Patricia Potter Read Free

to the saddle horn, then moved toward what appeared to be an abandoned well shaft. The cries were growing weaker, like the haunting cries of his brother so long ago.
    Don’t care, he warned himself. You can’t hurt if you don’t care. But the sounds were eating into him like red ants on bare skin. He tried to look down into the hole, but it was too dark. With his gloved hands he tore away the rotten wood partially covering the top. Even then he could barely see within. There was only a flash of white skin.
    He judged the size of the hole. He would barely be able to fit inside. The walls looked as if they were crumbling, and he could hear rustling sounds. He stiffened as he thought about the possibility of snakes.
    “What’s your name?” he asked the boy roughly.
    “Ch-Chad,” the boy stammered.
    “Get another rope,” Lobo said. “Fasten it to that tree and drop it in when I tell you.”
    Chad didn’t question him; he immediately headed for the barn. But he turned around when he heard the stranger call out unintelligible words. The man had tied his rope around his waist and had started lowering himself into the well. At his commands—that’s what the words were, Chad quickly figured out—the horse moved forward, one step at a time. Chad watched one more second in amazement before entering the barn.
    Rope in hand, he returned to the well and quickly did as he’d been told. The horse had stopped moving, and the line from the saddle horn was taut. He heard the stranger utter what sounded like a curse. He had heard plenty in his life, and although he didn’t understand what the man had just said, he recognized its intent.
    Sallie Sue’s whimpering had stopped. Chad leaned down and hollered. “Is she all right?”
    “I don’t know yet,” the man snarled, then cursed again, this time in very distinct English. When he finished, he said more calmly, “Drop that second rope.”
    Chad did so with alacrity, and heard another curse. “Not so damned fast. There’s snakes right below me. Your sister’s caught on a ledge between them and me. She’s not more than three feet above them.”
    The boy slowed the descent of the rope considerably and started praying, although he had little experience at that particular endeavor.
    “Tighten it,” came the voice again. “I can squeeze against the wall just enough to get her past me, but you’ll have to pull her up on your own. We can’t come up together, not without knocking down the walls. I’ll climb up under her in case she falls.”
    “Yessir,” Chad said.
    “Start pulling.”
    Chad did, and he thought his arms would break or come loose from their sockets. He heard rock hit bottom as the sides of the well started crumbling.
    “Slow down, boy,” came the rough command. “You’re doing fine.”
    Chad felt himself swelling with determination and pride. There was something about the man’s voice that gave him more strength than he knew he had. And then two other hands grabbed the rope behind him and he knew they were Estelle’s. Together they pulled, and the man commanded the horse to slowly back away, pulling the weight of his master up.
    There was the sound of another wall collapsing, and it was all Chad could do to keep from pulling fast.
    A dirt-covered Sallie Sue started to emerge, and Estelle let go of the rope and ran to pull the child into her arms. Several seconds later, the stranger appeared, his body also coated with dirt.
    Chad started to thank him, but he stopped when he saw the man’s eyes. They did not invite thanks; they even commanded against it. Chad couldn’t help stare at them, at the unusual color. Like winter frost skimming a mountain pool. Chad felt himself shiver in the blistering hot afternoon.
    But Chad was filled with curiosity, and there was a question he had to ask. “How did you get your horse to do that?”
    The stranger ignored the question and stared at Estelle, who was squeezing Sallie Sue so tightly Chad thought the girl