The Pony Rider Boys in Texas

by Patchin, Frank Gee

  "Pardon me, I"

  "Ah, here you are, my dear. I have been looking for you. I wish you to meet Master Thaddeus Butler, who, with three companions and a tutor, is crossing the state with the Miller herd. It is the most unique vacation in these days. Master Butler, this is Mrs. McClure. My daughters will join us in a moment."

  Mrs. McClure shook hands cordially with their young guest.

  "Welcome to Ox Bow," she smiled. "At first, as your back was turned to me, I took you for one of the men. Instantly you faced me I saw the mistake I had made. Won't you be seated?"

  Under her cordial manner Tad Butler was soon at his ease. Almost before he was aware of the fact Mrs. McClure had drawn from him the main facts relating to the journeyings of the Pony Riders.

  Mrs. McClure's two daughters, Sadie and Margaret, entered the room soon afterwards, Tad being presented to them. Margaret, the elder of the two, was a fair-haired girl of perhaps nineteen years, while her sister Sadie, who was darker, Tad judged to be about his own age.

  Both girls shook hands smilingly with their guest.

  "I hope you will pardon me for appearing in such a disreputable condition," begged the lad. "I really am not fit to be seen."

  His quaint way of putting it brought forth a general laugh.

  "You need make no apology. We are all ranchers here. Even my daughters and my niece ride, and sometimes accompany the foreman on drives from one part of the ranch to another. As for my niece, though brought up in the East, she is a born cattle woman. There is hardly a cowman on the place who can ride better than she."

  "Your man tells us that you are the best horseman in your outfit," said Mr. McClure.

  "I don't think I quite deserve that compliment, sir," answered Tad. "But I am very fond of horses. I find, by kind treatment, one can do almost anything with them."

  "My idea exactly," nodded Mr. McClure approvingly. "The cowpuncher doesn't look at it that way, however. He wouldn't feel at home on a horse that didn't break the monotony by bucking now and then. Did you ever ride a bucker?"

  "Once. I expect to break one of the animals I understand we are to get from you."

  His host whistled softly.

  "You have a large contract on hand, young man. The ponies I am turning off are the worst specimens we ever had on the ranch. Some of them never had a bridle on, for the very good reason that no one ever has been able to get close enough to them to put bridles on. I hope you will not be foolish enough to try to break any of that stock."

  "Oh, we'll rope them and get a headstall on, anyway. The rest will come along all right, I think," smiled Tad.

  "Ah, my niece, Miss Brayton!" exclaimed the rancher, introducing a young woman who had just entered the room.

  "With the Miller outfit?" she asked.

  "Yes," answered Tad.

  "Who is your foreman?"

  "StallingsBob Stallings."

  Tad thought Miss Brayton one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Yet there was something about her that affected him strangely. Perhaps it was her abrupt manner of speaking. At any rate the lad experienced a sense of uneasiness the moment she entered the room. He did not stop to ask himself why. Tad merely knew that this was true. Miss Brayton had little to say, but her quietness was more than atoned for by the vivacity of Sadie and Margaret.

  As Tad was taking his leave the entire family accompanied him out into the yard.

  "If your duties will permit we should like to have you and your companions dine with us to-morrow evening," said Colonel McClure.

  "Yes; by all means," added Mrs. McClure.

  "Yes, Mr. Butler, we should love to have you," added Sadie.

  "Besides, we want to meet your friends," said Margaret.

  "And I am sure we should enjoy coming. It seems almost an imposition for four of us boys to camp out in your dining room at the same time," laughed Tad.

  "I assure you it will be doing us a favor," protested the rancher. "You will bring your Professor, also. We'll have a real family party."

  Tad somewhat reluctantly agreed to bring his companions, though he disliked the idea of going to so fine a place for dinner in their rough, weather-beaten clothing.

  The boy bade them all good-bye and strode off toward the corral, where the ponies were being roped preparatory to being taken over to the Miller herd.

  "Oh, Mr. Butler!"

  Tad wheeled sharply. Ruth Brayton was hurrying toward him.

