When one cow dies on a two thousand acre ranch, it's not news. Two cows dying, being killed and half eaten would set off alarms. A few predators might wander by and take an easy kill. The idea of wolves or a bear finding a few thousand cows, might take down a cow a night. A pack of wolves could take down a dozen a night.

It's why cowboys rode herd. Predators were built into an operation. A ranch like Del's, once less than a thousand head, grew and expanded, buying available land. When you had two thousand head, predators were a serious consideration. Cowboys need to cover a lot of ground to keep a check on herds in pastures of a ranch. The smell of cowboys. The smell of one rifle being fired tells a predator that he's on dangerous turf and he keeps on moving.

Let a predator set his sights on your herd, and you could have a problem that's hard to solve. The four sentries were standing next to the fire swinging their arms to keep warm when Pardo and Potee yelled that they were coming into camp.

"Chachuka, anything to report?" Pardo asked the Shoshone trail boss as he walked to stand next to Topper to talk.

"Quiet. No sign of anything. We'll make another round after we warm up a bit. Sit a spell. Just cooked the coffee. It ain't nectar, but sure warms my insides."

"Cows with calves?" Pardo asked.

"We brought them in close. They've been restless, but nothing to report. All's quiet, Pardo."

"We'll do the ride around. Go on in when it suits you. There will be a half dozen cowboys coming behind us in a half hour or so. Thanks for doing the overnight yourself. I want someone who knows predators out here when there's trouble."

"Potee, you're sure talkative this morning," Chachuka said.

"I don't get up this early," the young cowboy said.

"Stop once you finish looking around. I'll leave the pot on the fire. You'll want a cup by then. Cold this morning."

Pardo and Potee sat drinking coffee when four more cowboys rode up. Two more had ridden to check on the herd in the next pasture. The horse's breath was easy to see at first light. Pardo and Potee mounted up to visit each pasture as they worked their way back to the main ranch. They started at four and were drinking coffee at their last stop a little before noon. They were two miles from home and had built a big appetite that they'd let Cookie take care of.

"What's going on?" Potee asked.

"Gunner. He attracts a crowd."

"Yeah," Potee said.

Topper and Thunder stood behind Del, Gunner, and Dr Anderson were talking.

"Who tied those horses like that?" Potee asked in a voice that indicated strong disapproval.

"I did, Junior. You got some objection to the way I does things?"

"You don't need to tie them that tight," Potee said. "They can't move."

"You want to break them? You tie them any way you like, Junior. That's how I ties them," Gunner said, spitting a black gob near Thunder's front hoof.

"Pure meanness. Someone ought to tie your head to the rail and see how you like it," Potee said.

"Potee," Pardo corrected.

"I ain't no horse. No one ties me, unless you want to give it a try, Junior."

"I got my horse to tend to. The horse you said couldn't be ridden, Senior?" Potee said.

"You looking for a piece of me, Junior. Just say the word and you can have all you want."

Pardo rode Topper up between the two feuding cowboys.

"Go get lunch. I'll be there in a minute, Potee," Pardo ordered in no uncertain terms.

"I lost my appetite. You go get lunch, and don't give me order's like you own me, Pardo. Don't ever think you own me. Now, you go eat. I'll be there when I'm ready to eat."

Pardo backed Topper out of the spot he rode him into.

It was the first time cross words passed between him and Potee. He didn't like it. By the time he got off of Topper in front of the chow hall, he was fuming.

"Gunner, get to doing what I'm paying you to do. I don't need you coming up here and making trouble with my cowboys."

"I ain't making no trouble. Junior's the one running his mouth," Gunner said, spitting another black mass at Del's feet.

"Thoroughly unpleasant fellow, you ask me," Dr Anderson said. "Doesn't need to treat horses that way."

Del watched Gunner let himself in the corral. He walked over to the gray horse and grabbed the rope that held his face on the top railing of the corral fence.

Potee winced.

"Going to prove how tough he is," Del said. "I'd like to find someone else to break mustangs."

"Anything to report now that you ran my foreman off, Potee?"

"All's quiet, Boss. Nothing happened last night. Pardo will keep the two extra men in the pasture tonight, but if we didn't get them all, they've headed for the hills. They aren't stupid critters."

"No, I suspect not. I hate losing cows. You're pretty rough on Pardo. Never heard you talk to him like that before. You okay?"

"I don't like someone giving orders like he owns me."

"Glad you told me," Del said, planting his boot on the bottom rail of the corral.

"How many he riding?" Potee asked.

"Four. I need them for a sale this weekend," Del said. "Nice looking mustangs."

Potee watched Gunner walking in the corral. He had the wild horses tied so tightly they couldn't move. It pissed Potee off to see animals treated that way.

Thunder snorted disapproval from behind Potee, who planted his boot on the bottom rail of the corral fence.

