A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) (11 page)

‘
Maybe
not even in that long,’ the Kid said.

Colin had expressed a sentiment which
Dusty, Mark and the Kid had discussed several times. All of them
knew enough about breeding and blood-lines to figure that the
continued removal of quality animals and return of culls must
eventually ruin the conformation, stamina and speed of the wild
horses roaming the range country. Under natural conditions, only
the hardiest, best-qualified stallions had the opportunity to stamp
their characteristics on the breed. With them gone, the mediocre
males could breed and lay their fault-filled mark upon the future
generations.

‘
I
don’t aim to wait until it happens,’ Colin continued. ‘It’s
something I’ve talked over with Libby and Jeanie. We’re going to
get some land, maybe around here, settle down and raise a fine
strain of horses. Mogollon strikes me as being a good start to
it.’

‘
He’ll
be that all right. Only ole Mogollon’s not going to be took
easy.’

‘
Do you
say it can’t be done?’

‘
You
know as well as I do that taking a
manadero’s
near on impossible.’

‘
You
did it with your Thunder horse,’ Colin said.

‘
He
wasn’t no
manadero
when pappy ’n’ me caught him,’ the Kid objected. ‘And he
was a whole heap younger’n Mogollon. From all I’ve heard, that big
stallion’s fast, smart ’n’ tolerable mean. Could be he’ll turn out
like that black cuss today, too mean to be took alive.’

‘
He was
captured once.’

‘
Why
sure—and got away again.’

‘
Could
we get him?’ Colin insisted.

‘
You’re
fixing to try, no matter what I say,’ the Kid guessed. ‘So’s soon’s
we’re relieved and I’ve fed, I’ll take my ole Thunder hoss and go
look for him.’ He slapped a hand against his thigh and grinned,
‘Hey! I didn’t know
you
Scotch fellers did it.’

‘
Did
what?’

‘
Went
out ’n’ got a real good hoss to give to your gal’s kinfolk. Us
Comanches do it a mite different, though. We have to hand over the
hoss afore the gal’s been asked, said “yes” ’n’ nailed our hides to
the lodge pole.’

‘
How do
we go about it?’ Colin inquired, ignoring the comment.

‘
Was I
you,’ answered the Kid, ‘I’d talk some to Jeanie about
that.’

‘
It’s
to be a surprise,’ Colin protested.

‘
And
she’ll act like it is when you tell her,’ grinned the Kid. ‘Then
she’ll set to and help you-all every which-way she can.’

‘
You
think I couldn’t do it without the lassie’s help?’

‘
Put
your tail down and stop them horns a-hooking,
amigo.
You’ll need that
mestenera’s
help. And, believe me, that’s
more damned help ’n’ hoss-savvy than you could get from anybody
else.’

‘
More
than from a
Nemenuh,’
Colin challenged, his good humor restored.

‘
If
saying so’ll get you to ask her,’ drawled the Kid, ‘even from
a
Nemenuh.’

Having asked for advice, Colin
showed sufficient good sense to accept it. On his return to the
camp, he took Jeanie to one side and stated his intentions. She
immediately threw herself wholeheartedly into helping him and
agreed to the Kid departing to locate Mogollon
’s
manada.

Leaving after supper, the Kid
returned while the rest of the party were eating breakfast. Taking
no notice of the manner in which Colin and Jeanie looked at him, he
collected his food. Squatting on his heels, he finished the meal
without saying a word. Not until he had dropped his plate and tin
cup into the dish of hot water by the
chuck wagon did he offer to address the
impatient girl and Scot.

‘
Ka-Dih’s
sure favoring you, Scotch brother.’

‘
Scottish,’ Colin corrected almost automatically. ‘“Scotch”
is a drink.’

‘
You
can buy the white part of me one next time we’re in town,’
suggested the Kid. ‘I’ve never seed a feller so lucky.’

‘
How
come?’ demanded Jeanie.

‘
Did I
ever tell you about me ’n’ Grandpappy Long Walker on our first bear
hunt, Dusty?’ the Kid inquired.

‘
Did
I
mention to
you
how we ought to get somebody out with a shovel to bury that
black
manadero,
Dusty?’ Jeanie asked, staring pointedly at the Kid. ‘I’d
say it’s a chore for one of your OD Connected hands.’

‘
Us
bosses all stick together, Lon,’ Dusty warned, having been an
amused onlooker to that point. ‘And riding the blister end of a
shovel’s hard work.’

‘
How’d
you know?’ the Kid said truculently. ‘I’ve never seed a boss riding
one. All right. Peace, white sister.’ The last words, being
accompanied by the traditional sign of peace, came with great
solemnity as Jeanie moved threateningly towards him. ‘I knows when
I’m licked.’

‘
I
never figured you knowed nothing,’ Jeanie sniffed.

‘
I know
ole Mogollon’s back down this ways,’ stated the Kid. ‘Fact being,
him ’n’ his
manada’re
heading for the place where we picked up the last
bunch.’

‘
Unless
it’s been tried since last year,’ Jeanie put in, eyes dancing with
eagerness, ‘the
Caracol de Santa Barbara’s
one pen nobody’s tried to run him into.
Colin, this could be our chance.’

Once a
manada
had thwarted an attempt to force them into
a
caracol,
it was impossible to drive them into that location again.
So, if Mogollon’s band had not been pushed towards the
Caracol de Santa
Barbara,
Jeanie and her men might capture the stallion. They had
already made a successful
corrida
and so possessed a knowledge of the type of ground
they must cover.

‘
Best
get started at it then,’ Dusty said.

‘
Sure,’
Jeanie agreed. ‘Fernan, take a wagon team and haul that
manadero’s
body a mile or so
away from the valley. Felix, take the boys and drive those hosses
we caught yesterday up here.’

