Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a Romance Read online

  CHAPTER XVIII

  AN ENEMY

  There was water in the grove, and the men made camp at the edge of thetrees. "The Doc," which was what the rangers early had affectionatelynicknamed Stephen, was suffering a compound fracture of the left arm,together with numerous bruises and scratches about the head and face. Hehad had a nasty fall. His horse had stumbled and almost instantly diedas the result of the big cattle-rustler's shots. The men set andsplinted Stephen's arm as best they could, and they bandaged his headwith rare skill; but it was deemed advisable for him to remain quiet fora time.

  So Stephen lay listlessly smiling at the bantering of the men, too sickat heart really to take interest in any living thing. His arm painedhim, and his head ached, while throughout his body he was sore and stiffand well-nigh incapable of moving. But not once following the firstcomplete collapse did he let go of himself, although when the men sethis arm it seemed that he must. Somehow he was contented that everythingwas as it was. True, he was hurt. But also he had found Pat, hadrecovered the horse for Helen, and the horse now was within sound of hisvoice, did he but care to lift it. His physical hurts would get well,his spiritual hurts never without the recovery of the horse. And now hehad the horse.

  One morning it became apparent that their food-supplies would soon needreplenishing. So it was decided to break camp for the nearest town, aMexican settlement some eighty miles to the southwest. Stephen had beenwalking about somewhat cheerfully for three or four days, and hiscondition was such that he could ride forward slowly without danger tohis arm. So they broke camp, utilizing the sorrel as a pack-horse--therenow were two extra saddles and bridles--and set out, Stephen, of course,mounted upon Pat.

  Once more Pat found himself following an unmarked and desolate trail.Moving always at a walk now instead of the conventional fox-trot, hefound his service, save for this and one other thing, identical withthat under his previous masters. The single other difference was thatinstead of irritating silence, these men unwittingly soothed him withtheir talk and swift exchange of jokes. Thus the hours passed, untilnoon came, when, with his bridle and saddle removed, and pungent odorsof savory cooking tickling his nostrils, he received the privilege ofgrazing over the whole desert unhobbled and untethered. But this,liberal as it seemed, brought him nothing of the nourishment his soulcraved. After an hour or two of lazy wandering, while the men passed thetime at cards, he was sent forward again along the ever-mysterioustrail. And thus he moved, through the long hot afternoon, the cool andlingering twilight, on to a night camp where once more he was turnedloose with the other horses to glean as best he might life-givingsustenance from the scant herbage. But it was drearily monotonous.

  Throughout it all, however, there was one who kept his interest alive.It was the white horse. In the camp holding himself aloof, as ifsuperciliously refraining from close contact, on the trail this horsetook to revealing his antagonism. He would stand a short way from himwhile they grazed, lay back his ears and whisk his tail, and, wheneverthe chance came, he would snap viciously at the other horses. Patunderstood the meaning of all this, and held himself ready to resistattack, yet he simply looked at the horse with a kind of amusedspeculation. Nor at any time did he feel grave apprehension. That he didnot take the horse seriously lay in the fact that after drawing near inthis fashion and bristling nastily the white horse would quickly drawaway again, steadily and craftily, and then fall to worrying one of theother horses, usually one of smaller size that quite obviously fearedhim.

  There came the time when the white did not confine his threatenings tothe grazing-periods. He became aggressive on the march. Though less freeto give battle here, which was possibly his reason, he would frequentlyjockey close, and either flash his head around with teeth snapping, orelse, as if to make Pat feel inferiority, would plunge forward to apoint immediately in front, and in this position fling back choking dustor gravel. At such times the round-faced man, the white's master, woulddrag him away mightily, or, if he was not quick enough, then the sorrel,drowsing along behind on a lead-rope, would unconsciously offerresistance. But it was all very disagreeable, and Pat, while findingthat it broke up the monotony of the journey, yet at length foundhimself also becoming irritated.

  He finally gave way to it. It was his nature to brood over annoyancesand sometimes to heap grains of injustice into mountains of woes. Hefell to thinking of his general lot, his misfortunes, the lack of properfood, the occasional lack of water, until he became sullen and peevish.The change showed in sudden starts at unusual sounds which brought sharpprotests from his young master, and then he began to refuse to eat. Thiswas grave, and he knew it. But he could not or would not help it; henever knew quite which it was. But he did not eat. Instead of movingabout with the other horses, nose to ground, mouthing the bunch-grass,he would mope by himself well away from the other horses, standing withhead hanging and ears inert, all in motionless silence. As thewater-holes became farther apart, and the grazing worse yet, he did thismore and more, until the white horse, evidently seeing his lack ofspirit, became a source of downright aggravation, frequently takinglightning nips at him. At such times Pat would lift his head and holdhimself erect and vigilant during the grazing-period, but he brooded,none the less, and as persistently refused to eat.

