Home Ranch (26 page)

25

Swing-Over

W
HEN
Mr. Batchlett hired me I thought I was going to spend the whole summer on trading trips. And when we'd picked our horse strings I thought Sid was going to be my partner. But things didn't work out that way. After the dust-storm trip, I spent most all my time on the home ranch, and things just sort of worked themselves out so Hazel was my partner. While Mr. Bendt and Ned rounded up the stock in the forenoons, Hazel and I hunted out the new calves and any sick or lame cattle. Then, in the early evenings, we'd all work together—cutting, booking, and making up the trail herds for the trading crews.

Hazel had ridden with her father ever since she was big enough to sit on a horse, but that summer was the first time she ever worked as a hand. Mr. Batchlett had her father put her on the payroll at fifty cents a day, and she didn't have to wash dishes or help take care of the baby. And, even if she was a girl, she was a good partner for handling milk cows. She didn't play around when we were working, and she didn't try to push all the dirty jobs off onto me. There was never a day when my job at the home ranch wasn't fun, but the evenings were even better than the days.

When the trading teams were away, we had supper as soon as the day's sweep of cattle had been cut and sorted. Sometimes there was an hour or so of daylight afterwards, and Hazel always pestered me to teach her more riding stunts. Mr. Bendt didn't want me to show her any new ones unless he was with us, and he didn't have a spare minute during the first week I was back from the dust-storm trip.

Most of the really good tricks I knew were ones that Hi Beckman and I had done together. I couldn't teach those to Hazel, because I was neither big enough nor strong enough. But there were a couple of solo tricks that I thought she might learn.

One of them was done by crawling all the way around a horse while he was at a full gallop. All it took was two loops of strap on the cinch, a little timing, muscles strong enough to keep tight against the horse's belly, lots of practice, and not being afraid. Hi had made me practice the trick on a standing horse until I could do it like a squirrel going around a cage. After that, I'd never had any trouble in doing it on a running horse.

If the horse was well-trained for the somersault trick, there wasn't much to the other solo stunt. With the horse in a hard run, I'd take a shoulder stand on his neck, bracing my chest against the saddle horn. When I'd hiss, the quick stop of the horse would throw me forward, feet first. By arching my back a little and spreading my arms wide, I'd travel in a quarter circle, and land on my feet in front of the horse. Neither of the tricks was hard, but, of course, there was always danger of being trampled if I fell.

Every evening that first week, Hazel and I practiced the somersault trick a dozen times or more. But the better she could do it, the more she pestered me to show her new stunts. I wouldn't do it, but finally I told her that when she could do five somersaults in a row without a bobble, I'd talk to her father about new tricks. Saturday evening she did seven somersaults, and landed on her feet every time.

After I told Hazel I'd talk to her father, I riveted straps on my cinch, and practiced a little with Pinch—when everyone had gone to bed—first standing, and then running. With his being used to the somersault trick, it didn't take much teaching for him to learn the new ones. Then, Sunday forenoon, when Mrs. Bendt, Jenny, and all the children were at Sunday School, I asked Mr. Bendt if he'd go down to the little practice meadow with me while I showed him a couple of new tricks.

At first he shook his head, but then he said, “Bein' it's Sunday, and after you kids done such a good job this past week, I'll go along with you for half an hour, but don't get no idees this is goin' to be a regular thing. Trick stunts is fine for roundups, but they ain't no good around a cow ranch—kill too much of a man's time. If I let you show Hazel another trick, you tell her to quit pesterin' the life out of me to come watch her practice.”

“Well,” I said, “I told her she couldn't even see me do these tricks unless you saw them first and said she could learn them. They wouldn't take but a little of your time. Most all the early practicing has to be done with a standing horse, so you wouldn't have to spend hardly any time with us.”

“Get your horse saddled, then!” he told me. “I'll spare you half an hour. But, understand me right, this ain't goin' to be no regular thing!”

Mr. Bendt watched me do both tricks three or four times, then he shook his head, and said, “Don't you never let Hazel see you do them stunts, and don't you be doin' 'em yourself while you're around here! They're too danged dangerous! One slip and you'd be a goner.”

