by H. V. Elkin
By the time Cutler got within speaking distance, he had adjusted to where he was. It was an uncomfortable wrench coming back to Harmon and Chase’s world and leaving that great freedom he had had with Mesteño. But that was the way it had to be. A man had to do what he had to do, and that did not mean liking it. The one bright spot in front of him was Ellen. Just seeing her there looking at him that way helped make the transition easier.
It was more difficult for Mesteño. He knew this place by sight. Many times before he had stood on the rise watching it. He had raided the corral at night. But never had he dared to come onto the land in daylight, to come close to the conflicting energies he felt coming from the men. It was nothing like being a part of a mustang herd that could feel as one, where every animal knew and accepted its place in the scheme of things. This was a thing to run from in terror, if it were not for the strong confidence of the man who rode him and inspired trust in the animal. Mesteño moved forward without hesitating, in conflict with his nature, responding to Cutler’s will.
“Okay!” Harmon slapped his hip and nodded, a kind of off-hand compliment. “Okay, Cutler. She’s a job well done. And now maybe you’re ready for that jug of mine.”
Cutler tore his look from Ellen and shook his head for Harmon. “No, the job ain’t done yet.”
“What do you mean? You’re sittin’ on him, ain’t you?”
“A wild animal ain’t really caught unless he’s tame or dead. This one ain’t gonna be killed, so he’s got to get used to bein’ around people. Might serve some of you right, though, if I was to ride out now and leave you the trouble.”
“Well, hell, you did the job you’re bein’ paid to do, as far as I’m concerned, Cutler. You want to ride out, I’ll pay you and you can go.”
“No, I can’t do that, Harmon. Not until I know this horse’s gonna be all right.”
“If he ain’t, why don’t you just let it serve us right then, like you say?”
“ ‘Cause it wouldn’t serve the horse right, and that’s what I care about. The horse.”
“Okay, I’ll go along with you. Now what?”
“We’ll put him in a corral with a couple of mares. Couple days and he might be okay for somebody else to try ridin’. But leave him alone ’til then.”
Harmon turned to the other hands who had not gone off after Chase. “Well, boys, I think somebody ought to be celebratin’. Don’t you?”
They agreed with him, and Harmon led them off to where he kept the whiskey.
“Come on,” Ellen said. “Let’s take care of Mesteño.”
They put the mustang in a corral with mares that had not been a part of his band. The stallion looked out from his enclosure and did not respond to the mares.
“I get the feelin’ he’s sayin’ something,” Ellen said.
“He is. But it’s in a language we don’t understand so much anymore.”
“Will he be all right now?”
‘That’s up to him, Ellen. We just got to leave it up to him. Nothin’ anyone can do right now but leave him alone.”
“And until you know he’s all right, the job isn’t over. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Does that mean ...” She looked away and did not have to finish the sentence.
“Means I can’t take a bath or change my clothes yet.” He thought that would answer her question. He thought that would make her decide not to come to his wagon at night. But he was wrong. Ellen did not care what he smelled like. And she noticed that in telling her what it meant about the job not being over, he mentioned clothes and a bath. She thought it significant that he left something out of the short list of things he had to deny himself.
That night she was looking down from her bedroom window at the wagon, knowing Cutler would be sleeping inside, and she began to have doubts about going down to him. She had seen the dog get in the wagon with its master, and even though Red seemed to know and like her by now, she was not confident how the dog would react if she came up to the wagon at night. Then she realized that she was only finding excuses for herself, excuses not to go. She wanted to be there with Cutler, or half of her did. But now there was another half, one that she did not like being aware of but one that she faced as directly as she faced most other things in her life. The new and unhappy fact in her life was that she wanted Cutler to come to her instead. She wanted him to choose her. And thinking that kind of attitude was typical of most females, the kind that wore petticoats and hung around the house all day and rode sidesaddle when they had to ride, Ellen was not happy to find it in herself. Partly for that reason, and partly because she did not believe Cutler ever would do anything so ridiculous as climb up to her bedroom window.
As she stood there considering which decision would make her least unhappy, she saw a dark shape moving in the corral where Mesteño had been put with the mares. She heard Mesteño snorting, that same sound he had made out on the range to warn his mares that trouble was near, the signal for flight.
“John!” she screamed out into the night.
In an instant she saw him appear at the back of his wagon, looking up toward her window, the dog beside him. “What?” he yelled back.
“The corral! Someone’s in there with the stallion!”
Cutler was out of his wagon in the next moment, buckling on his gun belt as he ran to the corral, Red behind him. By the time he got there, the damage was being done. Someone was mounted on Mesteño, and the stallion was standing with its legs apart and shivering. Cutler wanted to shoot the figure on the horse, but that would only make matters worse as far as the horse was concerned.
“Who the hell is that?”
“Back off, Cutler!” It was Chase. “Give me room if he jumps the fence.”
“You’re sittin’ on borrowed time, Chase!”
“Don’t seem to be botherin’ this bag of bones much.”
“You couldn’t ride him in the daylight! Now get down while you still can.”
“Worried about me, are you?”
