Moving Serafina

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304 When Locket rode back into the work yard at Los Arbolitos he knew it was well past midnight. The mare had stood outside the little adobe house for more than an hour as Locket quizzed the young couple inside. Now after at least two more hours riding, she was pulling at the reins and had broken into a trot as they neared the barn in the darkness. Locket saw that the house was dark. “Looks like everybody’s gone to bed,” he said and then noted the single truck silhouetted in the starlight. “Or just gone, period. Front door’s probably locked either way.” Locket reined the mare toward the truck but she would not turn until he pulled the rein harder and tapped her sides with his boot heels and clucked. “Don’t blame you a bit. You’ve had a long tough haul and so did I,” he said. “But we can’t see a damn thing inside there without a flashlight. And I got no idea where a light switch might be . . . if there’s one at all in the barn.” He dismounted and in the dim light saw it was Clay’s truck and immediately wished it had been Gus’s. “Damn,” he said. “Probably won’t even work, even if Clay’s got one at all inside here somewhere.” He held the reins as he felt his way and opened the door on the passenger side and groped in the glove C H A P T E R 32 MOVING SERAFINA 305 box where he did find a flashlight. “Well . . .” he said and pushed the button. Nothing. “Just as I figured.” He slapped the light against the reins in the palm of his hand and tried again. Still nothing. Locket sighed and reached across to check for the ignition key thinking he might move the truck and direct the headlights into the barn, but again, nothing. He tossed the useless flashlight onto the seat, shut the door and led the mare toward the angular outline of the barn. “We’ll just have to go by feel, I guess,” he said. He found the latch and opened one side of the double doors and held out his hand as he walked the mare on into the barn. When his hand touched a huge rough-sawn column, Locket slapped the reins around it and tied them off. “Steady,” he said. He moved his palm down her neck as he walked alongside her, loosened the cinch and girth strap. Then he lifted the saddle free with one hand and pulled off the wet saddle blanket with the other. “There,” he said. “At least you’ll breathe better now.” He leaned the saddle upright against the wall of a stall and draped the wet blanket over its edge. When he bumped the wall with the saddle, he heard the rattle of a wire bale from a gasoline pump lantern on a nail driven into the side of the stall. “Why didn’t you tell me about this, old girl?” He lifted the lantern from its nail and shook it and heard the liquid slosh inside. “Guess I’ll have to take up smoking,” he said. “Not one damn match in these pockets, my friend, and my chance of finding one in here somewhere are slim to none.” Hewentbackovertothemare.Sheshiftedbutthen Bob Cherry 306 she stood easy. “You just hang on a minute more,” he said and walked back through the barn door and crossed the yard to the house. Just to be certain, he tapped first on the front door and listened for a long while. When he heard nothing inside, he pounded louder and again he heard nothing so he opened the door and called out, “Anybody home?” When this brought no response, Locket reached inside and snapped on the lightbulb in the entryway. Then he worked his way back to the kitchen and found the match holder above the propane stove. He fingered several matches out and went back through the front and over to the barn. Inside, he heard the mare shifting again. “I know,” he said. “Oats. I promised and I’ll deliver.” He found the lantern, pumped it and primed it and then scratched a match across the wall of the stall. The mare turned her head toward the burst of match flame which spread orange light into the corners of the...