‘
Si,
mestenera,’
the segundo replied. ‘Saddle up
amigos.’

Normally the newly captured
horses would have been left in the
caracol
for a few days, to let them settle down
and adjust to captivity. With the chance to collect Mogollon,
Jeanie and her men changed the procedure. Going to the pen, they
drove the mustangs, still held by the
sarprimas,
out of the draw and moved them back
to the camp area. During the journey, such of the mustangs as had
not already made the discovery learned that they could not run with
one leg raised from the ground. After falling once, the horses gave
up their attempts at flight.

In the middle of the afternoon,
Colin sat with Jeanie and Dusty amongst the post oaks. The rest of
the men were in the positions they had used to take part in
the
corrida
for the
manada de hermanos.
There had been only one alteration to the
arrangements. Knowing how important the capture of Mogollon was to
Colin and Jeanie, the Kid had taken the girl’s place in the
valley.

Excitement and anticipation
showed on the girl
’s face as she sat her
tobiano
gelding between the two men. Listening to
the skirl of Colin’s bagpipes, Jeanie and Dusty studied Mogollon’s
reaction to the sound. Like other horses hearing the pipes for the
first time, the
manadero
could not decide whether the strange noise was a menace to
its band. Adopting the safe course, Mogollon began to move its
family away from the unnatural wailing.

‘
Let’s
go and get them!’ Jeanie hissed and started her black and white
mount moving.

On seeing the riders, Mogollon
gave a snort of warning. Obediently, the rest of the
manada
started to run.
Satisfied that everything was going as they had planned, the girl
and her companions let out wild yells and gave chase. With their
horses moving at a gallop, the trio spread out to a wide arrow-head
formation. Filled with eagerness, Jeanie once again drew slightly
ahead.

Throwing a look behind, Mogollon
increased its speed. Passing down the flank of the
manada,
the chestnut
stallion forced the leaders to turn. Instead of fleeing into the
valley where the Kid and the
mesteneros
were waiting to head them towards the
caracol,
the band reversed
their course so as to pass at an angle ahead of their three
pursuers.

Nearest of the trio, Colin urged
his horse on at a greater speed in the hope of cutting off the
mustangs. Coming ahead of its harem as if they had been standing
still, Mogollon rushed at the Scot. Faced by the teeth-flashing
fury of the
manadero,
Colin’s blue-roan mount showed an equal aversion to that
displayed by Dusty’s
bayo-cebrunos
when charged by the black
master-stallion.

Rearing high on its hind legs,
the blue-roan pivoted around. Taken by surprise, Colin slid
backwards from his insecure perch and tumbled to the ground. Seeing
her fianc
é
unhorsed. Jeanie came the closest in her lifetime to acting from
blind panic. She slammed her spur-decorated heels against
the
tobiano’s
ribs. Responding to the signal, it thrust itself forward at
an increased pace. In doing so, it came between Dusty and Colin.
Although he had already drawn his right-side Colt, Dusty dare not
shoot for fear of hitting the girl.

Looking past Jeanie, Dusty saw
Colin throw himself on to his back and roll face down. Even as the
Scot covered his head with his arms, Mogollon hurdled his body
without breaking stride. All around Colin, the hooves of the
manada
thudded and pounded
on the ground. Only the horses’ natural aversion to treading on
alien objects saved him. One colt’s near fore hoof crushed the
eagle’s feather in his bonnet as it lay just in front of his head.
Unable to swerve in time, a female foal bounded over his broad back
and brushed against him in passing. Then the whole band had gone
by, streaming across the range, with Mogollon resuming its position
at the rear. Holstering his Colt, Dusty made no attempt to follow
them.

Leaving her
tobiano’s
back almost at a full gallop,
Jeanie lit down to run and kneel by Colin’s side. He forced himself
on to his hands and knees, staring in disappointment after the
departing horses.

‘
Are
you hurt, honey?’ Jeanie gasped.

‘
Only
my pride, lassie,’ Colin answered, turning his gaze from the
manada
to her anxious
features. ‘What happened?’

‘
That
tricky son-of-a-bitch!’ Jeanie spluttered, directing a furious
glare in Mogollon’s direction. ‘He knew what we was at and wouldn’t
let us drive him. I bet he’ll turn back every time he gets chased.
Damn it! He’s too all-fired smart to let hisself get hazed into
a
caracol!’

About to
enter the Grand Hotel accompanied by
Mark Counter, Libby Schell saw Tam Breda strolling over from the
rear of the building. The loading of her wagon had been completed
without further interruptions and Libby was looking forward to a
pleasant journey to Kerr County. Her smile wavered as Breda darted
a glance into the bar-room and swung to face it. As he strode
towards the door, his right hand dipped to loosen the Dragoon Colt
in its holster.

‘
I
never thought Tam’d need a drink before he could face me,’ Libby
sniffed.

‘
He’s
expecting trouble,’ Mark replied, having seen the movements of the
Scot’s right hand. ‘I’d best go back his play if he needs
it.’

Backed up against the mahogany
bar, a tall, slim young man with a swarthy, Gallic cast of features
and wearing cheap town clothes, looked about him in bewilderment.
Before him, exuding menace, stood a tall, slender, handsome,
professional gambler. Off to one side, a pair of hard-faced men in
range clothes glowered at him and kept their right hands
thumb-hooked close to their holstered revolvers. At the other side,
farther away and to the rear of the men, a beautiful brunette
watched with a dispassionate gaze. While she did not wear the
garish, abbreviated dress of a saloon worker, nobody would have
mistaken her for a
‘good’ woman.