Pecos Bill

by James Cloyd Bowman

  Pecos Bill maintained the pose of invisibility that the Coyotes had taught him until the stallion got to within a few paces of him. Then he stood up and talked in horse language.

  But that stallion couldn’t be fooled. He just stamped his front feet, snorted in disgust at seeing a mere human, and then whirled on his heels in the direction of his feeding grounds.

  As quick as greased lightning Pecos Bill flung his lariat, and the sliding noose fell with perfect accuracy over the stallion’s neck. When Pecos tightened the lariat, the stallion wheeled facing him, reared high on his hind legs, brought his forefeet down right where he wanted to, and broke the taut buckskin as if it were nothing but a whipcord. Then he shook the noose from his neck, whirled on his heels again, and pranced away as lightly as if on the wings of the wind.

  Watching him go, Pecos Bill felt—for the first time in his life—the lust of greed. Never before had he cared to call anything his own, but now he wanted nothing in the world so much as this glossy white Pegasus.

  Quickly flinging aside his lariat, his boots, and his saddle, Pecos Bill fairly flew in pursuit of the retreating stallion. At first, the stallion snorted derisively in horse language, which Pecos clearly understood: “You’re the first human who has ever been foolish enough to try to catch me lone-handed. What have you been doing, feeding on the locoweed? You’re not quite in your right mind—that’s my opinion.”

  Pecos Bill didn’t stop for mere words. He just quickened his pace until Pegasus was forced to break into a stiff gallop. It was the first time in his life that Pegasus had been forced to go faster than a pace, and so, very soon, he began to have the greatest respect for Pecos Bill.

  This was merely the beginning of what soon proved to be the greatest of all recorded races. For three days and four nights the flying hoofs were chased closely by the flying feet. From Mexico to Canada and from Canada to Mexico the pair kept up their fast clip. The two contestants were so evenly matched that neither could gain on the other. Down into cavernous gullies, beside mirroring lakes and through raging torrents, up the steepest of cliffs and across sage and soapweed and cactus, over fertile valleys and sweeping rolling mesa, along mountainsides where the view was superb, and through blinding, stinging mesquite, the stallion went madly on, hoping against hope to shake off his desperate pursuer. And wherever Pegasus led, Pecos Bill followed.

  By the time the race was finished they had galloped three times around the state of Texas; they had made a beeline across the Llano Estacado, or Staked Plain; they had eaten the alkali dust of New Mexico; they had touched the high spots of Colorado; they had skirted the plains of Kansas and Nebraska; they had crossed into Canada and had leapt the chocolate waters of the Missouri; they had taken the Arkansas River at a bound; and had finally returned to their starting point, the valley of the Powder River.

  At length, on the morning of the fourth day, Pecos Bill thought of a bit of strategy. The stallion, at the time, was running down a trail that was bordered on its left by a long overhanging shelf of limestone. By leaping upon this, Pecos reasoned he might deceive Pegasus into believing that he had given up the pursuit. Naturally the stallion would then slacken his pace, and Pecos could drop down upon his unsuspecting back.

  Pecos no sooner thought of this scheme than he put it into execution. He leapt wildly to a beetling cliff, ran swiftly forward, and then leapt down a hundred feet upon the snorting Pegasus.

  Pecos Bill had scarcely landed when the startled stallion jumped with arched back high into the air. Pecos Bill flew upward like a skyrocket. Luckily he caught himself by an eyelash in a niche of the jagged rock, several hundred feet above the prancing Pegasus. Otherwise, this calamity might have proved his undoing. As it was, for several minutes, Pecos could see groups of flickering stars wherever he happened to look.

  Quickly, however, Pecos rubbed the stars out of his eyes, and as he did so the lust of greed burned hotter than ever within his soul. The stallion had, during this time, galloped off down the trail as lightly as if nothing whatever had happened.

  The next minute Pecos started leaping wildly down the face of the cliff, and very soon his feet were again firmly treading the trail. He stopped just long enough to send another defiant neigh after the retreating Pegasus.

