Wild Horses
by Connie Vigil Platt

The dust storm blew up while Toby Kester had been riding with the round up crew looking for stray cattle, when the dust settled, they took their kerchiefs off and saw the wild mustang horse herd; twenty maybe thirty horses running full out with manes flying and tails waving, something to admire until they were out of sight. The foreman, Ben Flagg, had no trouble in talking the men into capturing the horses.

"We'll build us a holding pen between in the mouth of that canyon there and block off the back, when we get them inside we'll close the front and then chose the ones we want and turn the rest out. You each get to pick the one you want for your personal mount. You catch him you break him you ride him. I want that big red roan brute for myself; don't let him go if you can help it. The rest of the herd will go to the ranch for extra mounts, as we need them. We have to work fast or they'll be gone and we'll never see them again. They're tricky animals." Ben told them, flicking his quirt with a snap.

The lead horse Ben indicated was a big strong red roan, about sixteen hands high, he had a crooked white stripe down his face and long light colored mane; his matted tail full of cockleburs, nearly touched the ground.

The cowboys got to work pulling down brush and dead logs to close up the back. They all had visions of which horse they wanted. Pictured themselves riding into town on a fancy stepping horse and attracting the attention of pretty girls.

Whooping, hollering and waving their lariats the cowboys managed to get the majority of the horses in the makeshift pen. The big red roan had unwittingly led his herd to disaster. The men made a dividing pen to cull out the ones that were too old, too young or had any sort of unwanted feature. They opened the main gate and let those go that they didn't want. Now it was time to get to the work of gentling down the rest into reliable saddle horses.

The men managed to get the wild horses to the home corral without any of them getting away. Even the big roan went to the home pasture.

Toby with the natural instinct of a born horseman chose a wiry brown and white paint that had intelligent eyes and good legs. He went by the old cowboy saying, "One white foot buy him, two white feet try him, three white feet deny him, four white feet shoot him and feed him to the crows."

The only other horse that the cowboys kept that had four white feet was the red roan with four white stockings, the same horse that had broken a wooden saddletree and hurt two of the men. They called him "Ole Red" in reference to his color and the fact that he was older than the horses they usually kept to ride. Due to his age he was also meaner and smarter that the other wild horses they had captured.

Ole Red had stomped on Jim's foot and mashed it, now he was hobbling around helping the cook until his bones healed. Ole Red had busted a saddletree when he flipped over backwards. Yesterday he broke Curly's arm by getting him in a corner of the square corral, the brute was a menace. Now the cowboys were getting ready to build a round breaking pen. That way there would be no corners for the mean ones to back up into.

Toby pulled down his wide brimmed hat and hitched up his pants as he walked to the corral. He knew that big mean red roan beast would be waiting for him, snorting and showing the whites of his yellow rimmed eyes. Toby wasn't afraid of the immense animal but when he shook his massive head there wasn't a lead rope that could hold him. Right now the horse was tied to a chain that had been used that morning to haul logs to build a round corral to break the brute to ride. He watched Toby with his nostrils flared waiting for his chance to attack.

"We've got to build something to hold that monster while there are still enough able men to do the job," the foreman said.

There was plenty of rough stock on the Double ZZ ranch so the pen would be well used. There was no shortage of cowboys that wanted to be the one to tame the magnificent animal. Riding him would bring fame to the rider; at this point getting a saddle on him would be a major accomplishment.

Toby had convinced himself that he wasn't scared of the big mustang, but he did have a lot of respect for his strength and his inborn ability to want his freedom.

Toby opened the gate; the creaking hinges made the horse perk up his ears. Old Red pulled back on the chain; he reared up on his hind legs his front feet striking at the empty air, squealing in anger. His hooves came down hard making deep grooves in the ground. A thousand pounds of mean stood quivering and snorting. A mouth full of big yellow teeth opened to crush anything close enough or foolish enough in get in the way. His ears were laid back flat on his head his nostrils flared, as he smelled the enemy getting nearer. He turned his back to Toby his back hooves ready to kick hard enough to break anything they connected.

Toby started making cooing noises. "Easy boy, easy. I'm not going to hurt you. Steady old son, Easy now."

Toby held an empty feed sack, still smelling of corn, in his hand. He edged a little closer. The horse shied away, stirring up corral dust, and then getting a whiff of the corn from the sack, stood still for a heartbeat.

Taking advantage of the slight pause, with a quick flick of his wrist Toby threw the feed sack over the treacherous animal's head, covering his eyes. The horse stood trembling; his feet spread wide apart, sides heaving.

Toby edged closer; carefully he reached out and unhooked the chain that held the head tight. He pulled off that sack and prepared to climb the corral rails.

Ben Flagg, an old time rodeo rider, often bragged that there wasn't a horse alive that could buck him off. The last time Ben had been thrown from a bucking horse Toby stood by helpless as Ben went to the house and came back with a rifle and shot the horse dead.

Toby stood by staring in horror.

"I can't take the chance that some kid or dude might try to ride that beast and get hurt. You can never trust an animal like that. It's best this way. I know that you don't approve but you have lots to learn about ranching."

Toby was determined that wouldn't happen to this superb creature. There were other horses for Ben to ride.

"Get out of here you beautiful beast, you don't belong to be tied up and fenced in or shackled as if you were a prisoner. You don't deserve what Ben Flagg will do to you. Go find your herd of wild horses."

The horse looked around in surprise. He saw Toby and started toward him with his ears back, teeth bared. Toby waved the sack he was still holding; the horse shied away from the movement and saw the open gate. He shook his colossal head and made for the opening and freedom, with the thunder of pounding hooves he was gone in a cloud of dust, snorting, kicking and bucking as he ran.

"I might get fired for what I just did, but that magnificent animal didn't deserve to be locked up. The reason I'm a cowboy is because I want to be free and he should have the same choice. A cowboy is part mustang anyway so we should both be able to do as we please." Toby thought to himself.

He might have to find another ranch and the big roan might have to find another mustang horse herd but both horse and man would still be free.

Toby walked back to the ranch house to tell his boss that he had turned the horse loose and face what might happen next.

"Well", Toby thought, "I was looking for work when I came here and if I have to look again so be it."

He walked up on the porch, "Hey Ben," He called. "I came to get my gear; I guess I'll be moving on. It's time I went down south where the winters are a mite warmer."

Ben looked up from his coffee cup, "I'll get your pay ready. Are you going to take that big red brute with you?" Ben was used to riders leaving for no reason and with out notice. He understood how Toby felt about wanting the horse to stay wild.

"Nah, I already turned him loose. I didn't like the idea of him under saddle." Toby answered.