Read Online Home Ranch by Ralph Moody - Free Book Online Page B

Blueboy. He’d nearly bucked himself out in trying to unload the saddle. I kept the hackamore rope pulled tight, and he only made about ten straightforward pitches before he came to a stand.
    Even Hazel came over to the gate to meet us when I rode Blueboy out of the breaking pen, but she was still snippy. The first chance she got, she turned up her nose at me and said, “Well, you got him, Smarty, but you’ll be sorry.”
    When Mr. Bendt was in the corral for his third pick, Mr. Batchlett came and stood beside me. “You’ve got more horse there than a boy of your age ought to have,” he told me, “and I reckon I’m out of my head to let you keep him. He’s headstrong as a mule, tougher’n bull beef, and can’t be trusted. Don’t you go tryin’ to ride him without there’s one another of us close by.”
    I just nodded my head—we stood there for a couple of minutes, watching Mr. Bendt catch Juno—the neat pinto mare I’d had my eye on, and the one Hazel had told me to pick. Then Mr. Batchlett squeezed my shoulder a quick little grab, and said, “I know how you feel about him, Little Britches. Felt the same way ’bout his old man when I was younger—greatest wild horse ever I laid eyes on!” He rubbed a hand along Blueboy’s sweaty neck, smiled, and said, “Reckon maybe that’s why I ain’t give up on this worthless son-of-a-gun.”
    It was so late when we finished the horse-picking that Mr. Batchlett decided not to send the rest of the remuda to the mountain ranch till morning, and I was glad of it. I hadn’t really been hurt at all, but I’d been thumped and twisted around until I ached all over. As soon as we’d had supper, I made a beeline for my bunk.

6
    A Yella Ribbon
    O N BATCHLETT’S home ranch part of the cowhands’ job was to keep the fences up and, as a day could be spared, posts were cut and hauled from the mountains. When we’d finished breakfast Monday morning, Mr. Batchlett pushed his chair back and said, “Don’t aim to start tradin’ trips till next week, but once we’re at it there won’t be no time for side work. How about you boys wrastlin’ in a few loads of fence posts? That’ll give you an hour or two, morning and night, to get your horse strings worked in easy.”
    Then, as we left the table, he took hold of my arm, and said, “Ain’t much of an axe arm, is it? You little devils had best to split up for this go-round. You ain’t got weight enough between you to wrastle a good-sized post. Supposin’ you team up with Zeb, and Sid can go along with Ned. Tom, you and Hank can take the spare horses up to the mountain ranch.” Then he turned to Ned and said, “Take the posts out of that fir stand in the bend of Bootheel Canyon. It’s only fifteen miles up there, and they’re easy to get at.”
    I didn’t mind going to cut fence posts as much as the others seemed to, but I didn’t like the idea of going with Zeb very well. In the two days I’d been with the outfit he hadn’t said two words to me—and not many more to anyone else. He didn’t go with us when we left the chuckhouse to work out our horses, but slouched off toward the forge.
    Pinch and Clay didn’t worry me very much, but I knew I’d have to do a lot of work with Blueboy before I had him steadied down enough for handling cattle. I was lucky in catching him with my first throw, and he didn’t fight when I drew him in and tied him to a corral post. But when Sid was helping me saddle him he side-jumped, bobbed his head, and lashed his tail like a mad tomcat. Sid wouldn’t let me get on until he had his horse saddled and was mounted alongside.
    Blueboy didn’t buck until we were outside the corral, then he geysered and came down running and pitching toward the wagon road. Half a dozen times I was nearly thrown, but