  This was not lost upon Stephen or the rangers, neither his refusing toeat nor the white's antagonism. They spent hours discussing both. Havingfound in Pat none of the regular symptoms of disease, yet aware thatsomething grave was the matter, the rangers fell to discussing Pat'scondition with much earnestness, frequently interrupting their argumentson the one subject to declare that the white horse, provided Pat heldout and healed up against his complaint, would get a fight such as wasnever before witnessed in the desert. That they were evenly matched bothas to build and strength was recognized; that Pat was possessed of areserve that told of finer courage all agreed. Yet in this last lurkedopportunities for argument; and argue they did, sometimes long into thenight, the little man known as the Professor and the rangy individualwith the scrubby beard showing the greatest vehemence. Yet despite alltheir arguments, to which Stephen invariably listened in smilingsilence, none as yet had offered good reason for the villainous attitudeof the white toward the peaceful Pat.

  "_I_ know!" suddenly declared the man with the scrubby beard oneevening, after the tin dishes had been cleared away. "It's jealousy!" Henarrowed his eyes out through the darkness in the direction of thehorses. "Who ever 'u'd believe old Tom out there 'u'd show jealousy? Isee it, though, the first day. You recollect we made a heap of theblack, kind of petting him up some, and Tom, bein', as he sure is, anintelligent hoss, I reckon he figured it out that he'd played the gameand been faithful all along, and then to see himself set back that wayby a complete stranger, it jest nachelly made him sore. Same as it wouldyou or me, mebbe, if we was informed polite and all that fromheadquarters that they was a new man comin' to jine us that was the purequill whichever way you looked at him. Old Tom is bein' et up withjealousy, I'm regretful to say."

  "Animiles feels things a heap more'n humans does," put in the little manknown as the Professor. "But they're more reserved in showin' 'em out.Yit when they do show 'em out, they're a lot less polite about it thanhumans."

  "Nachelly," snapped the lean man, glaring savagely across the fire atthe other. "But that ain't tellin' us what ails the black," he went on,dropping the subject of the white and taking up with the symptoms of theblack, evidently through perverseness. "He's solemn and dumpish," hedeclared, thoughtfully, "like he might have distemper. But he 'ain't gotdistemper. And his teeth ain't sharp, yet he don't eat at all. And Ican't see anything the matter with his insides."

  "Did you look?" inquired the Professor, innocently, but with a quickwink at Stephen.

  "Yes, I--" began the lean man, only to check himself with an angrysnort. Then he shifted the topic again, reverting to the case of oldTom. "That white hoss'll about push that matter to a finish," hedeclared. "See if what I say don't pan out! Tom he'll just about
obeythat law o' nature which animals has knowed from long before the ark,but which us humans is just gettin' a hold on. He'll remove thecause--old Tom will--or get himself removed. He ain't nobody's fool--nornever was!" And he rested his eyes significantly upon the Professor.

  The Professor was busy, however. He had pulled a deck of cards from hiship pocket, and now was riffling them with pointed interest. Directly hebegan to deal them around, carefully overlooking the lean man as he didso. But the latter, dropping over upon one elbow, permitted the game toproceed without offering objection to the oversight, a peculiar one,since he was in the full glare of the fire.

  That argument was closed.

  But next morning Pat received unexpected attention. His young masterapproached him, looped a rope around his neck, and gave the end to thelarge man, who mounted the white. Then the lean man bridled and saddledthe sorrel for the young man, who evidently was unable conveniently todo these things with his one hand. After this he loaded Pat with theextra saddles and bridles, and thus they set out. It was a notunfavorable change, and Pat, while harboring mixed emotions, since henow was trailing along behind the white, yet found himself in a lightermood. Feeling little jealousy of the white, however, he soon forgot thechanged relations, finding in his own position a new viewpoint upon thecavalcade which was interesting. For now he could survey the wholesquad, five horses of varied size and action, and this, as he studiedthe individual gait of each, was not without its pleasure. Also, being,as he was, free from the weight of a man, he felt an airy lightness thatwas positively refreshing. And finally, since he was out of reach of thenagging white, this blessing alone made him grateful. So he followedalong, working yet not working, with a feeling of complete composuresuch as had not been his for many a day.

