Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a Romance

by Charles M. Horton

  CHAPTER XIII

  IN THE WASTE PLACES

  Pat well knew that this new experience was a strange thing. The tripwith the hostler, the unusual hour of day, the appearance of hismistress's friend, the stranger out of the night, the hurried departurefrom the hotel, all told him that. But whether it was right or wrong, hedid not know. His mistress had quite sanctioned his leaving the corral,and so all things developing out of that must have her sanctionalso--thus worked his instincts. So not once had he rebelled. Nor was herebelling now. And yet--and this was his emotional conflict--within himwas a vague feeling that he should rebel, should kick, buck, toss, andpitch, and throw off this stranger. It grew upon him, this feeling,until, in a section of town unfamiliar to him, he decided to give way toit, to take a chance, anyway, of unseating this man and dashing backinto that part of town familiar to him. But he did not. Suddenly asoothing voice restrained, the voice of his rider, which swept away fora time all thought of rebellion.

  "So you're Pat!" the man said, and, though his voice was gentle, andperhaps kindly, as Pat judged the human voice, he yet somehow did notlike the owner of it. "Well, they hain't lied to me, anyway," went onthe voice. "You're one nice piece of horseflesh!"

  That was all. But somehow it dispelled all discontent within Pat.Thereafter he thought only of his task, which was that of holding to adevious course through winding alleys and streets well under rein, untilhe found himself on the river trail and heading south through a sectionnot unfamiliar to him. Then his interest only quickened.

  As he went on, it came to him that he rather liked this travelingthrough the gloom of night. It was a new experience for him, and thetrail, familiar to him, yet somehow not familiar, offered much ofinterest. Ranch-houses, clumps of trees, soft-rustling fields ofalfalfa, looming up before or beside him, taxed his powers ofrecognition as the stars in the heavens, becoming ever more overcast,withdrew, and with them the moon, leaving the earth and its objectsfinally mere tragic outlines. These objects, rising silently before him,gave him many fitful starts, and seemed to forbid this night-incursion.But he held to the trail, for the most part in perfect contentment,enjoying his unwonted call to duty, but wondering whither it was leadinghim.

  This contentment did not last. It broke as he found himself rounding abend which he recognized as leading to the river bridge. The change camenot through the flicking of his conscience like his former feeling, butthrough sudden awakening to physical discomfort. For a time he did notknow what it was--though he had questioned the new grip on the reins,the rider's seat, his weight. There it was. The man's weight. Miguel hadbeen heavy, of course, but Miguel's seat had been short-lived. This manmust weigh fully as much as Miguel, and twice as much as his mistress,and he had been on his back now a long time. There came anothersomething. As Pat grew aware of the weight it seemed to become heavier,so he decided to seek relief of some sort. He dropped back into a walk,grimly taking his comfort into his own control. And, half expecting thatthe man would force him into a canter again, he continued at a walk. Butneither by word nor movement did the man show that he noticed thechange. So Pat settled to his task again, once more enjoying quietsatisfaction.

  But neither did this last. He soon found another cause fordissatisfaction. He found it because, unconsciously, he was looking forit. He found it this time in the tight grip on his reins, which wassetting up a sore chafing in the corners of his mouth. His mistress hadnever held him so tightly. The result of it, together with his otherdiscomfort, was that he became sullen and antagonistic, and, descendingthe slight grade to the bridge, he determined to resist. And resist hedid. He came to a sudden stop, threw down his head, pitched and buckedfrantically. His efforts carried him all over the trail, and oncedangerously near the edge and the turbulent waters below. But he foundhimself unable to throw off the weight.

  "Guess maybe--I made--a slight--mistake!" exploded the rider, clampinghis knees against Pat. "But go--go to it--old trader!"

  Pat accepted the challenge. For this he knew it was. He leaped andtwisted; returned to earth with a jolt; pitched and tossed and bucked.And he kept it up, fighting grimly, till he discovered its futility,when he stopped. A moment he stood, breathing heavily, then he set outacross the bridge, whisking his tail and wriggling his ears, all inspirited acceptance of reluctant defeat.

