THE TWO HUNDRED HORSES
THE MAN WHO STOPPED IN THE DUST
The desert wind had a way of carrying things that people wanted forgotten.
It carried broken pieces of conversation from one town to another. It carried the smell of rain that had fallen fifty miles away. It carried the cries of wounded animals, the smoke of distant campfires, and sometimes, if a man was unlucky enough to be listening, the last words of someone who had died alone.
That afternoon, it carried news of two hundred stolen horses.
Cody Mercer heard about them before he even reached the center of Red Creek.
He was riding a black Mustang named Sombra, a narrow-faced animal with one white mark above his left hoof and an attitude that suggested he trusted horses far more than people.
Cody didn't blame him.
For three days, the two of them had been crossing dry country.
Cody was twenty-eight years old, although the years had already carved lines around his gray eyes. A pale scar ran from his left cheek toward his jaw. He had received it seven years earlier, during a gunfight that had ended with three men dead and Cody deciding he had no desire to become like them.
Since then, he had lived alone.
A cabin.
A horse.
A rifle.
A few acres of stubborn land.
That was enough.
He had no wife waiting for him, no parents, no brothers, no children. His closest neighbor lived eleven miles away, and Cody sometimes went weeks without hearing another human voice.
He preferred it that way.
People brought promises.
Promises brought disappointment.
Disappointment brought memories.
Cody had spent years learning how to live without all three.
But when he rode into Red Creek that afternoon, something in the town felt wrong.
The streets were crowded.
Men stood outside the general store. Women watched from porches. Several ranch hands had gathered around the courthouse steps.
Everyone was talking.
Everyone except the old man standing beneath the shade of the courthouse roof.
Cody slowed Sombra.
"What's happened?" he asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
Then a large man in a brown hat laughed bitterly.
"You really haven't heard?"
Cody shook his head.
The man spat into the dust.
"Two hundred horses."
Cody's eyes narrowed.
"What about them?"
"Stolen."
"From whom?"
The large man shrugged.
"Apache camp north of here."
Another voice came from the crowd.
"Three nights ago. Ten, maybe twelve riders. Came after midnight."
"They took every horse."
"Every one."
Cody looked around.
"And nobody followed them?"
The large man laughed again.
"Followed them where?"
"North."
"Into Apache country?"
"Yes."
The laughter became louder.
One rancher shook his head.
"Stranger, you must not understand how things work around here."
Cody dismounted.
He tied Sombra's reins loosely to a wooden post.
"I understand horses."
The large man looked him over.
"You're going after them?"
Cody didn't answer.
An elderly man stepped forward.
He was thin and stooped, with a silver beard and a faded coat. His name was Samuel Reed, although Cody would learn that later.
"Those horses weren't ordinary livestock," the old man said.
Cody turned toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"They were the Apache tribe's winter herd."
The crowd became quiet.
Samuel continued.
"Some were riding horses. Some were trained for hauling. Some were mares with young foals. Without them, the tribe will have difficulty hunting, traveling, carrying firewood, even moving their winter camp."
Cody looked toward the northern horizon.
"How many people?"
"About seventy."
"Children?"
"Twenty-three."
Cody's jaw tightened.
"Then somebody should help."
Nobody answered.
Finally the large man shrugged.
"Let them handle their own trouble."
Cody looked at him.
"Ten armed thieves stole two hundred animals."
"That's right."
"And you're telling me the victims should solve it themselves?"
The man smiled.
"Now you're understanding."
Cody stared at him for several seconds.
Then he turned toward Sombra.
"Where did they take the horses?"
The large man laughed.
"Nobody knows."
Cody placed one boot in the stirrup.
Samuel Reed suddenly spoke.
"I know."
Cody stopped.
The old man looked north.
"There is an old canyon beyond Dry Bone Ridge. Years ago, smugglers used it to hide stolen cattle. If I were stealing two hundred horses, that's where I'd go."
Cody studied him.
"How long would it take?"
"Two days if you're riding hard."
Cody climbed onto Sombra.
Samuel stepped closer.
"You don't know those men."
"I don't need to."
"They'll kill you."
Cody looked down at him.
"Maybe."
Then he glanced toward the northern horizon.
"But if nobody goes, those horses disappear forever."