Salt Lick, Vol. Ii: The Innocents

By Dr. Robert A. Brock

SALT LICK, Vol. II, The Innocents, by Dr. Robert A. (Sunny) Brock, the conclusion of Ali ORileys celebration of life is glutted with maturing parent-child, emotional relationships, and sibling bonding. The same variety of personalities are present which filled the pages of Volume One, however, they are in the responsible summer of life. The comedy, romance and pathos of life reach new plateaus as the families blunder through the early child-rearing years with purpose and hope. As a clan-unit they share their joys and surprises, exploring male-female differences in perspective, finding new levels of patience with each others shortcomings. Again, the Christian message of redemption is folded into real life situations amidst friction and agitation. All the relationships jell, teaching tolerance and patience among the diverse antagonistic personalities.

THOMAS and ALI set up housekeeping near a valley lake. The other clan-couples soon follow, building homes around the lake, creating a protective, pastoral paradise and establishing their own town of Cousins, Georgia, between Savannah and Macon. Thomas and Alis cabin is nestled beside the main wagon trail. A mysterious traveler and his two children, running from the east-coast Scarlet fever epidemic, are stranded. The stranger departs in the night, leaving his ill children in Thomas and Alis care. Before the young girl dies, Ali catches her contagious disease. Ali looses her strength and glory due to the ravages of Scarlet fever. The small abandoned boy is given to ELIJAH to rear. One of the many animal episodes occur in the cabin, teaching priority management. During early morning hours, a squabbling wood duck and squirrel fall into the fireplace. The comic bedlam of the chase brings about an accidental fire. This incident sets the stage for empathetic-comedy, and romantic interlude of emotional joy and stress release, which the reader will vicariously share and fall in love with the couple.

Alis first born son, SUNNY (Big Foot), enters the story and steals the show to the end of the book. Sunnys two year old, baby-talk is contrasted by his uninformed thought life, which adds classical, innocent joy from his birth to the conclusion. Sunny is born with a club foot. Uncle Elijah builds a twisting box for therapeutic straightening of the foot. The entire clan shares Alis agony, watching helpless as her baby suffers.

Elijahs wife is barren from too much cattle driving and horse riding as a child, therefore, he brings several orphans into the clan. Having been raised in a household of twenty-one children, he cannot function well without sibling rivalry and bonding. On a trip to Savannah, promoting his Elijah treasure chest-coffins he obtains custody of a criminal's children, thus enters GEORGE, into the clan family-fabric. George becomes one of Sunnys protector-benefactors. Elijahs wife, HOWDY, develops a jealous battle between herself and sister-in-law. The family squabble results in ROWDY becoming a paraplegiate. Rowdys invalid state affords opportunity to teach forgiveness, patience and tenacity.

Thomas takes Ali and Sunny shopping in Savannah. The gala mood ends in tragedy when Sunny gets lost from Daddy at the Savannah Zoo. The helpless anxiety of losing a child pervades the episode. Unknown to the parents, a vagrant child tries caring for Sunny, resulting in much pathetic comedy. The new caretaker, GOOBER, also loses Sunny on one of their many rollicking jaunts. However, Goober in his persistence, rescues Sunny, and after many near death situations, returns him to his mother, who thinks a guardian angel has returned her baby. Then, Ali loses and rescues Sunny. Before leaving Savannah, the orphan, Goober, is convince

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 25, 2001
• ISBN: 9781465319999

Dr. Robert A. Brock

Dr. Robert A. (Sunny) Brock, born to a cripple-child-bride on the tail end of the Great Depression, at Woodville, Texas. Born eight months before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Sunny’s family followed construction-worker-father, changing schools fifteen times in twelve years. Then, nine years US Air Force; graduated Sam Houston State University, Huntsville, Texas - received Master of Education, taught public school, eighth grade and women prisoners. Five years, attended Texas Baptist Institute-Seminary at Henderson, Texas - received Doctorate of Theology in Bible Languages. He has taught at TBI over twenty-five years and pastors Tyler Road Baptist Church, Henderson, Texas. Proctored in Creative Writing at SHSU by author, Jewel Gibson (Joshua Bean and God, Black Gold). Robert has authored several Seminary text books, published by Criterion Press, Henderson, Texas and articles in religious periodicals.

Book preview

Copyright © 2000 by Dr. Robert A. Brock.