  He did not attempt further rebellion. Slow-kindling respect stirredwithin him for this man upon his back--the respect but not love whichone entertains toward the mighty, and he gained the end of the bridgeand turned south along the trail, partly reconciled. Yet he had notrebelled in vain. The grip on his bit no longer annoyed him, and thoughthe weight still remained heavy, somehow it seemed more endurable nowthrough some cause which he could not determine--probably his increasedrespect for it. So he trotted along, amiably disposed toward all theworld, pleasantly anticipatory of the immediate future, ears and eyesalert and straining toward all things. On his left the river gurgledsoftly in the desert stillness--a stillness sharply broken. From afaroff came a strange call, the long-drawn howl of a coyote. It was notalone. Instantly from a point dead ahead rose another, grooving into theecho of the first in a staccato yelp. Then the first opened up with achoking whine that lifted steadily into an ecstatic mating-call, and Patsaw a black something, blacker even than the night, leap against thefar, faint skyline, dangle seemingly a trembling moment, then flash fromview across the desert.

  Which was but one of the many incidents that served to hold his interestand increase his alertness as he fox-trotted along the road. Nor was oneof them without its informing value. For this was his first nightjourney, and what he saw now would remain with him vividly, helping himto become as successful on night trails as he was now by day.

  Something else came to him out of the darkness. It was off to hisdistant right and well back from the river. It was a tiny gleam oflight, shining out of the density of the desert. He watched it withstudied interest. It glowed like a cat's eye, and, fascinated, quietlyspeculative, he kept his eyes upon it until, as he turned a bend in thetrail, he saw another light flash into view close beside the first, andequal to it in brilliancy. Suddenly, watching these lights, his interestleaped higher. This was his destination. He instinctively knew it. Andpresently he was certain of it, for his master, urging him to the right,now sent him along a narrow path that led straight toward the lights.

  Within a very few moments Pat found himself before a hulk of an adobe.It was a long, rambling structure, somehow forbidding, and he blinked ashe stared with faint apprehension at the lamplight streaming out of twowindows. Directly the man dismounted and, making the reins fast to apost, walked toward the house. For a moment Pat saw his tall figuresilhouetted in the doorway, to the accompaniment of a quiet chorus ofgreetings from within, then he saw the door close upon him, andimmediately afterward a hand appear at the windows and draw down theshades. And now he felt a great loneliness creep over him, slowly atfirst, then somehow faster as he heard voices within sink from acheerful note of greeting to a low rumble of discord.

  He began to take heed of objects close around him. He discovered, nowthat all light was shut off, that he was not alone. To his left stoodtwo horses, with heads drooping, legs slightly spread, reins dangling,quiet and patient in their mute waiting. Promptly with the discovery hetook a step in their direction, intent upon establishing friendship. Buthe found himself checked with a jerk. For an instant he did notunderstand this. Then he remembered that his reins were tied, andbecause his mistress never had deemed this necessary he came to feel akind of irritation, though he made no attempt to force his freedom. Yet,keeping his eyes upon the other horses, he saw that they themselves werefree to come and go, that their reins were dangling on the ground. Andnow he realized that he was under suspicion. He knew what that was fromlong association with the Mexican hostler, and, smarting under it, hedetermined to show his new master, and that before many hours hadelapsed, he as well as these others was capable of trust.

  The door flung open and three men filed o
ut. A fourth remained standingon the threshold, holding up a smoking lamp. Other than the tread ofheels no sound accompanied their appearance, no comment, no laughter, nofarewells. This made a deep impression upon him, and with furthermisgivings he watched the men descend the few loose steps and make forthe horses, his own master, the tallest of the men, coming slowly towardhim. A moment of gathering reins, then all mounted, and one, a squat,powerfully built man, evidently the leader, turned in a southwesterlydirection, riding off in the engulfing darkness, heading away from theriver. Seeing this, Pat stepped out after him, pressing close upon theheels of his horse, conscious that the third horse, ridden by a littleman, was crowding him for second position. But he held stubbornly to hisplace, and in this place set out along an unmarked trail. He coveredmile after mile at a fox-trot, mile after mile in absolute silence,until faint rays of dawn, streaking the sky above a ridge to the east,surprised him into realization of the quick passage of night and his ownprolonged duty therein. It was all very strange.

