BUD'S BAD BRONCHOS.
It was time for the fall round-up, and Stella had written from her
uncle's ranch, in New Mexico, that she and her aunt, Mrs. Graham, were
coming North to do their winter shopping in Denver, and would visit the
Moon Valley Ranch to take part in the round-up and the festivities which
the boys always held at that time.
Her letter did not say when she would be there, but the boys knew her
well enough to expect her at any moment following the letter.
Therefore they were not surprised to hear a clear, high imitation of the
Moon Valley yell one morning while they were all sitting at the
breakfast table.
They did not need to be told that Stella Fosdick had come, and without
ado they sprang from the table, overturning chairs in their haste to get
out of the house to greet her and her aunt.
"Hello, boys!" she called from the carriage, in which she and Mrs.
Graham had driven over from Soldier Butte. "You're a gallant lot of
young fellows not to meet us at the station, particularly when I wrote
you that I was coming this morning. I'm real mad." But her smiling face
belied the statement.
"You didn't say when you were coming," said big Ben, who was the first
to reach the carriage step and was helping Mrs. Graham to descend. "If
we had taken your general statement that you were coming, to meet you at
the station we would have camped right there forever. Never can tell
about your movements, young lady."
"But I did write that I was coming this morning, and to meet us and
take breakfast with us in the Butte."
"We didn't get that letter. When did you write?"
"Last night."
"That's good. Always take time by the fetlock. We'll get that letter
some time to-morrow. Why didn't you wait and write us to meet you after
you got here?"
"Saucy as ever, Ben. But we're positively starved. Hello, Song!" she
called to the Chinese cook, who was standing on the veranda grinning
like a heathen idol, "got anything good to eat?"
"Yes, missee, plenty good glub. Mebbeso you likee some fried ham and
eggs?" said Song, shaking hands with himself and bowing low.
"Ham and eggs! No! Positively, no! I'll be turning into a ham and egg if
I get any more of it. That's all the cook at the ranch knows how to do.
Anything else?"
"Yes, missee. Plenty paltlidge, what Misto Ted shootee lesterday. I
cookee you some plenty quick."
"All right, Song, cook us some partridges."
The boys stood around in a group of admiring servitors waiting to carry
Stella's hand bag and gun and saddle and other things with which she was
burdened.
Suddenly she looked toward the porch.
"Who's that?" she asked breathlessly, pointing to a little girl who
stood shyly beside a post looking on.
"Why, that's Lilian," said Ted. "I didn't know you were up yet," he
called to the little girl. "Come here, dear, and see Stella. You haven't
forgotten Stella, have you?"
"If it isn't Lilian!" cried Stella, rushing toward the child with
wide-open arms and folding her within them.
"I wouldn't have known you, honey," said Stella. "What have you boys
been doing to her? She's improved so much. Where did you get all these
clothes, and who takes care of her?"
"Isn't she a little beauty?" asked Ted Strong proudly, patting the head
of the blushing little girl.
"But how did you do it?" persisted Stella.
"Oh, I went over and saw Mrs. Bingham, the major's wife, at the fort,
and asked her to come and advise us what to do. She came and was
delighted with Lilian, and promised to oversee her wardrobe. She was
going down to Omaha, and when she returned she had a trunk full of
things for Lil. She also brought a colored woman to look after her, and
Mirandy has proved a blessing and a treasure."
"But the clothes didn't make themselves."
"No, and none of us made them, either, although Bud said he could sew,
and insisted upon trying. He cut up several yards of cloth, and at the
end of the week, when we saw the product of his needle, he narrowly
escaped lynching. If Lilian had not interceded for Uncle Bud, of whom
she is very fond, I'm afraid we'd have no little Buddy now. No, we sent
down to Omaha for a dressmaker and boarded her in town until she had Lil
all fixed up, as becomes the heiress of the La Garita Mines."
"Whose idea is this way of making the things?" demanded Stella, who was
looking Lilian over with critical eyes.
"Oh, we all had a finger in it. I sent away for a lot of fashion
magazines and things of that sort, and we sat up nights as a board of
strategy and picked out the sort of thing we wanted, and I reckon there
isn't a better-dressed kid in the State."
"I agree with you. Well, Ted Strong, you're a constant wonder to me.
