by B. M. Bower
A TAMER OF WILD ONES.
When the days grow crisp at each end and languorous in the middle;when a haze ripples the skyline like a waving ribbon of faded blue;when the winds and the grasses stop and listen for the first on-rushof winter, then it is that the rangeland takes on a certainintoxicating unreality, and range-wild blood leaps with desire to dosomething--anything, so it is different and irresponsible and notmeasured by precedent or prudence.
In days like that one grows venturesome and ignores difficulties andlimitations with a fine disregard for probable consequences, a mentalsnapping of fingers. On a day like that, the Happy Family, ridingtogether out of Dry Lake with the latest news in mind and speech,urged Andy Green, tamer of wild ones, to enter the rough-ridingcontest exploited as one of the features of the Northern Montana Fair,to be held at Great Falls in two weeks. Pink could not enter, becausea horse had fallen with him and hurt his leg, so that he was pickingthe gentlest in his string for daily riding. Weary would not, becausehe had promised his Little Schoolma'am to take care of himself and nottake any useless risks; even the temptation of a two-hundred-dollarpurse could not persuade him that a rough-riding contest is perfectlysafe and without the ban. But Andy, impelled by the leaping blood ofhim and urged by the loyal Family, consented and said he'd try it awhirl, anyway.
They had only ridden four or five miles when the decision was reached,and they straightway turned back and raced into Dry Lake again, sothat Andy might write the letter that clinched matters. Then, whoopingwith the sheer exhilaration of living, and the exultation of beingable to ride and whoop unhindered, they galloped back to camp and letthe news spread as it would. In a week all Chouteau County knew thatAndy Green would ride for the purse, and nearly all Chouteau Countybacked him with all the money it could command; certainly, all of itthat knew Andy Green and had seen him ride, made haste to find someonewho did not know him and whose faith in another contestant was strong,and to bet all the money it could lay hands upon.
For Andy was one of those mild-mannered men whose genius runs toriding horses which object violently to being ridden; one of thoselucky fellows who never seems to get his neck broken, however much hemay jeopardize it; and, moreover, he was that rare genius, who canmake a "pretty" ride where other broncho-fighters resemble nothing somuch as a scarecrow in a cyclone. Andy not only could ride--he couldride gracefully. And the reason for that, not many knew: Andy, in theyears before he wandered to the range, had danced, in spangled tights,upon the broad rump of a big gray horse which galloped around asaw-dust ring with the regularity of movement that suggested amachine, while a sober-clothed man in the center cracked a whip andyelped commands. Andy had jumped through blazing hoops and oversagging bunting while he rode--and he was just a trifle ashamed of thefact. Also--though it does not particularly matter--he had, later inthe performance, gone hurtling around the big tent dressed in the garbof an ancient Roman and driving four deep-chested bays abreast. As hasbeen explained, he never boasted of his circus experience; though hisdays in spangled tights probably had much to do with the inimitablegrace of him in the saddle. The Happy Family felt to a man that Andywould win the purse and add honor to the Flying U in the winning. Theywere enthusiastic over the prospect and willing to bet all they had onthe outcome.
* * * * *
The Happy Family, together with the aliens who swelled the crew toround-up size, was foregathered at the largest Flying U corral,watching a bunch of newly bought horses circle, with much snorting andkicking up of dust, inside the fence. It was the interval betweenbeef-and calf-roundups, and the witchery of Indian Summer held therange-land in thrall.
Andy, sizing up the bunch and the brands, lighted upon a rangy blueroan that he knew--or thought he knew, and the eyes of him brightenedwith desire. If he could get that roan in his string, he told himself,he could go to sleep in the saddle on night-guard; for an easier horseto ride he never had straddled. It was like sitting in grandma's petrocking chair when that roan loosened his muscles for a long, tirelessgallop over the prairie sod, and as a stayer Andy had never seen hisequal. It was not his turn to choose, however, and he held his breathlest the rope of another should settle over the slatey-black earsahead of him.
Cal Emmett roped a plump little black and led him out, grinningsatisfaction; from the white saddle-marks back of the withers he knewhim for a "broke" horse, and he certainly was pretty to look at. Andygave him but a fleeting glance.
Happy Jack spread his loop and climbed down from the fence, almost atAndy's elbow. It was his turn to choose. "I betche that there blueroan over there is a good one," he remarked. "I'm going to tacklehim."
Andy took his cigarette from between his lips. "Yuh better hobble yourstirrups, then," he discouraged artfully. "I know that roan a heapbetter than you do."
"Aw, gwan!" Happy, nevertheless, hesitated. "He's got a kind eye inhis head; yuh can always go by a horse's eye."
"Can yuh?" Andy smiled indifferently. "Go after him, then. And say,Happy: if yuh ride that blue roan for five successive minutes, I'llgive yuh fifty dollars. I knew that hoss down on the Musselshell; he'sgot a record that'd reach from here to Dry Lake and back." It was abluff, pure and simple, born of his covetousness, but it had thedesired effect--or nearly so.
Happy fumbled his rope and eyed the roan. "Aw, I betche you're justlying," he hazarded; but, like many another, when he did strike thetruth he failed to recognize it. "I betche--"
"All right, rope him out and climb on, if yuh don't believe me." Thetone of Andy was tinged with injury. "There's fifty dollars--yes, bygracious, I'll give yuh a _hundred_ dollars if yuh ride him for fiveminutes straight."
A conversation of that character, carried on near the top of twofull-lunged voices, never fails in the range land to bring an audienceof every male human within hearing. All other conversations andinterests were immediately suspended, and a dozen men trotted up tosee what it was all about. Andy remained roosting upon the top rail,his rope coiled loosely and dangling from one arm while he smokedimperturbably.
"Oh, Happy was going to rope out a sure-enough bad one for his nighthoss, and out uh the goodness uh my heart, I put him wise to what hewas going up against," he explained carelessly.
"He acts like he has some thoughts uh doubting my word, so I justoffered him a hundred dollars to ride him--that blue roan, over therenext that crooked post. GET_ a reserved seat right in front of thegrand stand where all the big acts take_ PLACE;" he sung out suddenly,in the regulation circus tone. "GET-a-seat-right-in-front-where-Happy-Jack-the-WILD-Man-rides-the-BUCKING-BRONCHO--Go on, Happy. Don't keep theaudience waiting. Aren't yuh going to earn that hundred dollars?"
Happy Jack turned half a shade redder than was natural. "Aw, gwan. Inever said I was going to do no broncho-busting ack. But I betche yuhnever seen that roan before he was unloaded in Dry Lake."
"What'll yuh bet I don't know that hoss from a yearling colt?" Andychallenged, and Happy Jack walked away without replying, and cast hisloop sullenly over the first horse he came to--which was _not_ theroan.
Chip, coming up to hear the last of it, turned and looked long at thehorse in question; a mild-mannered horse, standing by a crooked corralpost and flicking his ears at the flies. "Do you know that roan?" heasked Andy, in the tone which brings truthful answer. Andy had onegood point: he never lied except in an irresponsible mood of puredeviltry. For instance, he never had lied seriously, to an employer.
"Sure, I know that hoss," he answered truthfully.
"Did you ever ride him?"