Library of Congress Number: 00-193387

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

SALT LICK, VOLUME 11

The Innocents

By Dr. Robert A. Brock

Illustrations for Salt Lick Vol. I and Vol. II

by the four Brock grandsons,

our pride and joy; Kevin Robert Brock-19,

Tyler Jonathan Brock-16, Travis Jordan Brock-12,

Robert Lansden Brock-9.

ILLUSTRATION CREDITS

Chapters One and Two—TylerJonathan Brock , 16

Chapters Three and Four—Kevin Robert Brock, 19

Chapters Five and Six—Robert Lansden Brock, 9.

DEDICATION

This one’s for you, Mom! E. Aileen Riley (Brock, Weeks, Harris). A dynamic cripple, victim of Infantile Polio at age thirteen, a real trooper who wore two giant powder puffs in the shoe of her crippled foot, danced the Irish jig at josie parties, wore red shoes, bright cherry lipstick and red nail slicks. When her five children did something stupid she called them goofus, and used the board of education liberally to protect her sanity. She walked the halls of Tyler County Memorial Hospital, Woodville, Texas, over thirty years, using up her body serving others. She was addicted to orange-marshmallow peanuts and hid them in weird places, (which we always found). Love ya, Sweetheart, right up there just-below Jesus Himself. We still cry when we miss you. But, it’ll all come out on wash day, as you say, when you get your brand-spankin-new body, without powder puffs. It was a real hoot, Mom! From the bottom of our hearts, thanks to God for giving us a mother like you. Thank you for everything … always remembering the love, the laughter and the good times (and the flat-head biscuits). She now walks the halls of paradise, serving the Savior, waiting for her family to join the Circle.

Chapter One

NEW GROUND

The newly-weds remained at Sam’s another week to help Ali gather her property and tell her many friends goodbye. At her former-debutantes’ farewell-tea, she asked Howdy to demonstrate the proper way for a lady to hold her teacup. Working cattle with lasso and whip had hardened Howdy’s knuckles. When she tried crooking her little finger, all her fingers crooked. The other young ladies tried imitating her, but alas, they could not. Howdy was just too unique.

Well, I guess we see who is the most sophisticated lady here. The former-debutantes had one last laugh together, and Howdy was proud she could do something the others could not.

The trip to Georgia would be the beginning of a brave, new life. A growing sense of responsibility began to engulf the newly-weds, responsibility that would only increase in intensity for the rest of their lives. There were houses and households to build, occupations to choose, life-changing plans to make.

Sam bought Ali a new, green wagon for her going away’ gift. He placed in the back two cattail-rattan cages, occupied by a fiery, orange-red rooster and old Trudy, Sam’s best homing pigeon, his pride and joy. Here’s enough chicken scratch and oats to get you there, Baby. Just make sure to give them plenty of water, or they’ll get sick with all this jostlin’ around.

On the trail, the couples’ hearts were light, wagons were heavy, loaded with generations of hand-me-downs Ali had collected from kin and friends. The collection of goods was not quite enough to set-up five households, but it was a start. Bea had promised a great stash of stored goods to share with the new couples. Ali and Elijah had stopped bickering with each other, and Rowdy missed their constant challenges. Nothing would ever be the same. The irresponsible plunges into adventure and abandon without worry of restraint from adult practicality, was now history, but, what a history!

We did have a real time of it, didn’t we, Thomas? We’ve collected and made enough stories for a lifetime. We did it all. What if Ali hadn’t put this whole thing together? None of us would have ever met.

… Looks like the whole thing was destined by a Higher Power. No one could have planned this thing so well. Not even Ali, … I guess, Bea observed.

"Well, for sure, I thank you Ali. If I’d never found Bea, guess I’d have spent the rest of my life herding that old bobtail, Shorty, trying to build a herd in the Tejas desert. Have any of you thought about where we’re all going to stay?"

Bea addressed the problem, We can start out at the main house, and there’s other buildings we can fix up, temporarily, ‘til winter’s over. Then come spring, we can start the town and build a few houses. Near the hills, on the north end, there’s a spot God made just for a town. The grazin’s good, there’s plenty of trees for building houses and a store. There’s a spring-fed lake, so clear you can see the sun perch swimming in the water … plenty of deer, duck and varmint hunting.

Any Indians? Rowdy asked.

One little tribe of Coushatta nearby, but they’re peaceful. Daddy pays them in cattle when they help him with roundup. They’ll almost sell their soul for one of our horses. They will probably be willing to help if we need them … got a medicine woman that pulled me through many a time.