  This last neigh of defiance proved more than the stallion’s temper could bear. “Why must I forever run from this puny man-child?” he asked himself. “I’ll not run another step; I’ll turn and defy him! I’m a hundred times stronger than he is. I’ll simply trample him under my feet and teach him manners!”

  As he thus assured himself, he turned bravely around and planted his forefeet firmly in the trail, which at this place ran narrowly between upright cliffs on either side. He had scarcely a second to wait until Pecos came flying like lightning. Pecos barely avoided a serious collision, for the stallion was standing with every muscle tense, ready to charge down upon him.

  “Why, hello, Mr. Pegasus,” smiled Pecos blandly in horse language, as he brought himself to a grinding stop.

  “Don’t you try to Mr. Pegasus me!” the stallion replied enraged. “Have you said your prayers?”

  “I say my prayers regularly every morning and evening, though I’ll confess they’ve been brief these past few days, for I’ve had to say them on the jump,” Pecos smiled, showing not the least fear.

  Without warning, the angry stallion reared and charged down upon the defenseless man. But Pecos was ready for him. He simply turned a deft air flop and landed prettily on the astonished stallion’s back, and before Pegasus could recover from his surprise, Pecos Bill had securely fastened his hands in the flying mane and embedded his toes into the horse’s sides.

  From this moment it became a contest between the strength and wits of the horse and the wits and the strength of the man.

  At first the stallion tried to run out from under Pecos Bill. Whereupon there ensued an even faster race than the one before—positively the world’s record. Pegasus made the first mile in 24 seconds flat. When the horse found that he could not possibly run from beneath Pecos, he began immediately to try to jump out from under him. His first jump was a half mile forward, and his second jump three-quarters of a mile backward. Pecos one second found himself trying to fly over the stallion’s ears, and the next second trying to fly over his tail. But in spite of everything, Pecos never quite lost his grip of the horse’s sides and mane.

  Very soon there began the greatest bucking contest of all time. Multiply by a thousand the very best that such famous horses of the ranch as Long Tom, Angel, Brown Eyes, Spike, Red Wing, Wiggles, and Flying Devil have ever been able to do, and you have some feeble idea of what was happening now as Pegasus decided to buck Pecos Bill into the middle of the next full moon.

  There was sunfishing and twisting and skyscraping and cake walking and high flying all at the same thunderous, explosive moment. It seemed to Pecos Bill that his day of doom had arrived, but he dared do nothing except hold fast with a life-and-death grip. And he stuck.

  When the stallion found he couldn’t buck Pecos Bill off his back, he tried rubbing him off by running against trees and rocks. Thus came the most cruel part of the punishment that Pecos was forced to suffer. Had the stallion thought of this earlier, he might possibly have freed himself of Pecos Bill, but now that he was not able to buck or run as hard as at first, Pecos was just able to maintain his hold without the aid of his toes.

  In very quick succession Pecos was forced to swing one leg up near the stallion’s back and then the other, as the mesquite trees and the sandstone rocks threatened to grind him to a jelly. By the time the furious Pegasus finally gave up, Pecos had all his clothes torn from him and most of his skin was bruised and bleeding.

  Then another idea entered the stallion’s head. “I’ll rear over backward and crush Pecos under me,” he said to himself.

  This last effort proved, in the end, the proud stallion’s undoing. He woke up the next moment to find Pecos Bill seated securely on his fore shoulder,
with the man’s foot resting heavily on his upturned cheek. Pegasus began to kick and paw wildly, but the more he struggled the firmer Pecos came down with his foot.

  “Well, Pegasus,” Pecos crooned gently in horse language, “isn’t it about time you and me got to be friends? There’s nothing to be gained by our carrying on this fight any longer.”

  The words sounded like sweet music in the stallion’s ear, but they were so entirely unexpected that he continued to kick and paw and switch sullenly, but the more he struggled the more tightly he found himself pinned down.

  Pecos Bill busts Pegasus.

  Pecos Bill held his position firmly and began stroking the horse’s neck tenderly. He also crooned a song of friendship in language that Pegasus could not fail to understand. After a time, the stallion answered: “But can I trust you? How do I know that you won’t enslave me and torture me? I was born to be free like you, I am used to being my own master. I’ll die rather than yield myself to the slavery of any man!”

