by Harold Titus
CHAPTER VII
With Hoof and Tooth
So it came to pass that Danny Lenox of New York ceased to exist, and anew man took his place--Young VB, of Clear River County, Colorado.
"Who's your new hand?" a passing rider asked Jed one morning, watchingwith interest as the stranger practiced with a rope in the corral.
"Well, sir, he's th' ridin'est tenderfoot you ever see!" Jed boasted."I picked him up out at Colt an' put him to work--after Charley wentaway."
"Where'd he come from? What's his name?" the other insisted.
"From all appearances, he ain't of these parts," replied Jed, squintingat a distant peak. "An' around here we've got to callin' him Young VB."
The rider, going south, told a man he met that Jed had bestowed hisbrand on a human of another generation. Later, he told it in Ranger.The man he met on the road told it on Sand Creek; those who heard it inRanger bore it off into the hills, for even such a small bit of news isa meaty morsel for those who sit in the same small company aboutbunk-house stoves months on end. The boy became known by name about thecountry, and those who met him told others what the stranger was like.Men were attracted by his simplicity, his desire to learn, by his frankimpulse to be himself yet of them.
"Oh, yes, he's th' feller," they would recall, and then recite with thevariations that travel gives to tales the incident that transpired inthe Anchor bunk house.
Young VB fitted smoothly into the work of the ranch. He learned toride, to rope, to shoot, to cook, and to meet the exigencies of therange; he learned the country, cultivated the instinct of directions.And, above all, he learned to love more than ever the little old manwho fathered and tutored him.
And Young VB became truly useful. It was not all smooth progress. Attimes--and they were not infrequent--the thirst came on him withvicious force, as though it would tear his will out by the roots.
The fever which that first run after the Captain aroused, and whichmade him stronger than doubtings, could not endure without faltering.The ideal was ever there, but at times so elusive! Then the temptingscame, and he had to fight silently, doggedly.
Some of these attacks left him shaking in spite of his mendingnerves--left him white in spite of the brown that sun and wind put onhim. During the daytime it was bad enough, but when he woke in thenight, sleep broken sharply, and raised unsteady hands to his beggingthroat, there was not the assuring word from Jed, or the comfort of hiscompanionship.
The old man took a lasting pride in Danny's adaptability. His commentswere few indeed, but when the boy came in after a day of hard, rough,effective toil, having done all that a son of the hills could beexpected to do, the little man whistled and sang as though the greatestgood fortune in the world had come to him.
One morning Jed went to the corral to find VB snubbing up an unbrokensorrel horse they had brought in the day before. He watched from adistance, while the young man, after many trials, got a saddle on theanimal's back.
"Think you can?" he asked, his eyes twinkling, as he crawled up on theaspen poles to watch.
"I don't know, Jed, but it's time I found out!" was the answer, and init was a click of steely determination.
It was not a nice ride, not even for the short time it lasted. Young VB"went and got it" early in the melee. He clung desperately to thesaddle horn with one hand, but with the other he plied his quirt andbetween every plunge his spurs raked the sides of the bucking beast.
He did not know the art of such riding, but the courage was there andwhen he was thrown it was only at the moment when the sorrel put intothe battle his best.
VB got to his feet and wiped the dust from his eyes.
"Hurt?" asked Jed.
"Nothing but my pride," muttered the boy. He grasped the saddle again,got one foot in the stirrup, and, after being dragged around theinclosure, got to the seat.
Again he was thrown, and when he arose and made for the horse a thirdtime Jed slipped down from the fence to intervene.
"Not again to-day," he said, with a pride that he could not suppress."Take it easy; try him again to-morrow."
"But I don't want to give up!" protested the boy. "I _can_ ride thathorse."
"You ain't givin' up; I made you," the other smiled. "You ought to havebeen born in the hills. You'd have made a fine bronc twister. Ain't ita shame th' way men are wasted just by bein' born out of place?"
VB seemed not to hear. He rubbed the nose of the frantic horse amoment, then said:
"If I could get this near the Captain-- Jed, if I could ever get a legover that stallion he'd be mine or I'd die trying!"
"Still thinkin' of him?"
"All the time! I never forget him. That fellow has got into my blood.He's the biggest thing in this country--the strongest--and I want toshow him that there's something a little stronger, something that canbreak the power he's held so long--and that _I_ am that something!"
"That's considerable ambition," Jed said, casually, though he wanted tohug the boy.
"I know it. Most people out here would think me a fool if they heard metalk this way. Me, a greenhorn, a tenderfoot, talking crazily aboutdoing what not one of you has ever been able to do!"
"Not exactly, VB. It's th' wantin' to do things bad enough that makesmen do 'em, remember. This feller busted you twice, but you've got th'stuff under your belt that makes horses behave. That's th' only stuffthat'll ever make th' Captain anything but th' wild thing he is now.Sand! _Grit!_ Th' _wantin'_ to do it!"
