The stallion
stood high on a ridge, his sleek black body glistening in the bright sunlight. His position gave him a clear view of the
valley below where his herd lazily grazed.
The thirty or so horses were confident he would alert them should any
danger arise. A soft wind blew across
the stallion’s powerful body lifting his long black mane off of his heavily
muscled neck. He was all black except
for a stripe of white hair running down the middle of his forehead between his
dark intelligent eyes. As he stood above
the herd, his eyes alertly scanned the valley looking for any signs of danger.
Suddenly, a billowing cloud of dust
appeared in the distance. As the cloud
drew closer, the stallion’s keen gaze spotted its source. The dust was being stirred up by the hooves
of a large group of horses ridden by men intent on capturing his herd. Alert to the danger, the powerful horse
reared up on his hind legs and let out a cry of alarm. As he thundered down the slope of the ridge
toward his herd, he continued to sound his warning.
The herd responded instantly. The sound of thirty horses’ hooves pounding
against the ground filled the air as they turned as one and followed their
leader. The stallion glanced over his
shoulder. The men on horseback were
closer than they had first appeared. He
quickened his pace. His muscles rippled
with power as he led his herd away from their pursuers.
They fled across the valley. The men on horseback relentlessly followed. The stallion turned the herd toward the
canyon that ran to the east of the valley.
The canyon was full of twists and turns that were dangerous even for
those who knew them well.
Confident the men on horseback would not be able
to keep up with them, the big horse led the herd quickly through the canyon. This was their home. They knew the twists and turns by heart. He threw another glance over his shoulder. His confidence grew as he noted that the men
pursuing them were falling farther and farther behind them.
As the herd rounded the next bend, the
stallion slid to a sudden stop. Six men
on horseback sat in front of them blocking their path. His nostrils flared in anger at the sudden
appearance of the men.
“There they are boys!” shouted one of the
men. “I told you they would come this
way!”
The big black reared up, showing his
intimidating size. Then he brought his
front hooves down hard. The sound of his
hooves striking the ground echoed through the canyon. He snorted his frustration. He abruptly turned around and headed back
into the canyon.
The herd had only traveled a short
distance, when they spotted another group of men moving toward them. The stallion glanced back once more and saw
the men behind them steadily advancing.
He stopped. The herd danced around him nervously, as they
looked to their leader to tell them what to do next. The stallion knew they were trapped. As the men drew closer, he pawed at the
ground stirring up dust in a show of aggression. He flared his nostrils and snorted his
warning. His eyes flashed in anger.
A big man astride a large buckskin moved
to the front of the group and met the stallion’s eyes. The man’s eyes reflected his confidence as he
drew out a whip and cracked it with authority.
The big black took a quick glance at his herd. Their sides heaved and their heads drooped in
exhaustion. Flecks of frothy sweat clung
to their hides. The run through the canyon
had taken its toll. He glanced back at
the rider holding the whip. He was
confident he could force his way through the group of men, but he also knew his
herd was too exhausted to follow him.
The stallion’s eyes met the man with the
whip’s eyes once more. He saw the man’s challenge
and wanted to meet it, but he knew it was not the best choice for his
herd. He dropped his gaze. The man flashed a victorious grin and
shouted, “Okay, boys, let’s turn ‘em toward home!”
The men moved the herd out of the canyon
and headed them west back across the valley.
They drove the herd for several miles.
By the time they reached the ranch, fatigue had slowed their pace to a
walk.
The sprawling ranch covered several
hundred acres. Pasture land filled with
about one thousand head of cattle and a few hundred horses took up most of the
acreage. The main house sat at the
ranch’s center. It was an impressive two
story white house with green shutters and a wraparound porch. Several other buildings including two
bunkhouses, two large barns, and the foreman’s cabin radiated out from the main
house.
The men moved the horses into a large
corral. The man who wielded the whip
moved his horse to separate the stallion from the rest of the herd. He moved him into a smaller corral adjacent
to the larger one. The big black trotted
around the perimeter of the corral. He
snorted and tossed his head in agitation.
“That sure is one beautiful horse,”
declared one of the cowboys who had gathered to admire the stallion. Several of the cowboys leaned against the corral
fence watching the big black as he trotted past.
“Yeah, Mr. Spencer is gonna love him,”
replied Sam Baker, the ranch foreman, as he replaced his whip and exited the
corral. Then he added, “Better call it a
night boys. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long
day.”
The next morning, the cowboys gathered
around the large corral eager to begin the day.