“All right; I won't,” I told him, “but I could teach Hazel to twist a little in the air on the shoulder-stand trick, and to land at one side. Then a horse couldn't run over her if he failed to make a full stop.”

“Ain't one trick enough?” he asked a little bit crossly. “You kids get all het up over trick stunts and you won't be worth a nickel as cowhands. Short-handed, with Tom away, there won't be no time for playin'. Besides, them tricks is too dangerous for any girl.”

It looked as if our trick-riding was just about over, and I knew Hazel would be mad at me for not doing a better job with her father. We'd turned the horses and were riding out of the little meadow when I got an idea. “I know how busy we are now,” I told Mr. Bendt, “but I know a couple of tricks that aren't very dangerous—ones you could teach Hazel yourself after the busy season is over. I can't explain them very well, but if you could spare a few more minutes I could show you how they work.”

Mr. Bendt was riding along with his face set hard when I started to talk, but when I'd finished he was looking at me as if he were real interested. “Betcha my life!” he said, “If it won't take more'n five or ten minutes. Helen's due to raise hob if I don't have the kettle on and spuds boilin' when she gets home from church.”

The two tricks I wanted to show Mr. Bendt were ones that Hi Beckman and I had done together at the Littleton roundup. They depended a lot on timing and horse training, but even more on one rider's being twice as big as the other. I was pretty sure that if Mr. Bendt tried them once he'd want to be able to do them with Hazel, and that he might be a bit more willing for us to practice a little.

As we rode back to the bottom of the meadow, I said, “For the easier trick, I stand on the ground facing you, with my left arm held out at a high angle. You race your horse past me, with your left arm held out and down to meet mine. If our wrists hit right together, our hands will grab hold all by themselves. I'll have kicked my right leg up just a split second before our arms met, then all you have to do is to hold on tight, and I'll go flying up and land behind the cantle of your saddle. If our hands miss I'll take a tumble, but it isn't any worse than falling down when you stub your toe, and by the time I'm down, the horse will have run past, so there's no danger of being stepped on.”

The pickup trick wouldn't work when Mr. Bendt tried to use his bay. It shied off when it passed me, and our hands missed. But old Pinch was getting used to tricks. When Mr. Bendt tried him, he ran past me perfectly. Our wrists met, our hands grabbed hold, and I went sailing up behind the saddle smoothly. I'd barely landed when I asked, “Don't you think that would be a good trick for you to teach Hazel?”

“Betcha my life! Betcha my life!” he sang out. “Want we should try it again . . . so's I get the hang of it good?”

I guess Mr. Bendt forgot about the potatoes. Anyway, we tried the pickup trick at least a dozen more times, and on five of them I went up behind the saddle. I took a few nosedives when our hands missed their hold, and I broke open the cracks I'd got in my lips during the dust storm, but they didn't bleed much or bother our practicing.

After the fifth time I'd gone up behind his saddle, Mr. Bendt turned his head back, and asked, “Didn't you say there was two tricks I could maybe learn Hazel?”

I nodded, and said, “The other one is harder to learn. You'd have to practice a lot before you could do it good.”

“How does it work?” he asked.

“Well,” I told him, “it has to be done with two horses running side by side at a high gallop and in perfect step. I ride at your left, and we lean toward each other, with our arms up and bent into an arch. After we've taken a good tight double wrist hold, you straighten up, jerk me out of my saddle, and swing me over your head in a half circle. As my feet touch the ground on the far side of your horse, I bounce hard, so you'll be able to swing me back into the saddle. All I have to do is the bouncing, but you'll have to hold the saddle real tight with your knees or you'll get pulled off balance. It's better to practice with the horses standing still until we get used to doing it together.”

I thought we might try the trick a couple of times, but Mr. Bendt didn't want to stop until we could do it smoothly. “It will never be very smooth until we do it with the horses running,” I told him. “If they're going real fast, I can bounce hard enough that you can swing me back as smooth as a stream of oil. Hi Beckman says that when I land with them running, it winds the muscles in his back and shoulders up like a mainspring. I think that's a good part of what makes the trick work.”

“Wouldn't doubt me none! Sounds reasonable!” Mr. Bendt said. “Want we should give it a try?”

