Moving Serafina

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147 “Morning,” Gus said when Clay pulled up in front of the corral behind his abandoned ranch house. Gus sat on the top rail stroking Palo’s neck, his cattle hauling rig parked nearby. “How’s your head?” “Still a little rough,” Clay said. He got out of his pickup. As he walked over, he glanced at his old house and then at the little gravesite. “Looks like you been busy.” Gus indicated the corrientes already inside the corral. “Riding night herd, just like the Old West? Hope you had a good flashlight. Won’t be needing the horse I got loaded up front, I guess. You must’a rode this old horse hard.” “Ain’t nothing like the Old West anymore, Gus. That’s long dead. But Palo never complains and he’s always ready to go. He got that from his mother. . . .” Clay’s voice trailed off. He thought about the mare and the night Serafina died. And he thought about the derelict one-horse ranch wagon, still hidden behind the tack shed. “He’s not like some things I know. And some people I know. Always complaining about one thing or another.” He reached through the rails beside Gus and palmed the old gelding’s muzzle. “You been here long?” “Not long. And you know I ain’t the one complaining , don’t you?” C H A P T E R 14 Bob Cherry 148 “Thanks for coming, Gus,” Clay said and sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean you.” “I said I would.” Gus frowned and then said, “Did you think I wouldn’t?” “Sorry.” “You already said that . . . what’s up? You sure you’re okay?” “Nothing.” Clay turned away. “Still hungover a little, I guess. Ain’t like the old days, right? Drunk one night and ready to go the next. Takes me at least three now. And then add to that my Serafina’s still waiting under that hardpan over there.” “Yeah,” Gus looked at the grave and then back at Clay. He smiled and said, “Hey, we’re gonna take care of her. Whenever you say so. And by the way, we haven’t talked about your money for these steers either.” “I ain’t worried, Gus,” Clay said. “Let’s just get them loaded. Won’t take long.” “What about Palo here?” Gus said. He stepped down from the rail and stood next to Clay. Both stroked the old horse’s neck. “You didn’t sell him too I hope?” “Nope,” Clay said. “You want me to load him up front with mine?” Clay thought about this for a long moment and finally said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with him. I don’t want him to be a bother to you over there.” “He wouldn’t be any trouble to me, Clay. What are you talking about?” “Well, maybe I’ll bring him over there when I pull the rest of that stuff out of the tack shed here.” “What’s left in there?” MOVING SERAFINA 149 “Junk,” Clay said. “My old saddle, some wore out harnesses. And my granddad’s rotten old wagon out behind there. You know, just junk.” “I could store all that for you,” Gus said. “No problem.” “Maybe. It’s a cinch Jo ain’t gonna let me keep it in her hotel,” Clay said and he looked at the tack shed and then across the dry earth, distorted by the heat already rising. “I been threatening to burn that old wagon for years, Gus. Maybe burn all of it, saddle, harness, the whole pile of junk.” “Why?” Gus said. “I thought that old wagon was a family antique?” “Yeah, burn it,” Clay said. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t call any of that stuff antique. It’s all worthless, useless. One of the wagon wheels has been busted ever since before Sera . . .” He paused and looked at Gus. “Why the hell would someone hang on to a dead past, Gus? I mean, I can understand why you’d keep all that nice old stuff over there at Los Arbolitos. That’s all historical and it’s like family to you, right?” “Well . . .” Gus looked down, toed aside a rock with his boot. He did not need to remind Clay that there were more important things from the past to hang on to...