"I don't like him either, Thunder. He's not a nice man," Potee said.

Thunder knew Gunner's smell. He was a man he wouldn't let ride him. After dumping him twice, the man walked away saying, 'No one can ride him.' Thunder knew he was that horse.

Potee wanted to go into the corral and loosen the ropes holding the mustangs so tightly. He'd need to fight Gunner if he did. Gunner was half again Potee's size and the young cowboy hadn't been in a fist fight since he was nine. He lost that fight. Starting a confrontation with Gunner wouldn't help those mustangs any. Bullies loved it when weaker guys wanted to take them on for being assholes.

The mustangs lost their freedom, and Gunner made them hate men by treating them mean. Potee remembered the cowboys who stood with their boot on the bottom rail of the corral fence the day he rode Thunder. They came to see a joke play out. They mostly left before he rode Thunder. He didn't know why they left, until now. They left out of disgust. They didn't like seeing animals abused, even when the animal was a sixteen-year-old kid.

He let Thunder stand behind him rather than tie him in front of the chow hall, where he could drink. He sensed Thunder was watching Gunner too. He'd go apologize to Pardo in a minute. He'd watch him break one. He'd never seen what it was Gunner did.

Gunner reached for the air over his head with his right arm. The small gray horse bucked, kicked, twisted and turned before realizing it was hopeless, and all resistance ceased. When Potee turned away, Gunner was walking the horse around the corral.

He walked Thunder over to tie him next to Topper. He didn't know why he acted the way he did.

"I'm going to eat. I'll be back in a little while. I'll bring you something good," he told Thunder.

Thunder liked the sounds of it and he nodded his approval as Potee went inside.

When Potee went into the chow hall, his plate was steaming across from Pardo.

"Looks good. Thanks," Potee said. "Sorry I jumped on you. He makes me angry."

"Telling your boss not to order you around in front of his boss isn't usually a good move, Potee. Gunner is a jerk. He treats horses like that because he's a jerk. He treats everyone that way. You getting your jaws torqued over him being a jerk isn't smart. Change the things you can change and leave alone things you can do nothing about. Unless you plan to gain fifty pounds fast, there is nothing you can do about Gunner Baker, and I didn't get you a plate. Cookie brought it out, so don't thank me."

Pardo threw his fork into his plate. His stomach was upset and he didn't like being angry with the man he loved.

"I'm sorry. If you love me, you'll forgive me. I'm not stupid, Pardo. I know everything you just told me. He still makes me angry. No one should treat animals that way," Potee complained.

"Men have abused animals as long as there have been men. It's a fact of life. You can't fight everyone who is an asshole, Potee."

"I know. I know."

Potee looked at the plate of food he thought looked so good, and he pushed it away. They both sat silent as cowboys came and went, forks clinked and clanked, and no one said anything, but they all heard Pardo and Potee.

"I said, 'I'm sorry.' Don't lecture me."

"Not a problem. Lecture over. You watch Gunner ride one?"

"Yes, you could do something? Why didn't you?"

Pardo picked up his fork and put it down again. He wanted to leave but he knew he had to face this issue as a one off. It had to do with Potee's sense of injustice, and he needed to acknowledge it.

"How do you figure that? He's Del's man. I got no say over Gunner Baker."

"You could tell Del to have him treat horses like they have rights, Pardo."

"The horses are breathing. That's the right they have as far as Gunner is concerned. I can't bring justice to the Lazy R, Potee. I would if I could. I can't."

Pardo knew it would pass, but it wouldn't be soon enough for him.

"I know. I want it to be different. I know you'd change it for me, if you could. I'm angry and you're the only one I got who cares. I want to go get my rifle and shoot the son-of-a-bitch."

"That's intelligent. You shoot someone and you're history for the rest of your life. Great way to make things better for mustangs all over the world."

"Feel like and doing it are two different things. I'm angry. I don't need to be lectured."

"I know you're angry. Eat your lunch before it gets cold," Pardo said as his lunch got cold.

Potee drained his glass of milk in one gulp. He leaned his mouth close to his plate and began shoveling the food off his plate and into his mouth.

"Lord save me from impetuous children," Pardo said to no one.

Potee sat back and put his fork in his plate.

"You didn't stay long. What was Gunner doing when you left?"

"Has him walking around the corral. The gray horse. How many does he do at a time?"

"Gunner? Three or four if Del has that many. He gets a hundred a horse. He won't come up here for less than three hundred. He's good. That's the reason Del puts up with him. Aren't many horses can shake Gunner off. He could ride at the rodeo if he wanted, but he isn't interested. He'd need to do it by their rules. Gunner isn't good with rules."

"What would he do at a rodeo?" Potee asked.

"Bronc busting is the main event at the rodeo. Cowboys try to ride the rankest horses for eight seconds," Pardo said.

