We only got to yell, “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” for about fifteen seconds before that wild jackass pitched Parley off his back. Parley got up limping. Some of the kids began giving him the raspberry as he walked to the fence. Then all the kids began laughing as Chalky let go with another loud,
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“Hee haw.” Parley’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger.
“If you fellows think it’s so funny,” he said, “let me see you ride Chalky.”
There were no volunteers.
“Are you all scared of a little burro?” Parley asked.
That was enough to make Tom. Basil Kokovinis, Danny Forester, and Seth Smith try to ride the wild jackass. He bucked them all off his back quicker than he had Parley. And he gave each one of them a loud, “Hee haw,” after doing it, as if to let them know a dumb old jackass was smarter than a bunch of kids. We all sat on the corral fence staring at Chalky, who looked as if he were going to sleep. Finally Parley spoke.
“Pa says you have to ride them to break their spirit be-fore you can break them to pack saddle and harness,” he said. “Nobody can gentle that wild jackass. When Pa gets back I’m going to tell him to take Chalky back to Wild Horse Canyon and turn him loose.”
“Don’t give up so easy,” Tom said.
“Who wouldn’t give up?” Parley answered.
“I wouldn’t,” Tom said.
“Is that so?” Parley said. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give that jackass to anybody who can ride him before Pa gets back.”
Tom stared at Parley. “Do you really mean that?” he asked.
“Pa sure as heck ain’t going to let me keep a jackass that I can’t gentle and sell.” Parley answered. “And I know if I can’t ride him no kid in this town can ride him.”
Parley wasn’t boasting. Maybe he wasn’t a broncobuster, but he could ride a horse better than any of the fellows. And
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with his pony. Blaze, he had won the trick-riding contest for kids his age at the county fair three years in a row.
That evening after supper as the family sat in the parlor Tom was quiet. Finally he spoke.
“Papa,” he said, “how much is a male burro worth?” “Not much,” I said before Papa could answer. “Who
would want a dumb old jackass?”
Papa dropped the magazine he was reading. “The question was addressed to me.” he reprimanded me. “However, for your information, J.D., a burro is a lot smarter than a horse, as any prospector or trapper will tell you. If his load is too heavy, a burro will refuse to move until you lighten it. But a pack horse or mule will carry a load that he knows is too heavy for him. When a burro feels he has put in a day’s work he will stop working and there isn’t anything you can do to make him continue. But a horse will go on working until he drops from exhaustion if you make him. When the weather is hot a burro will slow down his pace and nothing can make him move any faster. But a horse will keep going at any pace you want him to go regardless of how hot it is.”
Papa then looked at Tom. “To get back to your question,” he said, “years ago during the gold and silver mining boom a burro was worth more than a horse because so many prospectors used them. But prospectors are few and far between today. I have noticed, however, that some trappers at the campgrounds prefer a burro to a pack mule or pack horse. But I doubt if you could get more than five dollars
for one. Why do you ask?”
“Parley Benson has a wild jackass his father brought home,” Tom said. “Parley said he would give the jackass to anybody who can ride him.”
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“I’m sure,” Papa said, “that if Parley Benson can’t ride that jackass you can’t.”
“Maybe my great brain can figure out a way to gentle that wild jackass,” Tom said.
“Well just make certain you do it honestly,” Papa said. “I don’t want any backsliding out of you.”
The next morning after chores Tom said he was going to talk to Mr. Blake who worked in Jerry Stout’s saddle and harness shop. Mr. Blake had been a wild horse wrangler until a horse he was breaking fell on him leaving him too crippled to ride horses again. Mamma wanted me to run an errand to the store so I didn’t go with Tom.
I was sitting on the back porch steps watching Frankie and Eddie Huddle play marbles when Tom returned.
“Why did you want to see Mr. Blake?” I asked as Tom sat down beside me.
“To find out if there was any other way to gentle a wild horse than trying to ride him,” Tom answered. “Mr. Blake said the quickest and easiest way was to ride the horse and let him know you were his master by breaking his spirit. But there are two other ways. He said there are some wild mustangs and stallions who are such good bucking broncos that nobody can ride them. The only way to break their spirit is to put the horse in a stall and tie him so he can’t buck. Then put heavy bags of dirt on the horse’s back and beat him until you break his spirit.”
“Boy, oh, boy,” I said, “you wouldn’t do that to a poor old jackass would you?”
“Of course not,” Tom said as if I’d insulted him. “I’ll use the third way and that is to make friends with the horse. Mr. Blake said if you let a wild horse know you are his friend
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and get him to like you, he will let you ride him without
bucking.”
“For my money,” I said, “that wild jackass is too dumb to know he has any spirit to be broken and too stupid to know what a friend is.”
“If my great brain can’t figure out. a way to make Chalky like me,” Tom said, “I’ll trade places with that jackass.”
“Mamma and Papa wouldn’t like it.” I said.
“Like what?” Tom asked.
“Having Chalky living in our house,” I said, “and you living in the Benson pasture.” I thought that was very funny
but Tom didn’t even smile.
“I’m going up to my loft in the barn,” he said. “and put my great brain to work on how to gentle Chalky.”