A cautious whistle from Jed that afternoon called VB into a thicket oflow trees, from where he looked down on a scene that drove home evenmore forcibly the knowledge of the strength of spirit that was incasedin the glossy coat of the great stallion.
"Look!" the old man said in a low voice, pointing into the gulch. "It'sa Percheron--one of Thorpe's stallions. He's come into th' Captain'sband an' they're goin' to fight!"
VB looked down on the huge gray horse, heavier by three hundred poundsthan the black, stepping proudly along over the rough gulch bottom,tossing his head, twisting it about on his neck, his ears flat, histail switching savagely.
Up the far rise huddled the mares. The Captain was driving the last ofthem into the bunch as VB came in sight. That done, he turned to watchthe coming of the gray.
Through the stillness the low, malicious, muffled crying of thePercheron came to them clearly as he pranced slowly along, parading hisgraces for the mares up there, displaying his strength to their master,who must come down and battle for his sovereignty.
The Captain stood and watched as though mildly curious, standing closeto his mares. His tail moved slowly, easily, from side to side. Hisears, which had been stiffly set forward at first, slowly dropped back.
The gray drew nearer, to within fifty yards, forty, thirty. He paused,pawed the ground, and sent a great puff of dust out behind him.
Then he swung to the left and struck up the incline, headed directlyfor the Captain, striding forward to humble him under the very noses ofhis mares--the band that would be the prize of that coming conflict!
He stopped again and pawed spitefully. He rose on his hind legs slowly,head shaking, forefeet waving in the air, as though flexing his musclesbefore putting them to the strain of combat.
He settled to the ground barely in time, for with a scream of rage theblack horse hurtled. He seemed to be under full speed at the firstleap, and the speed was terrific!
Foam had gathered on his lips, and the rush down the pitch flung itspattering against his glossy chest. His shrilling did not cease fromthe time he left his tracks until, with front hoofs raised, a catapultof living, quivering hate, he hurled himself at the gray. It ended thenin a wail of frenzy--not of fear, but of royal rage at the thought ofany creature offering challenge!
The gray dropped back to all fours, whirled sharply, and took theimpact at a glancing blow, a hip cringing low as the ragged hoofs ofthe black crashed upon it. The Captain stuck his feet stiffly into theground, plowing great ruts in the earth in his efforts to stop and
turnand meet the rush of the other, as he recovered from the first shock,gathered headway, and bore down on him. He overcame his momentum,turning as he came to a stop, lifted his voice again, and rose high tomeet hoof for hoof the ponderous attack that the bigger animal turnedon him.
The men above heard the crash of their meeting. The impact of fleshagainst flesh was terrific. For the catch of an instant the horsesseemed to poise, the Captain holding against the fury that had comeupon him, holding even against the odds of lightness and up-hillfighting. Then they swayed to one side, and VB uttered a low cry of joyas the Captain's teeth buried themselves in the back of the Percheron'sneck.
Close together then they fought, throwing dirt and stones, ripping upthe brush as their rumbling feet found fresh hold and then tore awaythe earth under the might that was brought to bear in the assault andresistance. A dozen times they rushed upon each other, a dozen timesthey parted and raised for fresh attack. And each time the gray bodyand the black met in smacking crash it was the former that gave way,notwithstanding his superior weight.
"Look at him!" whispered Jed. "Look at that cuss! He hates that gray sothat he's got th' fear of death in him! Look at them ears! Hear himholler! He's too quick. Too quick, an' he's got th' spirit that makesup th' difference in weight--an' more, too!"
He stopped with a gasp as the Captain, catching the other off balance,smote him on the ribs with his hoofs until the blows sounded like therumble of a drum. The challenger threw up his head in agony and cringedbeneath the torment, running sidewise with bungling feet.
"He like to broke his back!" cried Jed.
"And look at him bite!" whispered VB.
The Captain tore at the shoulders and neck of the gray horse with hisgleaming, malevolent teeth. Again and again they found fleshhold, andhis neck bowed with the strength he put into the wrenching, while hisfeet kept up their terrific hammering.
No pride of challenge in the gray now; no display of graces for theonlooking mares; no attacking; just impotent resistance, as the Captaindrove him on and on down the gulch, humbled, terrified, routed.
The sounds of conflict became fainter as the Percheron strove to makehis escape and the Captain relentlessly followed him, the desire tokill crying from his every line.
The battling beasts rounded a point of rocks, and the two men sprang totheir horses to follow the moving fight. But they were no more thanmounted when the Captain came back, swinging along in his wonderfultrot, ears still flat, head still shaking, anger possessing him--angerand pride.
He was unmarked by the conflict, save with sweat and dust and foam; hewas still possessed of his superb strength. He went up the pitch to hisband with all the vigor of stride he had displayed in flying from it toanswer the presumption of the gray. And the mares, watching him, seemedto draw long breaths, dropped their heads to the bunch grass, and, oneby one, moved along in their grazing.
Jed looked at VB. What he saw in the boy's face made him nod his headslowly in affirmation.
"You're that sort, too," he whispered exultingly. "You're that sort!_His_ kind!"