"No," Andy admitted, still truthfully. "I never rode him but oncemyself, but I worked right with a Lazy 6 rep that had him in hisstring, down at the U up-and-down, two years ago. I know the hoss, allright; but I did lie when I told Happy I knowed him from a colt. Ispread it on a little bit thick, there." He smiled engagingly down atChip.
"And he's a bad one, is he?" Chip queried Over his shoulder, just ashe was about to walk away.
"Well," Andy prevaricated--still
clinging to the letter, if not to thespirit of truth. "He ain't a hoss I'd like to see Happy Jack go upagainst. I ain't saying, though, that he can't be _rode_. I don't saythat about _any_ hoss."
"Is he any worse than Glory, when Glory is feeling peevish?" Wearyasked, when Chip was gone and while the men still lingered. Andy,glancing to make sure that Chip was out of hearing, threw away hiscigarette and yielded to temptation. "Glory?" he snorted with a finecontempt. "Why, Glory's--a--_lamb_ beside that blue roan! Why, thathoss throwed Buckskin Jimmy clean out of a corral--Did yuh ever seeBuckskin Jimmy ride? Well, say, yuh missed a pretty sight, then;Jimmy's a sure-enough rider. About the only animal he ever failed toconnect with for keeps, is that same cow-backed hoss yuh see overthere. Happy says he's got a kind eye in his head--" Andy stopped andlaughed till they all laughed with him. "By gracious, Happy ought tostep up _on_ him, once, and see how _kind_ he is!" He laughed againuntil Happy, across the corral saddling the horse he had chosen,muttered profanely at the derision he knew was pointed at himself.
"Why, I've seen that hoss--" Andy Green, once fairly started in thefascinating path of romance, invented details for the pure joy ofcreation. If he had written some of the tales he told, and had soldthe writing for many dollars, he would have been famous. Since he didnot write them for profit, but told them for fun, instead, he earnedmerely the reputation of being a great liar. A significant mark of hisgenius lay in the fact that his inventions never failed to convince;not till afterward did his audience doubt.
That is why the blue roan was not chosen in any of the strings, butwas left always circling in the corral after a loop had settled. Thatis why the Flying U boys looked at him askance as they passed him by.That is why, when a certain Mr. Coleman, sent by the board ofdirectors to rake northern Montana for bad horses, looked with favorupon the blue roan when he came to the Flying U ranch and heard thetale of his exploits as interpreted--I should say created--by AndyGreen.
"We've got to have him," he declared enthusiastically. "If he's as badas all that, he'll be the star performer at the contest, and make thattwo-hundred-dollar plum a hard one to pick. Some of these gay boyshave entered with the erroneous idea that that same plum is hangingloose, and all they've got to do is lean up against the tree and it'lldrop in their mouths. We've got to have that roan. I'll pay you a goodprice for him, Whitmore, if you won't let him go any other way. We'vegot a reporter up there that can do him up brown in a special article,and people will come in bunches to see a horse with that kind of apedigree. Is it Green, here, that knows the horse and what he'll do?You're sure of him, are you, Green?"
Andy took time to roll a cigarette. He had not expected any suchdevelopment as this, and he needed to think of the best way out. Allhe had wanted or intended was to discourage the others from claimingthe blue roan; he wanted him in his own string. Afterwards, when theyhad pestered him about the roan's record, he admitted to himself thathe had, maybe, overshot the mark and told it a bit too scarey, and tooconvincingly. Under the spell of fancy he had done more than make theroan unpopular as a roundup horse; he had made him a celebrity in theway of outlaw horses. And they wanted him in the rough-riding contest!Andy, perhaps, had never before been placed in just such a position.
"Are you sure of what the horse will do?" Mr. Coleman repeated, seeingthat Andy was taking a long time to reply.
Andy licked his cigarette, twisted an end and leaned backward while hefelt in his pocket for a match. From the look of his face you nevercould have told how very uncomfortable he felt "Naw," he drawled. "Iain't never sure of what _any_ hoss will do. I've had too muchdealings with 'em for any uh that brand uh foolishness." He lightedthe cigarette as if that were the only matter in which he took anyreal interest, though he was thinking fast.
Mr. Coleman looked nonplussed. "But I thought--you said--"
"What I said," Andy retorted evenly, "hit the blue roan two years ago;maybe he's reformed since then; I dunno. Nobody's rode him, here." Hecould not resist a sidelong glance at Happy Jack. "There was some talkof it, but it never come to a head."
"Yuh offered me a hundred dollars--" Happy Jack began accusingly.
"And yuh never made no move to earn it, that I know of. By gracious,yuh all seem to think I ought to _mind_-read that hoss! I ain't seenhim for two years. Maybe so, he's a real wolf yet; maybe so, he's asheep." He threw out both his hands to point the end of theargument--so far as he was concerned--stuck them deep into histrousers' pockets and walked away before he could be betrayed intodeeper deceit. It did seem to him rather hard that, merely because hehad wanted the roan badly enough to--er--exercise a little diplomacyin order to get him, they should keep harping on the subject likethat. And to have Coleman making medicine to get the roan into thatcontest was, to say the least, sickening. Andy's private belief wasthat a twelve-year-old girl could go round up the milk-cows on thathorse. He had never known him to make a crooked move, and he hadridden beside him all one summer and had seen him in all places andunder all possible conditions. He was a dandy cow-horse, and deadgentle; all this talk made him tired. Andy had forgotten that hehimself had started the talk.
Coleman went often to the corral when the horses were in, and lookedat the blue roan. Later he rode on to other ranches where he had heardwere bad horses, and left the roan for further consideration. When hewas gone, Andy breathed freer and put his mind to the coming contestand the things he meant to do with the purse and with the othercontestants.
"That Diamond G twister is going t' ride," Happy Jack announced, oneday when he came from town. "Some uh the boys was in town and theysaid so. He can ride, too. I betche Andy don't have no picnic gittingthe purse away from _that_ feller. And Coleman's got that sorreloutlaw uh the HS. I betche Andy'll have to pull leather on that one."This was, of course, treason pure and simple; but Happy Jack'sprophecies were never taken seriously.
Andy simply grinned at him. "Put your money on the Diamond G twister,"he advised calmly. "I know him--he's a good rider, too. His name'sBilly Roberts. Uh course, I aim to beat him to it, but Happy neverdoes like to have a sure-thing. He wants something to hang his jawdown over. Put your money on Billy and watch it fade away, Happy."
"Aw, gwan. I betche that there sorrel--"
"I rode that there sorrel once, and combed his forelock with bothspurs alternate," Andy lied boldly. "He's pickings. Take him back andbring me a real hoss."
Happy Jack wavered. "Well, I betche yuh don't pull down that money,"he predicted vaguely. "I betche yuh git throwed, or something. Itdon't do to be too blame sure uh nothing."
Whereat Andy laughed derisively and went away whistling. "I wish I wasas sure uh living till I was a thousand years old, and able to ridenine months out of every year of 'em," he called back to Happy. Thenhe took up the tune where he had left off.
For the days were still crisp at both ends and languorous in themiddle, and wind and grasses hushed and listened for the coming ofwinter. And because of these things, and his youth and his health, theheart of Andy Green was light in his chest and trouble stood afar offwith its face turned from him.