Sounds more like paradise to me, Ali said as she surveyed the change in terrain and trees. Except for the few cedars, live oaks and pines, all the hardwood leaves were gone, leaving gray shadows against the empty gray sky. Giant gray oaks dressed in gray moss, spoke volumes about lazy summers. Empty crows nests dotted the sky, prophesying a severe winter on its way.

Buckeye and Jemima watched the five couples in the three front wagons, eavesdropping for signs of romantic bonding.

Elijah put his arm around Howdy’s shoulder. She sat very still and turned red, looking straight ahead.

Jemima looked at Buckeye and commented, Mmmmm-hmm.

Maid was embarrassed to see her brother’s forwardness in public. Philip looked her in the eyes and smiled a helpless, I’m yours, smile. She began talking gibberish to the horses and fumbled the reins around her fingers.

Ali, tired to the bone, laid her head over on Thomas’ shoulder, closed her eyes and gently stroked his hairy chest, as she, from childhood, had always felt the soft fibers of her old rag doll to go to sleep. His eyes crossed, as his heart melted and ran down into his new, quivering, Elijah boots. While the guardian angels drove the wagon, Ali snored a little, and he held very still in this uncomfortable position, afraid he might awaken her. She had never seemed so beautiful, so real, an undeserved gift from heaven, his very own.

Buckeye turned to Jemima, laughing, They’ll figure it all out, soon enough.

* * *

We’ve been traveling a week … didn’t realize Georgia was on the other side of the world, Ali moaned.

Won’t be much longer. We might even beat that big thunder storm.

Thomas could smell the ocean, memories of Louisiana flooded his heart. Does anybody need to stop? If we go on into Savannah and fool around very long we’ll lose about half a day, and that storm’s gonna catch us and make a mess of everything.

Stop at this old church for a little while before we get to town, Howdy insisted.

The boys sat on the front steps, while the girls were in the back. Thomas heard his Ali yelp.

That wasn’t an emergency scream, Thomas. Just wait, Elijah advised.

He fidgeted until the girls bounded around the corner.

Howdy made the announcement, Ali got stung by a big scorpion!

Where? Thomas insisted quickly.

Never you mind, Ali answered just as quickly. Just be careful in that old privy.

Elijah burst into rolling laughter, while Ali blushed, turning her head.

Boys turn! announced Jemima. Her two sons out-ran everybody.

The girls sat on the steps chatting about the closeness of their final destination.

Aggh, aah, aaah, aaaagh!

That’s Elijah! Jemima, you look. See if he needs us, Maid insisted.

Jemima waddled to the corner of the church, only to see Elijah, jumping like a Tejas jack rabbit toward the woods, holding to his baggy breeches with one hand, slinging his free hand crazily over his head. A large hive of disturbed, wintering, yellow, guinea wasps fluttered and dived around his screaming head. Land sakes boy! Good enough for ya! That’ll teach ya! Laughin’ at these girls! Good enough for ya! She fell over on the church building hee-hawing, almost losing her balance.

What? Maid jumped up demanding her brother’s condition.

Laughing, Jemima could not answer. The girls reached the corner just in time to see the boys rolling in the dead, crab grass, holding their sides, but there was no Elijah.

Thomas looked back and answered Maid’s demand concerning her ward. Oh, he’s all right! Just took flight, scared of a bunch of little ol’ guineas!

Travelers waited impatiently in the wagons. Elijah stalked out of the thicket, soaked, from taking refuge in the artesian-spring baptistery. Large, red bumps covered his swollen face.

Ali slapped her hand over her mouth to conceal her snickering.

Don’t say a word, Cousin! Elijah commanded her.

Sure proof, Elijah! Your chickens, or rather your guineas, always come home to roost. I promise I won’t tell a soul! Turning her head, she laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. "Laughter truly is the best medicine, she whispered to Thomas. Feel better already, ha … ouch!" She rubbed the scorpion bite and sniggered.

* * *

Rain was already falling on the travelers’ and their plunder. Large drops promised a torrent was on their trail.

Rowdy whipped the prancers into a dead heat, others followed suit. Buckeye, Jemima and the boys could not keep the pace. The little Indian horses didn’t at all mind getting wet, besides, their legs could stretch just so far.

Dashing through the open barn door, Howdy yelped in victory, Beatrice, we made it! We made it! Oh no, look at Jemima. They’re soaked to the bone.