  Still his composure did not last. The novelty wore off toward noon, andhe found himself morose and introspective again. Sounding the depths ofhis grievances, he at length took to thinking of the white corral besidethe river. Not in many a day had he thought of the ranch. But he wasrecalling it now, not through affection, not because it was home to him,but because, brooding over his many discomforts in the open, he wassuddenly remembering that his life had not always been this--that heknew actual comfort, knew what it was to have his wants gratified. Andrecalling these facts, he naturally recalled that which had made thempossible--the little ranch in the valley. So he let his thoughts lingerthere. Faint and elusive at first, those other days became finally quitevivid, days of expectancy and gratification, days of sugar and quarteredapples, days of affection and love-talk from his pretty little mistress.And how he missed them all! How he missed them--even the Mexican hostlerand the brown saddler and the old matronly horse--his mother byadoption! But they were gone from him now, gone for all time out of hislife. Yet though he believed them gone, he continued to brood on them,to live each day over again in his thoughts, till the men aheaddismounted suddenly. Then he was glad to turn his attention to othermatters, things close around him. One of these was the coming of thelean man with a pair of familiar objects in his hands--this after thenoonday meal.

  "Well, my bucky," he began, turning critical eyes over Pat, "I beenstudyin' your case a heap, and I've come to think I'm old Doctor Sowhimself. Your young man here is knocked out of all possible good," hewent on, as Stephen smilingly approached, "and so it occurred to me,sir, as how you ain't sick no more'n I be. What ails you is you're anaristocrat--something that's been knocked around unusual--what with themrustlers and with us that's worse than rustlers--and got yourself allmussed up and unfit! All you need is a cleanin'--that's what ails you!You're just nice furniture--a piece o' Sheraton, mebbe--that's all oversweepings, and I'm the he-maid that's going to dust you off. Hold still,now."

  So Pat, after taking a step toward Stephen, who now was stroking himtenderly, held very still, not only under the soothing caress, but underthe operation--for such was the cleaning--since he was gritty beyondbelief. Also, after the operation he felt immeasurably better, andbetter still when Stephen led him to a tiny stream and he had relievedhis thirst. But that was not all of joy. Turned loose with the otherhorses, he fell to grazing eagerly, actually finding it good, and oncelifting a long and shrill nicker in gratitude for this change in hiscondition. Nor did his delight stop here. With camp broken, and hisyoung master, instead of returning him to the lead-rope, bridling andsaddling him awkwardly with one hand, he set out along the trail at agait so brisk that it brought a startled exclamation from the young man,who promptly pulled him down. But though he was forced to keep a slowgait, yet frequently during the afternoon, conscious of his fresh coatand the sense of buoyancy it gave him, he flung up his head and nickeredloud and joyfully. Also, with night once more descending, and the starstwinkling in the blue-black heavens, and the sheen of a rising moonflooding the desert, he moved about among the other horses with a vigorthat was almost insolence, seizing tufts of grass wherever he saw them,heedless of others' rights.

  Around the fire sat or sprawled the men. Two of them were industriouslymending, one a shirt, the other a bridle. The Professor and the man withthe scrubby beard were complacently smoking, while Stephen, glad tostretch out after the day's ride with an arm that constantly distressedhim, was reclining upon a blanket, staring into the flames and conjuringup in their leaping tongues numerous soothing pictures. As he sat therethe man with the beard suddenly addressed him.

  "Doc," he drawled, removing his pipe from between whiskers that glintedin the light of the fire, "now that you've got him, what are youthinking of doing with that horse?"

  "I'll take him back," replied Stephen, pleasantly.

  The other was silent. "Shore!" he rejoined, after a moment. "But takehim back where?"

  "Where he belongs."

  There was further silence. "Excuse me!" finally exclaimed the other. "Iwas thinking as mebbe you'd take him whence he came."

  Stephen sat erect and looked at the other. He was smoking againcomplacently.

  "Whence come you?" asked Stephen, after a time.

  The other slowly removed his pipe. Then he told him. Then Stephen spoke.And then the man rose stiffly, crossed solemnly to him and shook handswith him cordially.

