Chapter 7

Doctor Jorge Jorgenson might be short, and bald, and have owlish eyes, but he was ok in my book. I could tell he was proud of himself when he came out a few seconds later. It didn't matter, because I was proud of him too.

He almost worshipped Ethel, for calling him I guess, but some of that rubbed off on me when he got a look at Bob's first print from the new printer. It was a kind of group shot I'd taken of all the Indians I'd met, after I'd finished the doctoring. They were standing in as close to a group as I could get them to, with the giant yellow pines in the background.

He was even more excited when I showed him the musket ball I'd taken out of the brave and then pointed out the brave in the picture.

"Why, this must be 75 caliber, at least," he said.

"That'd be my guess. The brave was lucky as hell it hit the fat part of his arm and didn't break the bone while it was at it," I said.

"It's amazing that infection didn't kill him," he said.

"I'm sure he would have died, or at least lost his arm, if I hadn't popped up with the Combiotic," I said.

"Combiotic?"

"It's a broad spectrum injectable antibiotic. Its use was intended for horses and cattle but it's no longer available in the United States. It was too good and too cheap to leave on the market, so the FDA made new regulations and it's illegal here now.

"No sense in having something the drug companies can't get bigger and fatter on, just because it works really well," I said.

"I'm sure the government had a sensible reason for outlawing the drug," he said.

"Of course they did, I just said that. They were protecting us from ourselves. It's certainly too dangerous to have people walking around without infections, not to mention if they still have money in their pockets.

"Why, we could spend hours and hours talking about our benevolent government, but I'd rather talk about honest poker players and virginal hookers if you don't mind," I said.

"We're delighted that you came, Doctor Jorgenson, and Meka seems to enjoy your company. While you're thinking about the government, maybe you should consider all they've done for Meka's people," George said.

I'll swear that Doctor Jorge Jorgenson had an epiphany in just that second, right before our eyes. I could almost hear the gears in his head mesh and start turning.

"The mother fucking bastards. I can't believe I've been so blind for almost all my life," he said, trembling with rage, his face getting redder and redder as he went.

I was afraid for him, and trying my best not to laugh at the same time. I think he'd actually never made the connection, or at least not so specifically. He might have known in the abstract sense all along and just not realized that it was still the same government with only the names of the thieves changed.

"Taxation without representation," he said, "The rallying cry to start our revolution. Look at us, we're so much better off now that our own representatives are taxing us."

"Well, maybe not," I said.

"Truth, Justice, and the American way," he said.

"And the American way is?" I asked.

"Tax the people until they can't breathe and they won't have the strength to scream about it," he said.

"Well, we can't fix it so let's eat," Ethel said.

Meka looked a little confused, and I didn't blame her. Caddo Indians knew a hell of a lot better than to let someone tax them. Better off dead, they'd probably thought.

When Ethel put a hamburger on Meka's plate, Meka looked up and said, "Thank you."

I thought Ethel was going to cry. She bent down, hugging Meka's neck and kissed her on the cheek. She was also prompt with another Coke, and that earned her a big smile.

The good Doctor ate quietly and he'd seemed to settle down, but I could tell he was still thinking hard and heavy about something.

After lunch was over we went into Bob's office while the company representative had Bob make a couple more prints. He ran off one of the coyotes jumping the creek and Meka just loved it. The one he printed of the bobcat under the bush was better off this printer, but it still wasn't as good as the coyote shots, since it had been getting light out when they were made.

The representative took off after that, and Bob started making prints of the Indians from my visit. The good Doctor was flabbergasted and I could tell he wouldn't leave them until he'd studied them all.

Meka made a motion that let me guess she wanted to go outside and we headed that way. I noticed she made a special effort to make her new boots sound out loudly with every step. She'd come nearly four hundred years practically overnight, but she was prancing and dancing now.

We climbed up on a fence and watched Carl working a colt in the round pen, on a Longe line. The colt seemed to be doing fine but it was something interesting to watch for a while. George snuck up behind us and we both turned to look when he called Meka's name.