We ran the horses together a couple of times, but Mr. Bendt didn't try to swing me out of the saddle. Old Pinch didn't like having another horse run close to him. He kept snapping at Mr. Bendt's bay, and driving him far enough away that we couldn't get a wrist hold. Right after the second run, Mr. Bendt looked up at the sun, and sang out, “Great bulls o' Bashan! Where do you reckon the time's gone to? Helen'll skin my hide off for not gettin' them spuds on to boil.”

From the first high hill, we saw the buckboard coming—way off to the east—and Mr. Bendt raced to the house in time to have a fire built before Mrs. Bendt drove in.

That Sunday the dairyhands had driven off to town as soon as the morning's milking was done, and Ned had gone when we finished our forenoon's work, so I was the only hired hand on the home ranch at dinner time. Jenny didn't bother to set the table in the chuckhouse, and Mrs. Bendt invited me to eat with the family.

We were hardly down at the table when Kenny began trying to tell me things Hazel had said about me, but she got so mad that Mrs. Bendt had to tell him to keep still. He sat for quite a while, just calling out, “Pass the meat!” “Pass the spuds!” “Pass the gravy!” Then he looked over at me, and said, “Betcha my life you
can't
ride better'n Ned! You fell off Jack and he didn't.”

“Ned was never on your old donkey!” Hazel yapped.

“If you children can't behave, you can both leave the table,” Mrs. Bendt said sharply. “I won't have no squabblin'!”

For a while the talk was about the minister's sermon that morning, but when Jenny was bringing in the pie, Mr. Bendt asked Hazel, “Want I should saddle up Pinto after you've helped with the dishes, gal?”

Before Hazel could answer, Mrs. Bendt cut in, “Ain't she rode enough this past week! Why didn't you keep Ned to home if you needed an extra hand this afternoon?”

“Oh, I wasn't aimin' to work her none,” Mr. Bendt said; “just wanted to see if we had some horse that would hold a gait along with Pinto. Old Pinch, he's too ornery to work double, and there's times it comes in right handy to have a matched pair to work close alongside one another.”

“Well, I guess that's all right,” Mrs. Bendt said, as if she weren't quite sure, “but I don't know what's got into the child of late! She wouldn't stay off a horse long enough to sleep if I didn't put my foot down.”

Hazel's toe touched my leg under the table, then she looked up at her father, and said, “This little dab o' dishes won't take over five minutes. I'll be right out.”

As soon as Mr. Bendt and I were outside, I said, “If you were thinking about that swing-over trick, Lady has done it lots of times with Hi and me, and it doesn't make much difference about the other horse; she'll keep pace with it.”

“How's she on the pickup trick?” he asked.

By that time, I was sure that Mr. Bendt wanted to show Hazel the new tricks, but Lady was only good for the swing-over one, so I said, “I guess we'd better take both Lady and Pinch along; she's not very good at the pickup trick.”

“Wouldn't want to ride Pinch down to that little meadow, and lead your mare, would you?” he asked. “I don't generally ride no horse that ain't in my own string—and the women folks might get to wondering.”

I rode Pinch and led Lady down to the little meadow. We hadn't been there three minutes before Mr. Bendt and Hazel came racing in. He was on the same bay he'd ridden that morning, and stepped down as he slid it to a stop beside Pinch. For a second or two I wished I had been wall-eyed, so I could watch both Hazel and her father at the same time. She was making hand-shaking signs behind his back, while he winked and motioned for me to get down off Pinch.

I could only guess that Hazel was telling me I'd done a good job in getting her father to let her learn new tricks. But I knew what Mr. Bendt wanted all right; he sort of kicked a foot up when he winked at me, so I winked back as I stepped down out of the saddle.

When Mr. Bendt put his saddle on Pinch and rode off toward the end of the valley, Hazel watched him as if she thought he'd gone crazy. She looked at me, puzzled, and asked, “You ain't goin' to learn Paw my somerset trick, are you?”

I wanted to surprise Hazel as much as I could, so I stepped in front of Pinto, looked up at her, and said, “No, he's going to show you a trick of his own.”