The sun was already beginning its climb into a cloudless sky. It was going to be a great day for breaking
horses. The men’s faces shone with good
humor and excitement.
Two of the men stood a little apart from
the rest of the group.
“Look at that stallion, Jim. He’s somethin’ ain’t he?” The man who had spoken was tall and
thin. He wore a beat up old cowboy hat
pushed back off his forehead revealing a shock of almost white hair. His eyes were following the stallion as he
pranced around his enclosure.
“Yeah, Whitey, he’s somethin’ all right
and I mean to make him mine,” answered Jim.
Jim stood a head shorter than Whitey.
He had coal black hair and a handlebar mustache. The feature that set Jim apart was his eyes. They were emerald green and they gleamed with
an evil glint that made even the toughest of men give him a wide berth.
“How you plannin’ to do that?” asked
Whitey. “You know Mr. Spencer’s gonna
want him for his own.”
“Mark my words. That horse is mine,” replied Jim with a
determined glint in his eyes.
Whitey had been Jim’s partner since they
pulled a bank job together as kids. He
knew that if Jim set his mind to having the stallion, then nothing was going to
stand in his way.
Just then, a tall broad shouldered man who
carried himself with the air of a man accustomed to giving orders stepped up to
the corral.
“Okay, men,” the man said, addressing the
group of cowboys gathered there. “Go
ahead and pick your mounts. You can have
any horse you can break, except for the big black. He’s mine.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Spencer!” the men
shouted. Then they let out whoops of
excitement as they clamored up to sit on the top rail of the corral. Each man scanned the group of horses spotting
the ones they hoped would still be available when their turn came around. The men would choose their mounts based on
seniority.
Sam Baker stepped into the corral
first. He tossed his lariat around the
neck of a big bay mare with four white stockings. A murmur of approval went up from the men
sitting on the fence. The mare was a
fine looking horse.
Several men leaped into the corral to help
Sam get the mare saddled. One of the
cowboys worked to get a rope halter around her head. Another one threw a bandana over her
eyes. The two cowboys held her steady
while the foreman threw a saddle on her back.
The mare bucked and danced as the men worked
to steady her. After several minutes,
they calmed her enough for Sam to vault onto her back. As soon as his butt hit the saddle, the men
jumped out of the way of the bucking horse.
The mare bunny hopped straight into the air and came down hard. She immediately spun around and then kicked
her back legs into the air. The men
shouted their excitement as they watched from their places on the fence.
“Rider ‘er, Sam!” hollered one cowboy.
“That’s it! Keep ‘er movin’,” yelled another.
Finally exhausted, the mare settled into a
smooth trot. The cowboys applauded the
success of their foreman.
“Okay, Jasper,” said Sam as he slid from
the mare’s back. “You’re up.”
One by one the cowboys selected their
mounts. They spent the day breaking the
horses. Shouts of encouragement, grunts
of pain, and dust filled the air as the horses kicked and bucked trying to
dislodge the cowboys who rode them. By
the time darkness fell, both the men and the horses were exhausted.
The stallion had relentlessly trotted
around the corral throughout the day. As
the cowboys made their way into the bunkhouses, he finally came to an exhausted
halt. For several minutes, he stood in
the middle of his small enclosure with his chest heaving from his
exertion. As the night grew darker, the
stallion’s head dropped in sleep.
“Now’s our chance, Whitey,” Jim whispered
into the darkness. “Crazy horse finally
wore himself out.”
Jim unlatched the corral gate. He and Whitey crept slowly toward the big
horse. When they were within a few feet
of him, the stallion suddenly jerked his head up. Jim quickly tossed a rope around his neck as
Whitey tossed a bag over his head. The
black stood frozen in terror by his sudden blindness.
“We got ‘im, Jim!” Whitey exclaimed in
excitement.
“Shhh!” Jim responded angrily. “You want to get us caught?”
“Sorry, Jim. I didn’t expect it to be so easy. A stallion like this is usually a mean
son-of-a-gun,” answered Whitey.
“Let’s get ‘im outta here before someone
hears us.”
Jim led the big horse out of the
corral. As soon as they cleared the
corral gate, Jim mounted his horse and tied the end of the rope holding the
stallion to the pommel of his saddle.
Jim spurred his mount into a gallop as he and Whitey fled with the
stallion in tow.
With the bag over his head, the big black
was helpless to do anything but run blindly alongside Jim’s horse. Jim and Whitey rode through the night before
finally slowing to a trot. The sun was
already high in the sky when they pulled to a stop at the edge of a small
stream. Jim reached over and pulled the
bag off the stallion’s head. He blinked rapidly
as sunlight momentarily blinded him.
