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Updated: June 23, 2025
"By golly," Chuck said earnestly and half-pleadingly, "I wish you'd put her against that Y-Bar outfit's Thunderbolt horse in the two-mile sweepstakes this year! It would be " "Fun to see her run!" the Ramblin' Kid interrupted, looking up quickly and straight into the eyes of Carolyn June as he finished the contemptuous quotation of her words, spoken the day before at the corral.
You ought to have them bunched and in the big pasture by Saturday night. Then, until the Rodeo is over you can all do what you darn' please " "I know what I'm going to do," Chuck laughed. "What?" Bert asked. "Draw all my wages, borrow all I can, and make a clean-up on that Y-Bar outfit on the race between the Gold Dust maverick and Thunderbolt!" he exclaimed vindictively.
For a long minute Old Heck studied the bill of sale that made him owner of every cow-brute burnt with the Y-Bar brand. "My men will gather the cattle within fifteen days," Dorsey said dully, noting the half-questioning look on Old Heck's face, "or you can send your own crew, just as you please. I suppose you'll meet me half-way and receive the stock in Eagle Butte?" "Can Thunderbolt run?"
Let's see," he added calculatingly, "how many Y-Bar cattle do you figure you've got running on the Vermejo range five thousand?" "There's that many," Dorsey started to say. "Call it fifty-five hundred!" Old Heck flung at him.
The Ramblin' Kid leaned toward him: "Hell why don't you make that thing run!" he sneered at the Y-Bar rider. The next instant the Gold Dust maverick's neck and shoulders showed in the lead of the Y-Bar stallion.
Lafe Dorsey, owner of the Y-Bar outfit and to whom belonged the black Thunderbolt horse; Newt Johnson, Dave Stover and "Flip" Williams the latter three cowboys on the big Vermejo ranch were playing a four-handed game of billiards at one of the tables near the front of the place.
"And I ain't going to miss that, either," Chuck interrupted, "that Y-Bar outfit over on the Vermejo took everything in the two-mile sweepstakes last year and they've been bragging about it ever since. They think that Thunderbolt horse of theirs can't be beat. I was going to put Silver Tip in this year. He can put that black in second place "
Old Heck asked irrelevantly. "Not as fast as that imp of hell of the Ramblin' Kid's!" Dorsey answered instantly and with a short laugh. Old Heck chuckled. "You say you'll turn the Y-Bar cattle over to me within fifteen days?" he asked again, reverting to a study of the paper he held in his hand. "Yes," Dorsey replied; "is that satisfactory?"
Horses are a good deal like men, you know, Dorsey there's always one that's a little bit better!" The Vermejo cow-man colored at the thrust. "Any of you Quarter Circle KT fellers going in on anything at the Rodeo, this year?" one of the Y-Bar riders asked Skinny before Dorsey could reply.
Down the straight stretch the racers came in a mighty whirlwind of speed. "Thunderbolt is taking it!" "The Y-Bar horse leads!" "Th' black's got 'em!" roared from the throats of the crowd in the grandstand and the mass of humanity crushing the railing along the track. Dorsey and Sabota leaped to the edge of the box as the horses thundered past the judges' stand.
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