Go West: Short Historical Stories

Sheridan

"Conn, see all the horses!" Clara's eyes were like tin plates as they walked along the street.

"Aye, Clara. And you'll  be seeing lots more once your father starts his ranch." Conn grinned at  Amy, who smiled back and stroked Clara's hair. He reached over and  batted at the end of Amy's braid. She turned and swatted at his hand  with a smile.

"Conn, do you think Pa will buy me a horse?" Clara asked, swinging her sunbonnet by its strings.

"I'm sure Johnson knows  how much you're wanting one. If he doesn't, you can ride Brann." Brann  nickered behind Conn – even he was happy.

Johnson and his wife  were walking ahead of them. He turned to Conn when they reached the  hotel. "Sheridan, see to your horse, then come meet us here."

            "Aye, sir." Conn rode Brann to the livery and led him to a stall. A chestnut horse who  was passing by suddenly lunged at Brann, teeth bared and ears back.

            "Come here,  you divil!" The chestnut's owner had his animal under control in a  second.  Conn darted around to Brann's left side, keeping the reins  wrapped around his hand. Brann snorted nervously and sidestepped –  towards Conn.

            He hadn't  been paying attention to Brann, because the man's voice startled him.  Hadn't he heard that voice somewhere before?

Conn's eyes widened as he saw Brann's back coming towards him. Darn high-strung horses.

He twisted  his body, trying to squeeze past Brann to get at his head, but he wasn't  fast enough. Brann's side slammed into him, crushing him up against the  wall. There was a popping noise and his right arm felt like it was on  fire. Then Brann stepped on his right foot. Conn let go of the reins and  grabbed the side of the stall. Brann stood still, which was fortunate. Conn couldn't move his arm and his foot throbbed.

            God help me! Conn slid down onto his knees.

            Cursing, the  man shut his horse into a stall, then walked over to Conn. "I'm sorry  about that, lad," he said, taking off his hat.

Conn was already gasping – Brann had knocked the air out of him – but when he saw the man's face, he gasped again.

"Da?" Conn rasped, looking up at him.

The man stopped,  bent over, and peered at his face. "Conn?" His already gruff voice grew  hoarse as he got down on his knees in front of him. "Conn? What would  you be doing here?"

            "I...came  with a family." Even though Conn wanted to notice every detail about  this moment, Da's face was getting blurry.

            Was  he...crying? As Conn shifted, his arm throbbed and he winced, telling  himself it was the pain that was making him tear up, though he knew it  wasn't.

            "Are you hurt?" Da reached toward him and he pulled back.

            Shaking his head, Conn stammered, "It's not a bad hurt, I think."

Da dropped his hands and  they landed with a smack on his thighs. "You're still too stubborn for  your own good!" He ran his hands through his hair. "And it's a terrible  liar you are."

Conn snorted, running a  hand through his hair with his good arm. He stopped when he realized Da  had just done the same thing. He did inherit something from him besides his red hair. "I should be a great liar. I learned from the best," Conn said spitefully.

            With a  frown, Da leaned forward. Conn started to flinch and hide his face, but  then stopped and looked up slowly. Da hadn't moved.