It was but three days to the opening of the fair when Coleman,returning that way from his search for bad horses, clattered, with hisgleanings and three or four men to help drive them, down the grade tothe Flying U. And in the Flying U coulee, just across the creek fromthe corrals, still rested the roundup tents for a space. For theshipping was over early and work was not urgent, and Chip and the OldMan, in their enthusiasm for the rough-riding contest and the entry oftheir own man, had decided to take the wagons and crew entire to GreatFalls and camp throughout the four days of the fair. The boys allwanted to go, anyway, as did everybody else, so that nothing could bedone till it was over. It was a novel idea, and it tickled the humorof the Happy Family.
The "rough string," as the bad horses were called, was corralled, andthe men made merry with the roundup crew. Diamond G men they were,loudly proclaiming their faith in Billy Roberts, and offering betsalready against Andy, who listened undisturbed and h
ad very little tosay. The Happy Family had faith in him, and that was enough. Ifeverybody, he told them, believed that he would win, where would bethe fun of riding and showing them?
It was after their early supper that Coleman came down to camp at theheels of Chip and the Old Man. Straightway he sought out Andy like aman who has something on his mind; though Andy did not in the leastknow what it was, he recognized the indefinable symptoms and bracedhimself mentally, half suspecting that it was something about thatblue roan again. He was getting a little bit tired of the blueroan--enough so that, though he had chosen him for his string, he hadnot yet put saddle to his back, but waited until the roundup startedout once more, when he would ride him in his turn.
It was the blue roan, without doubt. Coleman came to a stop directlyin front of Andy, and as directly came to the point.
"Look here, Green," he began. "I'm shy on horses for that contest, andWhitmore and Bennett say I can have that roan you've got in yourstring. If he's as bad as you claim, I certainly must have him. Butyou seem to have some doubts of what he'll do, and I'd like to see himridden once. Your shingle is out as a broncho-peeler. Will you ridehim this evening, so I can size him up for that contest?"
Andy glanced up under his eyebrows, and then sidelong at the crowd.Every man within hearing was paying strict attention, and was eyeinghim expectantly; for broncho-fighting is a spectacle that never palls.
"Well, I can ride him, if yuh say so," Andy made cautious answer, "butI won't gamble he's a bad hoss _now_--that is, bad enough to take tothe Falls. Yuh don't want to expect--"
"Oh, I don't expect anything--only I want to see him ridden once. Comeon, no time like the present. If he's bad, you'll have to ride him atthe fair, anyhow, and a little practice won't hurt you; and if heisn't, I want to know it for sure."
"It's a go with me," Andy said indifferently, though he secretly feltmuch relief. The roan would go off like a pet dog, and he couldpretend to be somewhat surprised, and declare that he had reformed.Bad horses do reform, sometimes, as Andy and every other man in thecrowd knew. Then there would be no more foolish speculation about thecayuse, and Andy could keep him in peace and have a mighty goodcow-pony, as he had schemed. He smoked a cigarette while Chip washaving the horses corralled, and then led the way willingly, withtwenty-five men following expectantly at his heels. Unlike Andy, theyfully expected an impromptu exhibition of fancy riding. Not all ofthem had seen Andy atop a bad horse, and the Diamond G men, inparticular, were eager to witness a sample of his skill.
The blue roan submitted to the rope, and there was nothing spectacularin the saddling. Andy kept his cigarette between his lips and smiledto himself when he saw the saddle bunch hazed out through the gate andthe big corral left empty of every animal but the blue roan, as wascustomary when a man tackled a horse with the record which he hadgiven the poor beast. Also, the sight of twenty-five men roostinghigh, their boot-heels hooked under a corral rail to steady them,their faces writ large with expectancy, amused him inwardly. Hepictured their disappointment when the roan trotted around the corralonce or twice at his bidding, and smiled again.
"If you can't top him, Green, we'll send for Billy Roberts. _He'll_take off the rough edge and gentle him down for yuh," taunted aDiamond G man.
"Don't get excited till the show starts," Andy advised, holding thecigarette in his fingers while he emptied his lungs of smoke. Just tomake a pretence of caution, he shook the saddle tentatively by thehorn, and wished the roan would make a little show of resistance,instead of standing there like an old cow, lacking only the cud, as hecomplained to himself, to make the resemblance complete. The roan,however, did lay back an ear when Andy, the cigarette again in hislips, put his toe in the stirrup.
"Go after it, you weatherbeaten old saw-buck," he yelled, just to makethe play strong, before he was fairly in the saddle.
Then it was that the Happy Family, heart and soul and pocket all forAndy Green and his wonderful skill in the saddle; with many dollarsbacking their belief in him and with voices ever ready to sing hispraises; with the golden light of early sunset all about them and thetang of coming night-frost in the air, received a shock that made themturn white under their tan.
"Mama!" breathed Weary, in a horrified half-whisper.
And Slim, goggle-eyed beside him, blurted, "Well, by _golly_!" in avoice that carried across the corral.
For Andy Green, tamer of wild ones (forsooth!) broncho-twister with afame that not the boundary of Chouteau County held, nor yet thecounties beyond; Andy Green, erstwhile "Andre de Greno, championbare-back rider of the Western Hemisphere," who had jumped throughblazing hoops and over sagging bunting while he rode, turnedhandsprings and done other public-drawing feats, was prosaically,unequivocally "piled" at the fifth jump!
That he landed lightly on his feet, with the cigarette still betweenhis lips, the roosting twenty-five quite overlooked. They saw only thefirst jump, where Andy, riding loose and unguardedly, went up on theblue withers. The second, third and fourth jumps were not far enoughapart to be seen and judged separately; as well may one hope to decidewhether a whirling wheel had straight or crooked spokes. The fifthjump, however, was a masterpiece of rapid-fire contortion, and it wasimportant because it left Andy on the ground, gazing, with anextremely grieved expression, at the uninterrupted convolutions of the"dandy little cow-hoss."
The blue roan never stopped so much as to look back. He wasbusy--exceedingly busy. He was one of those perverted brutes whichbuck and bawl and so keep themselves wrought up to a highpitch--literally and figuratively. He set himself seriously to throwAndy's saddle over his head, and he was not a horse which easilyaccepts defeat. Andy walked around in the middle of the corral, quiteaimlessly, and watched the roan contort. He could not understand inthe least, and his amazement overshadowed, for the moment, the factthat he had been thrown and that in public and before men of theDiamond G.
Then it was that the men of the Diamond G yelled shrill words ofironical sympathy. Then it was that the Happy Family looked at oneanother in shamed silence, and to the taunts of the Diamond Gs made noreply. It had never occurred to them that such a thing could happen.Had they not seen Andy ride, easily and often? Had they not heard fromPink how Andy had performed that difficult feat at the Rocking R--thefeat of throwing his horse flat in the middle of a jump? They waiteduntil the roan, leaving the big corral looking, in the fast deepeningtwilight, like a fresh-ploughed field, stopped dejectedly and stoodwith his nose against the closed gate, and then climbed slowly downfrom the top rail of the corral, still silent with the silence moreeloquent than speech in any known language.
Over by the gate, Andy was yanking savagely at the latigo; and he,also, had never a word to say. He was still wondering how it hadhappened. He looked the roan over critically and shook his headagainst the riddle; for he had known him to be a quiet, dependable,all-round good horse, with no bad traits and an easy-going dispositionthat fretted at nothing. A high-strung, nervous beast might, fromrough usage and abuse, go "bad"; but the blue roan--they had calledhim Pardner--had never showed the slightest symptom of nerves. Andyknew horses as he knew himself. That a horse like Pardner should, intwo years, become an evil-tempered past-master in such devilishpitching as that, was past belief.