  The lad lifted his hat courteously and awaited the young woman's approach.

  "Yes, Miss Brayton."

  "Tell me again who your foreman is."

  "Bob Stallings."

  "StallingsStallings. Where have I heard that name before?" mused the girl, staring at Tad with vacant eyes.

  "Are you sure it isn't HamiltonRobert Hamilton?"

  "Quite sure," smiled the lad.

  "Do you know a cowboy or foreman by that name?"

  "No, I never heard the name before."

  Miss Brayton turned abruptly and hurried away. Tad heard her repeating the name of his foreman as she walked swiftly toward the ranch house.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVIII

  BREAKING IN THE BRONCHOS

  "My, but that was a job," laughed Tad, after they had reached camp again, with three wild bronchos in tow. They had staked the new ponies down on the plain to think matters over while the cowboys sat down to their noon meal.

  "They sure are a bad lot," agreed Big-foot Sanders. "Never seen worse ones. See that fellow, over there, don't even mind the pinch of that hackmore bridle. He's the ugliest brute in the bunch."

  "That's the one I'm going to break," decided Tad Butler, his eyes glowing as he observed the wild pitching and snorting of the staked animal.

  The pony was running the length of his rope at full speed, coming to a sudden halt when he reached its end, with heels high in the air and head doubled up under him on the ground.

  It seemed to the lad like unnecessarily harsh treatment, yet he knew full well the quality of the temper of these animals of the plains.

  "I'm afraid he'll break his neck," objected Tad.

  "Let him," snapped the foreman. "There's more where he came from."

  "By the way," said Tad, speaking to the Pony Riders. "I have an invitation for you fellows. I had forgotten it in the excitement of getting the new ponies to camp."

  "Where to!" asked Ned Rector indifferently.

  "To take dinner at the home of Colonel McClure."

  "That will be fine," glowed Walter.

  "But the question is, what are we going to wear?" laughed Tad. "We don't look very beautiful for a drawing room."

  "Drawing room?" inquired Ned Rector, with interest. "Did I hear you say drawing room?"

  "Yes."

  "Huh! There isn't one within a thousand miles of us."

  "You will think differently when you see the one at the ranch house."

  "Diddid the colonel say what we were going to have to eat?" asked Stacy Brown, in all seriousness.

  His question provoked a loud laugh from cowboys and Pony Riders.

  "No. Naturally, I didn't ask him. There are some very nice girls at the ranch, too."

  "You don't say!" exclaimed Ned. "Will wonders never cease? I'll believe I am not dreaming when I see all this with my own two eyes."

  "Yes, Colonel McClure has two daughters, and besides these, there is a niece from the East visiting them. She is considerably older than the daughters, but a very beautiful woman." Tad paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Professor, I presume you will have no objection to our accepting Colonel McClure's invitation? You are invited to join us."

  "Not at all, young gentlemen. But perhaps I had better not intrude"

  "Please go," urged Tad.

  "Sure. He'll go. You will, won't you, Professor?" demanded Ned.

  "Of course, if you really wish me to" smiled Professor Zepplin good-naturedly.

  "Of course we do," chorused the boys.

  "Very well, I will think
it over. I'm afraid, however, that I do not look altogether presentable."

  "No more do we," answered Walter Perkins. "Tad probably told them we did not."

  Tad nodded.

  "They refused to accept that excuse. So I told them we would come."

  The boys were full of anticipation for this promised break in the monotony of their living; and, besides, they looked forward keenly to meeting the young women about whom their companion had told them.

  After the meal had been finished Tad asked when they were to begin breaking the new stock.

  Stallings looked over the ponies critically.

  "I guess we'll let them stay where they are, for an hour or so yet. It will help to break their spirit. Still think you can break one of them in?"

  "I am sure of it," answered Tad Butler confidently.

  "You shall have the chance. However, I shall not permit you to saddle him. Some of the cowpunchers, who are used to that, had better do it for you the first time. Unless one knows these little brutes he is liable to be kicked to death."

  "I am not afraid."

