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Show MY FRIEND STWfF. .HMARY.O'HARA JHmi THE STORY SO FAR: Ten-year-old Ken McLaughlin can ride any horse on his family's Wyoming ranch, but be wants a colt of his own. His father, a retired army officer, refuses because Ken has not been promoted at school and has shown no sense of responsibility. But Ken's mother convinces Captain McLaughlin Mc-Laughlin that the colt may be just what Ken needs. Ken picks the yearling filly of a "loco" mare named Rocket. Loco Is the horse breeder's name for a no-good, no-good, untamable horse. Captain McLaughlin, Mc-Laughlin, a good Judge of horses, is angry an-gry at Ken's decision, but Ken's mind Is made up. His father promises to help him bring the filly in from the pasture. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER VIII Rob had his work cut out for him next day. Banner and the mares had been driven out soon after Sargent left. Rocket, uneasy and restless in spite of a good measure meas-ure of oats poured into a feed box and set on the ground, was kept alone in one of the corrals. "The noose?" said Nell at breakfast, break-fast, pouring cream in her coffee. "Are you going to bother to take that off before you load her?" Rob looked outraged. "Do you think I would deliver her with that old string around her neck?" Howard and Ken looked at each other. That meant getting Rocket in the chute. Rocket was to be got into the chute, then she was to be got into the truck! "Who'll drive the truck?" asked NelL "I'll drive it myself. I'll take Gus along might need him." Breakfast was eaten quickly. McLaughlin Mc-Laughlin hurried up to the corrals. Gus was told to fill the truck with gas and oil and get it ready for the trip, Tim was to help in the chute. They moved Rocket through the corrals without much trouble, but when she was once more in the small coop which led to the chute, and the heavy gate closed behind her, she began to snort and rear. The narrow passage into the chute was open before her, but even though they urged her, and yelled at her, and flapped blankets and quirts over the fence on her back, she was too wise to go in. She could see through, and at the far end, a heavy door blocked escape. "It's that door," said McLaughlin. McLaugh-lin. "She sees that there's no way out through the chute. We'll have to open that door, and let her see daylight through. Then perhaps if I rush her from here, I can drive her through. Ken, you get up there on top of the chute wall, close by the door. Open the door. If she rushes in, you slam the door shut. It's going to take quick thinking and quick action. You can lean down and handle the door from the top it's not easy mind you don't fall down into the chute. The door swings from inside out if you get it three-quarters shut and she crashes against it, she'll shut it the rest of the way herself." Ken climbed up on the wall of the chute, unsteady with excitement. McLaughlin, blanket on arm, climbed a few bars of the fence of , the coop. "Ready, Ken? Open the door." Ken leaned over and hauled the door open, and at the same moment Rob gave a yell and flapped the blanket on Rocket's haunches. ' Rocket saw the daylight at the far end of the chute and plunged through. Ken closed the door again just in time the mare crashed against it. She was right under him, and as he pulled back, she reared and her great head and wild eyes were in his face. "Pole, Tim!" shouted McLaughlin, McLaugh-lin, and Tim, standing ready, thrust through both walls of the chute a heavy pole to cut off her backward escape. It was at the height of the mare's haunches, too high for her to get her feet over, and not so high that she could back under it. When she came down on all four feet again, and felt the pole behind be-hind her, she began to fight. McLaughlin climbed the wall of the chute, opposite Ken, and struggled strug-gled to get hold of the frantic creature's crea-ture's head. Suddenly Rocket dropped to the earth and stood quiet a moment, her sides heaving with breaths that were almost groans; and McLaughlin McLaugh-lin reached his hand down, clipped the rope, and it fell free. But at that instant the mare reared sharply sharp-ly again, McLaughlin could not draw back quickly enough, and the top of her head struck him in the f3Ken saw the blood spurt from his father's 'eye as Rocket's foam-flecked foam-flecked head described a complete backward arc, and she crashed to the ground, breaking the pole be- hlForhar'rnoment McLaughlin clung to the wall, swearing, one