  Daylight followed swiftly. From a dull lead color the sky immediatelyabove the ridge, which stretched away interminably north and south, gaveway to a pink indescribably rich and delicate. Steadily this pink creptover the heavens, rolling up like the gradual unfolding of a giantcanvas, dragging along in its wake hues verging toward golden yellow,until the whole eastern sky, aflame with the light of approaching day,was a conflagration of pinks and yellows in all their manifold mixtures,promising, but not yet realizing, a warmth which would dispel the springchill left by the long night. Then, with the whole east blazing withmolten gold, there came the feeling of actual warmth, and with it thefull radiance of day--bringing out in minute detail rock and arroyo andverdant growth, and an expanse of desert unbroken by the least vestigeof animal life. At this absence of all that which would suggest thepresence of life--adobes, corrals, windmills--Pat awoke again to vagueuneasiness and fell to pondering his future under these men, whom he nowinstinctively knew pursued ways outside the bounds of the civilizationof his past.

  A voice behind, presumably that of the little man, interrupted theprotracted silence. It was high-pitched.

  "How's that hoss a-holdin', Jim?"

  Pat felt a slight twitch on the reins. Evidently the man had been indeep thought, out of which the voice had startled him. Directly he madeanswer.

  "I got quality here, Glover--I guess. Can't never tell, though. He's agood horse, but he mayn't pan out good for me."

  There was further silence.

  "Johnson," went on the high-pitched voice again, after a time, "did yegit what Zeke said about the country down there?"

  But the leader seemed not to hear. Straight as an arrow, bulking largeupon a little gray mare, he moved not the fraction of an inch with thequestion. Whereupon the little man, after muttering something furtherabout Zeke, relapsed into silence.

  Suddenly Pat stumbled and fell to his knees. He quickly regained hisfeet, however, and resumed the steady forward grind. And grind it nowwas becoming. His legs burned with a strange distress, his eyes achedfrom loss of sleep. Throughout his body was a weariness new to him. Hewas not accustomed to this ceaseless fox-trotting. He could not recallthe time when, even on their longest excursion, his mistress had forcedhim like this. She had always considered him to the extent of grantinghim many blissful periods of rest. He found himself wanting some suchconsideration now. He felt that he would like to drop into a walk or toburst into a canter, knowing the relief to be found in any change ofgait. But this was denied him. Yet, since the other horses gave no signof weariness, each appearing possessed of endurance greater than hisown, he refrained, through a pride greater even than his distress, frommaking of his own accord any change in his gait.

  Toward noon, as he was brooding over another distress, one caused bygnawing hunger, he felt his master draw down. Also, the others came to astop. With the men dismounted, he swept eyes over the scene. But he sawnothing that appeared to warrant pause. The place was dead and desolate,barren of all that which had invariably met his gaze when pausing withhis mistress. But when one of the men began to build a fire, while theothers flung off light saddle-bags from the little gray and thesorrel--an exceptionally rangy horse--he came in a way to understand.Further, with the fire crackling pleasantly and his bridle and saddleremoved, he understood fully the cause of this halt. It was time tofeed; and, raging with hunger, he forgot all other distress in thethought that now he would have a generous quantity of food, which hebelieved was due him, since he had more than earned it in his prolongedservice through the night. Indeed, so certain was he of reward, heprepared himself for sugar and quartered apples, and, with mouthdripping saliva, stood very still, eyes following every move of his newmaster.

