Read Online The Busted Thumb Horse Ranch by Paul Bagdon - Free Book Online

in the throat,
and knocking him off his feet.
    That was the bay’s strategy, and it worked well.
As the younger horse floundered to get to his feet
the bay closed his teeth around his right rear leg,
just below the hock. We could see the muscles in
the bay’s neck tighten, become thick strands of
steel. Froth dripped from his jaws and he made a
slight back-and-forth sawing movement with his
entire head.
    Sooty flailed his other legs and reached back,
mouth gaping, to tear into the bay’s neck and
throat. He had little strength; the pain from his
captured leg all but incapacitated him.
    There was a loud snap and Sooty screeched in
pain. The lower leg had been almost severed; it
was attached only by stands of muscle and flesh.
Whitish red, jagged ends of bone appeared but
were obscured in seconds by gushets of blood.
It poured onto the sandy soil like water from a
good well, at first soaking in and then forming
a large puddle that grew as we watched it. The
young stud’s squeals of pain became less strident,
fading to what wasn’t far from the moan of a seriously
injured human. Then, the horse was quiet.
A shudder ran through his entire body and that
was it. He’d never again challenge another horse.
    The scent of the blood frightened the mares.
They huddled closer together, eyes wide, their
sides touching those of the others, bodies shivering
as if with cold.
    The bay stood back and watched his opponent
bleed out. It didn’t take long. Then he turned
away and hobbled back to his lookout spot. His
gait was strange but not necessarily clumsy; I figured
he’d been born with that twisted foot and
had become acclimated to it. There’d never be any
speed to him, but the size of his harem indicated
he was tough and smart.
    “That stallion,” Arm said admiringly, “he is
one hard sonofabitch.”
    “Yeah. He is. Getting him back to the ranch
won’t be easy. I don’t think there’s but one way,
Arm. We ride on opposite sides and get loops
over his neck. When he tries to attack one of us
the other drags him off and the same thing works
from both sides. You saw what those jaws can do.
If he gets close enough to either of us to get a hold
on us or our horses, we’ll end up like that sooty
over there drawing flies.”
    “ Es verdad. But we ride good, stout horses and
we done this before.” He paused. “I jus’ wonder
what we’ll do with him when we get him
home—he ain’t gonna like the ranch.”
    “All we gotta do is get him into the corral with
the snubbing post, tie him good, and feed and
water him for a few days without pesterin’ him.
Then, I’ll see what I can do to get some manners
into him.”
    “Even after your work he’ll always be dangerous,
Jake.”
    “No doubt about it. No bronc man in the world
can take a five-or six-year-old like him an’ make
a cart pony outta him.”
    “The mares, they will follow.”
    “Yeah. We’ll put them into the north pasture,
out of the stallion’s sight. There’s better grazing
there than they’re used to, and good water. We’ll
jus’ let ’em get fat while we work with their boss.”
    “You gon’ ride him?”
    “I’ll get him to accept a blanket an’ saddle an’ a
bit in his mouth, but riding him seems like it’d
bust down that tanglefoot even worse.”
    Armando nodded. “After we get him bred to
some good mares, it’ll be a long ’leven months
to see what comes from the womb. We ain’t good
at waitin’, Jake.”
    “Yeah. But no horse ranch can run with one
stud. We gotta buy or find another two or so after
the one we calm is safe to leave alone.”
    We watched the herd for the rest of the day.
    They moved about in the dish of land, avoiding
Sooty’s corpse but otherwise paying it no attention.
Yearlings ran and played, striking at enemies
only they could see, snorting, ramming
around for the sheer hell of it. It was good to
watch—Arm and I both reveled in it, watching
these big creatures wild and free in nature.
    The bay stallion took his