“When we find out what kind of mothers those heifers turn out to be, then we’ll know if we’ve got something.” Nate reserved judgment on the worth of the new bull he had advised Chase to buy, but he stood a little straighter at the implied praise.
“Where are you heading?”
“Ownie was going to top off that grulla today. It’s one of old Cougar’s four-year-old colts. I’ve had my eye on that horse since he was two. That mouse-colored horse has cow savvy. I see it every time I look at him.” There is nothing a cowboy appreciates more than a good cow pony. “I wanted to check and see how he acted with a rider. I’ll bet he tears holes in the sky.”
“Let’s go see.” Chase walked with his old teacher and foreman to the corrals where the young horses were kept.
Each spring, the young horses were brought in off the range to be haltered and handled and get accustomed to saddles and bits between their teeth. No rider climbed on them until they were four years old. They arrived at the corral in time to see the horse wrangler take a spill in the dirt, and Chase got his first good look at the horse that had captured an old cowman’s eye. The dark gray horse was a well-muscled animal, but with a lean and rangy build, like its sire. Its legs, mane, and tail were black, with a white blaze on its face. Chase saw all that as the riderless horse circled the corral at a lope while its rider picked himself off the ground. A helper rode alongside the grulla and reached down to catch the trailing rope rein. Farther down the corral fence, he also saw Ty sitting on the rail. His mouth thinned in a grim line of displeasure.
“I thought he was supposed to be cleaning the stables.” He glanced at Nate to confirm that Ty had been assigned to that task. Since he’d been at the ranch, his work had all been on the ground, from cleaning barns to the windmill crews, to painting, wherever unskilled labor was needed. The only time he’d been on a horse was when Chase had sent him out to see a roundup the day Maggie had arrived.
“He’s all finished for the day.” Nate looked down the way with a half-smile on his weathered face. “That boy works like somebody set a fire under him so he can get done early and come down here to watch them break the young horses. He’s no slacker. He gets his work done before he sits on that fence.”
Assured that Ty wasn’t loafing, Chase moved down the corral fence to where his son was watching. “That’s a good-looking four-year-old,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s one of Cougar’s,” Ty replied automatically. Then he realized it was his father and hastened to explain, “I’m all through for today.”
“I know,” Chase said in a tone that sounded all-knowing.
Ty looked back to the corral, his expression growing wistful. “I sure wish I could ride that horse. You know I’m a good rider, Dad. And I’ve helped break in green horses before when we lived in California.”
“Do you want me to ask Ownie if you can ride him?”
Everything in Ty’s eager gaze said “yes,” but he sighed a dejected, “No.”
Chase turned and called out to the horse wrangler, walking to the center of the corral, where the horse had been led. “Hey, Ownie! There’s a boy here who thinks he can ride that horse. Do you want to give him a try?”
The short, wiry man glanced at Ty, who had been a steady spectator for days. He knew Chase was leaving the decision to his judgment, based on the horse and Ty’s inexperience.
“Sure. Why not?” he shrugged, and Ty leaped off the fence.
Chase was quick to notice that Nate had crawled into the corral. It was the old cowboy who was standing at the gelding’s head to ear him while Ty climbed into the saddle. The wrangler, Ownie Timms, ambled over to the fence where Chase was standing and watched Ty settle deep into the saddle and get a good grip on the rope reins.
“The Mouse is a good honest horse, bucks straight with no meanness,” the wrangler told Chase. “But he’s young and strong, got a way of twisting and jumping out from under ya sideways.”
“We might as well see what he can do,” Chase said, and both knew he wasn’t talking about the horse.
At a nod from Ty, Nate let go of the horse’s ear and stepped aside. The grulla went straight up in the air and down with a jar, then went sun-fishing across the corral, turning its belly to the sky. When the horse lunged sideways, Ty lost a stirrup, and horse and rider parted company on the next jump. Chase watched Ty hit the ground and roll automatically, then looked away.
Shaken and bruised, but unhurt, Ty lay on the ground for a minute, shaking his head and waiting for someone to ask if he was okay, but when he looked around, no one was paying any attention to him, not even his father. He got up, brushing himself off, and looked up to see Nate leading the horse to him. Nothing was said. It was presumed he would get back on, so he did. The second time he was bucked off, it was harder to get back on. The third time he didn’t think he could make it. Badly bruised, his knee throbbing, Ty glanced at his father, but Buck Haskell had just ridden up and his father was talking to him. Gritting his teeth, Ty limped to the horse Nate was petting and soothing. He waited until Nate had a hold of an ear, then hauled himself into the saddle, every muscle screaming. He caught a glint of admiration in the old cowboy’s eye. Suddenly all the pain seemed worthwhile. Then all hell was breaking loose again as Nate let go.
Nate trotted stiffly out of the way and angled for the fence where Chase watched. “The boy’s got try.” That was the highest compliment that could be given.
Chase smiled. “Maybe we could put him on a horse for the rest of the year and teach him about cows.” He glanced up at Buck, who was sitting in a relaxed slouch over the saddle horn, his hat tipped to the back of his curly blond head. “Have you got somebody in your crew who can keep an eye on
him and show him the ropes?” All the while he kept one eye on Ty. This time he seemed to be glued in the saddle, ready for every one of the grulla’s tricks.
“Dave is good with kids. I’ll keep an eye on him, too,” Buck promised.
“We’ll start him next week.” Chase noticed the mouse-colored horse was only crow-hopping now. “How’s everything going?” It was a general question addressed to Buck.
“Fine. Had a kind of freak accident the other day. Lost a calf out on the butte. Got tangled up in a strand of barbed wire.” Buck straightened in the saddle, adjusting his hat onto his forehead. “The boy’s got a good seat. Talk to you later, Chase.”
“Right.”
“I heard about that calf,” Nate said after Buck had ridden away. “Burt found it four days ago. Calf hadn’t even stiffened up yet.”
“Oh?” There was a point to this information; Chase could tell by the tone of the man’s voice. He remembered he had planned to ride out to the butte with Buck four days ago.