Crow Bait

Nine

After a good night’s sleep and an even better breakfast the next morning, Lancaster pulled on the borrowed boots that used to belong to Kimmie’s father. He stood up, found that they fit pretty well, even though his feet still hurt a bit. The shirt and trousers she had given him were a little small, but not noticeably.

Lancaster left the house and walked over to the barn. He hadn’t gotten much out of Kimmie’s brothers that morning, except some borderline hostile look from Zack. But Kimmie appeared to have gotten her way, and the brothers were prepared to take him to Laughlin in two or three days.

In the barn he found Crow Bait standing easily, chewing on some hay. As he entered, the animal turned his head and gave him a stare, then looked away.

There were four other horses in the barn—two saddle mounts and a team to pull the buckboard. They were all eight years old or more, but sound.

Lancaster was shocked at Crow Bait’s appearance. He’d forgotten how truly bad he looked.

“Wow,” he said, touching the animal’s flank, “you really do look like crow bait.”

He examined the horse, running his hands over him. Aside from seeming frail and knock-kneed, the legs seemed sound enough. His neck seemed too long for his body, and too slender to carry a large head. Lancaster figured that a few weeks of eating regularly would fill that out, make the head and neck look more in proportion. The same with all the bones that seemed to be sticking out here and there. Some extra flesh would smooth them out.

He brushed Crow Bait while the horse continued to chew. His coat was spotty, seemingly worn away in some places, but the flesh beneath seemed unmarked. They could have been just bald spots, and he wondered if the hair there would grow back. Likewise, the tail was thin and ragged. He didn’t know if that would fill back in or not with a steady diet.

“You saved my life,” Lancaster said, stroking the horse’s neck, “so I’m gonna see that you get to live yours.”

By checking the horse’s mouth and teeth, he surmised him to be five or six years old.

“You’ve got plenty of life ahead of you, boy,” Lancaster said. “You’re gonna be well taken care of.”

Crow Bait, unconcerned with his appearance, continued to feed.