Jack McCready's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Jack ran his hand along the hood of the free car. A machine could haul more than any wagon. He pictured wild horses loaded in the back and driven to buyers in town. No more lost animals. No more empty pockets. He pried the door open and climbed inside. The wheel felt solid. He pressed a pedal. Nothing. He tried again. A dry click, then silence. He climbed out and lifted the hood. The engine sat packed with sand. Belts hung loose and cracked. Two cables ended in rust. Jack knew engines a little, enough to see the truth. The car ran on nothing now. It needed parts, oil, and fuel he could not name, let alone buy. Free was only free until you tried to use it. The store clerk leaned out the back door. "You want that heap, it's yours," he said. "Been dead two years. Takes money to wake it." He went back inside. Jack stood with his hand on the cold metal. He had come for an easy answer and found another locked door. But he did not ride off. He looked at the car, then at his worn horse at the post. The machine could not move itself. His horse could. And out on the range, more horses ran free, worth real coins to the right buyer. He hitched a rope from the car's frame to his saddle horn. Slow and steady, his horse dragged the dead machine out of the junk pile and onto the open ground. Jack would keep it. One day he would fix it and haul whole herds. But that day needed money, and money needed horses. Jack left the car parked in the dirt and swung back into the saddle. He had no cash, no working machine, and no buyer yet. What he had was a plan with a shape to it. Catch horses. Sell them. Earn coin. Then the car, the lumber, the corral, all of it would follow. He pointed his tired horse toward the range and rode to find the first one.