  "No, that is the danger of it. Neither is the pony afraidthat is, not until he is blindfolded."

  About the middle of the afternoon the foreman announced that they would begin the breaking. The cowmen uttered a shout, for the process promised them much boisterous fun.

  "Is the gopher going to break one of the bronchos?" asked Lumpy Bates.

  "No, but the Pinto is," replied Curley Adams.

  "He'll want to go home right away if he tries it, I reckon," jeered Lumpy.

  "Don't you be too sure about that," retorted Curley. "That kid's got the stuff in him. I've been watching him right along. None of them lads is tenderfeet, unless it's the gopher, and he isn't half as bad as he looks."

  By this time the foreman had taken hold of the rope that held the most violent of the ponies, and was slowly shortening upon it. As he neared the pony's head a cowboy began whipping a blanket over its back.

  While the animal was plunging and kicking, Stallings gripped him by the bridle, after which there was a lively struggle, and in a moment more a broad handkerchief had been tied over the pony's eyes.

  "What's that for! Is he going to play blind man's buff?" demanded Chunky.

  "Huh! Get out!" growled Big-foot.

  "If he does, you'll be it," jeered Ned Rector.

  At last the animal crouched down trembling. He had never passed through an experience like that before and could not understand it.

  Tad Butler standing near, was observing the operation with keenly inquiring eyes.

  All at once the little animal leaped clear of the foreman's grip, its blinder came off and it launched into a series of wild bucks and grunts. The air seemed full of flying hoofs, and for the moment there was a lively scattering of cowpunchers and Pony Riders.

  Once more, and with great patience, the foreman went all over the proceeding again. This time the foreman got one hand on the animal's nose and the other in his mane.

  All at once something happened. A forty-pound saddle was thrown, not dropped, on the back of the unsuspecting pony.

  The broncho's back arched like a bow, and the saddle went skyward. Stacy Brown happened to be in the way of it as it descended, so that boy and saddle went down together in a yelling heap.

  The cowpunchers howled with delight as Chunky, covered with dust, wiping the sand from his eyes, staggered angrily to his feet.

  "Did he kick me?" he demanded.

  "With his back, yes," chuckled Shorty Savage.

  Again and again the saddle was shot into the air the instant it touched the pony's back. It was back in place in no time, however. After a time the broncho paused, as if to devise some new method of getting rid of the hated thing.

  As he did so, Big-foot Sanders cautiously poked a stick under the animal, pulling the girth toward him. A moment more and he had slipped it through a large buckle, and, with a jerk, made the girth fast.

  Again the bucking began, but more violently than before.

  The saddle held, though it slipped to one side a little.

  "I've got him now," cried Stallings. "The instant he lets up, catch that flank girth and make fast."

  "Right," answered Big-foot.

  It was accomplished almost before the boys realized it.

  Walter and his companions set up a shout.

  The pony stood panting, head down, legs braced apart. The blinder had been torn from his eyes. He was waiting for the next move.

  "Are you ready for me now?" asked Tad Butler quietly.

  The foreman turned his head, glancing at Tad questioningly.

  "Think you can stand it?"

  "I can't any more than fall off."

  Stallings nodded.

  Tad slipped to the pony's side. Cautiously placing his left foot in the stirrups, he suddenly flung himself into the saddle.

  The next instant Tad Butler was flying through the air over the pony's head.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XIX

  GRIT WINS THE BATTLE

  The lad appeared to strike the ground head-on. Fortunately, the spot where he landed was covered with soft sand.

  "Are you hurt?" asked Big-foot, running to the boy and reaching out to assist him.

  "I guess not," answered Tad, rubbing the sand from his eyes and blinking vigorously.

  The skin had been scraped from his face in spots where the coarse sand had ground its way through. His hair was filled with the dirt of the plain, and his clothes were torn.

  But Tad Butler, nothing daunted, smiled as he pulled himself to his feet.

  "You better let that job out. You can't ride that critter!"

  "I'll ride himif he kills me!" answered the boy, his jaws setting stubbornly.

