Read Online Gather My Horses by John D. Nesbitt - Free Book Online Page B

square at Fielding and said, “I sure appreciate you givin’ me a start like this.”
    Fielding felt a tightening in his own throat. “Everyone deserves a break,” he said. “You get a chance someday, you do the same for someone else.”
    The kid blinked, then nodded his head. “I sure as hell will.”
    Bracken was clear-eyed and attentive when Fielding showed him the morning routine of bringing in the horses and watering those that had been picketed and penned.
    â€œMake friends with that brown horse,” said Fielding. “We’ll let you ride him today. He’s a good one to start with.”
    While the kid hung around the pole corral, Fielding put the coffeepot on the coals and sliced some bacon. In a few minutes, the smell of frying pork was on the air. Fielding mixed up a batch of biscuits, and when the bacon was crisp he put the Dutch oven in place of the skillet. By then the aroma of the coffee had risen to mix with the smell of bacon and wood smoke.
    When the first tin plate of biscuits came out ofthe oven, Fielding divided the bacon onto two plates, along with three biscuits each. Then he and his helper sat down to eat.
    â€œDig in,” said Fielding, “but don’t hurry. We’ll have the second bunch of biscuits with our coffee, and then we’ll saddle our horses.”
    The grub disappeared, as did the second plate of biscuits. The morning air was still fresh, but the sun had gotten the flies up and around. Fielding put a lid on the cooling skillet. “We can use that grease later,” he said. “We’ll rinse the plates and wipe ’em, cups, too, and get started.”
    The area around the corral was well worn, so small puffs of dust rose as Fielding led the brown horse out. He handed the lead rope to Bracken and went for a currycomb.
    As he brushed the horse, he talked to the kid. “Watch the way I do things, and do ’em the same way and in the same order. Not everyone does it alike, and you may have already learned something different, but as long as they’re my horses, just do it this way. Same thing when we rig ’em for packin’.”
    The kid nodded and paid attention.
    Fielding curried the horse, combed the mane and tail, and put on the blankets and saddle. “You’ll get to know your horses,” he said. “This one blows up against the cinch, so we’ll tighten him again before we mount up.” He put on the bridle, coiled the neck rope, and tied it to the front left saddle string.
    Next he brought out the bay horse and went through the same process. The kid held the reins of the brown horse and stood by watching.
    â€œNotice that both these saddles are doublerigged,” said Fielding. “Always buckle the back cinch second when you’re puttin’ the saddle on, and unbuckle it first when you take the saddle off. If you don’t, and the saddle slips around under his belly, you’ve got a hell of a mess. Maybe he tries to kick at it and gets his foot caught, and then it’s worse.”
    Bracken nodded. “How about the stirrups?”
    â€œWe’ll adjust them for you.”
    When the two horses were ready to go, Fielding waited until the kid was up in the saddle. Fielding took a last look around the camp, then swung up and led the way out onto the trail.
    On the way to Selby’s, Fielding explained the setup. “This roundup’s a small enterprise in comparison with others. We get things organized today, and we roll out tomorrow. We’ll gather a few cattle each day, but we won’t hold anyone else’s. This fella Bill Selby is the roundup boss, for as much as it amounts to. You’ve got to have someone in that position, and he’s got the most cattle as well as the wagon. We’ll go right past Roe’s and could have met there, but he doesn’t go out of his way to invite people to his place.”
    â€œAnd you say Richard Lodge