“Hot dang, Jim!” exclaimed Whitey. “We did it.
How long do you think it’ll be before Mr. Spencer comes lookin’ for us?”
“I’m sure he’s discovered the horse’s missin’
by now. He’s probably already after us,”
replied Jim. “The sooner we can find a
buyer for this here stallion the better.
Now, the way I figure it, our best bet is to head toward Beacon. I hear there’s some real money flowin’
through that town. It’ll take us two
days of hard ridin’ to get there, but I think it’s our best move.”
“Okay, Jim. You’re the brains of this outfit. If that’s what you think, then I’m with ya,”
replied Whitey.
“All right, then, let’s water the horses
and let ‘em catch their breath. Then we
better get goin’. If Mr. Spencer catches
us before we get rid of this stallion, he’ll hang us for sure,” said Jim.
After a brief rest, Jim and Whitey
remounted and spurred the horses back into a gallop.
The next evening, Jim and Whitey slowly
picked their way through a thick forest.
Dusk had fallen casting a gray haze over everything. Whitey kept twisting in his saddle to cast
quick glances back and forth.
“What are you doin’?” asked Jim in
irritation. “You’re drivin’ me nuts with
all that fidgetin’.”
“Sorry, Jim. These woods are spooky. I keep thinkin’ I’m seein’ things.”
“Well, cut it out, will ya? You’re makin’ me edgy.”
“I’ll try,” responded Whitey as he took
another quick glance around.
Jim growled in agitation and Whitey
snapped his head back to the front. He
recognized the threat in that growl. In
this mood, Jim was more dangerous than anything that could be lurking in the
shadows.
Just then, they stepped out of the trees
into a clearing. A small cabin sat about
fifty yards in front of them. A creek
ran around the back side of the cabin. A
small tendril of smoke drifted up out of the chimney. Lamplight illuminated the small windows on
each side of the front door. At the
sight of the cabin, Jim pulled to an abrupt halt.
“Let’s go around,” whispered Jim. “I don’t want to have to answer a bunch of questions
about how we got our hands on such a nice lookin’ stallion.”
Whitey nodded in agreement.
Jim started to turn as the door to the
cabin flew open. A shadowy figure
holding a rifle filled the doorway.
“Who’s there?” the shadow called.
Jim
took a moment to answer, indecision clearly written on his face. Finally, making up his mind, he called in a
friendly tone, “Hello!”
Jim spurred his horse into a walk and slowly
approached the cabin. Whitey did the
same.
As they stepped closer, they could see the
person framed in the doorway was a boy.
He wore clothes that were much too small for his large frame. He stood about six feet tall and had the
muscular build of someone accustomed to hard work. His dark blond hair fell past his
collar. Wariness swam in his blue eyes
as he watched them approach. The boy looked
to be about 16 years old. He stood with his
feet spread wide, his hands tightly gripping his rifle. He glanced quickly from Jim to Whitey and
then back to Jim, his gaze finally coming to rest on the stallion.
Wanting to draw the boy’s attention away
from the horse, Jim asked, “Your ma or pa around?”
The boy swung his gaze back to Jim and
tightened his grip on his rifle. “No,”
he replied, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“I don’t want any trouble, so why don’t you two just move along.”
“Who said anything about trouble?” replied
Jim in a shocked tone. He flashed a
friendly smile and continued, “We’re just lookin’ for someplace to bed down for
the night. If it’s all the same to you,
we’ll throw our bedrolls down over there by the creek.” Jim gestured toward the small creek that ran
along the back of the cabin. Flashing
another smile, he said, “See, we won’t be any trouble at all.”
The boy hesitated. He clearly didn’t like the idea of Jim and
Whitey staying on his land. Finally, he
gave a curt nod. “All right, but I expect
you to be gone by mornin’.” He turned
back into the cabin and closed the door.
They could hear the sound of a board sliding into place barring the
door.
Whitey and Jim exchanged a look, and then
with a shrug walked the horses toward the creek.
“We ain’t gonna let this chance slip
through our fingers are we, Jim?” asked Whitey as they untied their bedrolls. “A kid alone, that’s easy pickin’s. There’s bound to be somethin’ of value inside
that cabin.”
“We’ll catch a few hours rest and in the
mornin’ we’ll have us another talk with the youngster” replied Jim with a
sneer.
Whitey snickered in response. Then they threw their bedrolls on the ground
and settled in for the night.
