Chapter 16 #2
At the corral center, a man stumbled to his feet and limped across the hard-packed dirt. Dust and dirt marred his checkered vest and tan trousers.
A fellow hooted from the crowd. “Don’t forget your hat, Simmons.”
“Why don’t you give it a try, Harry?” Simmons huffed and bent down to retrieve his hat, wincing as he stretched back up.
“I’ve got more brains than that.” The short, squat one named Harry chuckled.
The blue roan galloped toward the populated end, and Simmons quickstepped to the railing. Another laugh erupted amongst the crowd.
“Anyone else care to prove their metal?” A man with gray streaks in his rust-colored beard called from atop an unhitched wagon just outside the arena. Mr. Gary? A wide-brimmed hat protected his eyes from the glistening afternoon sun of mid-May.
The men shuffled and nudged each other.
A few more took notice of Cora, the only lady at the corral, and gave her an appreciative smile or nod.
Ben caught her hand and drew it back to the sweet spot in the crook of his arm. His treasure. If only that were so. Warmth spread through his chest as her fingers fell into place without protest.
The man atop the wagon stood. “No one brave enough?” He hitched his trousers. “How about you, Charlie?”
Charlie shot up from his lookout between the second and third rungs. “Me?” The wood jarred as he bumped his head. “Oww.”
“Not you, young’un.” A heavy-set man in bad need of a shave and a bath glanced down at the boy. “Mr. Charles Goodnight.”
Farther along the railing, near the gate, a tall fellow with short-cropped dark hair, close-set eyes, and a goatee stepped forth. “I’ve already got all of the horses I need for the day, Gary. That blue looks too chunky for my taste.”
“Don’t know what you’re missing, Goodnight.” Gary spat a chaw of tobacco to the ground from his perch.
Goodnight saluted. “I have to leave you one good horse.”
One good horse? Hopefully, more than that and not the one in the ring.
Ben aimed to place a saddle on an animal of his own today and trail his rented horse behind him on the way home.
What if he volunteered to ride the blue?
He’d practically lived in the saddle during the summer campaigns in the war.
Dealt with many an ornery horse. But he had never broken a spirited, wild one like this.
And all of that was before Andersonville and laudanum had eaten him inside out.
“Jones.” Gary jabbed his finger toward a younger fellow with slicked-back hair. “Bring Ginger out.”
“Yes, sir.” Jones slipped down off the railing. “Should I saddle her?”
“No need. We’ll tie the blue up to her tail, nice and tight, not much wiggle room. He’ll have another thought coming when he goes to chin the moon. A horse can’t buck if he can’t lift his head.”
Jones jogged toward the stable.
Harry called out, “Maybe now, Charlie will be brave enough to ride her.”
“You ought to do it, Harry,” another cowpoke suggested.
“I’m not riding that beast.” Harry backed up a step.
“Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” Gary jabbed his thick hands to his hips. “My boy will do it.”
A sandy-haired boy sprang off a crate. “Pa. Not the blue.”
A murmur went up amongst the men.
Eyes wide, Charlie wiggled up from his lookout. “He’s going to make the boy do it?”
“We’ll see.” Ben frowned at the man on the wagon.
Gary puffed out his chest. “My boy’s broke a dozen horses with a bronc tied up to Ginger or one of the other mares. Simmons, throw a saddle on the blue.”
The blue, as if he could hear every word, galloped to the far end of the corral and returned at a charge. Dust flew beneath his pounding hooves.
Jones returned with a chestnut American Saddlebred mare, and Simmons lugged a saddle, neither of them going farther than a few feet beyond the gate, as if they were afraid the horse might charge like a bull.
Gary hopped down from the wagon. “I can see I’m going to have to saddle him myself.” He waved toward Tyler. “Come on, boy. You got some riding to do. Show these men up.”
“But Pa…” Tyler dragged his feet. “Please. I can’t.” Tears filtered down his cheeks.
The blue snorted and pranced out of reach.
