Chapter 49 Searching for Evan
“Casey, why don’t you saddle that old cow horse of Evan’s and bring him along with us? We’ll back-trail that filly, and if we find him, he’s going to be afoot and probably will need something pretty calm to help him get home,” Bob directed. “If he’s alive, he’ll need us pretty damned quick.”
Casey saddled the older saddle horse that he knew was Evan’s most trusted mount. He left the halter on him and slung the bridle over the saddle horn. If Evan was able to ride, Casey didn’t want to insult him by leading his horse home, but if he wasn’t able to ride, the halter would be much handier. Casey was thoughtful and deliberate in everything that he did. He could move quickly when fast action required it, but his skill was in his ability to think things through clearly and to take on each task with a grave responsibility that reflected his deep cowboy roots, which had been passed down through three generations. It was one of the best qualities that Casey possessed and one of the reasons that he was considered one of, if not the top hand, in the country. The cow horse, Cherry, slipped in behind Casey, ready for whatever duty he was called to perform.
Bob and Casey rode back up the road to where they had first discovered the tracks of the filly. They came in from the direction of the ridge trail. They turned off the road and started following her back trail. After they had gone along a mile or so, calling out his name, Bob pulled up. “You go on along and follow that trail,” he directed. “I’ll head down along the creek and into the pasture. He may have made it this far, and he would have followed the creek if he were hurt. I'd better stick around close in case he comes back. If I don’t see him in a couple of hours, I’m going to go get the other boys, and we’ll organize a search. I’m guessing that you’ll find him back up the trail a ways, probably hobbling along on foot trying to get home.”
Casey saw the worried look on Bob’s face. It matched what he was feeling and was probably a reflection of his own worried look. “I’ll find him,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I won’t come in until I do.”
“If you haven’t run across him by the time that you reach Elk Creek, meet up with some of the boys over on that end. If I don’t see you pretty soon, I’ll get some of the other boys started.”
Having said all that he needed to say, Bob turned his horse down along the stream toward the horse pasture and the house. He was pretty sure that Evan wasn’t there, but at this point, he couldn’t take any chances. He might come wandering along at any moment. He searched the ground for sign, but saw none. He could have come off that ridge at any point along however, so he had to look. If he were injured, he might have stayed along the ridge where the walking was easier until he was directly above the homestead or the pasture, and then started off the hill. In this country, hunting for an injured man could be about as hard as searching for a needle... He cut off the reference as he continued along the creek bottom. They would find him, and all would be fine.
With Evan’s best horse, Cherry, trailing along behind him on a halter, Casey followed the rugged back trail that the filly had taken, which led back along the Ridge Trail. He knew the trail and had been over it several times. There were some places where an experienced horse and rider might be challenged, and Evan had been on a four-year-old filly. He knew Evan and understood that he wouldn’t have taken the trail without having a degree of trust in the filly. Evan wasn’t one to take chances; however, when a man stepped into the saddle, all manner of things could occur. Riding a horse wasn’t like driving a car. A car only followed along with how it was directed by the driver, but a horse had a mind of its own and was able to suddenly, often without warning, assert its independence and could leave its rider in a bad place. Experience got a man out of many situations that a new rider might not be able to get out of, but some situations simply happened too suddenly, and all sorts of circumstances could take over from there.
He worked his way along the trail quietly, keeping all of his senses on a keen edge for any sign of Evan. His eyes searched every inch along the way. He assumed that at any moment he would see Evan limping along down the trail toward him. The time passed slowly, and his idea of Evan’s condition had started to change. He must have been well along the trail when he started, or the filly would have gone back around to Elk Creek and followed the Brush Creek trail home. Her sense of direction had made her continue on the trail, which instinctively told her led toward the pasture and the house. She wouldn’t quit a good trail unless it didn’t lead in the right direction. He began to worry, however, when he realized that he had passed more than halfway along the trail and still had seen no sign of Evan.
His worry was at its peak when he saw the place where the filly had scrambled up out of the shale. This is where it had happened then. He swallowed hard as he looked down the steep slope below the shale. He saw where Evan had slid and bounced. In his mind, he considered how it would have gone. The filly went down in the shale, and Evan would have kicked free to keep from having her roll over on him. In that damned shale, he probably tumbled a good long way down into the timber and trees below. It started to have some doubts about finding Evan alive. “Evan?” he called out, breaking the silence of the morning. He listened for a response and swallowed hard when none came. He called again and waited. He heard a dog bark and located the sound in the direction of a patch of quakies down the slope and off to the left a little way. That would be one of Evan’s dogs. They would have never left his side. So he was here.
Despite wanting to rush down the slope to the patch of quakies, he worked his way back down the trail to a point where he could come around the side of the hill instead of riding down toward it. The lodgepole pine was thick, and the deadfall caused him to have to pick his way around, weaving in and out of the trees. Things finally opened up a little bit more as he reached quaky patch, but he still had to weave his way through tight places, and bringing Cherry along behind was another challenge that was honing his nerves to a sharp edge. Evan might need him quickly, and he felt like he was wasting precious moments.