hand to his face, while the mare fought madly mad-ly below him, her feet thundering on the walls, her great body flinging fling-ing itself from one side to the other McLaughlin got down an put his bandana to his bleeding face. One eve was swelling rapldly. That, that," he said, going around into "'Ro'cke'-reaming and grunting was struggling desperately to right hcrsetf She had fallen so far back-ward back-ward that her head and neck were Mmost in the coop This gave he forelegs more freedom, and by v.g orou, writhings and twistmgs, push- ing and kicking with her legs, she forced herself out of the chute and into the coop, and immediately scrambled to her feet "We're all set now, Gus," said McLaughlin. "Bring the truck in there, back it up against the far end of the chute. Tim, you get the runway and set it in the chute. We'll drive her right through the chute, up the runway and into the truck." 'Better fix dot eye, Boss," said Gus, looking at Rob's face, "und de cheek dot's bad cut split wide open. Let Missus fix up for you." Rob held the handkerchief over his eye. He looked down at himself. him-self. He was spattered with foam and blood. He frowned. "Yes, I'll go down and clean up. Gus, I don't want any more trouble with that mare. You never can tell what she'll do. Once she's in the truck, we're pretty safe, but to get her there is the trick. Better saddle Shorty. I'll ride him through the chute and up the runway, and there's a chance she might follow him into the truck." While Tim and Gus maneuvered the truck until its back was flush against the door of the chute, Rob went down for first aid. "I think it really needs stitches, Rob," said Nell, examining it closely, close-ly, having washed her hands in hot water and soap, and laid out all her first-aid kit on the kitchen table. And she reared to meet it "It's on the cheek bone, below the eye, really a wide cut." "Deep?" asked Rob. "Not so very deep." "Fix it with tape then." Nell held the lips of the wound closed until the bleeding had nearly stopped, then made little bridges of narrow adhesive tape across, and finally a dressing over all. Then she put both arms around his neck and laid her cheek against his, holding him closely. He felt a slight tremor through all her body. "Don't worry, honey," he said. "It's nothing." He patted her on the shoulder suddenly his arms held her hard and he kissed her, then he went upstairs to change into spotless spot-less whipcord riding breeches, polished pol-ished boots, and tailored jacket. Back up at the corral again, the loading was accomplished with com parative ease. Shorty was ridden up the incline into the truck, Rocket Rock-et followed. Shorty was ridden down again, and before Rocket could follow, fol-low, the back of the truck was closed and escape was shut off. She was neatly enclosed in the six-foot walls of the truck, made of sturdy two-by-fours bolted together. She reared, she clawed at the rails, she neighed wildly, she plunged and leaped until again and again her feet slid out from under her and she crashed to the floor, then scrambled up to begin all over. But there was nothing she could do. No one paid any attention to her any more. Rob picked the old piece of lariat triumphantly tri-umphantly out of the chute, and draped it around his own neck. He and Gus got into the box of the truck, and the boys begged to ride along as far as the turn onto the highway. They passed the house, the boys hanging on the steps of the truck, shouting good-by to Nell, who came out to wave to them. But Rocket's story was not yet ended. Where the ranch road turned off from the Lincoln Highway, was the sign of the ranch. Every rancher ranch-er is proud of his ranch sign, under which all visiting cars, must pass, and exercises great ingenuity in thinking up something striking and effective. McLaughlin's sign was a high square arch. On the broad horizontal horizon-tal board which was the span of it, he had painted GOOSE EAR RANCH, in red letters against a blue ground. To each side were reproductions re-productions of his brands, j As they reached the sign, Rock et's wild eyes were upon it this strange bar, bearing down upon her from the skies and she reared to meet it. ' Standing astretch on her hind legs, her head up, the sign caught her a blow on the top of the brow. There was a great crash in the truck; McLaughlin Mc-Laughlin glanced back anxiously; he pulled up, and they got out and climbed up over the sides; but Rocket Rock-et lay motionless. Rob got into the truck, against