"I guess he'll do, all right," spoke Coleman at his elbow. "I've seenhorses pitch, and I will say that he's got some specialties that areworth exhibiting." Then, as a polite way of letting Andy down easy, headded, "I don't wonder you couldn't connect."
"Connect--_hell_!" It was Andy's first realization of what his failuremeant to the others. He left off wondering about the roan, and facedthe fact that he had been thrown, fair and square, and that before anaudience of twenty-five pairs of eyes which had seen rough ridingbefore, and which had expected of him something better than they wereaccustomed to seeing.
"I reckon Billy Roberts will have to work on that cayuse a while,"fleered a Diamond G man, coming over to them. "He'll gentle him downso that anybody--_even Green_, can ride him!"
"Aw--and you was goin' t' ride in that contest!" wailed Happy Jackrecriminatingly. "And I've got forty dollars up on yuh!"
"Shut up!" snapped Pink in his ear, heart-broken but loyal to thelast. "Yuh going to blat around and let them Diamond Gs give yuh thelaugh? Hunt up something you can use for a backbone till they get outuh camp, for Heaven's sake! Andy's our man. So help me, Josephine, ifanybody goes rubbing it in where I can hear, he'll get his facepunched!"
"Say, I guess we ain't let down on our faces, or anything!" sighed CalEmmett, coming up to them. "I thought Andy could ride! Gee whiz, butit was fierce! Why, _Happy_ could make a better ride than that!"
"By golly, I want t' have a talk with that there broncho-tamer," Slimgrowled behind them. "I got money on him. Is he goin t' ride for thatpurse? 'Cause if he is, I ain't going a foot."
These and other remarks of a like nature made up the clamor thatsurged in the ears of Andy as he went, disgraced and alone, up to thedeserted bunk-house where he need not hear what they were saying. Heknew, deep in his heart, that he could ride that horse. He had beenthrown because of his own unpardonable carelessness--a carelessnesswhich he could not well explain to the others. He himself had giventhe roan an evil reputation; a reputation that, so far as he knew, waslibel pure and simple. To explain now that he was thrown simplybecause he never dreamed the horse would pitch, and so was takenunaware, would simply be to insult their intelligence. He was notsupposed, after mounting a horse like that, to be taken unaware. Hemight, of course, say that he had lied all along--but he had nointention of making any confession like that. Even if he did, theywould not believe him. Altogether, it was a very unhappy young man whoslammed his spurs into a far corner and kicked viciously a box he hadstumbled over in the dusk.
"Trying to bust the furniture?" it was the voice of the Old Man at thedoor.
"By gracious, it seems I can't bust _bronks_ no more," Andy maderueful reply. "I reckon I'll just about have to bust the furniture ornothing."
The Old Man chuckled and came inside, sought the box Andy had kicked,and sat down upon it. Through the open door came the jumble of manyvoices upraised in fruitless argument, and with it the chill of frost.The Old Man fumbled for his pipe, filled it and scratched a matchsharply on the box. In the flare of it Andy watched his kind old facewith its fringe of grayish hair and its deep-graven lines of whimsicalhumor.
"Doggone them boys, they ain't got the stayin' qualities I give 'emcredit for having," he remarked, holding up the match and lookingacross at Andy, humped disconsolately in the shadows. "Them Diamond Gmen has just about got 'em on the run, right now. Yuh couldn't get ahundred-t'-one bet, down there."
Andy merely grunted.
"Say," asked the Old Man suddenly. "Didn't yuh kinda mistake that blueroan for his twin brother, Pardner? This here cayuse is called Weaver.I tried t' get hold of t'other one, but doggone 'em, they wouldn'tloosen up. Pardner wasn't for sale at no price, but they talked meinto buying the Weaver; they claimed he's just about as good a horse,once he's tamed down some--and I thought, seein' I've got some real_tamers_ on my pay-roll, I'd take a chance on him. I thought yuh knewthe horse--the way yuh read up his pedigree--till I seen yuh mounthim. Why, doggone it, yuh straddled him like yuh was just climbing afence! Maybe yuh know your own business best--but didn't yuh kindamistake him for Pardner? They're as near alike as two bullets run inthe same mold--as far as _looks_ go."
Andy got up and went to the door, and stood looking down thedusk-muffled hill to the white blotch which was the camp; listened tothe jumble of voices still upraised in fruitless argument, and turnedto the Old Man.
"By gracious, that accounts for a whole lot," he said ambiguously.
II
"I don't see," said Cal Emmett crossly, "what's the use uh this wholeoutfit trailing up to that contest. If I was Chip, I'd call the dealoff and start gathering calves. It ain't as if we had a man to ridefor that belt and purse. Ain't your leg well enough to tackle it,Pink?"
"No," Pink answered shortly, "it ain't."
"Riding the rough bunch they've rounded up for that contest ain'tgoing to be any picnic," Weary defended his chum. "Cadwolloper wouldneed two good legs to go up against that deal."
"I wish Irish was here," Pink gloomed. "I'd be willing to back him;all right. But it's too late now; he couldn't enter if he was here."
A voice behind them spoke challengingly. "I don't believe it would beetiquette for one outfit to enter _two_ peelers. One's enough, ain'tit?"
The Happy Family turned coldly upon the speaker. It was Slim whoanswered for them all. "I dunno as this outfit has got _any_ peeler inthat contest. By golly, it don't look like it since las' night!"
Weary was gentle, as always, but he was firm. "We kinda thought you'dwant to withdraw," he added.
Andy Green, tamer of wild ones, turned and eyed Weary curiously. Onemight guess, from telltale eyes and mouth, that his calmness did notgo very deep. "I don't recollect mentioning that I was busy penningany letter uh withdrawal," he said. "I got my sights raised to thatpurse and that belt. I don't recollect saying anything about lowering'em."
"Aw, gwan. I guess _I'll_ try for that purse, too! I betche I got asgood a show as--"
"Sure. Help yourself, it don't cost nothing. I don't doubt but whatyou'd make a real pretty ride, Happy." Andy's tone was deceitfullyhearty. He did not sound in the least as if he would like to chokeHappy Jack, though that was his secret longing.
"Aw, gwan. I betche I could make as purty a ride as we'vesaw--lately." Happy Jack did not quite like to make the thing toopersonal, for fear of what might happen after.
"Yuh mean last night, don't yuh?" purred Andy.
"Well, by golly, I wish you'd tell us what yuh done it for!" Slim cutin disgustedly. "It was nacherlay supposed you could ride; we got_money_ up on yuh! And then, by golly, to go and make a fluke likethat before them Diamond G men--to go and let that blue roan pile yuhup b'fore he'd got rightly started t' pitch--If yuh'd stayed with himtill he got t' swappin' ends there, it wouldn't uh looked quite sobad. But t' go and git throwed down right in the start--By golly!"Slim faced Andy accusingly. "B'fore them Diamond G men--and I've gotmoney up, by golly!"