  But he was doomed to bitter disappointment. Instead of sugar andquartered apples, his master tied a rope around his neck and, with afriendly slap, left him to his own devices. Wondering at this, he gazedabout him--saw that the other horses were grazing. Disappointed,fretful, stung into action by hunger pangs, he set out in theirdirection, curious to learn what it was they were feeding upon soeagerly. But, as had happened the night before, he found himself checkedwith a jerk. He did not like it, for it made him conscious again of hismaster's suspicions. So he turned a sour gaze upon his unrestrictedcompanions until, forced to it by inner yearnings amounting to acutenessnow, he himself lowered his head and fell to grazing.

  But he found it all too insufficient. His stomach urgently demandedgrain and alfalfa. And he yearned for a little bran-mash. But there werenone of these. He saw not even a tiny morsel of flower to appease hisinner grumblings, and finally, lifting his head in a kind of disgust, heceased to graze altogether. As he did so, the men made ready to resumethe journey, replacing bridles and saddles and saddle-bags. Pat foundhimself hopeful again, believing that with the end of this prolongedservice, which in view of the distance already traversed must be soon,he would have those things for which his body and soul cried out. Andthus he set forth, occupying his former place in the order of advance,moving, as before, at a fox-trot and amid silence from the men. He wasstill hopeful of better things to come. But it was all a drearexperience.

  The grind began to tell upon him. As he trotted along, thirst-stricken,miserably nourished, weary from loss of sleep and this ceaseless toil,he sought frankly for cause to rebel, as he had done in the first hourof this strange call to new duty. And he found it. He found it not onlyin the man's weight, and the infrequent contact of spurs, and the tightgrip on the reins, all as on that first occasion, but he found it aswell in other things--in the dust thrown up by the little gray ahead, inthe sun's rays slanting into his eyes from the west, in the scorching,blistering heat of this same ruthless orb beating down upon his back.Suddenly, cost him what it would, he dropped out of the fox-trot into awalk, prepared to fight for this change of stride to the last breath.

  He did not hold to it, however, even though his master, curiouslyenough, permitted him the change. Pride asserted itself, and after atime, of his own volition, finding the gap between himself and theothers much too wide to please him, he broke into a canter and quicklyclosed the gap, crowding back into his place between the other twohorses. That was all of rebellion, though the mood still remained.Bitter, disappointed, nervous, and irritable, he continued forward,wanting things--wanting food and water, wanting sounds of voices,wanting a respite from this unnerving grind. But he made no effort toget them or to show that he wanted them. And he knew why he maintainedthis attitude of meek acceptance. He was too weak to enforce hisdemands. He knew that it required energy to buck and pitch, and he knewthat he lacked this energy. So he continued along in sullen resignationuntil, accepting the hint of his instincts, he closed his eyes. Thisbrought relief, and after a time, his movements becoming ever moremechanical, he found himself adrift upon a peaceful sea of semi-coma,oblivious to all trouble--hunger pangs, thirst, weariness. When hereturned to full consciousness, somewhat refreshed and fit for fartherdistances, he found the sun well down the western sky, the cool
ofevening wrapping him about in delightful zephyrs, and he was stillkeeping his place between the two horses.

  Dusk found him in a small oasis. His master slipped to earth, and withrelief Pat gazed about him. He saw a clump of trees, and in theirdepths, glinting out at him between the trunks, a shimmering pool ofwater. Also, near these trees, on the edge of the grove, he saw a shackmade up of rough logs. But he was interested only in the pool, and, whenhis master removed his saddle, eagerly and with a soft nicker he steppedtoward it. But the man jerked him back. So he waited, realizing that hehad been hasty, till his bridle was removed, when again he steppedtoward the pool. But again he was jerked back, this time by a firm gripon his forelock. So again he waited while the man placed thedisagreeable rope around his neck. With this secure, he found himselfled into the grove, where he soon was quenching his raging thirst, andwhere, after drinking, he felt more kindly not only toward the man, buttoward the whole world. When he was conducted back into the open, andthe end of the rope made fast to a stake, he lifted his voice in ashrill nicker proclaiming his satisfaction. Then he stood very still,watching the man enter the shack, utterly absorbed in getting thatlong-delayed reward of sugar and quartered apples.