  “Listen to me, Pegasus,” Pecos Bill answered seriously. “You and I were made for each other. You’ve got every other horse in the world beaten by a mile, and as for man, I am in a class all by myself. We can lick everything else in sight. Listen. We can build up the greatest ranch in all the Southwest range country. Your fame will be sung around the world for untold generations. You will be known as the Pegasus among countless thousands of cow ponies!”

  “But I’m afraid to trust you! You are a hated inhuman!” Pegasus repeated over and over as he lay prostrate and helpless.

  “I’m not what you think. I’m the better part—a noble Coyote. Besides, if you remain here in your wild retreat,” Pecos Bill continued, “you will go down unhonored and unsung. Your absolute freedom will lead to a life of idle ease. It will simply mean your undoing. You must remember that no one of all who do the world’s work is ever entirely free. Restraint is the price each must pay to duty!”

  “You’re making a fool of me. I knew it,” Pegasus groaned.

  “I give you my word of honor, Pegasus,” Pecos Bill continued with high seriousness. “If you are loyal to me, I will be loyal to you. If you will but work faithfully with me, the world will very soon be ours!”

  With this statement, Pecos Bill freed Pegasus, and the mighty stallion leapt to his feet, shaking himself vigorously. Then he stood stock still for a long minute, undecided whether to run or stay.

  “The choice is yours to make, Pegasus,” Pecos Bill pleaded. “I’ll not take advantage of you, for a spirit such as yours can’t be broken. I know, for I myself am a free spirit. You are absolutely free to do as you like. Isn’t this proof I’m on the square with you?”

  The magnificent white stallion quivered in every muscle. The decision upon which the remainder of his life was to hang was being weighed in the balance. Slowly, at length, Pegasus came and placed his muzzle against Pecos Bill’s cheek.

  “I will go with you,” Pegasus whispered, “wherever you lead.”

  CHAPTER 10

  OLD SATAN BUSTS PIKES PEAK

  Now that Pecos Bill and Pegasus had found each other, the future of the cattle industry was assured. Mighty deeds were in the offing, no mistake.

  During the following day and a half, they did some fast traveling. They crossed a large portion of what is today Arizona and New Mexico. Pecos Bill kept in the lead. Pegasus followed closely after. At last they came to the very hillside on the Powder River where Pecos had left his saddle and lariat the morning the great race began.

  Pegasus was doubtful at first, but Pecos assured him that there was no danger in a saddle. “Why, anytime you get tired of it,” Pecos explained, “all you have to do is to arch your back and make one of your high dives. Then the girth will rip into a thousand pieces and the saddle itself will fly into the middle of the week after next.”

  With this assurance on the part of Pecos Bill, Pegasus allowed the girth to be cinched securely, but when it came to having his mouth defiled with a bridle bit, Pegasus was stubborn.

  “Very well,” Pecos replied, when all his arguments to the contrary had failed. “We’ll simply refashion the bridle into a halter. Instead of a bit in your mouth, we’ll simply lay the leather across your nose. I will direct you just with the pressure of my knees and the tightening of the reins against your neck. This will be easier for both of us.”

  With this further agreement, the haughty stallion submitted his head to the halter.

  All this while Pecos Bill was in such a fervor of excitement over his success in capturing Pegasus he had entirely failed to notice that all his clothes were torn from him. Now that he was finally in the saddle, he discovered he had reverted to the condition of Cropear, the Coyote. Besides, his shoulders and sides were scratched and bruised shamefully. But he never even slowed up. That wasn’t anything. He had Pegasus.

  When, however, he noticed that his lariat was still broken, it was a different matter.

  “I can never go back to the ranch this way,” he confided to Pegasus. “I’ll just have to fix up my rope. And I’d better find something to wear. It’s not quite customary to go about among humans without clothes.”

  Pecos was undecided what to do next, and Pegasus had no solution to offer. In the middle of this bad fix, Pecos suddenly discovered, at a distance, a great mosshorn steer that looked as ancient as the alkali desert or the jagged hillsides.