"Yuh ain't lost any money yet, have yuh?" Andy inquired patiently.What Andy felt like doing was to "wade into the bunch"; reason,however, told him that he had it coming from them, and to take hismedicine, since he could not well explain just how it had happened. Hecould not in reason wonder that the faith of the Happy Family wasshattered and that they mourned as lost the money they had alreadyrashly wagered on the outcome of the contest. The very completeness oftheir faith in him, their very loyalty, seemed to them their undoing,for to them the case was plain enough. If Andy could not ride the blueroan in their own corral, how was he to ride that same blue roan inGreat Falls? Or, if he could ride him, how could any sane man hopethat he could win the purse and the belt under the stringent rules ofthe contest, where "riding on the spurs," "pulling leather" and adozen other things were barred? So Andy, under the sting of theirinnuendoes and blunt reproaches, was so patient as to seem to themcowed.
"No, I ain't lost any yet, but by golly, I can see it fixin' to fly,"Slim retorted heavily.
Andy looked around at the others, and smiled as sarcastically as waspossible considering the mood he was in. "It sure does amuse me," heobserved, "to see growed men cryin' before they're hurt! By gracious,I expect t' make a stake out uh that fall! I can get long odds fromthem Diamond Gs, and from anybody they get a chance to talk to. I'mkinda planning," he lied boldly, "to winter in an orange grove andlisten at the birds singing, after I'm through with the deal."
"I reckon yuh can count on hearing the birds sing, all right," Pinksnapped back. "It'll be _tra-la-la_ for yours, if last night's a fairsample uh
what yuh expect to do with the blue roan." Pink walkedabruptly away, looking very much like a sulky cherub.
"I s'pose yuh're aiming to give us the impression that you're going toride, just the same," said Cal Emmett.
"I sure am," came brief reply. Andy was beginning to lose his temper.He had expected that the Happy Family would "throw it into him," to acertain extent, and he had schooled himself to take their drubbing.What he had not expected was their unfriendly attitude, which wentbeyond mere disappointment and made his offence--if it could be calledthat--more serious than the occasion would seem to warrant. PerhapsJack Bates unwittingly made plain the situation when he remarked:
"I hate to turn down one of our bunch; we've kinda got in the habit uhhanging together and backing each other's play, regardless. But darnit, we ain't millionaires, none of us--and gambling, it is a sin. I'vegot enough up already to keep me broke for six months if I lose, andthe rest are in about the same fix. I ain't raising no long howl,Andy, but you can see yourself where we're kinda bashful about sinkingany more on yuh than what we have. Maybe you can ride; I've heard yuhcan, and I've seen yuh make some fair rides, myself. But yuh sure felldown hard last night, and my faith in yuh got a jolt that fair brokeits back. If yuh done it deliberate, for reasons we don't know, forHeaven's sake say so, and we'll take your word for it and forget yourrep for lying. On the dead, Andy, did yuh fall off deliberate?"
Andy bit his lip. His conscience had a theory of its own abouttruth-telling, and permitted him to make strange assertions at times.Still, there were limitations. The Happy Family was waiting for hisanswer, and he knew instinctively that they would believe him now. Fora moment, temptation held him. Then he squared his shoulders and spoketruly.
"On the dead, I hit the ground unexpected and inadvertant. I--"
"If that's the case, then the farther yuh keep away from that contestthe better--if yuh ask _me_." Jack turned on his heel and followedPink.
Andy stared after him moodily, then glanced at the rest. With oneaccord they avoided meeting his gaze. "Damn a bunch uh quitters!" heflared hotly, and left them, to hunt up the Old Man and Chip--one orboth, it did not matter to him.
Pink it was who observed the Old Man writing a check for Andy. He tookit that Andy had called for his time, and when Andy rolled his bed andstowed it away in the bunk-house, saddled a horse and rode up thegrade toward town, the whole outfit knew for a certainty that Andy hadquit.
Before many hours had passed they, too, saddled and rode away, withthe wagons and the cavvy following after--and they were headed forGreat Falls and the fair there to be held; or, more particularly, therough-riding contest to which they had looked forward eagerly and withmuch enthusiasm, and which they were now approaching gloomily and indeep humiliation. Truly, it would be hard to find a situation moregalling to the pride of the Happy Family.
But Andy Green had not called for his time, and he had no intention ofquitting; for Andy was also suffering from that uncomfortable maladywhich we call hurt pride, and for it he knew but one remedy--a remedywhich he was impatient to apply. Because of the unfriendly attitude ofthe Happy Family, Andy had refused to take them into his confidence,or to ride with them to the fair. Instead, he had drawn what money wasstill placed to his credit on the pay-roll, had taken a horse and hisriding outfit and gone away to Dry Lake, where he intended to take thetrain for Great Falls.
In Dry Lake, however, he found that the story of his downfall hadpreceded him, thanks to the exultant men of the Diamond G, and thatthe tale had not shrunk in the telling. Dry Lake jeered him as openlyas it dared, and part of it--that part which had believed in him--wasquite as unfriendly as was the Happy Family. To a man they took it forgranted that he would withdraw from the contest, and they were notcareful to conceal what they thought. Andy found himself rather leftalone, and he experienced more than once the unpleasant sensation ofhaving conversation suddenly lag when he came near, and of seeinggroups of men dissolve awkwardly at his approach. Andy, before he hadbeen in town an hour, was in a mood to do violence.
For that reason he kept his plans rigidly to himself. When someoneasked him if he had quit the outfit, he had returned gruffly that theFlying U was not the only cow-outfit in the country, and let thequestioner interpret it as he liked. When the train that had its nosepointed to the southwest slid into town, Andy did not step on, as hadbeen his intention. He remained idly leaning over the bar in RustyBrown's place, and gave no heed. Later, when the eastbound cameschreeching through at midnight, it found Andy Green on the platformwith his saddle, bridle, chaps, quirt and spurs neatly sacked, andwith a ticket for Havre in his pocket. So the wise ones said that theyknew Andy would never have the nerve to show up at the fair, after thefluke he had made at the Flying U ranch, and those whose pockets werenot interested considered it a very good joke.
At Havre, Andy bought another ticket and checked the sack which heldhis riding outfit; the ticket had Great Falls printed on it in bold,black lettering. So that he was twelve hours late in reaching hisoriginal destination, and to avoid unwelcome discovery and comment hetook the sleeper and immediately ordered his berth made up, that hemight pass through Dry Lake behind the sheltering folds of the berthcurtains. Not that there was need of this elaborate subterfuge. He wassimply mad clear through and did not want to see or hear the voice ofany man he knew. Besides, the days when he had danced in spangledtights upon the broad, gray rump of a galloping horse while asober-clothed man in the middle of the ring cracked a whip and yelpedcommands, had bred in him the unconscious love of a spectacular entryand a dramatic finish.
That is why he sought out the most obscure rooming house that gave anypromise of decency and comfort, and stayed off Central Avenue and awayfrom its loitering groups of range dwellers who might know him. Thatis why he hired a horse and rode early and alone to the fair groundson the opening day, and avoided, by a roundabout trail a certainsplotch of gray-white against the brown of the prairie, which he knewinstinctively to be the camp of the Flying U outfit, which had madegood time and were located to their liking near the river. Andy felt atightening of the chest when he saw the familiar tents, and kicked hishired horse ill-naturedly in the ribs. It was all so different fromwhat he had thought it would be.