Ali could see the old, red, sandstone ranch house through the deluge. A mansion in its own time, the place had fallen into disrepair, reflecting a what’s the use attitude. The large ranching empire was too much work for one man, a daughter and three migrant hands.

Will Daddy ever be surprised! This place has just about got the best of him.

They all stood in the open barn door looking out into the future. The icy rain blowing in their faces burned a little, but it didn’t matter. They were home, whatever that meant to each pilgrim.

A short slack in the deluge, then, Just leave the horses and the men can come back. Let’s try to surprise him.

Thomas almost scrubbed his boots on the porch from habit. Beatrice’s father sat in the rocker, leaning forward with his stocking feet propped on the hearth, scratching his old, blue-tick hound behind the ears. The potbellied stove was red from too hot a fire. Toasty, warm air burst out onto the cold porch. Ali could hardly wait to get inside. What a sad picture, she thought. The poor man thinks he has no hope left in life. If he only knew, how much his life is going to change.

The old, half-dead dog turned its head and growled to warn its master of the invasion at hand.

The ancient rancher took his warm feet from the hearth and turned in his chair. Bea jumped and yelled, "Surprise! I brought my man Daddy, a bunch a’ men. Now you won’t be havin’ to do everything by yourself."

What in the name of Job is all this, girl? You scared me near to death. My heart’s jumpin’ outta my throat!

"Sorry, Daddy! Here, meet my man, Rowdy O’Riley, and I’m Mrs. O’Riley! Isn’t that a hoot!" She presented Rowdy for inspection and approval.

Let me see your hands, boy! You’re a rancher by trade, ain’t ya?

Yes sir, howd’ you know?

Takes one to know one, son. He held his hand out beside Rowdys. Tell-tale rope burns and calluses proved their kindred spirit. I’s just sittin’ here trying to figer how to give-up on this place … just too much for this old man and a few rascal hands that show up when they get ready. Who’s all these folks with ya, girl?

These are all cousins Daddy, O’Rileys. I told them they could build a town on the place down by the spring lake.

For sure, child! That’s a real good place for a town, … never dreamed of all this much life around here. Who’s these black folks? Are they O’Riley cousins too? he grinned.

Naw suh, answered Buckeye. This here’s my Jemima, an’ these toe-heads is my boys. These cousins here saved my hide from a hangin’. So, I guess I just got stuck with ‘em. Somebody with good sense is gotta take care of this wild bunch, just like a bunch a March hares.

You a run-a-way?

Naw suh, my Miz Crowder died. We sorta set free to do as we please. So, we decided to let this bunch of Irishmen jine up with us. Purdy good clan a’ kids. I’m sho’ you’ll like ‘ em.

Rubbing Buckeye’s son’s nappy head, Bea’s daddy asked, Where’d you get them funny boots, boy? Perfect for ridin’ saddle. I’ll run you a race for ‘em.

Awe, naw suh, a dead man gimme them boots.

Elijah broke in, I’ll give you mine Mr … ? What you want us to call you?

Just call me, Dad. That’ll suit me just fine. That’s all I been called around here for the last twenty years.

OK, Mr. Dad, I’ll give you my boots, … ‘bout ready for a new pair anyway.

It’s a deal … trade you a section of land for a brand new pair, sticking out his hand for confirmation.

‘Yes sir, Mr. Dad! Two new pairs … gimme a few days. You can wear mine ‘til yours come in."

Lou Jean! Come in her and meet all these folks! Looks like they come to stay.

Hallelujah, Jesus! the healthy black woman yelled, waving her dish-towel in the air.

Jemima’s coffee-with-cream colored face lit up. Praise God, Sista! I knowsjus’ wha’chu mean. All these fancy white women ‘bout to drive ol’ Jemima crazy.

Lou Jean, you and Jemima go out to the kitchen and rustle up these folks some grub.

Yes suh, musta got a ‘ tuition from Miz Bea. Just yesterday changed eva’ bed in this whole house. We been lookin’ for this homecomin’ a long time, just didn’t know it. One thing for sho’, this ol’ house’s got plenty a beds an’ spittoons. The Misus, God rest her soul, didn’t want nobody sleepin’ or spittin’ on her flo’. Come on Jemima, we got a lotta cetchin’ up to do.

Just don’t sweat in my eggs! Mr. Dad insisted.

Yes suh, Lou Jean winked at Jemima.

Jemima recognized she had just met one of the most mischievous black women on this side of the big water. Law, I done died an’ gone to heaven! Jemima laughed.

