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

its prime, the stallion still looked menacing and
savage.
    ‘ He’s a
mean one,’ drawled the Kid. ‘Just look at that off ear. It’s damned
near been chewed off his head.’
    ‘ That’s
one horse we’ll be lucky to take alive,’ Dusty answered, studying
the tattered ear and scarred body. ‘And he’ll be damned little use
if we do.’
    ‘ They’re moving off,’ the Kid said.
    While not frightened, the manada had clearly decided
that they did not care for the strange noise. So they loped off
without haste, going in the direction of the valley which held
the Caracol de Santa Barbara concealed in a draw.
    ‘ Just
like Jeanie figured,’ Dusty drawled. ‘That gal’s a living wonder at
mustanging. Let’s show ourselves.’
    Curiosity compelled first one
then another of the manada to swing around and look at the post-oaks. Seeing the three
riders appear, they cut loose with snorts of real alarm. This was
no strange, but possibly harmless sound, it was a genuine menace.
More of the manada turned, studying the human beings. Then the manadero let out an
ear-shattering whinny. Twirling around fast, the horses which had
been looking at the approaching riders joined their companions in
flight.
    ‘ Now!’
Dusty snapped, giving the bayo-cebrunos a heel signal which changed its walk to a
gallop.
    ‘ Yeeah!’ screeched the Kid and his strawberry roan increased
its pace.
    A quick thrust turned the
bagpipes to hang by their cord behind Colin’s back. Knowing what would be
required of it, the wolf-gray bayo-lobo horse between his legs sprang forward to keep
level with the Texans’ mounts.
    Forming a wide, crescent-shaped
line, Dusty, Colin and the Kid followed the departing manada. Each of them kept up
his whooping, to urge the mustangs onwards and alert the other
members of their party that the corrida had begun. Striding out at speed, none of
the stallions showed signs of separating from the remainder of the
band. The black manadero brought up the rear, snaking its neck around occasionally
to look at the pursuing men.
    On reaching the edge of the valley,
the horses plunged unhesitatingly down its gentle side. Laying flat
along the neck of her quivering, impatient brown gelding, so as to
remain hidden amongst a clump of mesquite, Jeanie watched them.
When the leaders started across the level ground, she sent the
horse bounding from cover.
    ‘ Cam
na cuimhne!’ the girl shrieked, giving the rallying call of the Clan
Farquharson, ‘Cairn of Remembrance’, in honor of her fiancé, once
more producing a satisfactory start to a corrida.
    Gripping a saddle blanket in her left hand,
Jeanie waved and flapped it over her head. The girl’s sudden and noisy
appearance caused the leading stallions to swerve hurriedly in the
required direction along the valley. Some of the following horses
showed signs of breaking away and heading up the opposite slope.
Placed there to circumvent such tactics, a mestenero called Bernardo appeared on the rim
and rode in the deserters’ direction. Turning back, the would-be
bunch-quitters rejoined the manada to obtain mutual protection from its
numbers.
    Hooves rumbled and drummed in a
growing crescendo, punctuated by the wild yells of the riders.
Turned along the valley in the direction of the fatal draw,
the manada was kept on the move by the girl and her companions. While
the Kid rode parallel to the rim down which the mustangs had
entered the valley, Bernardo remained on the other ridge. Dusty and
Colin joined Jeanie on the bottom, urging their horses onwards in
an attempt to keep pace with the girl. Being smaller and lighter,
Jeanie had the advantage over both of them. Knowing the dangers
involved in making a corrida on a manada de hermanos, the girl tried to restrain the brown
gelding’s eagerness. Despite all her efforts, she drew ahead as the
chase continued. Nor could Colin stay level with Dusty, and the
three riders formed an angular line across the valley.
    Almost half a mile fell