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And he loved horses; loved the big-jointed, wabbly legged colts and the round-bodied, anxious mothers; loved the grade geldings and fillies and the registered stock that he kept close to home in fenced pastures; loved the broom-tail bronks that ranged far afield and came in a dust cloud moiling up from their staccato hoof beats, circled by hoarse, shouting riders seen vaguely through the cloud.
Curley climbed shamefacedly off the fence and picked up his rope. The business of taming bronks was resumed in a dead silence broken only by the trampling of the horses and a muttered oath now and then. A lump over Aleck's ear was swelling so that the hair lifted there, and Bud limped and sent scowling glances at Johnny Jewel.
The tongue was cracked, too; that had been done last winter when Luck was producing The Phantom Herd and had sent old Dave Wiswell down a rocky hillside with half-broken bronks harnessed to the wagon, in a particularly dramatic scene. Applehead went grumblingly in search of some baling wire to wrap the tongue.
Altogether, it was a very unhappy young man who slammed his spurs into a far corner and kicked viciously a box he had stumbled over in the dusk. "Trying to bust the furniture?" it was the voice of the Old Man at the door. "By gracious, it seems I can't bust bronks no more," Andy made rueful reply. "I reckon I'll just about have to bust the furniture or nothing."
"Well, but I'm all right, you see, so you don't need to worry any more. I was all right all the time, if you had only known it. You don't want to let that give you a prejudice against flying. It's just as safe as riding bronks." "It it isn't the safeness." Mary V choked back a sob and wiped her eyes. "But you don't seem to take it seriously at all!" "Now, you know I do!
Riding the sky with Venus when he knew very well that his place was out in the big corral, riding some of those broom-tail bronks that he was being paid a salary a good salary for breaking! Mary V thought that her father ought to be told about the way Johnny was spending all his time writing silly poetry about Venus. It was the first she had ever known about his being a poet.
"It ain't no use t' call Mary in Mary can't handle her no better'n I can an' not so good. Jos'phine, yuh got " "Here's where we shine," broke in a cheery voice which was sweet to the ears, just then. "Chip and I ain't wrassled with bronks all our lives for nothing. This is dead easy all same branding calves. Ketch hold of her heels, Splinter that's the talk.
And you know yourself, Mary V, I couldn't settle down and be just a rider again. Fighting bronks is too tame, now too slow. I'll have to make a flyer of you, Mary V, and then you'll know " Mary V suddenly buried her face in a cushion. Johnny heard a smothered sob and got up, looking very much astonished and perturbed.
In a three-hour ride she could reach the-Devil's Tooth, spend a whole hour looking down upon the ranch house of the wicked Lorrigans, and ride home again. And by choosing the short cuts she practically eliminated the chance of being observed. If she could see Belle go tearing down the trail with her bronks and her buckboard she would be horrifiedly happy.
"Ridin' bronks shore does make a feller ready for the hay. Me, I died soon as my head hit my piller." "Mary V, she musta hit out plumb early this morning," Bud observed gropingly. "She was saddled and gone when I come to the c'rel at sun-up. Yuh might ast her if she seen anybody, Bill. Chances is she wouldn't, but they's no harm askin'." "I will," Bill said sourly.
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