A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) by J.T. Edson Read Free Book Online

importance. In preference, it
would be on the bank of a creek at a point where horses regularly
crossed. Failing that, wood or scrub-covered hollows, or canyons
with sides the horses could not climb served equally well. If
possible, the entrance would face the direction from which the wind
blew with the greatest regularity. Given a wind that blew towards
the corral, the dust stirred up by the manada would roll ahead of them and partially
obscure the entrance until it was too late to be
avoided.
    With the Caracol de Santa Barbara and its surroundings
made ready, Jeanie had laid her plans for the corrida. All the party had known that
enforcing their will upon the mustangs would be anything but easy.
More than on any other corrida dealing with a manada de hermanos called for concerted action on the
part of all concerned—and not a little luck.
    The Kid had warned that one of
the stallions was acting as manadero, which did not surprise his audience. Even after it
had been driven from its position of leadership by a stronger
rival, a deposed master-stallion would try to take over another
band. Failing to gather mares, the ex-manadero would join a bachelor group. Like all
herd-living animals, horses maintained an orderly society in which
every individual knew and, unless it could improve its station by
physical means, kept its place. So, as long as its strength held
out, the retired manadero would often dominate its companions.
    Unfortunately, the domination
a manadero managed to establish over a manada de hermanos was never as strong as upon the
members of a mestena. Although generally subservient to their leader’s will, once
fright set them to running, the stallions would scatter more
readily than the mares and offspring of a mestena.
    With that in mind and being
short-handed, Jeanie had utilized her small force in a manner which
had brought nods of approval from the listening men. When they had
ridden out at dawn on the day after seeing Mogollon, every man knew
the part he must play in the work ahead of them.
    No domesticated horse, burdened
by a rider, could hope to run down and catch healthy, unencumbered
mustangs, but they had to travel fast over a long distance. So no
extra weight could be carried. Instead of using a heavy range
saddle, each of the party sat on a sheepskin pad held in place by a
single girth to which was attached the leathers of plain brass
stirrups. The whole rig weighed a little over three pounds. To
further reduce the horse ’s load, a hackamore with a bosal and reins
replaced the full bridle and metal bit. While light and
serviceable, such an outfit demanded a high standard of
horsemanship from its user.
    Accompanied by Dusty and the
Kid, Colin had circled the area in which the manada was grazing. The Scot had a special
and important part to play in the corrida. Early in his association with the Schell
family, it had been discovered that the music of a set of
bagpipes—brought to Texas for a kinsman but so far
undelivered—produced an adverse effect upon horses unused to the
sound. That aversion had been put to good use in starting
the manadas moving.
    ‘ Go to
it, amigo!’ Dusty suggested, controlling the eagerness of the
small bayo-cebrunos xii gelding he had selected instead of
using his paint stallion that day. ‘Start up that caterwauling and
let’s see if we can get them headed the way we want them to
go.’
    Holding down his inclination to
defend his native music, Colin started to blow into the
chanter ’s
mouthpiece and the skirl of the pipes rose hauntingly. On hearing
the alien sound, the horses in the manada swung to face it. So far they were not
frightened, for it came from a sufficient distance to pose no
threat. However they paced restlessly, heads tossing and ears
pointing towards the trees. Letting out an explosive snort, the big
black manadero advanced a few steps in an attempt to form a better
impression of what was causing the droning, wailing noise. Although
a fair way past