"Rank horse? Who ranks them?"

"Rank as in bad, nasty, meanest horses they can find."

"What's the point?"

"Points are the points. If you ride eight seconds, judges rate your ride. They give you points."

"I think we're not speaking the same language. Why would anyone want to see if they could ride one of these rank horses for eight seconds? I see no point to it, Pardo."

"At each rodeo, there are points. You get enough points as the season goes on, by adding last week's points to this week's points, the cowboy with the most points wins the championship and a pile of cash."

"Why didn't you just say, they do it for the money?"

"I was trying to explain the logic behind cowboys riding at the rodeo?"

"Still could have just said they do it for money."

"You're right. I could have. You going to be like this all day? Let me know how long, and I'll go get lost until it's over."

"How much cash?" Potee asked, trying to get out of the hole he was digging.

Pardo's mouth dropped open. He was going to be like this all day. He wasn't going to stop.

"A pile. $20,000 last time I heard. Goes up every year," Pardo said. "The more money rodeos make, the more money they pay. Rodeo is big business out here."

Potee didn't say anything else. Pardo went back to his pork chops, dressing, mashed potatoes, with sliced tomatoes right out of Cookie's garden.

Roper came running into the chow hall to get Cookie. He was the closest thing to a doctor within forty miles. Roper came running back out and headed for the front door.

"Roper, hold up. What's got your hair on fire? There's plenty of food for everyone," Pardo said. "Gunner. Horse tossed him on his head. Out cold," Roper said. "Del said, 'Get Cookie.'"

"Landed on his head. He'll be fine. Can't hurt that hard head," Pardo said.

"Divine intervention. Any chance he's dead?" Potee said. "I got to see this."

"Potee, that ain't funny," Pardo said, but Potee was already out the door.

"Shit," Pardo said, drinking coffee before getting up to go see if Gunner might be dead.

As Potee stood just inside the corral, forty feet ahead of the gate laid Gunner,

Potee smiled. He felt better for the first time since they rode in.

Cookie came out with a bag. He passed Potee on his way to Gunner. The cook took out a stethoscope to listen to the cowboy's heart.

Gunner didn't move.

Cookie stood after putting his gear away.

"Best thing I can do is wait for the people who know what they're doing. His heartbeat is strong. Probably just knocked himself out, but you can't be too careful with this kind of thing."

Once Potee heard that Gunner wasn't dead, he lost interest. He saw the horse Gunner hadn't gotten around to riding yet. He was obviously riding the chestnut when he was thrown. The chestnut stood a few dozen feet away from the activity. She was shivering and her eyes were open very wide.

Potee took a step, stopped, spoke softly, took a step, and stopped again.

"You're okay, horse. You're okay. Good horse. Look at you. Tossed the big ugly cowboy right on his fat old head. Good job, horse."

The horse's eyes never left Potee, but she didn't move as he moved up to put his hand on her flank. There was one more shiver and then the chestnut stood calmly as Potee moved up to her head.

Potee patted the horse's neck.

"We all ain't assholes, horse. I wouldn't hurt you. I like horses and right now, you're my favorite horse. You done good, horse."

Potee tied the reins loosely to the top railing. The horse could walk away if she pulled against the reins, but she didn't pull.

Potee went to the two horses who still had their heads tied tight to the top rail. Moving slowly from one horse to the other. He loosened the rope to give them room to move. They'd been tied that way for so long, neither moved but a few inches, once they could move. Potee talked to them and patted their flanks and told them he'd never, not ever, hurt a horse.

"Feel better?" Pardo asked.

"I feel great. The only thing that will make me feel better, if that asshole dies."

"Potee."

"People who hurt animals don't deserve to live," Potee said as he looked at the prone cowboy.

"Ambulance is on the way," Del said, returning to the corral. "You check him out, Doc."

"Me, No, I don't want him growling at me for being a horse doctor. He can go get his own doctor. My clientele is more classy than him."

"You care about those horses, don't you?" Pardo said.

"They're wild things. I was a scared wild thing. Until you put your brand on me," Potee said.

Pardo was happy to hear the words mellowing. He'd never thought of Potee as a wild thing.

"What are you two doing to my horses?' Del asked, leaving Gunner lying nearby. "I've got these horses sold. I got to get on the phone and tell the man to keep his money. I ain't got but one horse broke. He bought four. He wanted them this weekend. Why did you move them, Potee?"

"They were tied too tight. I gave them some rope is all, Del," Potee said.

"Their horses. It's not like they got feelings," Del said.

"Don't get him started again, Del," Pardo said.

"Horses have as much feelings as that asshole has," Dr Anderson said, looking at Gunner.

"He may be a crude idiot, but he is the only guy I got to break my horses. I'm losing a thousand bucks because I got three horses ain't been broke."

