Blood at Bear Lake by Gary Franklin

Author:Gary Franklin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

31

“THIS HORSE IS a piece o’ walking shit. You know that, don’t you?” Joe asked. And this time, it was no trick of the trade he was employing. The horse that was offered to him really was nothing but a self-propelled pile of bones.

“It is a fine animal, Mr. Moss. Besides, it is the only saddle horse we have.”

“Good Lord, Mr. Peterson. Put a saddle on that thing an’ I figure the weight o’ the saddle alone would be enough t’ drive it to its knees. If I tried t’ mount it, I might as well just take a gun and shoot it ’cause I’d kill it for certain sure.”

“Then I cannot help you.”

“Well, I need some kinda mount,” Joe said.

Peterson fingered his beard and mumbled a little to himself. He looked Joe up and down, then sighed. “Come over here.”

The Mormon leader led Joe out of that shed and across the street to another house. There was a stable behind it that held a monster of a horse, the biggest animal—well, the biggest horse anyway—that Joe had ever seen. It was a gleaming jet black everywhere except for a pure white blaze and four white stockings. It must have stood seventeen hands or close to it and weighed upward of a ton.

“They tell me the breed is called a Shire,” Peterson said. “It was abandoned by a family traveling to California. They thought this horse had a broken leg, but the problem was only a stone bruise. It still limps now and then, but the leg is sound. The man who left it here said it was broken to saddle. We’ve no use for anything that big.” Peterson rolled his eyes. “You would not believe how much this horse eats, and there just is not much grass around here to cut for feed.”

Joe looked at the horse. Its feet were huge. Shoes for it would have to be the size not of plates, but serving platters. Heavy feathering on the lower legs betrayed its dray horse breeding. But he liked the intelligence that showed in the big horse’s eyes, and liked the proud way it carried its head.

“Mind if I give ’im a try before I decide anything?”

“Go right ahead.”

Joe led the big black around to the street and dropped the lead, figuring if the Shire tried to walk away, Peterson would be there to get it back under control. There was no need for that, however. The Shire stood ground-hitched while Joe went over to his mule and fetched his saddle and bridle.

“The horse is used to a snaffle, not that curb bit,” Peterson said. “I doubt your little bit would fit in that big mouth anyway.”

“You got a bigger snaffle?”

“Of course. Just a minute.” Peterson went into the store, and emerged a moment later carrying a brand-new snaffle bit. He quickly changed it for Joe’s bit on the bridle.

The snaffle fit in the Shire’s mouth without a problem, but Joe had to let his bridle out as far as the straps allowed in order to get it properly set on the black’s big head.

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