Read Online Dry Divide by Ralph Moody - Free Book Online Page A

until the welts gave them the appearance of zebras, driving them inward and forward toward the clattering, whirling-armed monster before them.

    From the time I’d talked with Judy I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t let Hudson goad me into losing my temper and starting any further trouble between us. I don’t believe he could have done it by any amount of yelling and swearing at me, but to stand there watching him beat those defenseless horses, and yank the jerk lines till their mouths bled, drove me nearly as insane as they were. Before I realized what I was doing I ran toward him with the pitchfork raised above my head, shouting, “Lay off those horses, you coward!”
    I suppose I’d have tried to knock the whip out of his hands if I’d got close enough, but I didn’t—and he did the knocking. I was still three good long strides away when the whip lashed out in my direction, and the fork went flying from my hands as if it had been struck by lightning. As the fork sailed away he shouted, “Keep outa this, you fool!”
    Doc and Paco must have started running the instant I did, and they grabbed me before I could prove that Hudson had been right in what he called me. Their grabbing brought me to my senses, but it didn’t do my judgment much good.
    â€œLet’s get out of here, Bud,” Doc told me as he pinned my arms back. “There’s nothing you can do to stop him, and he’ll kill you if he takes after you with that whip.”
    â€œDon’t worry about that whip,” I told Doc, “he’ll never touch me with it. He’s had two chances now, and he didn’t dare do it either time. You quit if you want to, but I’m going to stay right here till I get those horses away from him. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will.”
    I really did the horses more harm than if I’d kept my head and held my tongue. For three or four minutes Hudson took his anger at me out on them, lashing them, driving them ahead a few feet, then yanking them to a stop. Shouting, swearing, whipping, and yanking the jerk lines, he put the horses through a drill until they could make a square turn without moving the machine either forward or back. When, at last, he was satisfied with the turns, he threw the machine out of gear, drove toward the roadway, and motioned for Judy to follow with the front barge in the waiting line. She didn’t turn her head toward me as she passed, but she did turn her eyes, and her voice was barely loud enough for me to hear when she said, “You watch out for him, Bud. He hates you enough a’ready.”
    â€œI’ll watch him,” I told her just as quietly, then hopped onto Old Bill’s barge as it passed. His team was rearing and dancing, but he seemed to pay no attention to their plunging. The first thing I noticed was his hands. He held the reins just firmly enough to keep a steady, restraining pressure on the bit, but not enough to anger or annoy the broncs. I needed no one to tell me that he was an expert horseman, one who had been handling high-strung horses for more years than I’d lived, so I asked, “Where did you develop those rein hands, Bill?”
    â€œExercisin’ trotters,” he told me. “Spent all my life around the race tracks and stables, but work’s been slack since the war. An old rooster like me has to take any job he can get.”
    Old Bill’s handling of his horses not only quieted them, but quieted the anger that was still boiling inside me. I paid no more attention to Hudson until I heard him yell, “Keep your head about you and watch what you’re doin’! Back that team up and pull in where you belong!”
    Hudson had turned the header so that it faced the edge of the wheat field, and Judy had turned her barge to bring it under the conveyor elevator. I looked up just in time to see Gus and Lars start across the floor of the barge