The Vaquero

The wind blew through the weathered boards of the shack. In the morning Jack combed grains of sand out of his beard. May went around shaking out bedding and sweeping the floor before she’d start cooking breakfast–re-heated rabbit stew and biscuits. Jack sat out on the little porch, drinking coffee. His routine was to watch the sunrise over the desert. They had come by wagon in 1905, driven out of Texas by tornados. When he laid eyes on this place he knew he never wanted to leave. He didn’t consider the land for farming or ranching. Not a practical man, he simply liked the beauty of it. Proving on their homestead nearly killed the both of them. They weren’t young and this was a harsh country. Once they proved up, Jack scraped by hunting rabbits and the occasional deer. May helped on the Smith ranch nearby, cooking, cleaning, a little sewing. She was paid in milk, butter, flour, eggs, produce–whatever was available. They got by and were happy.

After breakfast May headed for the Smith’s and Jack grabbed his rifle to spend the day hunting.  It was October and still hot in this part of the country. Jack loved how the Oaks mixed with cactus. He often paid more attention to plants, trees, and rocks than tracking prey. He sat on a fallen branch under an oak tree and ate the lunch May made for him–ham, cheese, bread, and cider–enjoying the smell of fall and the quiet. Something reflective in the distance caught his eye. He watched it as he ate. Maybe a piece of obsidian, maybe even an arrowhead, maybe Apache. After he finished lunch he locked his eyes onto it and walked towards it. Getting closer it looked like gold. He wiped the perspiration from his face with a handkerchief. Not one for luck he never gambled. He might not be practical, but he knew he wasn’t lucky in the monetary sense. His land, his wife, his health, well he was damn lucky. Luckier than most. He squatted low getting a close look. The size of a plate, disc shaped, and looked to be pure gold. Some kind of marking something like he had seen on rocks–petroglyphs–covered the surface in relief. Jack was nervous to pick it up. He observed it for a long time. He didn’t know the markings. He lifted it, the weight surprising him. The back felt bumpy. Turning it over it was pocked and melted looking, something like he had seen in meteors. Strange considering the craftsmanship of the top. He put it in his sack and raced home. He couldn’t wait to show it to May. He set it on the kitchen table and sat on the porch thinking. It must be worth a fortune. Would they believe how he found it? It was on his property. May would know what to do.

He saw May walking up their path and ran towards her. Not accustomed to such a greeting, May was surprised and a little worried.

“May!” Jack ran towards her, eyes wide.

“What is it?”

“I found something. Come look!”

“You gave me a fright. You haven’t moved like that in decades. What is 

it?” 

“Just come look woman.” 

Entering their cabin a glow came from the kitchen.

“Why’d you light a lantern?”

“I didn’t.”

On the table the disk radiated light–rays shooting up and out. It was beautiful, but Jack and May were afraid.

“What is it Jack?”

“It wasn’t doing that before. It was just a gold disk.”

“We should get rid of it.”

“It’s got to be worth a fortune.”

“And since when have you been interested in fortunes?”

“Don’t you think there could be a reason I found it?”

“I have a bad feeling Jack. Please, let’s get rid of it.”

“You’re the brains of the family. I’ll take it and hide it somewhere off our 

property.”

May nodded. It was dark now and they agreed to lock it in the chest that held quilts and photographs until the morning. It stopped glowing when Jack touched it. After supper they sat on the porch watching the stars and drinking hot chocolate, a treat May had made. May told a funny story about the Smith’s son and a pig, but neither of them laughed. They were thinking of the disk, both on edge.

“What do you think bringing that chest out here tonight?”

“We might sleep better. I’ll help.”

They carried the chest out to the yard and went back in to go to sleep. The wind picked up as it often did at night. The house clattered and cracked–this was normally the music that eased them into dreams, but tonight they felt the primal reaction to threat all animals share–raised hair and goose skin. They held hands and stared at the ceiling waiting for the morning. A strong gust blew open their front door with a slam. They sat up together. May gasped and Jack went for his rifle. Glowing light radiated from the yard. Jack crept towards the door, May close behind. The chest was open, the disk floating over it radiating light like a small sun. May screamed and Jack fired a shot in reflex. Out of the rays a wolf, eyes glowing red, upright like a man, floated towards them. May passed out. Jack unloaded his rifle into the wolf. The bullets went through it as if it weren’t there. Jack wondered if he was dreaming. 

Jack woke up in his bed, sheets drenched. May wasn’t there. Maybe making breakfast. Jack felt relieved. It had all been a dream.

“May. May!”

He looked out in the yard, nothing. Maybe she had to go to the Smith’s early. He couldn’t remember. He walked to the Smith’s, she wasn’t there. He went back to the house and waited. Where could she have gone? Town was too far, but he had no choice to check when she didn’t return by the following morning. He borrowed a horse from the Smith’s. Nothing in town. He stopped at the Sheriff’s office and told him his wife was missing. A missing spouse. Well, that happened now and then. Sometimes they ran off. The Sheriff knew too sometimes it was the spouse responsible for the missing. Most cases remained unsolved. Jack returned to his cabin. He hadn’t told the Sheriff or anyone about the gold disk or the wolf. They had disappeared too. He knew people suspected him. His heart was too broken to care. He didn’t notice the scenery anymore. He lived through each day as a zombie waiting for the day they would take him too.