“I’m worried about the horse, you fool!”
“Hell, then you’re more worried than he is.”
“Get down and try it in the daylight when the rest can stand around and watch you make a fool of yourself. Or is that what you was thinkin’? That why you’re tryin’ now?”
Ellen came up holding a lantern. Mesteño retreated from the approaching flame and continued to shiver at the far end of the corral where he and Chase became nothing more than a shadow. The mares were restlessly milling about having sensed something the man could not. Apache came up to the corral, having returned to his untethered existence, and whinnied. Red began to bark.
“Red! Quiet!”
The dog whimpered and was still. Cutler pinched Apache’s muzzle and the horse reluctantly responded to the signal to be quiet.
“Hell!” Chase said. “He ain’t gonna do nothin’, looks like. Have to encourage him a mite.” With that he dug his spurs deep into the horse’s side.
It was exactly as it had been that first time Cutler raised the blind from the mustang’s eyes out on the range. The horse reared on his hind feet twice, then kicked. Except now, with nowhere much to run, Mesteño continued to buck in an attempt to throw the rider from his back. It was much more than Chase had bargained for and although he was able to hold his seat for a while with a strength that came from his hate and anger, he was soon thrown, and Mesteño backed away from the object on the ground, still bucking and kicking.
“Now get the hell out of there!” Cutler yelled.
“Like Hell!”
Cutler could see Chase approaching the horse again, and Mesteño backed away in fear, lifting his front feet in a challenge. Mesteño came down hard as Chase veered away from the attack, and the blow only caught his shirtsleeve, ripping a long gash in it.
“That could’ve been your arm!” Cutler yelled.
“Get out!” Ellen yelled. “Or you’re through on this ranch!”
Chase ignore
d them both and continued to try to stalk the horse. Mesteño was becoming increasingly frightened and more dangerous with each moment. Cutler cursed under his breath and jumped into the corral. He went up behind Chase who was concentrating on the fighting mustang, and he put his arm around Chase’s neck from behind, bending him back in a strangle hold, and dragging him to the other end of the corral. When they got to the fence, Cutler spun Chase around and sent a fist to the cowboy’s chin. The blow sent Chase back hard against the fence, and there was a sound of the wood cracking.
Chase came at Cutler, both arms flailing wildly, but he was unable to connect in the darkness. He backed toward the center of the corral, and Cutler met him there. They traded blow for blow, until Cutler sent Chase sprawling on the ground amidst the hoofs of the frightened horses. Chase rolled out of the way and got to his feet, then came for Cutler again. The speed of his approach toward Cutler’s fist made the blow hit him with such force that it knocked him flat on his rear. As he landed, he fell up against one of the mare’s front feet, and the horse reared over his head. Cutler dove at Chase and rolled him back away from the hoofs as they descended. Having been dazed from Cutler’s fist, Chase was not aware that Cutler’s tackle kept him from being clobbered by the mare, and he fought back, wrestling with Cutler there on the ground under the horse’s belly. As the two men rolled, the mare stepped over them and her back hoof grazed Cutler’s head. He did not notice.
Ellen was in the corral. She had tied one of the mares to the post at the far corner of the corral, away from the fight. Now she roped the second mare and led it over near the first.
Mesteño was backed against the fence, his neck arched, his eyes riveted on the men on the ground.
The men now had a cleared space. And Cutler saw that Chase was stronger than he thought. Cutler sat astride Chase’s chest and cocked his fist to knock the man out, but with a great lunge Chase turned under Cutler and threw Cutler to the side, in a second reversing their positions. Chase had his knees bearing down hard on Cutler’s shoulders and he had his hands around Cutler’s neck.
“I owe you this,” Chase said as he tightened his grip, a look of madness in his eyes. Red was barking, asking for a command to attack. But with Chase’s hands so tightly held on his neck, Cutler could not have given the command if he wanted to. He managed to get his hands around to Chase’s wrists and loosen the hold. It took all the strength he had to pull Chase’s hands away. This done, Cutler was able to throw Chase off, then roll around with his body, bringing his fist around at the same time and delivering a hard uppercut to Chase’s jaw. It knocked Chase out. Cutler pulled back for a second punch, then realized it was not necessary. He got up, grabbed Chase’s collar and dragged the unconscious body out of the corral.
“Red! Guard!”
The dog took a position by Chase and watched him intently.
Cutler went back into the corral and walked slowly up to Mesteño. The horse eyed Cutler suspiciously, and Cutler stopped, spoke quietly and gave the mustang time to get the man’s scent. Now there was the additional smell of blood from Cutler’s forehead wound, and the animal was wary.
“It’s okay, boy,” Cutler said. “It’s okay now.”
“Watch Chase,” he told Ellen in the same soothing tones he used with the mustang. “If he comes to, make sure he understands that dog is anxious for some excuse to rip his throat out.”
Sensing some subtle change in the voice, Mesteño sidled away along the corral fence.