  Tad hitched his belt tighter before making any move to approach the pony, which Stallings was now holding by main force. While doing so, the lad watched the animal's buckings observantly.

  "Whatwhat happened?" demanded Stallings.

  "Foot slipped out of the stirrup."

  "Think you can make it?"

  "I'll try it, if you have the time to spare."

  "It takes time to break a bronch. Don't you worry about that. I don't want you to be breaking your neck, however."

  "My advice is that you keep off that animal," declared Professor Zepplin. "You cannot manage him; that is plain."

  "Please do not say that, Professor. I must ride him now. You wouldn't have me be a coward, would you?"

  Stallings, realizing the boy's position, nodded slightly to the Professor.

  "Very well, if Mr. Stallings thinks it is safe," agreed Professor Zepplin reluctantly.

  Tad's face lighted up with a satisfied smile.

  "Whoa, boy," he soothed, patting the animal gently on the neck.

  The pony's back arched and its heels shot up into the air again. Once more Tad petted him.

  "No use," said the foreman. "The iron hand is the only thing that will break this cayuse. Don't know enough to know when he's well off. Got your spurs on?"

  "Yes."

  "Then drive them in when you get well seated."

  Tad shook his head.

  "I do not think that will be necessary. Guess he'll go fast enough without urging him with the rowels," answered the boy, backing away to wait until the pony had bounced itself into a position where another effort to mount him would be possible.

  "Will you please coil up the stake rope and fasten it to the horn, Mr. Stallings?" asked Tad. "I don't want to get tangled up with that thing."

  "Yes, if you are sure you can stick on him."

  "Leave that to me. I know his tricks now."

  Cautiously the rope was coiled and made fast to the saddle horn.

  "I'm coming," said Tad in a quiet, tense voice.

  "Ready," answered the foreman, with equal quietness.

  The lad darted forward, running on his toes, his eyes fixed on the saddle.

  Tad gave no heed to the pony. It was that
heavy bobbing saddle that he must safely make before the pony itself would enter into his considerations.

  Lightly touching the saddle, he bounded into it, at the same time shoving both feet forward. Fortunately his shoes slipped into the big, boxed stirrups, and the rein which lay over the pommel ready for him was quickly gathered up.

  Stallings leaped from the animal's head and the cowpunchers made a quick sprint to remove themselves from the danger zone.

  They were none too soon.

  The broncho at last realized that his head was free. His sides, however, were being gripped by a muscular pair of legs, and his head was suddenly jerked up by a sharp tug at the rein.

  "Y-e-e-e-o-w!" greeted the cowboys in their long-drawn, piercing cry.

  "Yip!" answered Tad, though more to the pony than in answer to them.

  Down went the pony's head between his forward legs, his hind hoofs beating a tattoo in the air.

  The feet came down as suddenly as they had gone up. Instantly the little animal began a series of stiff-legged leaps into the air, his curving back making it a very uncomfortable place to sit on.

  Tad's head was jerked back and forth until it seemed as though his neck would be broken.

  "Look out for the side jump!" warned the foreman.

  It came almost instantly, and with a quickness that nearly unhorsed the plucky lad.

  As it was, the swift leap to the right threw Tad half way over on the beast's left side. Fortunately, the lad gripped the pommel with his right hand as he felt himself going, and little by little he pulled himself once more to an upright posture.

  All at once the animal took a leap into the air, coming down headed in the opposite direction.

  Tad's head swam. He no longer heard the shouts of encouragement from the cowpunchers. He was clinging desperately to his insecure seat, with legs pressed tightly against the pony's sides. As yet he had not seen fit to use the rowels.

  There came a pause which was almost as disconcerting as had been the previous rapid movements.

  "He's going to throw himself! Don't get caught under him!" bellowed Big-foot.

  Tad was thankful for the suggestion, for he was not looking for that move at the moment.

  The pony struck the ground on its left side with a bump that made the animal grunt. Tad, however, forewarned, had freed his left foot from the stirrup and was standing easily over his fallen mount, eyes fixed on the beast's ears, ready to resume his position at the first sign of a quiver of those ears.