In those last two weeks, he had pictured himself riding vaingloriouslythrough town on his best horse, with a new Navajo saddle-blanketmaking a dab of bright color, and a new Stetson hat dimpledpicturesquely as to crown and tilted rakishly over one eye, and withhis silver-mounted spurs catching the light; around him would ride theHappy Family, also in gala attire and mounted upon the best horses intheir several strings. The horses would not approve of thestreet-cars, and would circle and back--and it was quite possible,even probable, that there would be some pitching and some prettyriding before the gaping populace which did not often get a chance toview the real thing. People would stop and gaze while they wentclattering by, and he, Andy Green, would be pointed out by the knowingones as a fellow that was going to ride in the contest and that stooda good chance of winning. For Andy was but human, that he dreamed ofthese things; besides, does not the jumping through blazing hoops andover sagging bunting while one rides, whet insiduously one's appetitefor the plaudits of the crowd?
The reality was different. He was in Great Falls, but he had notridden vaingloriously down Central Avenue surrounded by the HappyFamily, and watched by the gaping populace. Instead, he had chosen aside street and he had ridden alone, and no one had seemed to know orcare who he might be. His horse had not backed, wild-eyed, before anapproaching car, and he had not done any pretty riding. Instead, hishorse had scarce turned an eye toward the jangling bell when hecrossed the track perilously close to the car, and he had gone"side-wheeling" decorously down the street--and Andy hated a pacinghorse. The Happy Family was in town, but he did not know where. Andykicked his horse into a gallop and swore bitterly that he did notcare. He did not suppose that they gave him a thought, other thanthose impelled by their jeopardized pockets. And that, he assuredhimself pessim
istically, is friendship!
He tied the hired horse to the fence and went away to the stables andfraternized with a hump-backed jockey who knew a few things himselfabout riding and was inclined to talk unprofessionally. It was not atall as Andy had pictured the opening day, but he got through the timesomehow until the crowd gathered and the racing began. Then he showedhimself in the crowd of "peelers" and their friends, as unconcernedlyas he might; and as unobtrusively. The Happy Family, he observed, wasnot there, though he met Chip face to face and had a short talk withhim. Chip was the only one, aside from the Old Man, who reallyunderstood. Billy Roberts was there, and he greeted Andycommiseratingly, as one speaks to the sick or to one in mourning; thetone made Andy grind his teeth, though he knew in his heart that BillyRoberts wished him well--up to the point of losing the contest to him,which was beyond human nature. Billy Roberts was a rider and knew--orthought he knew--just how "sore" Andy must be feeling. Also, in thekindness of his heart he tried blunderingly to hide his knowledge.
"Going up against the rough ones?" he queried with carefulcarelessness, in the hope of concealing that he had heard the tale ofAndy's disgrace.
"I sure am," Andy returned laconically, with no attempt to concealanything.
Billy Roberts opened his eyes wide, and his mouth a little before herecovered from his surprise. "Well, good luck to yuh," he managed tosay, "only so yuh don't beat me to it. I was kinda hoping yuh was toobashful to get out and ride before all the ladies."
Andy, remembering his days in the sawdust ring, smiled queerly; buthis heart warmed to Billy Roberts amazingly.
They were leaning elbows on the fence below the grand stand, watchingdesultorily the endless preparatory manoeuvres of three men astridethe hind legs of three pacers in sulkies. "This side-wheeling businessgives me a pain," Billy remarked, as the pacers ambled by for thefourth or fifth time. "I like _caballos_ that don't take all day towind 'em up before they go. I been looking over our bunch. They'shorses in that corral that are sure going to do things to us twentypeelers!"
"By gracious, yes!" Andy was beginning to feel himself again. "Thatblue hoss--uh course yuh heard how he got me, and heard it withtrimmings--yuh may think he's a man-eater; but while he's a bad hoss,all right, he ain't the one that'll get yuh. Yuh want t' watch out,Billy, for that HS sorrel. He's plumb wicked. He's got a habit uhthrowing himself backwards. They're keeping it quiet, maybe--but I'veseen him do it three times in one summer."
"All right--thanks. I didn't know that. But the blue roan--"
"The blue roan'll pitch and bawl and swap ends on yuh and raise hellall around, but he can be rode. That festive bunch up in the reserveseats'll think it's awful, and that the HS sorrel is a lady's hossalongside him, but a real rider can wear him out. But thatsorrel--when yuh think yuh got him beat, Billy, is when yuh want towatch out!"
Billy turned his face away from a rolling dustcloud that came down thehome stretch with the pacers, and looked curiously at Andy. Twice hestarted to speak and did not finish. Then: "A man can be a sure-enoughrider, and get careless and let a horse pile him off him when he ain'tlooking, just because he knows he can ride that horse," he said with acertain diffidence.
"By gracious, yes!" Andy assented emphatically. And that was thenearest they came to discussing a delicate matter which was in theminds of both.
Andy was growing more at ease and feeling more optimistic everyminute. Three men still believed in him, which was much. Also, thecrowd could not flurry him as it did some of the others who were notaccustomed to so great an audience; rather, it acted as a tonic andbrought back the poise, the easy self-confidence which had belonged toone Andre de Greno, champion bareback rider. So that, when therough-riding began, Andy's nerves were placidly asleep.
At the corral in the infield, where the horses and men wereforegathered, Andy met Slim and Happy Jack; but beyond his curt"Hello" and an amazed "Well, by golly!" from Slim, no words passed.Across the corral he glimpsed some of the others--Pink and Weary, andfarther along, Cal Emmett and Jack Bates; but they made no sign ifthey saw him, and he did not go near them. He did not know when histurn would come to ride, and he had a horse to saddle at the commandof the powers that were. Coleman, the man who had collected thehorses, almost ran over him. He said "Hello, Green," and passed on,for his haste was great.
Horse after horse was saddled and led perforce out into the open ofthe infield; man after man mounted, with more or less trouble, androde to triumph or defeat. Billy Roberts was given a white-eyed littlebay, and did some great riding. The shouts and applause from the grandstand rolled out to them in a great wave of sound. Billy mastered thebrute and rode him back to the corral white-faced and with beads ofsweat standing thick on his forehead.
"It ain't going to be such damn' easy money--that two hundred," heconfided pantingly to Andy, who stood near. "The fellow that gets itwill sure have to earn it."
Andy nodded and moved out where he could get a better view. ThenColeman came and informed him hurriedly that he came next, and Andywent back to his place. The horse he was to ride he had never seenbefore that day. He was a long-legged brown, with scanty mane and awicked, rolling eye. He looked capable of almost any deviltry, butAndy did not give much time to speculating upon what he would try todo. He was still all eyes to the infield where his predecessor wasgyrating. Then a sudden jump loosened him so that he grabbed thehorn--and it was all over with that particular applicant, so far asthe purse and the championship belt were concerned. He was out of thecontest, and presently he was also back at the corral, explainingvolubly--and uselessly--just how it came about. He appeared to have avery good reason for "pulling leather," but Andy was not listening andonly thought absently that the fellow was a fool to make a talk forhimself.
Andy was clutching the stirrup and watching a chance to put his toeinto it, and the tall brown horse was circling backwards withoccasional little side-jumps. When it was quite clear that the horsedid not mean to be mounted, Andy reached out his hand, got a rope fromsomebody--he did not know who, though, as a matter of fact, it wasPink who gave it--and snared a front foot; presently the brown wasstanding upon three legs instead of four, and the gaping populacewondered how it was done, and craned necks to see. After that, thoughthe horse still circled backwards, Andy got the stirrup and put histoe in it and went up so easily that the ignorant might think anybodycould do it. He dropped the rope and saw that it was Pink who pickedit up.