"George, what have you got there?" I asked.

Meka just stared wide-eyed, she seemed transfixed.

He was leading a small horse. It wasn't a pony; he said it was a registered Quarter Horse, just a very small one.

"We don't know what happened to her or how come we got her. She seemed normal when she was born, and if she's ever missed a meal, I don't know about it, but she's short," he said.

I got off the fence and walked around her and George was right, mostly. She seemed like a good horse, she was just tiny, almost. She wasn't just short, she was like a scaled down model.

Even as small as she was, she was still a Quarter Horse with bulging muscles all over; at probably a little less than twelve hands, she still weighed seven or eight hundred pounds so you couldn't really call her tiny. Dainty maybe.

"I don't see a thing wrong with her, except her height, or lack of it. Did you have it in your mind for someone around here to be helping hold a saddle on her?" I asked.

"I was hoping that Meka could help us out there" he said, smiling.

Meka was a little shy now, but she had come down off the fence. George held the lead rope out to her and the shy look melted into her biggest smile yet.

I don't know how she knew to move slowly around the horse but she did. She took natural looking but small slow steps up to the mare and then reached out and stroked its neck.

"Is she even broke?" I asked.

"Sure, we don't keep no broncs 'round here. It was a job though," he said.

"Who did you have that she could even carry?"

"Carl knew some boys that he thought could do it, and him and Jake was with them every second, tellin' them what to do and 'specially what not to do. Of course the Carl and Jake already had her going good on the line and standing tied an all first," he said.

"Well I guess we'd better see if we can find a saddle that will work between the two of 'em," I said.

"That's about what I had in mind. I know we've got a pretty good one for the little mare. Even though we've kept her more or less as a pet, she's been rode a bunch. Chuck and Dave did a lot of that before they got too big and heavy, and she's always had good manners," he said.

"I'm surprised no one's bought her for their kids by now. She's at least four isn't she?"

"Yep, she'll turn five in January, just like any Quarter Horse, January first is her birthday. You know how folks are though; they think she should be cheap because she's small. We did ask less for her on that account, but I'd rather let her die out here of old age than give her away. She's worth more than that to me just as something to talk about," he said.

"Well, I can see somebody that's glad she's still here," I said, nodding my head toward Meka.

Meka wasn't paying George or me a bit of attention. She was petting on the mare and talking to her with Indian lingo. Hell, if the Doctor stayed around a while she'd probably be gabbing at her in English too before long.

We got Meka to lead her into the barn and we tied her to a hitch and then went looking for the saddle George said would fit. There were two stacked on top of it but we got it out and dusted it off, and then put it on the mare for a fitting.

It was old hat to the mare, but Meka was surprised when I picked her up and put her aboard. She stayed still while I adjusted the stirrups though, and seemed a little cranky about being lifted down.

I couldn't explain what was happening, but I kept telling her about it anyway. George had the bridle by now, and I squatted down so Meka and I would be on eye level.

I showed her the bridle, the bit, the curb chain, and the reins and then put it on the mare. Then I took it off and had Meka hold out her good arm. I put the bit on top with the curb chain hanging under it.

Meka was a smart little devil, and when I showed her what it felt like to pull on the reins, and how hard it could squeeze her arm, she got the message right away, or at least she got the first iteration.

People will tell you uncountable numbers of tricks and give you even more tips about riding and training horses. Most of the advice is worth what you pay for it; but there's one thing you can always count on.

It's easier to train a thousand horses than it is to put good soft hands on a rider, any rider. That goes double or triple for one that thinks he's going to make a horse do something. You don't make horses do things; you train them to do things.

I think of riders with that he man attitude as ye haws, because that's usually what anyone watching them for long ends up saying. It's almost always followed by the thud of the rider's body hitting the ground.

We put the bridle back on the mare then and I put Meka back in the saddle. The first lesson was me leading the mare around with Meka just along for the ride. She didn't seem disappointed and I hoped that held out for a while. I couldn't see myself turning her loose with her arm in a cast while I couldn't even make her understand what she should do next.