Lou Jean inquired, "You good on biscuits girrrl?"

"Law! Am I good on biscuits? Girrrl, I invented biscuits. Jus’ got a new recipe, flathead-catfish biscuits. Melt in yo’ mouth. Make yo’ man fall head over heels off his rocker fo’ you."

" Girrrl, sounds like you done put yore foot off in it, ‘sides if I had a man, wouldn’t know what to do with him. They’s too messy fo’ this ol’ Lou Jean. Got enough troubles slavin’ up after this bunch around heuh, much less my own."

I sho’ know what you mean. But, a’ ol’ man’s sho’ nice to keep warm by, when ya’ cold. Better’n huggin’ an ol’ hound dog to keep from freezin’ to death. Us’ta sleep by th’ hound dogs to stay warm when we’s kids.

Hon, this ol’ Lou Jean ratha’ stay warm by a stinkin ol’ houn’ dog any day, than clean up afta anotha nasty ol’ man. They just go from place to place, leavin’ messes to clean up, spittoons, ceegar ashes, dirty stockin’s, you name it.

"Girrrl, you done gone off! Gimme a hard workin’, sweatin’, ol’ man ova a stinkin’ houn’ dog any day. ‘Sides, stayin’ warm by a soup-hound, you git up with fleas! Eva time!"

Lou Jean spit in her right palm. Laughing, she rubbed her hands together and winked at Jemima. "Sho’ don’t want to sweat in the ol’ man’s eggs, ha. Le’s git with it, an’ git this bunch fed so’s we can talk! Ha, Ol’ Lou Jean with a man!

Imagine that! Ol’ Lou Jean, cleanin’ up afta’ her own man."

* * *

Weeks passed, and a blue-blizzard racked the prairie, making life difficult for all the couples. The men helped Mr. Dad round up mustangs to fulfill his government contract supplying mounts for the cavalry as far west as forts along the Mississippi, as far south as Fort Frederica.

Rounding up the mustangs and crossbred herds was not much different from taking cattle to market. However, these mounts had to be broken-in, trained and made ready for soldiers to ride to the rescue.

This particular band of broncos preferred running wild and free in the Georgia hill-country. Rumors had passed along that fort horses did not get enough to eat, the water was always stagnant, and the cavalry rode their mounts into the ground, then shot them in la cabeza … not quite the life for respectable mustangs, who were living fine in untamed Georgia.

These wild horses were genetically more wise than average horses, a character trait handed down from a black quarter-horse grandfather. Being independent equine, they had intuitively planned a trap for these unseasoned horse-pokes; play easy to catch, until training time’, then, turn the fury of the inferno in their souls loose on these green, horse-boys. The mustangs were primed and ready.

Since Rowdy had been breaking horses from childhood, he felt obliged to volunteer and demonstrate the proper manner of changing a horse’s attitude toward being ridden and generally bossed around by humans.

The makeshift corral was constructed in a field of small pine saplings. The most powerful looking steed in the crowded, holding pen chose his mount from among the nervous men. The steed stared at Elijah, daring him to put a foot across his raven back. Black from the end of his nose to the hairs on his full, shiny tail, he stomped and pawed the dust with his front, white-stocking hoof. Elijah stared back, snorted loudly, mocking the stud, then pawed the dust with his new Elijah boot, proclaiming, You’re mine, big boy!

The horse, slinging frothy saliva from side to side, was sure he had made mental contact. Sure that he had chosen the most aggressive poke among these mortals, black beauty was determined to show the youngster who was going to ride whom.

Rowdy picked his run-of-the-mill mount, thinking they’d all be about the same. The young ranch hands hung over the temporary rail fence, watching their teacher. One of the hardest things to do in breaking a horse is to get on its back! The leathery audience sniggered.

You think I’m joking, but I’m serious!

The wild horse was tied to a small tree in the middle of the makeshift corral. It began stepping sideways in a circle. Each time Rowdy would raise his foot to put it in the stirrup, the horse would sidestep just enough for the cowboy to fall forward. Looking foolish, Rowdy had to jump to keep from falling down. Around and around they went, winding the harness to the tree then turning to unwind and windup again in the opposite direction. Rowdy was tiring from all this rabbit hopping and the boys were laughing at him, a dilemma he did not at all like. He was accustomed to being an accomplished performer in public.

Elijah noticed the horse was watching Rowdy by turning his eye almost backward. It could tell exactly when to move out of Rowdy’s way. Put a saddle blanket on his head, Rowdy!

