The Advent of Midnight
The ride home after that fateful decision was an event to be remembered.
Jim was on a cavalry mount, loaned for the occasion. Belle felt that
since he had given up so much for her, it was her part now to prove how
good a bargain he had made; and she exerted all her powers to double her
ample hold on his love and devotion. She had no reason to question her
power; she had almost overmuch success. Jim wanted her to name the day,
but whatever her wishes might have been, her judgment held her back.
"Jim, dear love, don't you see? We must wait a long time. Your income is
barely enough for one. You are only a probationer with one year's leave
from college, and, at most, an extension of another year possible. What
little I can bring as my share of the 'combine' won't go very far."
"Well," said Jim, "I've got the cash to furnish our house with, anyway,"
and he slapped his hand on his wallet pocket. "I'll put that in the bank
till we need it."
"Good boy!" and Belle smiled happily.
Arrived at Cedar Mountain, Jim took the cavalry mount to the livery
stable; and three days later, the little stable he had built for Blazing
Star was torn down and carried away.
Jim was looking for a new mount, when one day Cattleman Kyle appeared in
the town, and they met for a few minutes at the blacksmith shop.
"Hello, Jim! What are you riding these days?" was his greeting.
"To tell the truth, I'm afoot, hard afoot," was the reply.
"Anything in sight?"
"Not yet."
"Come with me for a minute. I'm cutting down my saddle stock for the
winter. I've got a bunch of bronchos in the corral by the river. Have a
look at them."
Jim went rather reluctantly; his heart was still sore over Blazing Star,
and he was not ready yet to put another into the vacant place. After a
silent five minutes' walk, they reached the corral with fifty horses of
all colours, sizes, and shapes. Then Kyle said: "Jim, I've been
thinking, preachers ain't exactly broken-backed carrying their
spondulix. I kind o' think I owe ye something in the way of
possibilities for putting Blazing Star in hands which may be a big help
to me. So there's my bunch; you can go over them at your own time and
pick the best as a free gift."
"Ye mean it?"
"That's what I mean, and there's my hand on it," said Kyle. And it was
so. That was the way of the old-time cattleman. If he lived at all, his
money came in large chunks. He lived lavishly, and made a fortune, if
moderately lucky. So they were a generous lot; they were truly cattle
kings.
But the cattle king reducing his horse herd does not select his best
stock for the hammer; quite the reverse. Some would have called his
bunch the scrubs and tailings of the Circle K ranch. Hartigan knew that;
but he also knew that it must contain some unbroken horses and he asked
to see them. There were ten, and of these he selected the biggest. A man
of his weight must have a better mount than a pony. So the tall,
rawboned, black three-year-old was roped and handed over to the
Preacher. Kyle did not fail to warn him that "Midnight" had a temper.
"Faith, it's mesilf can see that," said Hartigan, "but he isn't broken
yet, and that means his temper isn't spoiled. And it's mesilf will bring
him to time, and he never will be broke. If your broncho-busters take
him in hand, they'll ride him in a week, but they'll make a divil of
him. I'll take him in hand and in three months I'll have him following
me round with tears in his eyes, just begging me to get on his back, and
go for a run."
Who that knows the horse will doubt it? Hartigan's first aim was to
convince the black colt that men were not cruel brutes, and that he,
Hartigan, was the gentlest and kindest of them all. And this he did by
being much with him, by soft talking, by never being abrupt, and by
bringing him favourite food. Not in a stable--it was a month before the
wild horse would consent to enter a stable--this first period of
training was all in a corral. Then came the handling. Midnight was very
apt to turn and kick when first a hand was laid on him, but he learned
to tolerate, and then to love the hand of his master; and when this
treatment was later reinforced with a currycomb, the sensation pleased
him mightily. The bridle next went on by degrees--first as a halter,
then as a hackimore, last complete with bit. The saddle was the next
slow process--a surcingle, a folded blanket and cinch, a double blanket
and cinch, a bag of oats and cinch and, finally, the saddle and rider.
It was slow, but it was steadily successful; and whenever the black
colt's ears went back or his teeth gave a rebellious snap, Jim knew he
was going too fast, and gently avoided a clash. Never once did he fight
with that horse; and before three months had passed, he was riding the
tall black colt; and the colt was responding to his voice and his touch
as a "broken" horse will never do.
"Yes," said Kyle, "I know all about that. It costs about twenty-five
dollars to learn a horse that way, and it costs about five dollars to
break him cowboy way. An average horse is worth only about twenty-five
dollars. The cowboy way is good enough for our job, so I don't see any
prospect of change till we get a price that will justify the
'training.'"
Belle was an intensely interested spectator of all this Midnight
chapter. She wanted Jim to get a good horse that he would love, but oh,
how she prayed and hoped he would not happen on another speeder! She
knew quite well that it was about one chance in ten thousand; but she
also knew that Jim could make a good horse out of mediocre material; and
it was with anxiety just the reverse of his that she watched the black
colt when first they rode together. He was strong and hard, but, thank
heaven, she thought, showed no sign of racing blood.
"Of course, he'll come up a little later, when I get him well in hand,"
Jim explained apologetically.
And Belle added, "I hope not."
"Why?" asked Jim in surprise.
"Because, you might ride away from me." And she meant it.