I did get a good hour of walking though, and teaching Meka how to Longe the little mare was high on my list of things to do, soon.

We were barely back in the house when Bob came out of the office with a big print of Meka on her horse. I hadn't even seen him out taking the pictures; then again, I was occupied. Thank God he'd left me out of it. Meka was really proud.

"You know, if it's even half as easy as it looks, I'm mad that I didn't get a camera like that years ago," I said.

"The more you do it the easier it gets, but just two years ago a camera not even half this good would have cost more than twice as much. With so many places makin' them now, Nikon's had to buckle down and get with the improvements, or else find a place to bury the company and let it start pushin' up daisies," Bob said.

"I guess it's put a hurtin' on Kodak then, hasn't it?"

"They know somebody's slapped 'em back from the money trough all right," Bob said.

George was right by me, and since he saw that Meka was caught up in the pictures that were still coming out, he led me back out toward the kitchen.

"Do you think it would be ok if we sent the little mare down to your barn for Meka?" he asked.

"I don't see nothin' wrong with that. Ridin' up here to see you and Ethel would probably be good practice for her," I said.

"Good, does it matter which stall we put it in?" he asked.

"Not really, but why don't you take me down to get Joe Bob and later I can ride him back and lead Meka and the mare. Joe Bob won't give us trouble with her will he?" I asked.

"I don't think he will, that mare's never come in that I know of. I wondered about it when I thought she was getting' old enough, but it never came up. I've never even asked a vet to check her out so I got no idea why she don't ever," he said.

"Well, it'll be a good thing I guess."

Doctor Jorgenson was ripping Meka untimely from the printer's output tray just then and so I asked him to tell her I'd be gone for a while. He did, and she came over and shook my hand, and George's too when she realized he must be going also. She was so cute about it.

George ran me down to the house and let me off and I saddled up Joe Bob and led him to the front door where I picked up the lever gun. I didn't feel like riding off into the sunset with nothing but my Glock, not after my last little exploit.

Joe Bob and I had a peaceful walk back to George's house. After that I fooled around outside in a round pen with the mare for a while. She did just fine and I had a lot more confidence in her after working her a little.

I'd put Joe Bob back in his former stall while working with the mare and after I was done with her, I put her in the stall beside him. They snorted at each other a time or two and then settled down to the serious business of turning Coastal Bermuda hay into horseshit.

When I left the barn I saw George over by their small smithy, he was holding a young colt while Frank, another of their hands, was trimming its feet. I walked over to help him watch.

"That's a pretty nice colt there," I said," Who's his folks?"

"He's outta that big black mare, and Show Boy's his daddy. He looks pretty all right and we're hoping the mare put some sense in his head. Show Boy is a damned good horse, but between you and me, he ain't the brightest bulb," George said.

"That just means the rider needs to take up the slack."

"Ain't that a god dammed fact? Too bad more people don't know about it," George said, laughing.

"Well, just think how smart people would be if they gelded about two thirds of the males born and made the choice over brains," I said.

"Man, that would have been hard on Bob," George said, trying not to grin.

"You mean you think he'd a been cut?" I asked.

"Naw, I'd a been, and he wouldn't even be here," George said, laughing out this time.

"You know, George, that horse medicine you had down in my barn really helped me out on my visit. I wonder if I shouldn't be trying to think up a few other things that might come in handy."

"I can't see where it would hurt you any, and if you do get a notion about something you might need don't keep it to yourself. Sometimes, a few days before a trip, we get hints we don't even realize we're gettin'," he said.

"Come to think of it, we might ought to see if we can't get some of that stuff Doctor James and the nurse used to make that cast. Meka's wasn't the only bone I set last time," I said.

"I hadn't even thought about that but you're right. I know that stuff is cheap too. We might as well take a hard look at what's in your medicine kit," he said.

"Some injectable local anesthetic might pay off too. It keeps 'em from flinching while I sew up cuts and such. The spay on helped but I know a little of the injectable would have been better."