Read Online Home Ranch by Ralph Moody - Free Book Online

around on Clay, but asked, “Which one you goin’ to pick this time?”
    â€œBlueboy,” I told her.
    â€œFiddle-tee-dee!” she said, with her nose wrinkled up. “He ain’t got any more sense than y . . . , than a jack rabbit. Look at him! `Four white feet and a white nose; haul off his hide and feed him to the crows.’ Why don’t you pick Juno?”
    â€œBecause I want Blueboy,” I told her.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I like him,” I said. “Isn’t that enough?”
    â€œHmff! ‘Tis for you, I reckon!” she snapped, and started away toward her mother. Then she flung back over her shoulder, “but you’ll be sorry to the very longest day you live.”
    â€œIf I’m sorry, it’ll be because I got this crabby old jughead,” I snapped back. But when I rode into the corral I wasn’t as sure as I had been that I wanted Blueboy. He’d been getting more and more excited as the picking went on, and was no longer running with the bunch, but dashing this way and that—ripping at the other horses and driving them out of his way. If I hadn’t had that little tiff with Hazel, I’d have tossed my rope onto a neat-looking pinto mare that had caught my eye. But if I’d done it, everybody would have known I was letting Hazel boss me around. I just about had to take Blueboy, whether I still wanted him or not.
    If cow horses aren’t mind readers, they come awfully close to it. I’d hardly made up my mind that I had to take Blueboy before Pinch knew it. He didn’t pay the least bit of attention to any other horse in the corral—and he surprised me half out of my skin. I’d just set my loop whirling when Blueboy made a wild dash past us. The cantle of my saddle came up and spanked me across the seat of my pants, then it snapped to the side. I don’t suppose it took me a tenth of a second to catch my balance, or I’d have gone flying. But in that split instant old Pinch had pulled the throttle wide open. He was racing stride for stride with Blueboy, and holding him in against the pole fence at my right. All I had to do was to let my loop drop over his head; I could have made the catch just as easy with a barrel hoop.
    Every other horse had cooled right down when it felt the rope around its neck, but Blueboy went wild. He reared, struck with his fore hoofs, then whirled and charged away. Pinch whirled to face him and half squatted—almost like a dog sitting down. The rope whizzed out like a whip lash, and Blueboy was the cracker when he reached the end of it. Pinch didn’t budge an inch when the rope twanged tight against the knot on the saddle horn, but Blueboy did a flying somersault and landed on his back. He was still groggy when he lurched to his feet and let me lead him to the breaking pen.
    I think all the men had expected another show when I rode in to make my third pick. And I don’t believe one of them expected me to take Blueboy. I guess it happened so fast that it took everybody as much by surprise as it did me. As Sid swung the bucking pen gate open, he yapped, “What in the blazin’ . . .?”
    But Mr. Batchlett came up to the fence and called, “Watch that horse, Sid! He’s treacherous!”
    â€œAin’t it best I turn him back?” Sid asked.
    â€œHe picked him; leave him learn his lesson!” Mr. Batchlett said in a hard dry voice. “But watch out when you saddle up! And hang in close for a pick-up when the kid mounts!”
    Blueboy was still acting half stunned, and hardly made a move when Sid hauled the cinch tight. Sid had his mouth clamped as tight as he pulled the cinch, and he didn’t open it until I was balanced on the top rail, ready to ease into the saddle. He’d taken the hackamore from his own rig, put it on Blueboy, and let the nose band out until it was only a couple of inches above the nostrils. As he