.”
“I don’t wanna go back to it, Mr. Eli. You spoilt me that way.”
“ Spoiled. I spoiled you that way.”
“Spoiled.”
“You’ve already risen above that, Thomas. But railroading is a harsh business. It not only requires shrewd business sense, it requires a man who can think ahead of trouble and handle it.”
“And that’s me?”
“I see that kind of strength in you, yes.”
They reached the end of the meadow and walked to the corner of the high fence that marked the edge of the cliff. To the south, past two neighboring houses and O’Dell’s mansion, they could see the glow of Eureka.
“I had a vision the first time I saw this valley,” Eli said softly, almost to himself. “And I still see it. I see a pretty village at the bottom of the valley. I see decent homes for workers. I see this valley, the way it is now, lasting forever. A place for good people to live and flourish. I see Ben and Isabel Hoffman marrying, they’ve been sweet on each other since they were children and she’s a nice Jewish girl. I see them raising a family here, surrounded by its beauty. And I see you watching his back, keeping the law. But it won’t happen as long as O’Dell owns half the valley, and Riker and his ilk run Eureka.”