The Thunder-Horse by Alyx Shaw Page B

expressed any interest in trying to get on him. Adalwolf would ride Horse occasionally, but normally he would go out and brush Horse when he was pissed off with life, bitching the whole time in German while Horse munched hay.
    Even Bill would go talk to him, occasionally sitting on him backwards. Horse didn't seem to care. He didn't even appear to mind that Bill seemed to have no understanding of the differences between a horse and a dog, and endured him with good humor as Bill taught him to speak, shake, and fetch. Bill actually only rode Horse once, and it was a short-lived experience. He had never been on a horse, and he didn't know what he was doing. He accidentally pulled too hard on the right rein, and Horse, who had lived most of his life being taught behaviors for movies, assumed that was his cue to fall over, which he did. Bill was flattened under Horse like a bug, and he never got on Horse's back again.
    Adalwolf was the one who rode Horse the most. He was red cowboy death on a horse. He had apparently done some riding in his youth with a hunt club, as well as some roping, and he quickly became the terror of every employee within lasso range on the grounds of the large estate the band collectively owned and inhabited. He would come tearing along, reins in one hand, lariat in the other, and, with deftness rare to find in even experienced cattle ropers, snare a gardener or groundskeeper and have him hog-tied in record time. Soon the most fearsome sound on the manor grounds was that German accent screaming, "Yeeeeeaaaaaaa-HOOOO!" accompanied by thundering hooves.
    Most employees bore this without complaint, until the day Adalwolf branded one on the ass. Andrew still recalled that. He had been sitting in his office when the head gardener, Taylor, came storming in, dirty, dusty, and limping. He yanked off his hat, brown hair at all angles, face red, and yelled; "I quit! I am out of here! I was willing to put up with living in a house with a bunch of thirty year old juvenile delinquents, but nobody said anything about having to put up with getting hog tied and having my ass branded!"
    "I'm sorry," said Andrew, "you were...?"
    " Branded !" Taylor turned so Andrew could see his hip. Sure enough, he had been branded. And not a little brand, either. This was a good old fashioned cowboy brand, meant to be seen and recognized from a distance.
    Andrew stared at the brand, and was horrified to realize he was starting to laugh. All the same, he managed to page the full-time first aid attendant who lived on the grounds to come see to Taylor's new body-art.
    "Well," Andrew said, clearing his throat, fighting back his hilarity. "I really had thought there was nothing left they could do to surprise me, but that surprises me." He fought back an urge to laugh his head off, though whether it was from humor or hysteria he wasn't quite sure. "Well, if you insist on quitting, I'm sure we can come up with adequate compensation for the damages you suffered."
    Taylor, now that he had calmed down a little, was starting to grin himself. "No, that's fine, I don't want to quit. But can I please be transferred somewhere out of roping range?"
    Andrew found the urge to laugh becoming harder to fight. He brought his hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Taylor was starting to giggle himself as he continued speaking.
    "I mean I'm standing there, minding my own business, and Wild Bill Adalwolf comes hurtling around a corner, the next thing I know I'm on my face, tied up with my ass in the air, and a man in chaps is coming at me with a big glowing piece of iron. Now that is not a comfortable feeling!"
    Andrew desperately fought the urge to burst out laughing. He almost had it under control until Taylor added, "All I could think was thank God he didn't have a set of bull castrators..."
    Andrew rode Horse a few times himself, though he couldn't help but think the animal had a definite sense of sarcasm. The first time Horse got a look at Andrew in