"I'll break them for you," Potee said.

"You will not," Pardo said. "This isn't some game, Potee. Those are wild animals. Take a look at Gunner. He was going to break these horses too."

"I said, 'I'll break them, Del.' Did you hear the name Pardo in anything I said?"

"No."

"You don't know what I want to do. When I tell you. You can believe me. I'll break them, Del."

"I ain't losing my foreman over it. He says no. I got to say no. I sure do need those horses broke."

"Go ahead," Pardo said.

"I'll get the liniment out," Cookie said. "Potee, this ain't no job for a tenderfoot."

Potee turned his back on the group of men who formed around him. He walked to the chestnut.

"You mind if I ride you. You wouldn't mind. I'm a lot better looking than that jerk you threw off. I'll be gentle and I know, you don't want me riding you, but someone has to do it, and having someone nice do it is better than having another mean dude do it."

"What's he doing?" Del asked.

"Talking to the horse," Pardo said.

"Kind of nice he talks to one before he rides her. I think I like his approach," the doctor said.

"Go get him," Del said to Pardo. "Talking to the horses. That's crazy."

"Kind of nice," Dr Anderson said.

When Pardo took a step toward Potee, the young cowboy was already in the saddle. The Chestnut bucked, turned, twisted, kicked, trotted a bit, and in a few minutes he was taking Potee for a nice ride around the corral.

"See. Look at you. I knew you could do it. You look like Clementine to me. How would you like it if I call you Clementine? Horse is a bit vague," Potee said, leading the horse over to Del.

"This ain't the debating club. What do you think you're doing?" Del asked indignantly.

"Meet Clementine. Clementine, this unpleasant sounding fellow is Del. I rode you. He sold you, and we know what your name is, don't we?"

The horse stood staring at Potee. Del stood staring at Potee.

Dr Anderson smiled at him and patted the horse's flank.

Pardo shook his head as Potee tied Clementine's reins to the top rail of the fence, walking toward the sorrel who was next in line. The horse shied away as Potee approached. Potee slowed his pass and he talked to the horse. In another minute he was standing next to the horse's head.

"Look, someone's going to ride you. It may as well be me. You look like a Red Dog to me. You mind if I call you Red Dog? I think we can be friends, but we got to get this riding thing out of the way. Just think, when I'm done, you'll get to take young cowboys on a ride and maybe a few cowgirls."

"What do they have to talk about?" Del asked Pardo.

"Don't ask me. I talk to Topper."

"That's different," Del complained.

"No, it isn't," Dr Anderson said. "Kind of nice he talks to them. Makes a connection."

Red Dog was far more energetic than Clementine. He wasn't as sure he wanted to be ridden, and when he began walking, it required far less energy, and in a minute, Potee took him over to Del.

"Red Dog, meet Del. He's not as grumpy as he looks. You'll need to take my word on that."

"You do know that the people I sold this horse to might have their own idea what his name is."

"I broke him. I get to name him. He knows what his name is. I know what his name is. The folks you sold him to can call him anything they like," Potee said.

"Well thank you. I'll be sure to let them know that," Del said, not sure why they were arguing, but Potee had walked over to the bay by that time.

"I know. I know. You don't want to be ridden. Once I ride you, you'll be able to do honest work. You'll meet people. You'll see we all aren't as nasty as the guy they're taking away in the ambulance. You'll get good food and be in out of the weather at night. You're going to like your new life, and you'll never need to eat grass unless you want to."

Potee rode the third horse and tied him next to the other two. The gray was off by himself, and Potee went to talk to him. He didn't break him but he loosened the rope and took him to where the other three horses stood. He patted each one and walked to where the three men stood in a huddle.

"You happy now?" Pardo asked.

"I guess so. I wanted to see if I could, and I can. I'll break your horses if the asshole don't come back. I kind of like it. Probably because if I do it, Gunner isn't doing it."

"Before you get any big ideas, what's this going to cost me?" Del asked.

"Cost you. They're your horses. I thought you already owned them, Del."

"What am I paying you to break them?"

"You pay me already, don't you?"

"I like the way this kid thinks. I do pay him, don't I, Pardo?"

"You do, and you pay Gunner a hundred a horse. You pay Potee a hundred a horse. Don't be playing cute with my cowboy, Del. He isn't as big a fool as you think he might be," Pardo said.

"How the hell am I going to make any money with cowboys like you around. He would do it for what I'm paying him now. You didn't need to open your mouth about it, Pardo."

"Yes, I did. You were going to offer him a hundred before I opened my mouth, Del."

Del smiled. He'd been found out. He was a fair man and he paid Gunner a hundred a horse, and he'd pay Potee the same. Besides, he had already decided to sell the broken mustangs for $500 a horse and he was paying a hundred to break one.


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