Where in the world did you learn to do all the things you do so well?"
"The honeyed flatterer. Quit your joshing, Stella; hand it to Ben. He
likes it, and the thicker it is the more he can stand of it."
"Hello! Breakfast!" called Song from the veranda, and they all trooped
back to the living room to finish breakfast and talk about the things
they had passed through, and to lay plans for the coming round-up
festivities.
After breakfast Ted and Stella went out to the corral to look at the
saddle stock.
"Why, there's old 'Calamity Jane,'" cried Stella, as a bay pony came
trotting across the corral and put its velvet nose in the hand she held
out.
"Jane knows you, all right," said Ted.
"Sure. Why shouldn't she? I rode her all one season down here. I believe
she wants me to choose her for my own again. Do you, Calamity, old
girl?"
Calamity Jane, which had at one time been the wickedest and stubbornest
mare on the ranch, nickered and again rubbed Stella's hand with her
nose.
"Talk about your smart horses," said Stella. "Calamity can do everything
except talk. Who's been riding her?"
"Kit. He's wrangler, and he won't let any one on her. He's light, you
know, and he was saving her for you. You'll find that she hasn't been
spoiled at all."
"Then, if Kit has been riding her, she's all right, for if there ever
was a horseman it's Kit."
"Isn't she getting fierce?" said a quiet voice behind them. "Say, she's
getting to be one of these regular society jolliers. She didn't used to
be that way."
They wheeled around to see Kit, who had come up to them in his usual
quiet manner.
"Yes," said Ted. "She tried to hand me a package this morning."
"You mean things. That's what a girl gets for being civil and
confidential, and talking as she would like to fellows she thinks are
her friends. I'm going back to the house. I don't like you very much
this morning."
The boys winked at one another.
"Say, Kit, I want Sultan after a while. I'm going to ride down to the
lower end of the ranch to look at that bunch of new horses," said Ted
carelessly.
"Oh, may I go with you?" asked Stella eagerly.
"I thought you were mad at us, or I would have asked you."
"I was only fooling. I'll be ready in ten minutes. Let's take Lilian
with us."
"That was what I was going to do. It is time for Lilian's regular riding
lesson. I am trying to make her as good a rider and all-around cowgirl
as you, Stella, but I doubt if ever she will."
"Who is jollying now, Mister Ted?" cried Stella, with a laugh, but she
was blushing with pleasure at the compliment.
That is the difference between a boy and a girl. A healthy,
well-conditioned boy becomes embarrassed and cross at a well-meant
compliment spoken in the presence of another, believing that the person
who is complimenting him is making fun of him in some unknown and covert
way. But to a girl a compliment that is sincere is as grateful as dew to
a rose, and Stella always felt much elated when Ted complimented her on
her prowess in any of the arts of the range.
They rode away with Lilian, who was learning to ride well for her age
and experience under the best of riding teachers, Ted Strong.
As they were nearing the lower pasture they observed a great commotion
among the horses that were huddled in a fence corner.
"Hello, what's going on there?" exclaimed Ted.
"Looks like the worst sort of a riot," said Stella. "I believe those
boys need help."
They could see Bud and Ben and several cowboys circling around the
bunch of ponies, evidently trying to get into it, and break it up and
scatter it.
"What's the row?" asked Ted, galloping up.
"Thar's a cayuse in thar thet I'd plumb like ter electrocute," said Bud,
who was mad clear through. "My, but he's got er bad dispersition."
"Which one?" asked Ted, laughing. "From what I can see there isn't one
of them you could call angelic."
"Thar's ther meanest bunch o' horse meat thet ever come ter this man's
ranch, bar none, an' ther prize devil o' ther lot is thet black demon in
thar. He near broke my pony's leg a minute ago with a stem-windin' kick
sech ez I never see before. Thet hoss is shore double-j'inted."
The horses were bunched, heads in, heels out, around a splendid-looking
black stallion, which was biting and kicking at everything that came
near him.
"Let him kick his foolish head off," said Ted, viewing the squealing,
struggling throng.
"I reckon they're just showin' off because Stella got here this
mornin'," said Bud disgustedly. "They're tryin' ter knock us, Stella, by
showin' yer thet we aire a bum lot o' horsemen fer not makin' them
behave first off."
