15 Western Short Stories — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

18 There were fifteen punchers with the Cienega wagon, and, outside of Wiggins, whom Jeff knew, and liked, not one of them would waste any sym- pathy on him. Jeff, lanky and slouch- ing, in his old bib overalls and brogan shoes, looked alien, and out of place. A hay-pitching farmer, tackling a job he knew nothing abort. Tim Black held the stage a moment longer. Then he said, almost chari- tably, “This old pony may be a little snuffy, Jeff, but he’s big and stout— he’ll pack you anywhere.” Jeff had no answer ready. He didn’t have much to say, anytime, and now he only nodded dumbly. The horse looked harmless enough, in the chilly, morning sunshine, but his humped back and the curve of his arrogant neck spelled trouble. Wiggins held him while Jeff saddled and Jeff was silently grateful for the help. After Black had gone back to the remuda, to rope out mounts for the rest of the men, Wiggins looked at Jeff, and his freckled face showed concern. “Jeff, I ain’t trying to tell you your business, but if I was you, I’d go to the Old Man. He knows you're no brone stomper. He ain’t unreason- able—” _“That’s just what I can’t do—” Jeff jerked the latigo tight. “Tim’s got me between a rock and a hard place.” He told Wiggins about his hopes for get- ting Cedar Springs, and how neces- sary it was for him to get along with the minimum of friction. “So you're going to ride him any- way, huh? Jeff, I begin to figure you need a keeper.” Wiggins looked dis- gusted. “That horse is apt to hurt you. He’s spoiled, and he’ll watch for a chance to come undone—if you give him one, that’s what she wrote.” “Well, it's a plain case of ‘have to’ with me,’ Jeff said, “but much obliged, anyhow. It'll help, knowing what to watch out for.” Jefi wasn’t trying to be a hero. He was merely a farmhand who’d worked hard for wages for most of his thirty- two years. It was because he was sick of being just a farmhand that he’d hit the Old Man for a job. If he could hold down a job with the rest of the men on the spring work, he thought it would incline Lawton to consider WESTERN SHORT STORIES letting him have Cedar Springs. This was desperately important, for it meant economic security for Dot, and young Sam, and it meant that Jeff could hold his head up and maybe amount to something. He remembered the notes coming due. Then, in the fall, young Sam would start to high school and there’d be clothes and stuff to buy. Sam was a good button. Not many thirteen- year-olds you could depend on, to stay home and look after things like a grown man. | Si eee had finished saddling by now. Men were getting on their horses. Jeff led the gray horse a few feet, then cautiously stuck his foot in the stirrup. The gray laid back his ears, but did no more than show his big, yellow teeth in a sort of grim humor and Jeff went up on him. He expected an instant explosion but none came. He gave the gray a little slack and the horse moved out, carry- ing Jeff with springy effortlessness. Jeff had ridden plenty of old farm horses but he had never experienced quite as exhilarating a feeling as this. It was like riding on a tame thunder bolt. The feeling of tremendous, leashed power. Then Tim Black spoiled everything. He gigged his horse into a fast lope, and of course Jeff had to keep up. ihe instant he loosened his reins — he felt the difference. The horse humped up in mid-air, his head went down, and Jeff, realizing his mistake, jerked back hard on the reins. The gray came up on his hind legs. High- er, and still higher. Jeff looked over his shoulder and saw the ground, where it had no business being, and he instinctively loosened up in the saddle. From then on, he was just as good as bucked off. The gray soared into the air and came down with a spine-twisting im- pact. Jeff heard somebody yell “Stay with him!” The earth seemed to gy- rate about him, dizzily. Then the gray really hit his best lick and Jeff quit him, colliding with the dirt with a jolt that nearly broke his neck. He saw the gray looming mightily above him, looking, from that perspective, like a fabulous beast from another COMICLOO© S CO