buckskin’s face, patting its neck. Then stepping to the back, drawing his hand along the buckskin’s side, he swatted it firmly on the haunch, getting it in motion.
The other two just stood there, and then swatting the pinto as well, he had them moving too, one of the bays and the sorrel joining in. As they circled the corral, he walked back over to the old man. Leaning against the inside of the fence, he studied them.
He hadn’t been lying to the old man when he said that he knew a bit about horses, but then he hadn’t exactly been telling the truth either. He should have said more than a little but less than a lot. His only experience with them was from when he had taken riding lessons as research for a book and from the manuals he had read to learn about the different breeds and how they behaved and what you needed to feed them. But if it had all worked out right in his book, it had been mostly from theory and little practice, and now, he told himself, now we’re going to see just how well you learned it.
“The buckskin is blind in one eye,” he said. “I can’t tell from just looking at her, though, whether it’s from an accident or whether it’s something like cataracts that’ll turn up in the other eye.”
“She was born that way, but I couldn’t bring myself to shoot her. I used to have grandchildren coming here, and they got some use from her.”
“One of the bays has a broken shoe on the right front hoof, but that’s no problem if you see to it soon enough. The other two bays look pretty good, although they’re getting old and I don’t think there’s more than a year or two of heavy work left in them. The sorrel’s another matter. She’s got a swelling on the upper part of the cannon bone that I don’t like at all.”
“Calcium build-up.”
“I don’t think so. What did the vet say?”
“Calcium build-up.”
“Sure. It looks to me like that’s where she’s been kicking herself when she runs, though, and if she keeps doing it, she’s going to cripple herself. The only one I can’t decide on is the pinto. I can’t tell if she’s sickly or just naturally that slight. I’d have to be suspicious though.”
“So what’s your judgment?”
“No question, your three bays are the best. The other three are workable if you handle them right, but that sorrel, I doubt you’ll see her this time next year, and the pinto, you’d have to go awful easy on her. I take it that if you decide to sell the last three are the ones.”
“If I decide to sell. Two horses for packing. You must be taking up a lot of gear.”
He shook his head no. “One horse for packing gear, the other for grain and oats and bringing back what I shoot.”
“Yeah, that’s the way I’d do it too. Why not just rent them? As soon as the season’s over or the snow’s too deep, they won’t be any use to you then anyhow. Why not just rent them and save yourself the extra money?”
He shook his head no again. “If I get up there and something happens to one of them, I want to be sure it’s my own horse I’m shooting, not somebody else’s. I don’t want to have to feel that you’re looking over my shoulder at your property. When the time comes that I’m done with them, I’ll sell them back to you. For a lower price I assume. But the difference will be the same as the rent, and this way they’ll still be my horses.”
The old man thought about it. “Not bad,” he said and started chewing again. “That’s as neat as I’ve ever heard it put. Not bad at all.”
“Then it’s a deal?”
“Not quite. There’s still that other matter we’ve got to talk about.”
“What’s that?”
“How much cash you’ve got to spend. Do you like pure grain liquor?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Oh you’ll like it fine. Just fine. Why don’t we go on in the house and sit a spell and have a glass or two?”
3
He spotted them about the same time they spotted him, just as he was coming out of the
The other two just stood there, and then swatting the pinto as well, he had them moving too, one of the bays and the sorrel joining in. As they circled the corral, he walked back over to the old man. Leaning against the inside of the fence, he studied them.
He hadn’t been lying to the old man when he said that he knew a bit about horses, but then he hadn’t exactly been telling the truth either. He should have said more than a little but less than a lot. His only experience with them was from when he had taken riding lessons as research for a book and from the manuals he had read to learn about the different breeds and how they behaved and what you needed to feed them. But if it had all worked out right in his book, it had been mostly from theory and little practice, and now, he told himself, now we’re going to see just how well you learned it.
“The buckskin is blind in one eye,” he said. “I can’t tell from just looking at her, though, whether it’s from an accident or whether it’s something like cataracts that’ll turn up in the other eye.”
“She was born that way, but I couldn’t bring myself to shoot her. I used to have grandchildren coming here, and they got some use from her.”
“One of the bays has a broken shoe on the right front hoof, but that’s no problem if you see to it soon enough. The other two bays look pretty good, although they’re getting old and I don’t think there’s more than a year or two of heavy work left in them. The sorrel’s another matter. She’s got a swelling on the upper part of the cannon bone that I don’t like at all.”
“Calcium build-up.”
“I don’t think so. What did the vet say?”
“Calcium build-up.”
“Sure. It looks to me like that’s where she’s been kicking herself when she runs, though, and if she keeps doing it, she’s going to cripple herself. The only one I can’t decide on is the pinto. I can’t tell if she’s sickly or just naturally that slight. I’d have to be suspicious though.”
“So what’s your judgment?”
“No question, your three bays are the best. The other three are workable if you handle them right, but that sorrel, I doubt you’ll see her this time next year, and the pinto, you’d have to go awful easy on her. I take it that if you decide to sell the last three are the ones.”
“If I decide to sell. Two horses for packing. You must be taking up a lot of gear.”
He shook his head no. “One horse for packing gear, the other for grain and oats and bringing back what I shoot.”
“Yeah, that’s the way I’d do it too. Why not just rent them? As soon as the season’s over or the snow’s too deep, they won’t be any use to you then anyhow. Why not just rent them and save yourself the extra money?”
He shook his head no again. “If I get up there and something happens to one of them, I want to be sure it’s my own horse I’m shooting, not somebody else’s. I don’t want to have to feel that you’re looking over my shoulder at your property. When the time comes that I’m done with them, I’ll sell them back to you. For a lower price I assume. But the difference will be the same as the rent, and this way they’ll still be my horses.”
The old man thought about it. “Not bad,” he said and started chewing again. “That’s as neat as I’ve ever heard it put. Not bad at all.”
“Then it’s a deal?”
“Not quite. There’s still that other matter we’ve got to talk about.”
“What’s that?”
“How much cash you’ve got to spend. Do you like pure grain liquor?”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Oh you’ll like it fine. Just fine. Why don’t we go on in the house and sit a spell and have a glass or two?”
3
He spotted them about the same time they spotted him, just as he was coming out of the
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