One thing showed right off. Rafter O might stand to lose some money but they played fair. Chuck stood at the horse’s head and gripped the end of the blindfold, but he made no move to jerk it from the bay’s eyes until Danny had settled down firmly in the saddle.
“Now?” he asked as Danny settled in the leather.
“You watch him, Danny,” Jerome yelled, giving the friendly, if unhelpful advice always handed out to a man about to start riding a bad one. “He’s going to moan with you.”
“He’ll need to when I’m through, boss,” Danny yelled back. “Let her rip, Chuck, boy.”
A quick tug removed the blindfold and Chuck went head first through the corral rails in a flying bound which warned Danny, if he needed more warning, of the bay’s danger potential. Instantly the horse came apart and without bogging its head down between its legs as did so many of its kind as a starter to bucking. From standing like a statue, the horse took off in a series of crow hops, bounding up and lighting down on stiff legs in an effort to jolt its rider out of the saddle by the force of impact. Crow hopping was not hard to handle for an experienced rider, but Danny knew he could expect much more.
Suddenly the horse reared high, chinning the moon and waving forelegs in the air. However, Danny possessed that rare sixth sense so vital to a bronc peeler in that he could mostly anticipate the horse’s moves and be ready to counter them. Up slid his hands along the reins, gripping just below the connection with the bit. He pulled hard, dragging the horse back to its feet before it could crawfish over on to its back and either throw him or crush him beneath it.
Foiled in its attempt, the bay appeared to go wild with rage. It rocketed across the corral, pitching fence-cornered—leaving the ground in one direction, jack-knifing its hind and forefeet together in mid-air and twisting itself to land at about a forty-five degree angle to the place it took off. While the horse went high and landed hard, double shuffling to change its gait with every bound, Danny found little difficulty in riding the leaps.
Then it happened. The bay swapped ends, going up facing north and landing with its head aimed at the South Pole. With his rider’s instincts Danny knew he was going to be thrown two jumps ahead of the actual happening. Kicking his feet from the stirrup irons, Danny allowed his body to go limp and landed rolling. He saw the bay bounce away from him and Lanky charged into the corral at a gallop, rope swinging ready to throw. On feeling the touch of the rope, the bay quietened down and allowed itself to be led toward the gate.
“Hold it!” Danny called, getting to his feet. “Bandage him again. I’m not through with him yet.”
“What you doing down there then?” asked Chuck.
“Got off to leave him catch his breath,” replied Danny and walked toward the bay once more.
On mounting, he started to ride the bay again. Three more times Danny hit the dirt for the bay was one smart horse and knew how to ring in changes of style. It rainbowed high with arched back and shaking head; sunfished in leaping crescents that made it appear to be trying to land first one then the other shoulder on the ground while allowing the sun to burn its belly; fought on a dime, or pioneered new ground with each leaping bounce; straight bucked by going high from all four feet and on the way down tossing its hindquarters up again in the manner of the big paint stallion which crippled Danny’s uncle, Ole Devil Hardin.* Through all the tricks, except when sent flying, Danny stayed in the saddle and each time down he rose to mount again. To allow a horse the chance of winding up a winner gave it bad ideas; it happened to the bay often enough to turn the animal into an outlaw.
“Give it up while you’re ahead, amigo,” Chuck yelled as Danny rose from the fourth throwing.
“Hell yes!” agreed Lanky. “You’ll likely get hurt bad if you don’t. He’ll go to fighting blind if you keep riding him. We’ll call the bets off if you like.”
“I don’t like,” Danny replied. “Seeing’s how I aim to win your money. Set on that bandage again. He don’t know who’s boss.”
“Now me,” grunted Lanky, giving Danny an admiring glance, “I’d say he knows right well who’s boss. It’s you that don’t.”
“Likely,” grinned Danny and headed toward the bay once more.
Standing by the fence, Ella Watson watched Danny mount the bay again. A keen student of human nature, she found Danny interesting and a young man with certain possibilities—if he was what she expected. Her eyes went to Jerome who stood at her side.
“That’s a real game boy,” she remarked. “He’s new here though, isn’t he?”
“Just today rode in,” replied the rancher. “It was him found Sammy and Pike. I took him on to ride for Bench J.”
Further conversation ended as the bay, given its head, started to buck. A fresh danger had entered the fight, just as Lanky predicted. In addition to the normal risks attendant to riding a bad horse, the bay panicked and began to buck blind; not watching where it went as long as it shook the hated man-thing from its back. Desperately Danny fought to keep the bay’s head up; always of prime importance when taking a bad one. However, he had been shaken badly by the throws and felt himself tiring. Night was coming and soon he would not be able to see enough to continue riding. Yet he could see no way of ending the bay’s fight.
Twice he just managed to swing the bay clear of the corral rails and prevented a collision. Still bucking blind, the horse charged across the corral, headed for the other side of the enclosure. Only this time Danny felt too exhausted to argue the matter.
“Go ahead, you blasted fool critter!” he growled. “Run in head on and bust your fool neck happen that’s how you want it. Only I’m not fixing to go with you.”
Yells of warning rang out. Hurriedly those onlookers lining the section of rail toward which the bay rushed leapt backward. Jerome gave a low curse and opened his mouth to yell for the doctor. Everybody watched Danny being carried straight at the rails and expected to see horse and rider pile head-first into the stout timber.
At the last moment Danny swung his right leg forward, up and over the saddle horn, thrusting himself clear. Even as he lit down, he heard the crash of the bay’s collision with the corral rails. Only the give of the rails saved the horse from a serious injury and even so the bay rocked backward, staggering and winded by the impact. Danny whirled and ran back, going into the saddle, catching up the reins and applying his spurs. Weakly the bay responded with a few mild pussy-back jumps, arching its back like a hound-scared cat and bouncing up into the air about a third of the height previously managed. Then the horse halted, Danny raked its sides again and brought off another short spell of fighting. The next time Danny used his spurs, the bay stood with heaving flanks and hanging head. Even without the excited and delighted whoops of the crowd who came crowding into the corral, Danny knew he had won. With heaving chest, he slid from the bay’s saddle and leaned against the animal’s sweat-lathered side.
“Are you all right, Danny?” Tommy asked, reaching the blond Ranger first.
“I—I’ve—felt better,” admitted Danny, then grinned as Lanky thrust through the excited crowd and held out a fistful of money. “Fact being, I feel better right now. Thanks, Lanky. Loser walks the hoss, don’t he?”
“Yep,” Lanky agreed and shot out a hand to grab a suddenly-departing Chuck by the collar. “Which same you reckoned you’d do it.”
“Hell, everybody knows I’m a liar,” answered Chuck and reached for the bay’s reins. “You wait, I’ll get me a ladder, rest it again you, climb up and beat in your knee-caps.”
“Go ahead, Chuck,” Ella smiled. “I’ll save you an extra big drink. The rest of you, first one’s on the house.”