I’m ready to try anything. The horse wildly slung his strong, powerful head, but could not rid himself of the blanket. The vigorous steed was nobody’s fool. Standing still, it would wait until Rowdy’s foot pushed down on the stirrup, then throw the rider off before he could sit down.

He’s going to pull a stunt, Rowdy! Elijah warned. Back up, run and jump on the stirrup! Saddle up before he knows what happened!

Good idea, thought Rowdy as he walked backward, getting ready for the show. Running with all the gusto he could muster, heavy, leather chaps flopping, he went airborne, landed in the stirrup of the waiting ball of fury. Rowdy plopped in the hot seat the split second that his righteous opponent unleashed its strength, power which one would not suspect so plain a mount to possess.

Elijah stared at the black stallion and thought, If that tacky horse Rowdy’s ridin’ is all that powerful, what will this black devil do to me?

The stallion curled the corners of his mouth in a malevolent grin, which Elijah mistook for bloat. Think Elijah! Quick, think!

The smiling, black stallion blinked at his victim-to-be.

Oh Jesus! Elijah prayed. Help me think, and quick! Ride him, Rowdy! Ride him, cowboy!

Rowdy and his mount were evenly matched. The wilderness horse had springs in each hoof, bucking straight up and down. Rowdy’s spine separated like a string of pearls with each flight. Vertebrae unlocked from vertebrae then pounded back together.

Help me, Jesus! Elijah’s brain banged on the doors of heaven. Help me figure this out!

Up and down, the horse pounded Rowdy into the saddle. Rowdy refused to give up. It was a ride to the death if necessary. He would never concede defeat in the presence of such worthy peers. Finally, beat down to twitching, the horse’s spirit left him, only the form of a horse, nothing more than animal life, nothing more than an eating, breathing flesh machine, for man’s use and abuse. The horse crouched in a pitiful stance, head down, almost touching the ground, snorting short puffs of air. It coughed from its irritated lungs.

Watching the animal’s wild spirit die, Elijah’s heart was broken. What soldier would want to ride a nag with no spirit into battle, maybe even ride to his death? There’s got to be a better way to do this.

Tie that bag of dirt behind me so we can take off the saddle. We’ll let him wear the weight a couple of days so he can get accustomed to something on his back! Rowdy was in command of the moment. He knew exactly what to do. Thomas admired that quality. Is there anything that fella don’t know how to do, and do well? Guess that comes with experience, few extra brains help too.

When you train a dog, Elijah thought, you tie a rope around its neck and inflict pain each time it disobeys. How could we tether this black tornado? OK boys, bring that black devil in here! Elijah pranced into the bucking pen, taking command as though he knew exactly what he was doing. Mr. Dad! he yelled. If I break this horse, he’s mine, OK?

If you break that stallion without killing him, we’ll keep him for breeding stock. He’s got more quarter horse in him than anything on this range. But, you can’t take all day messin’ with him, boy. We got a lot more to go. Gotta have them down to Fort Pulaski near Savannah before spring. That bunch is gonna help Fort Fredrica and Matansas run the Seminoles back into the swamps before Mr. Jackson leaves office. We gotta git them ready and move them out, so we don’t hav’ta feed ‘em all winter. If we turn them out to range, they’ll go back to the wild!

OK Demon, you’re mine! Elijah whispered loudly to the magnificent beast.

Demon whinnied, slinging his head. Elijah knew exactly what that gesture indicated.

Bring all the ropes and help me tie him down!

What you doin’, Boy? Never saw such a mess! Mr. Dad barked.

Thomas! Let me see your good knife. Come help me!

The glistening stallion offered just enough resistance to the tie-down hassle to make the cowboys uncomfortable. He was saving his real energy for the moon flight.

"What the mischief you doin’ boy? Ain’t never seen such!"

Elijah answered Mr. Dad, Every time Rowdy’s bronco jumped, he switched his tail. There’s a connection between his tail and his legs.

You shore you not tetched Elijah? Do you have to do everything different? The weather hardened old man spit through his bushy mustache, leaving small, amber, droplets to freeze in the bitter breeze. He curiously watched Elijah and smiled to himself.

That last nag nearly jogged Rowdy’s brains out! Just watch this!

Thomas held the long, shiny, black tail while Elijah cut off the tail hair in swatches.

"Here Thomas, put this loose tail hair together and tie a switch around it so I can make