Gus' anxious warnings, warn-ings, but there was no danger, for Rocket never moved again. The rest of the day was spent rounding up horses of all ages, descendants de-scendants of the Albino. At first no one had believed that McLaughlin really meant what he said that every single one of the Albino's blood, no matter how beautiful, beau-tiful, how fast, or how promising, was to be sold. But as the hours went on, and one after the other was gathered into the corrals, and still they went out on horseback to gather more, with Nell busy with the stud book and names, it became apparent that he was in earnest. Ken and Howard were kept at the gates, opening and shutting them as the different bands were brought through, taken down to the corrals, the one bronc picked out and held, the others sent out again. Gus and Tim and Ross were all riding. "And that's every la6t one of them," said Nell at length, closing the book. Her voice was regretrul. She and Williams were in the stable, sta-ble, looking out into the corrals, over the top of the Dutch door. The two boys were perched safely on the corral fence, Rob and the men in the corral with the milling broncs. "Except Flicka," murmured Ken, and he looked across the corral at his mother and caught her eye. She was looking at him too, thinking, he knew, the same thing. He had not been exactly worried about Flicka. After all, she was his own, his father had given her to him, she couldn't be sold without his consent. McLaughlin walked over to Ken, called him down from the fence, and walked away with him. "Ken," he said quietly, "I'm going go-ing to give you a chance to do a sensible, sen-sible, manly thing. I want you to choose another colt, and let me sell Flicka to Williams with the rest of this hell's brew." A wave of heat rushed all over Ken's body. He looked down, dug with his toe in the gravel of the path, and shook his head.. McLaughlin was quiet and persuasive. persua-sive. "You've seen for yourself what can you expect? It's for your own sake I'm asking, as well as to. save myself the trouble and unpleasantness un-pleasantness of trying to help you do something which is impossible. What's the use of having another Rocket on your hands? You've seen what end she came to and no one could have tried harder with a horse than I tried with her " : "But I'm going to tame Flicka," whispered Ken. "Sometimes bad horses get tamed." McLaughlin's voice rose angrily. "Look up!" Ken looked up and was more frightened than ever. His father's face looked appalling. It was swollen swol-len out of all shape, one eye was closed by purple and black lumps above and below, and the white dressing on the cheekbone was surrounded sur-rounded by an inflamed, angry circle. cir-cle. "Are you going to be a bull-headed little simp or a sensible boy?" Ken said stubbornly, "Dad, I have to have her she's mine." He really meant, 'she's me.' It felt as if his father were asking him to be torn apart. On Sunday the family went to church in Cheyenne. There was the usual argument before going. Rob, who wanted to spend the morning sitting on the terrace reading the funny papers, said he thought they ought not to go because some officers offi-cers might come out from the Post. "There's always a chance, you know, that someone might buy a pony." "Not Sunday morning," said Nell firmly. And then she added with the one deep dimple in her right cheek showing, "But you don't have to go, dear, your face isn't healed up yet. That's a good excuse. I'll go and take the boys." McLaughlin said, "Right-o." Fifteen Fif-teen minutes later, when Nell was ready to go and Howard and Ken were dressed in their long gray flannel flan-nel trousers and white shirts and small round white linen hats with narrow brims, he came running upstairs up-stairs and roared indignantly, "Do you think I'll let you go to town and sit in that pew without me by your side?" As they waited for him to dress, the boys fidgeting. Nell explained to them that Army Officers are trained to be very particular how they look for the sake of their prestige, so tfcey must all wait patiently. At last McLaughlin came down looking clean and handsome in his light gray flannel suit, with a soft felt hat tilted at just the right angle on his black hair and nothing but a small piece of adhesive on his cheek bone. Nell was in a dark green print, with turban and high-heeled pumps. Tim had washed the car, and the maroon paint and shining nickel was as bright as anything they passed on the Lincoln Highway. (TO BE COyTIMED) |