The brown at first did nothing at all. Then he gave a spring straightahead and ran fifty yards or so, stopped and began to pitch. Threejumps and he ran again; stopped and reared. It was very pretty to lookat, but Happy Jack could have ridden him, or Slim, or any other rangerider. In two minutes the brown was sulking, and it took severespurring to bring him back to the corral. Pitch he would not. Thecrowd applauded, but Andy felt cheated and looked as he felt.
Pink edged toward him, but Andy was not in the mood for reconciliationand kept out of his way. Others of the Happy Family came near, atdivers times and places, as if they would have speech with him, but hethought he knew about what they would say, and so was careful not togive them a chance. When the excitement was all over for that day hegot his despised hired horse and went back to town with Billy Roberts,because it was good to have a friend and because they wanted to talkabout the riding. Billy did not tell Andy, either, that he had hadhard work getting away from his own crowd; for Billy was kind-heartedand had heard a good deal, because he had been talking with HappyJack. His sympathy was not with the Happy Family, either.
On the second afternoon, such is effect of rigid winnowing, there werebut nine men to ride. The fellow who had grabbed the saddle horn,together with ten others, stood among the spectators and made causticremarks about the management, the horses, the nine who were left andthe whole business in general. Andy grinned a little and wondered ifhe would stand among them on the morrow and make remarks. He was notworrying about it, though. He said hello to Weary, Pink and CalEmmett, and saddled a kicking, striking brute from up Sw
eetgrass way.
On this day the horses were wickeder, and one man came near gettinghis neck broken. As it was, his collar-bone snapped and he was carriedoff the infield on a stretcher and hurried to the hospital; which didnot tend to make the other riders feel more cheerful. Andy noted thatit was the HS sorrel which did the mischief, and glanced meaninglyacross at Billy Roberts.
Then it was his turn with the striking, kicking gray, and he mountedand prepared for what might come. The gray was an artist in his line,and pitched "high, wide and crooked" in the most approved fashion. ButAndy, being also an artist of a sort, rode easily and with a gracethat brought much hand-clapping from the crowd. Only the initiatedreserved their praise till further trial; for though the gray was notto say gentle, and though it took skill to ride him, there were adozen, probably twice as many, men in the crowd who could have done aswell.
The Happy Family, drawn together from habit and because they couldspeak their minds more freely, discussed Andy gravely amongthemselves. Betting was growing brisk, and if their faith had not beenso shaken they could have got long odds on Andy.
"I betche he don't win out," Happy Jack insisted with characteristicgloom. "Yuh wait till he goes up agin that blue roan. They're savin'that roan till the las' day--and I betche Andy'll git him. If he hangson till the las' day." Happy Jack laughed ironically as he made theprovision.
"Any you fellows got money yuh want to put up on this deal?" came thevoice of Andy behind them.
They turned, a bit shamefaced, toward him.
"Aw, I betche--" began Happy.
"That's what I'm here for," cut in Andy. "What I've got goesup--saddle, spurs--_all_ I've got. You've done a lot uh mourning, nowhere's a chance to break even on _me_. Speak up."
The Happy Family hesitated.
"I guess I'll stay out," dimpled Pink. "I don't just savvy your play,Andy, and if I lose on yuh--why, it won't be the first time I everwent broke."
"Well, by golly, _I'll_ take a chance," bellowed Slim, whose voice wasever pitched to carry long distances in a high wind. "I'll bet yuhfifty dollars yuh don't pull down that belt or purse. By golly,there's two or three men here that can _ride_."
"There's only one that'll be the real star," smiled Andy withunashamed egotism. "Happy, how rich do _you_ want to get off me?"
Happy said a good deal and "betche" several things wouldhappen--things utterly inconsistent with one another. In the end, Andypinned him down to twenty dollars against Andy's silver-mountedspurs--which was almost a third more than the spurs were worth; butAndy had no sympathy for Happy Jack and stuck to the price doggedlyuntil Happy gave in.
Jack Bates advertised his lack of faith in Andy ten dollars worth, andCal Emmett did the same. Irish, coming in on the afternoon train anddrifting instinctively to the vicinity of the Happy Family, cursedthem all impartially for a bunch of quitters, slapped Andy on the backand with characteristic impetuosity offered a hundred dollars toanybody who dared take him up, that Andy would win. And this after hehad heard the tale of the blue roan and before they told him about thetwo rides already made in the contest.
It is true that Happy Jack endeavored to expostulate, but Irish glaredat him in a way to make Happy squirm and stammer incoherently.
"I've heard all about it," Irish cut in, "and I don't have to hear anymore. I know a rider when I see one, and my money's on Andy from startto finish. You make me sick. Weary, have _you_ gone against our man?"The tone was a challenge in itself.
Weary grinned goodnaturedly. "I haven't pulled down any bets," heanswered mildly, "and I haven't put up my last cent and don't intendto. I'm an engaged young man." He shrugged his shoulders to point themoral. "I sure do hope Andy'll win out," he added simply.
"_Hope_? Why, damn it, yuh _know_ he'll win!" stormed Irish.
Men in their vicinity caught the belligerence of the tone and turnedabout, thinking there was trouble, and the Happy Family subsided intoquieter discussion. In the end Irish, discovering that Andy had forthe time being forsworn the shelter of the Flying U tents, stuck byhim loyally and forswore it also, and went with Andy to share thedoubtful comfort of the obscure lodging house. For Irish was all ornothing, and to find the Happy Family publicly opposed--or at mostneutral--to a Flying U man in a rough-riding contest like this,incensed him much.
The Happy Family began to feel less sure of themselves and a bitashamed--though of just what, they were not quite clear, for surelythey had reason a-plenty for doubting Andy Green.
The last day found the Happy Family divided against itself and growinga bit venomous in its remarks. Andy had not as yet done anythingremarkable, except perhaps keep in the running when the twenty hadbeen culled to three: Billy Roberts, Andy and a man from theYellowstone Valley, called Gopher by his acquaintances. Accident anduntoward circumstances had thrown out the others--good riders all ofthem, or they would not have been there. Happy Jack proclaimed loudlyin camp that Andy was still in because Andy had not had a real badhorse. "I seen Coleman looking over the blue roan and talkin' to themguys that runs things; they're goin' t' put Andy on him t-day, Ibetche--and we seen how he can _ride_ him! Piled in a heap--"
"Not exactly," Pink interrupted. "I seem to remember Andy lighting onhis feet; and he was smoking when he started, and smoking when hequit. It didn't strike me at the time, but that's kinda funny, don'tyuh think?"
So Pink went back to his first faith, and the Happy Family straightwaybecame loud and excited over the question of whether Andy did reallylight upon his feet, or jumped up immediately, and whether he kept hiscigarette or made a new one. The discussion carried them to the fairgrounds and remained just where it started, so far as any amicabledecision was concerned.
Now this is a fair and true report of that last day's riding: Therebeing but the three riders, and the excitement growing apace, therough-riding was put first on the program and men struggled for thebest places and the best view of the infield.