Tom’s great brain must have been working like sixty. He told me when he came down from the loft for lunch that he had a plan to gentle Chalky. He wouldn’t tell me what the plan was until after lunch. Then he got some cubes of sugar from the kitchen and put them in his pocket. Frankie and I followed him into the backyard. He pulled up a bunch of carrots from the vegetable garden and washed them oft under the hydrant. He laid them on the back porch to dry. Then he went into the house and got a brown paper bag.
“What’s the idea?” I asked when he came to the porch. “I want you and Frankie to go to Smith’s vacant lot and go swimming with the fellows as usual,” Tom said. “If they ask you where I am, tell them I’ll be a little late getting to the swimming hole this week. Tell them .Sweyn is leaving tomorrow to go back east to school and I have to start helping
Papa at the Advocate.”
“But Papa said he would only need you when he has a big printing job,” I said. “He doesn’t want anything to
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interfere with your school work when school starts Monday.”
“So what?” Tom asked as it I was dumber than Chalky. “You won’t be telling a lie if you tell them I have to start helping Papa at the Advocate.”
“I’ll tell the fellows,” I said. “But I am also going to tell them that Frankie and I are going to wait for you. I want to be with you when you try to gentle Chalky.”
“All right,” Tom said, “but mum’s the word for anything you see me do, and that goes for you too Frankie.”
Frankie shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Eddie is com-ing over and I want to go swimming.”
“We’ll take you and Eddie swimming as soon as we get back,” Tom said. “Now, J.D., go to Smith’s vacant lot and tell the felloivs. And make sure you wait until Parley is there.”
I rode my bike toward Smith’s vacant lot. I couldn’t see anything wrong in helping Tom try to gentle the wild jackass. Parley had said he was going to have his father take Chalky back
to Wild Horse Canyon and cum the jackass loose. And Parley had said anybody who could ride the jackass before his father returned’could have Chalky. Either way Parley would have to give up the jackass. What difference did it make if Chalky was turned loose or Tom won him? There sure as heck wasn’t anything dishonest in Tom’s trying to gentle Chalky.
Parley and about fifteen other kids were at Smith’s vacant lot when I arrived. I told them that Tom, Frankie, and I would be a little late and the reason why. But riding my bike back home my conscience bothered me a little. I’d told Parley and the other fellows a lie. Tom was waiting with the carrots in a paper bag when I returned,
“We’ll walk,” he said to me after telling Frankie and Eddie to wait for us.
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We took a roundabout way to get to the Benson pasture so the kids at Smith’s vacant lot couldn’t see us. We didn’t have to worry about Mrs. Benson seeing us because their big barn hid us from her backyard and home.
“You hide over there behind that tree,” Tom said, “so Chalky won’t notice you.”
I did as he told me and then peeked around the trunk of the tree. Tom walked to the north end of the pasture. He climbed through the log rail fence and walked to the center of the pasture where Chalky was standing. I saw him reach into his pocket with his right hand while he held the bunch of carrots in his left hand. Then he held a cube of sugar un-der the jackass’s mouth-Chalky’s ears stood straight up as he nibbled the sugar cube from the palm of Tom’s hand. I watched my brother feed Chalky three more cubes of sugar. Then Tom took half of the bunch of carrots and fed them to the jackass. When Chalky finished eating the carrots Tom held the other half in front of him and began walking toward the north side of the pasture fence. Again Chalky’s ears stood up straight and he began following my brother. When Tom reached the fence he put the carrots on the ground for Chalky to eat. He patted the wild jackass on the neck and Chalky didn’t seem to mind.
The next morning the whole family went down to the depot to see Sweyn off for Boylestown, Pennsylvania. Mamma didn’t start to cry until the train was pulling out.
“It is so far away,” she cried.
Papa put his arm around her shoulders. “Take comfort in knowing, dear,” he said, “that because of the Adenville Academy we will have two of our sons and our adopted son home.”
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“But next year we will only have John D. and Frankie,” Mamma said.
Thai afternoon I again went with Tom to the Benson pasture to watcli from behind the tree. This time Tom left half the carrots by the north pasture fence-He fed Chalky lumps of sugar and then half the carrots. Then he took hold of the jackass’s short mane. At first Chalky wouldn’t move. Tom kept talking to the burro and finally Chalky let my biother lead him to the pasture fence where the other half of the carrots were.
Thursday afternoon we went back to the Ben&on pasture-Again Tom left half the carrots by the fence. Then he walked to the center of the pasture. He fed Chalky some cubes of sugar. Then, while Chalky was eating the carrots, Tom climbed on the burro’s back. I watched Chalky’s ears go flat back and thought for sure he would start to buck. But lie didn’t. He turned and looked at Tom and then continued eating. When he’d finished the carrots Chalky turned his head again to look at Tom, who was patting him on the neck and talking to him. I know Chalky couldn’t understand what Tom was saying, but he must have remembered there were more carrots by the fence. He began to walk toward the north side of the pasture with Tom on his back. He found the carrots by the fence. While he was eating them Tom got oft Clialky and after patting the burro on the neck and talking to him climbed through the fence and joined me.
“Your great brain did it,” I said when we met.
