had either been there before or simply belonged there all along. A gathering of well-wishers stood at the dock, watching and waving as Captain Kirk instructed me in the art of docking. Somehow I nudged her gently to the pilings, and the crew secured her with lines and fenders.
“Welcome to Punta Margarita, Tully,” Captain Kirk said with a smile.
The first thing we did was get Mr. Twain ashore. Dockside at Punta Margarita during the extremely low tide left a gap of about five feet between the deck of the boat and the pier. Mr. Twain was a great horse, but he was no jumper.
However, we had an instant solution. Back off at the Dry Tortugas, before the beginning of our crossing, the crew had jury-rigged one of the big wooden stabilizers into a makeshift platform we could use to lower Mr. Twain into the water for a swim and a quick run on the beach.
We used it again at the dock in Punta Margarita, but this time we drew a rather large crowd. Mr. Twain kept a watchful eye on the whole process. He was an instant celebrity. Nearly the entire village had gathered at the dock as we hoisted him aloft. Suspended between sky and sea, he simply seemed to enjoy the brief flight.
There is something odd and unnatural about seeing a horse suspended in midair, and when he touched down on the dock, the children were referring to him in Spanish as the angel horse, which is a name that he still goes by among the locals in Punta Margarita.
Once Mr. Twain was safely ashore and tied to a palm tree, an adoring crowd of young fans gathered to keep him company. We hosed down the decks, and cleaned up the boat, and Kirk inspected our work. Then he turned to us with a smile and said, “I think it’s cocktail hour.”
5
Land of the Lost Boys
Johnny Red Dust had told me that people who nurture and love animals are better humans. So although Captain Kirk’s words about cocktails were of supreme importance to a person like me, who finds it very easy to reward one’s accomplishments, my first concern after steering through the storm and making landfall was for my horse.
Captain Kirk understood. He and the boys headed to the bar, but before going, he made a call on the VHF radio and told me that he had made arrangements with a friend of his named Bucky Norman to pasture Mr. Twain at his fishing lodge. That is when he revealed to me that Bucky was the other cowboy from Wyoming who had, in a way, been responsible for my coming aboard the Caribbean Soul with Mr. Twain.
When you’re on the run, which I was, and you’ve put a couple thousand miles between you and your past, it is a little disconcerting when you run into someone from your neck of the woods. Captain Kirk had mentioned a “fellow Wyomingite” several times on the voyage, but he had failed to mention that the guy was in Punta Margarita.
If you subscribe to the theory that there are only about two hundred people in the world, and, everywhere you travel, you’re bound to run into somebody you know or somebody who knows somebody you know—well, in my case, with Thelma Barston’s warrant still on my tail, that could spell trouble. It immediately raised some bothersome questions. Is this guy’s brother a cop? Did he fish with Thelma Barston’s ex-husband? Is he an opportunist who could use the reward money I’d heard had been offered for my return?
“What are you thinking about?” Kirk asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I replied.
Kirk then instructed me to just ride down the main street of town, which dead-ended at the beach. Then I would take the path south along the shore as far as I could, until I came to a green dock with a half dozen pretty little skiffs alongside. I was to look for a large mahogany log that had been carved into the likeness of a giant crocodile with a clock in its mouth. On it was a sign that read LOST BOYS FISHING LODGE. Bucky would meet me there.
I started my journey with thoughts of turning and riding out of town the other way and not stopping until I found a village with no gringos anywhere. Somewhere out there I felt the presence of Captain Hook in the form of a pissed off poodle rancher. Paranoia was taking hold, but fortunately it was held