Read Online The Pastures of Beyond by Dayton O. Hyde - Free Book Online Page B

we could do but spend the night in the woods. But Roy had other ideas.
    â€œLook,” he said, pointing to fresh tracks in the pumice and a faint haze of dust still hanging in the forest. “There’s a band of wild horses just ahead of us heading down to water. Maybe I’ll just get me another horse.”
    We moved to a rim above Klamath Marsh, and sat and watched the horses from afar as they came out of the forest, crossed a meadow, and moved out toward the shine of water. The old cowboy crawled off his horse and tightened his cinch, motioning for me to tighten mine. “Can you rope, kid?” he asked.
    â€œJust a little,” I replied. “Damn little, if you want to know the truth.”
    Calmly, he took down his rawhide reata and shook out a loop so big it almost dragged the ground.
    â€œGet ready to ride, boy. I’m about to catch me a fresh horse.”
    He ignored my look of disbelief. “See that little peninsula that sticks out into the marsh? I reckon they’ll head out there to drink, then we’ll rush ’em. If it works, I might be able to get in a good throw as they try to break past us. Reckon they’ll do that rather than chance getting stuck out there in that muck.”
    I stared at the old man, thinking he was crazy, but suddenly we were out of the woods and the spooked horses were blasting on ahead, running right out on that narrow neck. The old lead mare reached the end, paused, looked back, then piled into the water, throwing up a spray that drenched the other animals. She panicked in the muck and lurched back out of the water onto firm ground.
    â€œGet a loop built, kid!” Roy shouted. “Here they come!” Before we were ready, the wild horses saw the trap and charged for freedom. Suddenly they were all around us as they tried to escape. I threw a desperation loop at a young sorrel and caught a willow bush instead. I looked around just in time to see Roy drop a loop around the big, battle-scarred gray stud, jerk his slack, and take his dallies around his saddle horn. “Git around him, boy!” Roy shouted. The rubber covering on his saddle horn began to smoke and stink as he rendered slack in his rope. The stallion slowed and plunged, nearly jerking Roy’s horse down. Giving in to the pressure of the rope, the desperate animal reared and fell over on his back.
    As I galloped between the stud and the vanishing herd, I built another loop. The horse came to its feet, reared, and strained, trying to break the reata. Through flaring nostrils it gasped for air. I laid a loop in front of his hind feet as Roy dragged the horse into my trap. Stretched between two ropes, the stallion screamed in anger, then tumbled to the ground flat on its side. Keeping his reata tight, Roy rode around a small pine tree, stepping his horse across the rope three times. Then he slipped from his horse and tied the reata to the pine. “Ain’t the hoss I throwed at,” Roy admitted, “but he’ll do.
    â€œKeep your rope tight!” he ordered as he unsaddled his horse.
    Approaching the angry animal carefully, he took his tie rope by both ends and sawed it under the horse’s girth, then, as the horse snapped at him with yellowed teeth, got his old Hamley. Tying one end of the tie rope to the cinch ring, he pulled the cinch and latigo underneath the horse until the saddle sat in place on the animal’s back. Soon the saddle was cinched tight and ready for a rider.
    The old man was out of breath. For a few minutes he sat on a log to catch his wind. I had the desperate fear that he was going to make me ride in his place.
    â€œYou think I’m going to ride that horse, you’re crazy as hell,” I snapped.
    â€œYou ride him?” Roy grinned. “Why, hell no. I’m going to show you a thing or two. Being young or old doesn’t matter half as much as knowin’ how.”
    Roy straightened himself up to all of his five