Other Men's Horses by Elmer Kelton

Author:Elmer Kelton
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9780765320513
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

8

Andy’s black horse was wearing down. So was Andy, but he was not yet ready to give up the search, though it had begun to appear a lost effort. He hoped to find a ranch where he might borrow, trade, or buy a fresh mount. The little packmule showed no signs of giving out, but a rest would be helpful for it too.

He had been seeing cattle, most bearing the look of long-horns brought up out of South Texas. Many ranches on the lower and high plains were being stocked with cow herds from the brush country below San Antonio. Some, showing English blood, were coming down from Colorado now that the buffalo slaughter had opened the range for cattle operations and the Indian troubles were over. He thought this was a likely-looking region for a ranch, but he already had his sights set on land far to the south, in the hill country.

He saw a wooden windmill tower and reined in that direction. He found that it served what appeared to be a ranch headquarters. A box-and-strip house stood surrounded by scrub oak trees common to the cross timbers area. Beyond it stretched a long building which he took to be a bunkhouse. Barn, sheds, and corrals were set off at a respectable distance. A ranch wife would want her house to be well away from the outdoor facilities’ flies and dust.

Three men were in a corral, breaking a young horse. Andy rode up to the fence and watched a cowboy hold the bronc by the ears while another swung into the saddle and pulled his hat down tight. The bronc pitched out across the corral. The rider lost one stirrup, which flopped about wildly as the horse jumped. The cowboy took a firm hold on the saddlehorn and managed to keep his seat. Sweating, the bronc circled the corral several times, gradually slowing as it went around. Finally it stopped, heaving for breath. The cowboy dismounted and quickly stepped away to avoid being pawed.

Only then did the three notice Andy. An older man with a salt-and-pepper beard walked toward the fence, acknowledging him with a neutral nod neither friendly nor unfriendly. “Howdy. I don’t believe I know you.”

“Name’s Andy Pickard. Are you the boss?”

“No, she’s up at the house, fixin’ dinner. Will I do? My name’s Ben Danforth.”

Andy dismounted and shook hands through the fence. “I’m a Texas Ranger. My horse is about ridden down. I was hopin’ I might be able to swap for a fresh one.”

The rancher nodded. “It can be done, but I wish you’d come yesterday. You’d’ve had more to pick from. Thieves ran off a bunch of our horses last night. Some of my boys are out now, scoutin’ around and hopin’ to find them.”

“Do you have a lot of trouble with horse thieves?”

“They’re worse than heel flies. They steal cattle, too, but they seem to like horses the best. They can get away with them faster.” His eyes took on a hopeful look.

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