“Chalky knows I’m his friend now and likes me,” Tom said, “and tomorrow morning he will be all mine,”
Later that afternoon we were sitting on the river bank at the swimming hole resting between swimming and diving
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when Danny and Parley sat down beside us.
“How is that wild jackass of yours?” Tom asked.
“As wild as ever,” Parley said. “I tried riding him again Tuesday morning but he bucked me off twice.”
“I’d like to take another crack at riding Chalky before your father gets back,” Tom said. “How about tomorrow morning?”
Parley jumped to his feet and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hey, all you kids!” he shouted. “Come over here!”
He waited until the fellows on the river bank and those who had been swimming were crowded around him.
“You are all invited to see The Great Brain dumped on his behind tomorrow morning,” Parley said grinning- ,’He wants to try and ride Chalky again.” *
“I’ll ride him,” Tom said. “And when I do Chalky belongs to me. That was the deal you made.”
Danny had something the matter with his left eyelid which was always half closed unless he was angry or excited. It flipped wide open as he stared at Tom.
“I’ll bet you can’t ride that wild jackass,” he said.
Right away several other kids, including Parley, wanted to bet.
Tom shook his head. “You fellows know I can’t bet any more now that I’m reformed,” he said.
“But the other bets you made were all swindles,” Parley said. “This can’t be a swindle because there is no way your great brain could talk a wild jackass into letting you ride him. And if I can’t ride Chalky I know darn well that you can’t.”
“I don’t want to bet,” Tom said.
Danny rammed a finger into Tom’s chest. “You are afraid to bet because you know you will lose,” he said.
“Wrong.” Tom said. “I don’t want to bet because I
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know I’ll win. You see, Danny, I know I can ride Chalky.”
Parley spat. “What a sneaky way to get out of betting,” he said.
“But I know I can ride Chalky,” Tom said.
“And we are betting you can’t,” Parley said—
I figured it was up to me to stop Tom from swindling the fellows and backsliding. He would probably be very angry about it, but it was something I had to do.
“Don’t bet, fellows,” I said. “Tom can ride Chalky and when he does you’ll lose your money and say you were swindled.”
Danny pointed at me. “Now he has even got John try-ing to help him weasel out of betting,” he said.
“Yeah,” Parley said. “John knows Tom can’t ride Chalky and is trying to save him.”
“But I tell you he can,” I protested.
“And we all say he can’t,” Parley said.
“Leave my brother out of this,” Tom said. “If you fellows stiil want to bet tomorrow morning bring your money with you. I’ll cover all bets.”
I.ater as I walked toward home from the swimming hole I expected Tom to really be angry, but he didn’t say anything.
“I was only trying to stop you from backsliding,” I finally said. “You know you can ride Chalky. And when you do the fellows will claim it was a swindle and not have anything to do with you.”
“I’m glad you said what you did,” Tom said to my surprise. “It will make it even easier to prove it wasn’t a swindle.”
“For my money,” I said, “it is an out and out swindle.”
“Then your money must be counterfeit,” Tom said.
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We stopped at the Academy on our way home. The building was finished. Desks for the students and for the teacher were being carried into the building. We walked over and looked inside. Men were fastening the students* desks to the floor in the big classroom with screws. Papa was right. The Academy would be all finished before it was time for school to start.
The next morning after chores Tom dug up a bunch of carrots from our garden. He washed them off under the hydrant and swung them around to dry before putting them into a paper bag.
“Now, J.D.,” he said, “I want you to help me teach those smarty pants a lesso
n. I’ll go to the Benson corral and tell the fellows you had to run an errand. You sneak down to the north side of the pasture and put these carrots in the same spot by the fence where I put the others.”
“No,” I said. “Maybe I can’t stop you from backsliding, but I’m not going to help you swindle the fellows.”
“Not even for a quarter?” Tom asked.
“Not even for a dollar,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” Tom said. “I’ve plenty of time to do it myself.”
I watched Tom leave knowing he was smart enough to plant the carrots without being seen by anybody. After what happened at the swimming hole the day before I knew it wouldn’t do any good to tell the fellows not to bet. I went to the Benson corral with Frankie. There were about twenty kids there when we arrived.
Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head. “Where’s Tom?” he asked. “Did he back out?”
“He’ll be along,” I said.
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Tom arrived a few minutes later. He had a notebook, a pencil, and a paper bag. He told all the kids who wanted to make bets to line up. He wrote down the name of each fellow and the amount of his bet in the notebook. Then he made everyone put the money they had bet in the paper bag, which he covered with cash from his own pocket. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him since he’d reformed. I guess just getting back into action swindling kids was making his money-loving heart beat with joy. After all bets were made Tom handed me the notebook, pencil, and paper bag containing the money.
“You hold the stakes, J.D.,” he said. “The bet is that I can’t ride Chalky. And just to make it more interesting, I’m going to ride him in the pasture where he has more room to buck if he wants. And I’ll ride him without the girth to hold on to.” He turned to Parley. “Lend me your halter.”
“Boy!” Parley exclaimed. “If I’d known you were going to try and ride Chalky without a girth I’d have bet fifty cents instead of just a quarter.”
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