  But again he waited in vain. The man did not reappear; indeed, none ofthe men reappeared. So after a time, swallowing his disappointment, heturned his eyes upon the other horses. As at noon, they were grazingindustriously, and he knew what was in store for him. He regarded them along moment, trying to bring himself to graze also, but finding that hisknowledge of better things would not permit him. Yet there was onepleasant surprise. The little gray, sounding a soft whinny, made her wayslowly toward him. This was unexpected friendliness, for the horse hadseemed hostile earlier, and he promptly showed his pleasure by lickingher neck with lavish attention. And though he found her coat gritty withdust, he continued this generous attention till she lowered her head andresumed her grazing. This reminded him of his own fierce hunger, and hepromptly lowered his own head, following her example with a kind ofgratitude, and fell to grazing with her, finding in her interest the oneray of light in all the darkness of his distress and continueddisappointment. And thus he fed, keeping with her to the limits of histether, until, soon after the candlelight had whisked out in the shack,she lay down in the yielding sand with a restful sigh. Pat understoodthis, but he regarded it with uncertainty, knowing that he himself withthe coming of night always had protection in a stable. Then, decidingthat it was right and fitting, especially as the sorrel also sank intothe sand, he himself bent his knees and lay down to rest in the warmthof the desert.

  But his lesson in the open was not yet fully learned. Next morning, withthe other horses astir, and with the men moving in and out of the shack,he saw his master coming toward him. Reaching him, the man untied therope from the stake, led him to the pool of water, and permitted him todrink. Then he returned him to the open, and there removed the rope fromhim entirely. But despite this he found that he was not free fromsuspicion. For now the man tied a short rope around his fore ankles, andstrode back into the shack, leaving him, as before, to his own devices.

  Half expecting the man to return with sugar and apples, Pat watched himtake himself off with mild anticipation. But as the man did not returnhe bethought him after a time of his sterner hunger, and took promptstep in the direction of a tuft of grass. Instantly he felt a sharptwitch at his ankles and fell headlong. For a moment he lay dazed,utterly at a loss to understand, thrashing about frantically in futileeffort to regain his feet. Then he became calm again, and broughtcraftiness instead of brute force to bear upon the trouble. He regainedhis feet. Then he studied the cause of the disaster, and finally steppedout again, cautiously now, having learned his lesson. So he did notstumble. But he did feel the check around his ankles again. Steadyinghimself, he saw clearly the cause of his previous discomfiture, but hedid not accept it as defeat. Casting his eyes toward the other horses,he awoke to the fact that they, as well as himself, were hobbled.Watching them, studying them, he finally saw one rear, strike out withhis front legs, and draw his hind legs up to meet the advance. So thatwas it! He now knew what he himself must do. Feeling out his hobblescarefully, gathering quick courage the while, he himself at lengthreared, struck out with fore legs, followed up with hind legs, and foundhimself directly over the tuft of grass. This was pleasant, and hepromptly began to nibble it, finding it no less toothsome--perhaps moretoothsome--for the effort. And when he had finished this he gazed aboutfor others, and, seeing others, moved upon each in turn as he had movedupon the first, rearing and striking, following it with hind legs,rearing and striking again, following again with hind legs, allsuccessfully. And so he learned his second great lesson in the open.

  Thus he began his life in the desert. Fraught as it was with muchdiscomfort, both spiritual and physical, he yet found much of interestin it all, and he was destined to find in it, as time went on, much moreof even greater interest. And in the days which followed, and the weeksand months following these, because he showed that he was willing andanxious to learn, to attune himself to the life, he aroused in all whocame in contact with him, men as well as horses, an esteem and affectionwhich made life smoother and more pleasant for him than it mightotherwise have been.