  "I knowed you was white the fust day I see you," he declared. Then hewaved a vague hand over the others. "They've all--all of 'em--traveledthat way. I was raised--"

  A sudden shrill scream out in the darkness interrupted him. It was ahorse. The cry stirred the entire camp. The Professor arose, saunteredout, whistling, whirled, and called back sharply. The others ran towardhim; the large man struck a match. The white horse was limping on threelegs. They bent over and examined the fourth. The match went out. Allstraightened up. As they did so Pat sounded a shrill nicker.

  "Busted!" exclaimed the large man, quietly. "Well, I'm a goat! Thatblack horse has kicked old Tom clear over the divide. I--I'm clean done!Quick as lightning, too! No preambles; no circumlocutions; no nothing.Just put it to him. Good Lord!" Then he regretfully drew a revolver. "Ireckon you boys better stand back."

  A shot broke the quiet, and the desert shivered and was still again. Thewhite horse sank to the ground. Stephen walked to Pat, struck a match,and looked him over critically. Pat was torn and bleeding in two placesalong the neck, but otherwise he needed no attention. Stephen patted himthoughtfully, gratefully, fighting the horror of what might have beenhad this splendid horse weakened in the crisis. No wonder the littlegirl in the valley worshiped him.

  But he said nothing. After a time he returned to the fire and sat downamong a very sober group of men. Presently the man with the scrubbybeard broke the quiet. His voice sounded hollow and distressed.

  "I knowed it," he declared. "Though I thought old Tom 'u'd done better."He began to roll a cigarette. "Pore old Tom! He's killed; he'sdead--dead and gone." With the cigarette made, he snatched a brand fromthe fire and lighted it. He fell to smoking in thoughtful silence, inhis eyes a look of unutterable sadness.

  The Professor bestirred himself. "Tell me," he asked, lifting his gazet
o the heavens reflectively--"tell me, does any of you believe thathorses--any animiles--has souls?"

  The lean man glanced at him. His eyes now had the look of one anxious toexpress his views, but cautiously refused to be baited. Finally he madeanswer.

  "If you're askin' my opinion," he said, "I'll tell you that I know theyhave." He was silent. "I know that animals has the same thing we'vegot," he continued--"that thing we call the soul--but they've got it insmaller proportions, so to speak. It's easy as falling off a buckingbronc. Take old Tom out there. Take that Lady horse that got killed twoyears ago by rustlers--take any horse, any dumb animal--and I'll showyou in fifteen different ways that they've got souls."

  "How?"

  The lean man glared. "Now 'how'!" he snapped. "You give me a mortalpang. Why don't you never use your eyes once like other and more decentfolks? Get the habit. You'll see there ain't any difference betweenanimals and humans, only speech, and they've got that!"

  The large man smiled. "Let's have it, Bob," he invited. "Where'll welook for it first?"

  The lean man showed an impatience born of contempt. "Well," he began,tossing away his cigarette, "in desires, first, then in their power toappreciate, and, finally, in their sense of the worth of things. Theyhave that, and don't you think they hain't. But they've got the others,too. Animals like to eat and drink and play, don't they? You know that!And they understand when you're good to 'em and when you're cussed mean.You know that. And they know death when they see it, take it from me,because they're as sensitive to loss of motion, or breathing, or animalheat, as us humans--more so. They feel pain, for instance, more'n we do,because, lackin' one of the five--or six, if you like--senses, theirother senses is keyed up higher'n our'n."

  The Professor looked belligerent. "Get particular!" he demanded.

  "I won't get particular," snapped the other. "S'pose you wrastle it outfor yourself--same as us humans." Evidently he was still bitter againstthis man. "That Lady horse o' mine," he went on, his eyes twinkling,addressing himself to the others, "she had it all sized about right. Sheused to say to me, when I'd come close to her in the morning: 'Well, oldsock,' she'd say, throwin' her old ears forward, 'how are you thismornin'?--You know,' she'd declare, 'I kind o' like you because youunderstand me.' Then she'd about wipe her nose on me and go on. 'Wonderwhy it is that so many of you don't! It's easy enough, our language,'she'd p'int out, 'but most o' you two-legged critters don't seem to getus. It's right funny! You appear to get 'most everything else--houses,and land, and playin'-cards, and sich. But you don't never seem to getus--that is, most o' you! Why, 'tain't nothin' but sign language,neither--same as Injuns talkin' to whites. But I reckon you're idiots,most o' you, and blind, you hairless animals, wearin' stuff stole offensheep, and your ugly white faces mostly smooth. You got the idee wedon't know nothin'--pity us, I s'pose, because we can't understand you.Lawzee! We understand you, all right. It's you 'at don't understand us.And that's the hull trouble. You think we're just a lump o' common dirt,with a little tincture o' movement added, just enough so as we can runand drag your loads around for you. Wisht you could 'a' heard me and oldTom last night, after you'd all turned in, talkin' on the subject o'keepin' well and strong and serene o' mind. Sign language? Some. Butwhat of it, old whiskers? Don't every deef-and-dumb party get along withfew sounds and plenty of signs? You humans give me mortal distress!'

