Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a RomanceHorton, Charles M. (Charles Marcus)
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Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a Romance
Horton, Charles M. (Charles Marcus)
Adventure stories; Horses -- Fiction; Love stories; New Mexico -- Fiction
After long jogging behind the ranch wagon Pat found himself back in a
stable. He found himself attended once more by the round-faced and
smiling young man who had looked after him before. This friend put salve
upon his wounds, and after that, for days and days, provided him with
food and water, sometimes talking to him hopefully, sometimes talking
with quiet distress in his voice, sometimes attending to his wants
without talking at all. It was all a dread monotony. The days became
shorter; the nights became longer; a chill crept into the stable. All
day long he stamped away the hours in restless discontent, longing for a
change of some sort, longing for a sight of his young master, wanting to
get out into the open, there to race his legs off in thrilling action.
Once this wish was granted. The weather was quite cold, and his
round-faced friend came to him that morning showing every sign of haste.
Hurriedly he bridled and saddled Pat, rushed him out of the stable,
flung up across his back, and put spur to him with such vigor that he
was forced into a gait the like of which he had not taken since his
breathless speeding to the accompaniment of shots. Out across the desert
he raced, breasting a cold wind, on and on till he found himself in a
small railroad town. Here he was pulled up before a little cottage, and
saw his friend mount the front steps and pull a tiny knob in the frame
of the door. A moment of waiting and he saw a portly man appear, heard
sharp conversation, saw his friend run down the steps. Then again he
felt the prick of spurs, and found himself once more cantering across
the desert. But not toward home. Late in the afternoon, wearied and
suffering hunger pangs, he found himself in another small town and
before another tiny cottage, with his friend pulling at a knob as
before, and entering into crisp conversation with the person who
answered, a lean man this time, who nodded his head and withdrew. After
this he once more breasted the cold winds, worse now because of the
night, and continued to breast them until he found himself back in the
stable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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