  Pecos now told Pegasus to stop, tied an improvised noose in his broken lariat, and before the grazing steer was aware that anything was happening, his head was inside the flying rope. The next minute Pecos loosened the hide from behind the steer’s ears, grabbed him by the tail, and with a yowl scared the terrified bawling beast so completely that he actually jumped out of his skin.

  Meanwhile, Pecos braided from the green rawhide a noose for his unfailing lariat.

  From the part of the skin that remained, Pecos fashioned himself a crude pair of leather breeches, with the hair on the outside, so that he might appear respectable when he reached Hell’s Gate Gulch. Thus it was that necessity, as usual, became the mother of invention. For when Pecos grew accustomed to the strange appendages and later told all the cowmen how very serviceable these breeches really were as protection against the rain and the mesquite and the cactus thorns, he immediately started a new style. Within a few months, leather breeches were all the rage, and no self-respecting cowpuncher dared appear without them. Thus was introduced the strange article of dress that has ever since been called “chaps.”

  As soon as Pecos had finished repairing his lariat and fashioning his leather breeches, he and Pegasus again started on their way, and the next minute were cutting the air into a long golden ribbon. Before they were quite aware of the distance, they had leapt the high corral fence and were dashing up to the top of Hell’s Gate Gulch.

  Pecos Bill found the members of the Devil’s Cavalry—just as he had expected—squatting on their toes, trying to lay a series of bets on the probability of his actually catching Pegasus. The betting was an entire failure, however, since they all agreed that this particular flying cayuse would never be caught by any mere mortal man.

  As Pecos leapt buoyantly down from the magnificent horse, with his lariat over his shoulder, he shouted, “Hello, to you, my merry men!”

  The eyes of the Devil’s Cavalry were the next minute sticking out so far that Pecos could easily have lassoed them off with his rope. “Well, can’t you men believe your senses? I’m Pecos Bill, and this is Pegasus, the palomino you fellows tried to get your ropes on. Together we’re about the handsomest pair of aces you’ve seen.”

  “Especially your pants!” roared half a dozen of the men together.

  “Give me that ten spot I was just ready to bet you, Shady Biddle!” Old Satan demanded.

  Then Old Satan became so charmed with this particular piece of horse flesh just arrived that he forgot all about the bet and just stood there staring at Pegasus. This was indeed the handsomest specimen of cow pony he’d ever laid eyes on. He coul
dn’t quite make up his mind that the stallion was not a sort of heavenly vision. Finally he teetered forward on his toes, rose quickly to his feet and said dreamily, as he twisted his mustache, “I wants to ride your cayuse.”

  “It’s a pleasant afternoon,” commented Pecos Bill blandly. “It looks as if we are going to have fair and clear weather for several days!”

  “I said I wants to ride your bronco!” repeated Old Satan, as he took a step in the direction of the sensitive stallion.

  “I said the weather was wonderful,” replied Pecos Bill, still more blandly.

  “Well, what says you to my humble request?” insisted Old Satan.

  “If you’ll make your life insurance papers over to me first,” smiled Pecos with dry humor, “I’ll grant your request.”

  “I’ll give you twenty dollars to boot between your stallion and Baldy Eagle, my best pony. Let me ride him, and if he suits me, I’ll give you twenty-five dollars!”

  “The horse isn’t properly broken in yet,” answered Pecos, quietly, “and I don’t want anybody to spoil him at this stage in the game!”

  “Spoil him!” thundered Old Satan. “Don’t you think I knows how to swing a leg across a saddle as well as the best? Ain’t I been gentlin’ Widow Makers all my life?”

  “But Pegasus is a mighty mean horse when he takes the notion,” Pecos added. “I give you fair warning!”

  Before Pecos could stop him, Old Satan had leapt into the saddle and was raking Pegasus’s sides with his cruel spurs.

  From this moment everything happened in such quick succession that no one could afterward describe accurately just what did occur. First there was a violent snort of fury from the stallion and an arched back and a leap like lightning—and then a cloud of dust! A saddle, with a man astride, was seen flying through the air like a charge of shrapnel. About all that the astonished watchers could distinguish was a rapidly disappearing streak of blue that quickly turned to a black blur against the arch of the sky. The stallion remained standing nearby.