Stella laughed and nodded. She understood.
"Where did you pick up such a mean bunch of horses?" she asked.
"Them hosses is intended fer ther tourneymint what takes place after
ther round-up. We're goin' ter hev some roughridin' fer fair here, an'
if we all git out with whole bones we shore kin send up a balloon in
celebraytion."
"But where did you get them? Were they bred mean on purpose?"
"I reckon not. I bought 'em from ther wild range in Montana. They ain't
seen men closer than a mile, except'n' it wuz Injuns, an' they don't
count, until we butted in on 'em. They belonged ter ole man Stallings. I
reckon you remember him, what we met on our way ter Fort Grant, when yer
run erway an' got lost on Red Mesa."
Stella nodded.
"I wuz lookin' fer a bunch o' cow hosses. We sold a big run o' 'em ter a
Newbrasky cowman who was short o' saddle stock, an' who said he'd heard
we had the best-broke cow ponies in ther West, an' I reckon we had. He
was willin' ter pay a good price fer our spare stock, an' we unloaded."
"Then you will have to break in a lot of new ones. Isn't that a waste of
time?"
"Young woman, we're ranchmen, not rockin'-chair gents. It's part o' our
business ter take somethin' what ain't much good, an' make it better.
That's the way we earn our bread an' bacon."
"So I see."
"Ted says ter me ter go up inter Montana an' pick up a lot o' good,
gingery hosses, an' I struck John Stallings. He says ter me, when I made
my wants known, 'Go out on ther range an' he'p yerself,' says he.
'They're all mine, an' Ted Strong an' his boys kin hev anythin' I've got
except my fam'ly. But,' says he, 'you'll find some purty lively stock
out there.'"
"Well, you did," said Stella, laughing.
"I reckon I picked out ther orneriest hosses in the whole West, an' I'm
savin' them fer some o' these Smart-aleck cowboys who'll be here from
ther ranches round, who think they kin ride," and he winked wisely.
"Gracious, look there!" she cried. "What's Ted trying to do. He'll be
hurt, Bud."
"No, I reckon not, but I'll git in thar handy ter help him if he needs
it. Keep the kid outer ther way if that bunch breaks."
Ted had done what none of the others had succeeded in doing.
He had forced his way into the very center of the bunch of wild horses,
wheeling and doubling and riding like a circus performer, to avoid the
batteries of flying heels, until he was close to the wicked black
stallion, which was all that held the bunch together and prevented it
from being broken up and driven to the upper end of the ranch, where it
belonged.
There was not a moment when he was not in danger. A chance kick might
break his leg, or bring down his horse, in which event he must be kicked
to death or badly hurt by being trampled on.
But so far they had not been able to reach him.
"Be careful, Ted," cried Stella.
He waved his hand at her with a smile, and she hurried Lilian beyond the
reach of danger.
Ted wheeled his horse to face the black brute, which stood looking at
him with wicked eyes, its ears flattened like those of a panther. In
spite of its evil temper Ted admired it for its lithe beauty. It was as
clean of limb as a thoroughbred, and its black skin shone like polished
ebony. While he was looking at it thus it suddenly sprang at him, reared
on its hind legs, striking at him like a boxer. Had he not wheeled on
the instant it would have killed him. Ted was thoroughly angry, and went
to the attack himself, beating the horse about the head with his quirt.
When the horse rushed at him through a rain of blows across its nose Ted
retreated beyond reach of its hoofs, then attacked it again.
Suddenly the black horse wheeled and presented its heels, and Ted rode
around it, lashing it well, everywhere the whip could reach.
Although the horse continued to lash out with his heels he struck
nothing, and always his enemy was at his side or in front.
At last Ted resolved to bring the unequal combat to an end, as Sultan
was tiring of the exercise, so instead of riding around the enraged
horse, he pivoted with it, keeping in front of it all the time and
whipping it on the nose.
The "insurgent" stopped kicking at last and stood with drooping head,
trying to shield its face from that cruel, relentless, stinging thing
which the man creature wielded. He was cowed, but not conquered.
Taking advantage of the moment, Ted drove him backward and clear of his
companions. Seeing their leader retreat, the other horses broke their
close formation, and allowed themselves to be driven down the valley,
not without an occasional rebellious kick, however.