Ben flexed his hands. He could volunteer and save the young’un.
Charlie tugged on Ben’s sleeve. “He’s scared. I…I think I could do it. His pa shouldn’t make him.”
“You’re a brave boy, but you’re staying put.” Ben gripped his shoulder and whispered, “I could go.”
Cora shot him a wide-eyed glare. “Absolutely not. Neither of you.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “I’ll do as I see fit.”
Gary grabbed ahold of the blue’s halter. “Tyler, get over here—”
“I’ll do it.” Goodnight stepped forward. “Only leave Ginger out of it. I’ll show the blue what he’s made for.”
Claps, cheers, and relief ensued as Goodnight slapped his own saddle on the horse. Gary held the halter tight while Goodnight tugged on thick leather gloves.
The blue ignited as the man sank onto its back.
Gary jumped clear as the stallion pitched and bucked.
Pebbles and dirt flew. The saddle skirts flapped as Goodnight dug his boots deep into the stirrups.
The blue jerked its chin up and reared, front legs pawing air.
Goodnight flopped like a ragdoll atop the bucking, contorting mass of horse flesh.
Would the man or the horse win? Up and down the length of the corral, the pair fought.
Men cheered.
“C’mon. C’mon, you can do it.” Charlie pumped his fist against the worn wood.
Suddenly, the horse leveled. Was he beaten?
The animal snorted, then blew a gust that echoed around the corral.
Quicker than a snap, the horse took off at full gallop, charging for the side of the corral.
A communal gasp went up as the blue’s four hooves left the ground in a leap that carried both rider and animal over the railing.
The animal struck ground and darted across the field away from the trees with Goodnight still in the saddle.
“He’s headed for the creek bluff,” Harry called out.
This could be serious. Ben started at a jog and picked up speed, Cora and Charlie right behind him. The whole crowd flocked after the runaway.
Horse and rider dove between a couple of hackberry trees. The branches barely missed the man. The blue’s hooves sprang into the air, and both rider and animal disappeared over the side of the bluff.
A rumble and a neigh echoed up.
Ben reached the edge first. Four or five men ran up alongside of him. Cora bumped into his back.
“He did it,” the cowhand congregation hollered.
Charlie skidded to a stop and whooped. “He’s still on.”
Mud encased the animal’s legs all of the way to the saddle skirts, but Goodnight sat astride, bent over, hands on his thighs and boots scuffing against the brown ooze.
Goodnight swiped his arm across his forehead and waved.
At Ben’s side, Cora gaped. “Amazing. Did you see that?” She turned to Ben. “He held on. Through it all. My goodness.” Her eyes lit up like fireworks.
Ben snorted. Next thing he knew, she’d be asking for a formal introduction to the man. “It’s not that special.” He kept his voice low.
“Not special?” She nudged his arm. “He rode him off the cliff—”
“Maybe a smarter man would have let go.”
“Maybe you just don’t know…”
Her words faltered as his glower deepened.
He smacked his gloves against his trouser legs and stomped away from the crowd. He’d had enough of the scene.
“Where are you going?” Cora trailed after him. “We need to talk to him—”
“I will. After everyone gets done slapping him on the back.” He lengthened his stride. Hopefully, she wouldn’t catch up.
Across the field and past the outbuildings, he walked. He’d check on their horses they’d tethered next to a fence on the other side of the main house.
At the stone well, he filled a bucket and wiped the back of his neck with his neckerchief.
His stomach burned as if someone had prodded him with a branding iron.
It acted up every time his temper flared nowadays.
The anger, the pain, the continued weakness.
All of it indelible scars scratched in him, body and soul, by Andersonville.
Or was it from the medicine? Laudanum. The quinine LeBeau had given him helped alleviate the worst of his ailments, but it was nothing compared to laudanum.
He could almost taste the brown liquid even now.
He shook himself and picked up the bucket, sloshing a bit on his trouser legs as he quickstepped to the horses. As if he could outrun the hunger.