  "And so on," concluded this lover of animals. "Thus Lady horse used totalk to me every mornin', tryin' to make me see things some littleclearer. And that's all animals--if you happen to know the 'try me' ontheir little old middle chamber work." He fell silent.

  The others said nothing. Each sat smoking reflectively, gazing into thedying flames, until one arose and prepared to turn in. Stephen was thelast except the Professor and the man with the scrubby beard. Andfinally the Professor gained his feet and, with a glance at the lastfigure remaining at the fire, took off his boots and rolled up in hisblanket. For a long moment he stared curiously at the other bowed inthought.

  "Ain't you goin' to turn in?" he finally inquired. "You ain't et up bynothin', be you?"

  The lean man slowly lifted his head. "I was thinkin'," he said, half tohimself, "of a--a kind of horse's prayer I once see in a harness-shop inAlbuquerque."

  The other twisted himself under his blanket. "How did it go?" he asked,encouragingly. "Let's all have it!"

  The lean man arose. "'To thee, my master,' it started off," he began,moving slowly toward his blanket. Suddenly he paused. "I--I don't justseem to remember it all," he said, and sat down and pulled off one ofhis boots. He held it in his hands absently.

  The Professor urged him on. "Let her come," he said, his face now hiddenin the folds of his covering. "Shoot it--let's hear."

  "'To thee, my master, I offer my prayer,'" presently continued theother, turning reflective eyes toward the flickering coals. "'Feed me,water me, care for me, and, when the--the day's work is done, provide mewith shelter and a clean, dry bed, and, when you can, a stall wideenough for me to lie down in in comfort. Always be kind to me. Talk tome--your voice often means as much to me as the reins. Pet me sometimes,that I may serve you the more gladly and know that my services areappreciated, and that I may learn to love you. Do not jerk the reins,and do not whip me when going up-hill. And when I don't understand you,what you want, do not strike or beat or kick me, but give me a chance tounderstand you. And if I continue to fail to understand, see ifsomething is not wrong with my harness or feet.'"

  The Professor's blanket stirred. "Go on!" he yelled. "Sounds all right.Go ahead! Is that all?"

  "I disremember the rest," replied the other. "Let's see!" He was silent."No," he finally blurted out, "I can't get it. It says something aboutoverloading, and a-hitching where water don't drop on him, and--Oh yes!'I can't tell you when I'm thirsty,' it goes on, 'so give me cool, cleanwater often. Never put a frosty bit in my mouth; first warm it byholdin' it a moment in your hands. And, remember, I try to carry you andyour burdens without a murmur, and I wait patiently for you long hoursof the day and night. Without power to choose my shoes or path, Isometimes stumble and fall, but I stand always in readiness at anymoment to lose my life in your service. And this is important, and,finally, O my master! when my useful strength is gone do not turn me outto starve, or sell me to some cruel owner to be slowly tortured andstarved to death; but do thou, my master, take my life in the kindestway, and your God will reward you here and hereafter. You will notconsider me irreverent, I know, if I ask all this in the name of Him Whowas born in a stable.'"

  The Professor's blanket stirred again. "Go on," he demanded in muffledtones. "Is that all?"

  The lean man slipped off his second boot. "No," he replied, quietly,"that ain't all."

  "Well, go ahead. It's good. That horse must 'a' been a city horse; butgo on!"

  "Only one more word, anyway," was the rejoinder. He was still holdinghis boot.

  "What is it?"

  "Why"--the voice was solemn--"it's 'Amen.'"

  "Aw, shucks!" came from the depths of the blanket.

  The lean man turned his head. "Say, you!" he rasped, belligerently.

  "What?"

  For answer the boot sailed across the camp.

  The Professor popped his head out of the blanket, drew it back suddenly,popped it out again, all strongly suggestive of a turtle.

  There was a hoarse laugh, then silence, but none of those men forgot thePrayer of the Horse.