In the beginning, Andy drew the HS sorrel and Billy Roberts the blueroan. Gopher, the Yellowstone man, got a sulky little buckskin thatrefused to add one whit to the excitement, so that he was put back andanother one brought. This other proved to be the wicked-eyed brownwhich Andy had ridden the first day. Only this day the brown was indifferent mood and pitched so viciously that Gopher lost control inthe rapid-fire changes, and rode wild, being all over the horse andeverywhere but on the ground. He did not pull leather, however thoughhe was accused by some of riding on his spurs at the last. At anyrate, Andy and Billy Roberts felt that the belt lay betweenthemselves, and admitted as much privately.
"You've sure got to ride like a wild man if yuh beat me to it,"grinned Billy.
"By gracious, I'm after it like a wolf myself," Andy retorted. "Yuhknow how I'm fixed--I've just got to have it, Bill."
Billy, going out to ride, made no reply except a meaning head-shake.And Billy certainly rode, that day; for the blue roan did his worstand his best. To describe the performance, however, would be to inventmany words to supply a dearth in the language. Billy rode the blueroan back to the corral, and he had broken none of the stringent rulesof the contest--which is saying much for Billy.
When Andy went out--shot out, one might say--on the sorrel, the HappyFamily considered him already beaten because of the remarkable ridingof Billy. When the sorrel began pitching the gaping populace, grownwise overnight in these things, said that he was _e-a-s-y_--which hewas not. He fought as some men fight; with brain as well as muscle,cunningly, malignantly. He would stop and stand perfectly still for afew seconds, and then spring viciously whichever way would seem to himmost unexpected; for he was not bucking from fright as most horses dobut because he hated men and would do them injury if he could.
When the crowd thought him worn out, so that he stood with headdrooping all that Andy would permit, then it was that Andy grew mostwary. It was as he had said. Of a sudden, straight into the air leapedthe sorrel, reared and went backward in a flash of red. But as hewent, his rider slipped to one side, and when he struck the
groundAndy struck also--on his feet. "Get up, darn yuh," he muttered, andwhen the sorrel gathered himself together and jumped up, he was muchsurprised to find Andy in the saddle again.
Then it was that the HS sorrel went mad and pitched as he had never,even when building his record, pitched before. Then it was that Andy,his own temper a bit roughened by the murderous brute, rode as he hadnot ridden for many a day; down in the saddle, his quirt keeping timewith the jumps. He was just settling himself to "drag it out of himproper," when one of the judges, on horseback in the field, threw uphis hand.
"Get off!" he shouted, galloping closer. "That horse's got to be rodeagain to-day. You've done enough this time."
So Andy, watching his chance, jumped off when the sorrel stopped for afew seconds of breath, and left him unconquered and more murderousthan ever. A man with a megaphone was announcing that the contest wasyet undecided, and that Green and Roberts would ride again later inthe afternoon.
Andy passed the Happy Family head in air, stopped a minute to exchangefacetious threats with Billy Roberts, and went with Irish to roostupon the fence near the judge's stand to watch the races. The HappyFamily kept sedulously away from the two and tried to grow interestedin other things until the final test.
It came, when Billy Roberts, again first, mounted the HS sorrel, stillin murderous mood and but little the worse for his previous battle.What he had done with Andy he repeated, and added much venom to therepetition. Again he threw himself backward, which Billy expected andso got clear and remounted as he scrambled up. After that, the sorrelsimply pitched so hard and so fast that he loosened Billy a bit; notmuch, but enough to "show daylight" between rider and saddle for twoor three high, crooked jumps. One stirrup he lost, rode a jump withoutit and by good luck regained it as it flew against his foot. It wasgreat riding, and a gratifying roar of applause swept out to him whenit was over.
Andy, saddling the blue roan, drew a long breath. This one ride wouldtell the tale, and he was human enough to feel a nervous strain suchas had not before assailed him. It was so close, now! and it mightsoon be so far. A bit of bad luck such as may come to any man, howevergreat his skill, and the belt would go to Billy. But not for longcould doubt or questioning hold Andy Green. He led the Weaver outhimself, and instinctively he felt that the horse remembered him andwould try all that was in him. Also, he was somehow convinced that theblue roan held much in reserve, and that it would be a great fightbetween them for mastery.
When he gathered up the reins, the roan eyed him wickedly sidelong andtightened his muscles, as it were, for the struggle. Andy turned thestirrup, put in his toe, and went up in a flash, warned by somethingin the blue roan's watchful eye. Like a flash the blue roan also wentup--but Andy had been a fraction of a second quicker. There was asqueal that carried to the grand stand as the Weaver, wild-eyed andwith red flaring nostrils, pounded the wind-baked sod with high,bone-racking jumps; changed and took to "weaving" till one wonderedhow he kept his footing--more particularly, how Andy contrived to sitthere, loose-reined, firm-seated, riding easily. The roan, tiring ofthat, began "swapping ends" furiously and so fast one could scarcefollow his jumps. Andy, with a whoop of pure defiance, yanked off hishat and beat the roan over the head with it, yelling taunting wordsand contemptuous; and for every shout the Weaver bucked harder andhigher, bawling like a new-weaned calf.
Men who knew good riding when they saw it went silly and yelled andyelled. Those who did not know anything about it caught the infectionand roared. The judges galloped about, backing away from the livingwhirlwind and yelling with the rest. Came a lull when the roan stoodstill because he lacked breath to continue, and the judges shouted anuneven chorus.
"Get down--the belt's yours"--or words to that effect. It wasunofficial, that verdict, but it was unanimous and voiced withenthusiasm.
Andy turned his head and smiled acknowledgment. "All right--but waittill I tame this hoss proper! Him and I've got a point to settle!" Hedug in his spurs and again the battle raged, and again the crowd, nothaving heard the unofficial decision, howled and yelled approval ofthe spectacle.
Not till the roan gave up completely and owned obedience to rein andvoiced command, did Andy take further thought of the reward. Hesatisfied himself beyond doubt that he was master and that the Weaverrecognized him as such. He wheeled and turned, "cutting out" animaginary animal from an imaginary herd; he loped and he walked,stopped dead still in two jumps and started in one. He leaned and ranhis gloved hand forgivingly along the slatey blue neck, reachedfarther and pulled facetiously the roan's ears, and the roan meeklypermitted the liberties. He half turned in the saddle and slapped theplump hips, and the Weaver never moved. "Why, you're an all-rightlittle hoss!" praised Andy, slapping again and again.
The decision was being bellowed from the megaphone and Andy, hearingit thus officially, trotted over to where a man was holding out thebelt that proclaimed him champion of the state. Andy reached out ahand for the belt, buckled it around his middle and saluted the grandstand as he used to do from the circus ring when one Andre de Grenohad performed his most difficult feat.
The Happy Family crowded up, shamefaced and manfully willing to ownthemselves wrong.
"We're down and ready to be walked on by the Champion," Wearyannounced quizzically. "Mama mine! but yuh sure can ride."
Andy looked at them, grinned and did an exceedingly foolish thing,just to humiliate Happy Jack, who, he afterwards said, still lookedunconvinced. He coolly got upon his feet in the saddle, stood so whilehe saluted the Happy Family mockingly, lighted the cigarette he hadjust rolled, then, with another derisive salute, turned a doublesomersault in the air and lighted upon his feet--and the roan didnothing more belligerent than to turn his head and eye Andysuspiciously.
"By gracious, maybe you fellows'll some day own up yuh don't know itall!" he cried, and led the Weaver back into the corral and away fromthe whooping maniacs across the track.
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