“It’s okay, boy. It’s all over now.” Cutler did not move for several minutes but continued to speak to the horse until he thought the mustang was reassured to some extent. Then Cutler went to the horse, stroked the nose for a long time, then, running his hand gently along the horse’s neck, moved around to the side, grabbed the mane and sprang onto the horse’s back. Mesteño shied slightly but then stood still. Cutler, avoiding the spots where Chase’s spurs had dug into the horse’s sides, used a firm pressure with his heels, and the horse moved forward and around the corral as Cutler directed him.
Chase opened his eyes and saw the dog bare his fangs and heard a warning growl come from deep in the dog’s throat.
“Don’t move too much,” Ellen said, “or the dog’ll have to finish the job.”
Chase turned his head very slowly toward Ellen’s voice, then froze when he heard the dog’s growl again. But he had turned his head far enough to see Cutler riding Mesteño in the corral.
Some of the hands found excuses to be nearby the next day so they could overhear what was going on between Cutler, Harmon and Chase. The voices were angry, and there might be a fight, like the one the cowboys heard they had missed the night before. They could see the argument was about Chase and they knew whatever was happening was going to affect all of them. If Chase did not come out on top he was going to be that much harder to work for. But, whatever happened, most of the hands were thinking they could endure Chase’s manner a little longer on the chance that things were coming to a head, and something might be happening they would not want to miss, like Chase getting taken down several pegs and maybe for good.
“I told Tom he could have Mesteño for his string,” Harmon said.
“And did you tell him I said nobody was supposed to go near the horse until I said so?” Cutler asked, his eyes blazing with anger.
“I don’t recall. Did I, Tom?”
“I don’t recall,” Chase echoed.
“Look,” Cutler yelled at Harmon like Chase was not there, “your foreman here’s a pain in the butt. Whether you told him or not, he was out there tryin’ to ride the mustang at night. Now, a man don’t do a thing like that for any good reason.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Chase yelled.
“Let me put it to you real plain!” Cutler turned on Chase. “If a man does what you did, I’d have to say he was doin’ it so nobody’d see him.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Could be so nobody’d see you get thrown. Could be because Harmon told you to stay away from the horse. You got a better reason?”
Chase only glared at Cutler. Cutler turned back to Harmon. “If you can’t control this foreman of yours, I’m gonna have to. And I’m beginnin’ to think there’s only one way of doin’ that.”
“Now, now, Cutler,” Harmon said. “There’s no need to get so riled up about a little misunderstandin’ like this. You won’t have no more trouble. Will he, Tom?”
“Not unless he asks for it.”
“There,” Harmon said, “you see? Tom won’t mount the horse again until you say it’s okay, Cutler. How’s that?”
Cutler looked from one man to the other, shook his head in disgust about both of them, then turned and walked away.
“You got to ease up,” Harmon said.
“Then tell him to!” Chase yelled.
“I want you to just keep out of his sight until this is over, Tom. Now will you do that?”
“I’m riled up good, Ben. Do my best, but I don’t want to go makin’ any promises I can’t keep.” He looked around at the men who were standing around. “What the hell are you doin’?” he shouted angrily. “Get the hell back to work!”
For the next two days Cutler did not see Chase. And Ellen did not come to his wagon at night. Neither of them were very much in his mind. He was more concerned with what was happening to Mesteño. So, it appeared, was Apache who stood outside the corral fence looking at the once-proud mustang. Ellen came up beside Cutler who was leaning against the fence. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Despecho.”
“What?”
“He don’t want to live no more. Won’t eat or drink any water, not even for me.”
The mustang stood still, his head low, a glassy look in his eyes.
“He only knows one way to live,” Cutler said. “His only other choice is dyin’.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“Turn him loose.”
“We can’t do that. The problems wou
ld start all over again if he was free around here.”
“I don’t know.” Cutler shook his head. “It’s a case of damned if you do and damned if you don’t. He’s gonna die in that corral. If he’s free, somebody’s gonna shoot him.”
“Tom wants him shot now,” Ellen said. “I heard him talkin’ to Pa about it.”
“Why does he want to do that now that he’s caught?”
“He’s got to get back at that horse for what it done to him.”
“He’s got to get back at me,” Cutler said. “He figures killin’ the horse is the best way to do it.”
“Maybe. But that’s not what he says. He says the horse is no good to anybody and might as well be done away with. Says it’s a one-man horse.”
“What one man?”
“Why, you,” she said. “Who else?”
Cutler looked at her.
“I hate to admit Tom Chase could be right about anything,” she said. “But I think he’s right this time about you and Mesteño.”
Cutler looked back at the horse. He had not wanted to ride him again because the horse was weak from not eating. But now he went into the corral and put a saddle on Mesteño. “Open the gate,” he told Ellen, and he mounted the stallion. The horse did not respond to the man on his back. At the pressure of Cutler’s heels, Mesteño moved despondently forward until he was outside the corral. Then he perked up considerably, and Cutler rode the horse out of sight of the corral where the horse began to run, his spirit returned. Cutler rode to the water hole in half an hour, then dismounted. He led the horse to the water. Mesteño drank deeply and then grazed a little. And Cutler knew that what Ellen had told him was true. He wondered if there was any way he could transfer the horse’s loyalty to someone else. He could see no other hope.